#i want to add that i feel deeply undeserving as well but i feel like that would be annoying to say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

virtualcarrot · 7 days

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[KKIR] Pen of Paper - Part 4

[Ao3] [Part 3 on tumblr]

A week later, Iruka gets a reply.

The numbers don’t add up. Even the single trip to Kiri took over eight days, let alone a back and forth between the villages.

“That's… some efficient delivery,” he observes, blinking down at the mail in his hands.

The receptionist pulls a face.

“Well, ye-ah. Because Toki sent it by bird,” she retorts, I-told-you-so clear in her voice. “Because your Hokage was waiting for a reply.”

For lack of a reply, Iruka zeroes in on the unknown quantity. “Toki?”

“Yes? The courier?”

Her tone alone speaks a whole tirade of judgment. It’s not undeserved. It’s the start of the third week of the course, and he doesn’t think any of the students have bothered treating the staff around them like anything more than a supporting cast. Iruka probably wouldn’t look kindly on a pack of self-centered and self-serving strangers descending upon Ichiraku without even a smile for Teuchi and a kind word to Ayame.

He rubs the back of his neck and ducks his head in contrition.

“Ah. You’re right, I've been very rude. Sorry. What's your name?”

“It’s Kaya.”

“Pleased to meet you, Kaya-san. Could you thank Toki-san for me?”

“Sure,” she replies dispassionately, but also with a hint of something more amicable to her voice.

It’s a start.

Mail in hand, Iruka meets up with the others in the foyer.

Nobuko raises an eyebrow at the sight. Toru’s the one who mentions the letter.

“More news from the Hokage?” he asks with a smile.

Iruka’s correspondence with his head of state seems to fill him with vicarious pride.

“Apparently,” Iruka replies, a strange uneasiness churning inside of him.

He’s very aware, all of a sudden, that when Kaya called him up to get his mail, his first reaction wasn’t to stand at attention for words from his leader. Instead, he felt just happy and warm and excited to hear from a friend.

Putting some distance with Konoha really hasn’t been helping as much as he had hoped.

“I’ll read it later,” he announces, tucking it away.

Little steps.

It turns out to be a good decision because nothing short of his full attention will help him succeed with his studies, and even that isn’t enough.

“I don’t get what I’m not getting!” he hisses in frustration at yet another failure. His seal gives a short, smoky burp and dims into inertia.

He wants to scream. He wishes he was in Konoha so he could do just that. They’re used to it, over there. His outbursts. Here, he feels like he’s a bad mood away from ruining the reputation of all of his compatriots. The effort it takes to contain his emotions is exhausting.

He drags a hand over his face with a groan of displeasure. “I should be improving by now and I’m only getting worse.”

“You really are. Even a beginner should make a better seal,” Masato comments behind him, bending over their table. “You’re not supposed to be one.”

He pins the corner of Iruka’s sheet with a finger and drags it forward to inspect.

“Let’s see,” he mutters with a dismissive click of his tongue. “Well, the strokes are acceptable, at least. But there’s barely any chakra here.”

Features gone tight, Masato turns a deeply skeptical look on Iruka.

When he speaks again, his tone is that of a lecturer, drawing the attention of the whole room. “Did you lie on your application?”

The blood drains from Iruka’s face, only to return with a vengeance as it begins to boil at the outrage.

“What? No! I didn’t--!”

“You’re a teacher, you say? Because this isn’t worthy of any fit shinobi, let alone an instructor.”

Masato has a good, strong voice for public speaking, and is quite skilled at the craft as well. He pauses, letting the accusation hang in the air while he looks around the room to garner support.

When he meets Iruka’s eyes again, his gaze is flint-sharp. “Is your Hokage aware of your cheating? Is this what all that letter was about?”

“Absolutely not!” Iruka only realizes he jumped to his feet after the fact. “How fu--”

He bites his lips against the curse.

It’s been a long while since he’s had to hold himself so tightly back. He’s out of practice. Years ago, around the time he started teaching, he decided he needed to act his grown-up age and with moderation. He drowned his usual temper in apathy to keep it in check, and Naruto almost died trying to prove his worth in return.

He’s never again tried to stop himself from caring.

He lets out a slow, shaky breath and locks it all down before he speaks.

“There was nothing untrue about my application, Masato-sensei, but I apologize for the disappointment.” He stamps down on his ego, kicks it out of the way, and bows. “Please, as my teacher, help me improve.”

The room thrums with nervous anticipation and old chakra. Iruka holds still, ponytail falling across his brows while he waits with his head down.

Finally, Masato snorts.

“Nothing to be done, I’m afraid. Some people have talent. Others, not so much,” he declares like a sentencing.

Then he shouts, “Resume!” to the room at large and soon enough the scratching and brushing of paper starts again.

Iruka sits down and grabs a pen, a sheet, anything to pick up where he left off and keep busy.

“That was out of line,” Toru says, whole face scrunched in displeasure. At his side, Ryo stays quiet, bent over nir notes with nir shoulders pulled taunt. Ne really doesn't like conflict. “Masato should not have spoken to you like that. The whole point of the course is to grant access to techniques few people know. Nobuko and I, we’re older. We've dabbled. But just because Ryo has a natural knack for it, that doesn’t mean it's easy.”

Ryo scowls down at the paper at the mention of nir name and quickens the scratching of nir pen, like ne’s hoping ne can speed-write nir way out of this whole situation.

Toru isn’t done.

“It doesn’t mean your struggles are abnormal. Masato--”

“Masato’s a piece of shit,” Nobuko cuts in with welcome finality. “Moving on.”

It could be worse, Iruka tells himself, because he believes in the power of small favors. He could have a headache. At least that is working.

Dear Iruka-sensei,

I was very touched by your gift. Thank you. I will put it to good use.

How are you ?

Here, last Tuesday, a small group of Academy students engaged in the time honored tradition of exploring the forest unsupervised. Don’t worry, they’re fine. I dare say they’ll make a fine genin team if they manage to graduate in the same year.

You'll be proud to know, though, that Sadoru-sensei found her voice upon their return. She greeted them back with quite the scolding. None of your caliber, of course, but much of your influence.

Teuchi mentioned you yesterday. According to him, Ichiraku’s earnings have dropped significantly since you left. Dare I ask just how often you eat there, Iruka-sensei?

(We shall not mention my own presence in that very shop)

I wish I had time to write more, but alas, duty calls--that, and Shizune. Gone are the days I could read up a tree and lay claim to the empty bench underneath to ensure my peace and quiet. Or share it with a friend.

I think I miss that.

Kindest regards,

へのへのもへじ

Iruka finds it in himself to give a small smile. It doesn't last long, but it's a welcome relief from the daze of humiliation and resentment that's haunted him since Masato’s accusation yesterday. He's glad for the respite of the weekend.

As they have multiple times since he first opened the letter, his eyes are drawn back to an early line.

How are you ?

Terrible. That's how Iruka is. Terrible and inept and many more things that he really shouldn’t burden Kakashi with.

He considers a formal reply, barricading his emotions behind walls and walls of propriety. But it feels insulting to answer Kakashi's undemanding familiarity with dishonesty.

And he's alone. His roommates have left the room to enjoy a day of leisure. There's no Hokage office, no high desk, no ceremonial robes and hat hanging somewhere, no inscrutable hooded eyes staring at him with unnerving focus.

It’s just a note from Kakashi, the weird jounin whom he shared a bench with all these years ago.

It's pen on paper.

It’s easy, all of a sudden, to spill out his frustration.

Dear Kakashi-san,

You’ve asked how I’m doing, and I hope you don’t come to regret it because I’m going to take you at your word.

I ashamed to admit haven’t been up to the task thus far, and I’m afraid to fail. But I haven’t given up on improving, don’t worry. I won’t let this be a waste of time, we’re only a third into the course. This will be my personal challenge.

Or one of them. The other is being subjected to Masato-sensei.

Listen, I make no excuses for my failure, but the man’s insufferable. He’s clearly more interested in the prestige than in the teaching itself. Perhaps if he stopped trying to assert his superiority he might make a good teacher. As it is, he’s too busy putting up airs to do any of the actual work. He finds faults to feel good about himself, not to fix them.

We’re just props for his ego trip. It’s infuriating.

On the bright side, at least when this is over he’ll have been a lesson in the sort of behavior I don't want at the Academy. It’ll be much easier to weed it out now that I’ve experienced it. Small favors, am I right?

But look at me ranting. I hope you won’t hold it against me too much. Rest assured I’ve kept a cool head. I’m not going to give Konoha a bad reputation.

Anyway, I’m going to enjoy this week-end of respite with some studying and fish fry. It’s not Ichiraku but the seafood’s fresh from the sea and it’s damn near as good.

Don’t tell Teuchi.

Take care,

Iruka

After dropping the letter off with Kaya, he decides on a walk to clear his head.

He doesn't go far. The mist’s thick and soupy today and his feet are cold in his open sandals. He warms them with a flare of chakra and retraces his steps.

Toru, Ryo and Nobuko greet him on his way back past the common room. They're gathered with a few other students around cards and what appears to be a marginally better packaged new batch of Numa’s cookies.

“Ah, there you are! Come and sit with us!” Toru says cheerfully.

With only some brief hesitation, Iruka decides to shrug off his bad mood. He’s already feeling a bit lighter anyway.

As it turns out, they’re playing a chaotic game of daifugō, that Iruka's quick to get pulled into. Miserably last, Ryo deals the cards with a look of baffled confusion. Ne may be a prodigy when it comes to seals but this here’s clearly not nir game.

“Don’t worry about Masato,” Akitaro says somewhere during the second round. His meta-analysis of nested summoning spaces is top of Iruka’s reading pile back home.

Iruka winces sheepishly and rubs the side of his neck.

“Aah, yes. I can’t say my seals have been turning all that well. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Across the table, Kyoko looks at him like he’s grown two heads. Sometime after the war, she wrote a thesis on chakra paper density. It shook up the market.

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

Akitaro lays down a card with a careless flick. “Nah, think nothing of it. Masato’s just a dickhead.”

“Yeah,” Kyoko agrees with an aggressive nod. “He’s been bugging me about my shorthand. Of all things.”

“He has? Hah! He’s offended that I'm taking too few notes.”

“He called me lazy and a show-off,” Ryo confides sullenly.

Iruka blinks. “What? When?”

Ne hunches over nir cards. “While we were mopping the water from my two-nodes.”

Akitaro lets out a bark of laughter. “Sounds like him, alright.” He looks to the head of the table. “What about you?”

From his throne, Toru gives a smug little smile. “Oh, he knows better: I have seniority.”

Nobuko sighs. “I divorced him.”

The table erupts in screams.

On Monday, Nobuko watches him apply the balm with her eyes narrowed.

She snatches the tin box when he’s done.

“Balm of Sea Foam,” she reads slowly. “Uh. You a sensor?”

Iruka winces at the term, which always feels like much too high praise for the struggle it takes him to pin down echoing chakra.

“Kind of.”

She pulls a face in acknowledgment. “Right. Makes sense.” She hands back the box. “You wash your hands after?”

“Should I? It dries fast.”

She rolls her eyes with an expression of deep inner pain.

“Wash your hands. Write a seal. Feel silly.”

An hour later, it's with relief that Iruka watches the fireball explosion of his chakra, single-character seal raining down such abundant embers over their table that the Archives’ protection jutsu takes a short beat to snuff them all out.

Masato’s very unimpressed by the whole display. Iruka doesn’t care.

On their first week in Kirigakure, Nobuko taught them a welcome shortcut from the hostel to the Archives through a succession of alleyways and side streets. In the early morning, most of them display the forbidding sight of closed shop fronts. Later in the day, though, they become a whole other sight, bustling with temptation.

Akitaro calls out to them from the sidewalk seats of a small bar.

“Hey! Care to join us?”

Iruka’s group shares a look. They’re fresh out of well over an hour of additional study at the library. Iruka could do with a break, and Toru’s hopping little steps towards the bar seem to agree.

They shuffle three tables and their chairs around until their aggregated group of nine can all sit together. The waiter gives them a look from inside the shop but doesn't intervene. They take it as permission.

“Nice fire release, today. What happened? Decided to prove Masato wrong?”

Iruka scratches the bridge of his nose with a self-conscious smile.

“He had a breakthrough,” Nobuko cuts in wryly before he can incriminate himself.

It's such an unexpected kindness that he laughs, still riding the high of relief. But you can’t learn from a mistake you don’t acknowledge, and also, Iruka believes in not taking himself too seriously. His pride can take some stinging. It keeps him honest.

“Of a sort,” he admits sheepishly and gestures towards his temples. “I use a balm against chakra resonance here. Turns out, it also numbs the chakra points on the fingers.”

His confession’s met with a surprising lack of censure.

“Oh, you're a sensor too?” asks Kousuke, a scholar from Iwagakure who's close to Iruka's age. He starts to lean forward but drops back against his chair when confronted with the length of their adjoined tables. “Sorry, you're too far to high-five. But man, that Archive’s hell on my tinnitus.”

“So, that was the problem?” Kyoko asks somewhere from the left. She’s frowning in thought, like she takes offense that there was an issue to begin with and that she didn’t figure it out. “How did you fix it?”

“Ah. I washed my hands right after I applied it. Very high-tech.”

They all share laughter at that. It's easy-going and friendly. Iruka’s spent so long worrying about not fitting in, he didn’t consider that others might not even consider it.

He's proven even more wrong by Yumi, a fellow Konohan and a distinguished scholar on the diachrony of genjutsu formulae. Iruka tried to read her most recent book and had to give it up as beyond his current ability. He’ll work up to it.

With Masato, she usually walks at the front of the line.

“You know,” she says with deceptive focus. She’s going on her third beer and probably would have mentioned none of the following had she been fully sober. “I thought you'd be different. You're actually pretty down-to-earth.”

Iruka laughs. He's not sure it's the first qualifier that usually comes to mind to describe him. His temper tends to make more of an impression.

“How come?” he asks.

“I don't know. I guess… You taught Uzumaki Naruto. You were at his wedding. You're young and already senior staff at Admin. You’re VP of the Academy yet it’s not the Headmaster who’s in direct contact with the Hokage, it’s you.” She shrugs. “I thought you'd be more full of yourself.”

Iruka’s spent his childhood causing trouble for attention. He’s not afraid of the spotlight. But this is different. It feels dishonest, like he's enjoying some of the limelight from other people's achievements.

Before he can think of something to say, Ryo jolts to attention.

“You mean your Naruto is the Uzumaki Naruto?” ne exclaims too loud, voice snapping like a whip over their table. A few of the neighboring patrons look on in short-lived curiosity, causing nem to shrink at the attention. “The Savior of the World?” ne asks in something more hushed. “You were his teacher?”

Iruka frowns slightly. “I mean, I was his Academy teacher. I taught him the basics, like I do everyone else. It’s nothing special.” He feels his face soften in familiar fondness, chest swelling at the thought of all that Naruto’s achieved. “He was always brave. It just took a while for everybody else to see it.”

“You won’t take even a little credit?” Nobuko asks drily.

Iruka gives her a sharp grin. “Oh, I’ll take credit alright. For making him clean his messes and dragging him back to class when he tried to skip school.” He laughs. “He was a terror. I’m just lucky I was too young to get gray hairs from it.”

His smile of soft nostalgia drops in the face of their stares.

He backpedals hurriedly. “But really, Kakashi-san should get all the credit. And Jiraiya-sama,” he adds after a beat, but the mention gets swallowed by the cackle of Nobuko’s maniacal laughter.

He watches them all exchange looks that are a mix of amusement and wonder. She keeps laughing.

Eventually, he rolls his eyes. “Alright, I don't get it. What did I say?”

The corner of Toru's lips twitches. “I suppose it's unusual,” he says lightly, “which of those two you mention with the most familiarity.”

The burn of a sudden flush climbs the back of Iruka's neck.

“Oh for the love of--” he sputters, blinking just long enough to hide behind his closed eyelids. “It’s not my fault, alright! He insists on it!”

As one man, they all turn to Yumi for confirmation. She shrugs.

“Wouldn't know. Not like I get to hang out with the Hokage.”

Iruka lets out a groan of performative misery. He wishes Kakashi was here to back him up.

He wishes Kakashi was here, period.

He can't catch a break.

Much to his relief, they’re quick to move on from his slip-up. By the time the evening ends, they’re staggering back to the hostel in varying states of inebriation. Kaya watches them walk by with an ambivalent expression, like she doesn’t know if she should be amused by the antics or wary they might make more work for her.

Iruka waves at her, all cheer. She replies with a lazier wave of her own and a pointed thumb at the pigeonhole cabinet behind her.

“Another letter?” Ryo asks when they meet again back in their room.

As if entranced, nir eyes won’t leave the mail in Iruka’s hands. Iruka feels his own grin turn sharp and teasing.

“Yep,” he says, jostling nem with a shoulder bump. “From the ‘Savior of the World ’.”

Ryo replies with a look of chagrined offense that Iruka doesn’t buy one bit.

He gives an unapologetic grin and snaps up his towel, which had been hanging from the bed railing.

“First in the shower. Calling it.”

“Aw, come on!”

Dear Iruka-sensei,

Kakashi-sensei says you’ve been writing to him, but he wouldn’t say what because it’s ‘private’. That’s unfair, I wanna know! It got him all happy too, and apparently you sent him a gift?! I’m sooo jealous, Iruka-sensei, what about meeeee?

Anyway, I’ve been working on stuff with Shikamaru, did you know, getting ready to replace Kakashi-sensei cuz he’s getting old, and it’s crazy that we don’t have a fully funded orphanage? Like, I always thought it was just me, but then I realized, no, Sasuke too, and then I remembered you mentioned living on your own as a kid--

[...]

[Part 5]

#naruto #kakairu #kkir #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #my scrawl #fic : naruto

9 notes · View notes

lovepersevering13 · 1 year

Note

Can I request something Everlark?

I have this idea about them on victory tour, but it's a bit raw. The prompt is "Well, I can't read your damn mind, sweetheart!" And it's about them having a fight shortly before they arrive in D1, which was tough for Katniss because of Glimmer and Marvel. And she is really struggling and starts a fight with Peeta on the train, but they make up again 🥺🥺🥺 thank u ✨

Haunted - Everlark

Thank you so much for this request!!! It’s longer than I originally planned it to be but I just kept wanting to add more… :)

Summary: The stress of the victory tour causes some tension between Katniss and Peeta

Warnings: Survivors guilt, guilt, arguments, mention of character death, minimal editing so there are probably some issues here… (Please let me know if there are any more I should add)

Word Count: 2164

There wasn’t much to enjoy on the victory tour. The repetitive, tedious and depressing routine caused each miserable day to blur together into a whirl of torture. Katniss constantly tried to remind herself that she was doing absolutely everything she could but in all honesty everyone knew by then that no amount of kissing, hand holding or giddy smiling at Peeta was going to pacify the rioting districts.

On top of the helplessness she felt surrounding the threats from president Snow, she was hit each day with a violent and guilt ridden reminder of each tribute who should’ve been in her place.

It really did feel as if the one and only thing stopping her from going completely mad was the undeserved, dutifully loving and gentle presence of Peeta Mellark by her side through it all.

As the train sped along steadily he lay sleepily next to her. Peeta didn’t have to be in there with her, but he was every single night without fail.

Always.

Katniss was grateful for Peeta. She really, truly was, even though she didn’t have the strength to tell him as much.

Usually she could sleep perfectly fine with Peeta next to her but even though she was curled up in her bed with Peeta’s sleeping face mere inches from hers she couldn’t rest. Her stomach was too heavy with guilt to do anything but lay paralyzed and count the seconds between his breaths.

The train was steadily but surely approaching district 1, Katniss found herself unable to think of anything but their tributes from last year. Before the games started Glimmer and the boy from one had the odds stacked in their favor (As much as they could be in the games) but somehow… She killed them both.

What tormented her the most on this night was that tomorrow she would look into the eyes of their loved ones and know that she was the reason their children were not in her place.

It was the one thing she couldn’t talk about with Peeta. He understood so much of what she’d been through but he hadn’t a drop of blood on his hands. Some days Katniss was so covered in the blood of others that she was practically choking on it. Like tonight.

Peeta rose with the sun every morning, a habit from the bakery. So when the blurry orange hues began to paint the sky out of the train window Katniss was not at all surprised by Peeta stirring next to her.

In the mornings Peeta looked so peaceful that it brought a sense of ease to everyone around him. At least it did for Katniss.

“You’re awake early,” He murmured softly, staring at Katniss with hazy blue eyes,

“So are you,” She stated, Peeta smirked and rolled onto his back,

“I’m always awake early,”

“I know,” She rolled onto her back, mirroring his position. Despite how close they come in sleep, the morning always brought a painful amount of awkward distance.

“You didn’t have a nightmare last night?”

Katniss answers silently with a large yawn,

“You didn’t?” She questions,

Peeta smiled, masking his worry over Katniss’s lack of sleep, “Not with you here,” He answered, turning to face her. Peeta shamelessly admired her.

The way the light brought out the prettiest of shades in her hair, the way her flushed, sleepy cheeks contrasted her deeply tanned skin and the way she let him find solace in her presence.

Peeta’s admiring was cut short by a rampant knock on the door,

“Katniss, we have a big, big, big day ahead of us!”

Then the day started. Breakfast, makeup, hair, a beautiful dress lined with cascading golden jewels that only Cinna’s trustworthy hands could craft. Katniss glimmered (pun not intended) on every light she touched. The dress wasn’t too heavy, itchy or revealing as per usual, and of course it looked beautiful. She looked beautiful.

Carefully Cinna adjusted the complex braid which was wrapped in a majestic crown around Katniss’s head. He placed three palm sized cards on the vanity in front of her.

“Here are the cards from Effie,”

“Thank you,” Katniss sighed. She had long ago given up on trying to deviate from the cards - even Peeta who was much better with speeches stuck to the cards.

“Now, show me that smile,” Cinna urged, one hand comfortingly and firmly placed on each of Katniss’s jewel studded shoulders.

Katniss would never perfect the art of forced smiles.

She moved on autopilot as she made her way to the justice building. Peeta took her hand, Peacekeepers opened the doors and Katniss stepped out into the blaring sun. Marvel, she noted, was the name of the boy. She killed him and didn’t even know his name. Her next breath took more effort than her last. Katniss had learnt days ago not to look at the family no matter how much she wanted to. Instead, she stared at the shimmery photo of Glimmer, Glimmer stared back at her.

Katniss was going through the motions but her mind was miles away. Specifically, up the top of a tree in the middle of the arena, Tracker jackers buzzing irritatingly around her head. On her skin.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Sting. Sting. Sting.

Katniss gritted her teeth and tried desperately not to reveal herself by swatting at the Tracker jackers.

She kept going, reading the cards, kissing Peeta’s cheek.

Sting. Sting. Sting. Her skin was bloating and her throat was closing in. Katniss kept her face placid. They couldn’t see her pain.

They couldn’t see.

The door slammed shut behind them with a thud just in time for Katniss to suck in a violently loud breath.

Peeta was still linked to her side- suffocating.

In panic, Katniss shoved Peeta off her, simultaneously stumbling back against the wall.

Effie shrieked.

“Katniss,” Haymitch hissed in warning. Katniss glanced at Peeta, his face was almost blank but his eyes scanned the room for people who saw Katniss’s small outburst.

Katniss took slow breaths, averting her eyes from everyone in the room. She spread her palms against the wall behind her, slowly tracing her fingers over a golden jewels implanted in the wall.

She stayed like that for a moment, those around her sharing weary looks until Cinna placed a hand on her arm and led her away.

Once Katniss wa re-dressed and designed for dinner, another extravagant golden dress, skin tight and floor length, accompanied by flowing sheer sleeves, a white shawl made of fox skin and a light golden glitter on her cheeks and eyelids which served to feminize her like the most delicate jewel. She sat at the vanity, swallowing her nerves thickly.

There was a knock on her door, Effie, she suspected.

“Come in,” Katniss called sitting up straight, she really couldn’t handle a lecture from Effie right now.

Peeta creaked the door open slightly, just enough that Katniss got a glimpse of his shimmery outfit, seemingly cut from the same length of golden fabric as hers. And, if it wasn’t just a trick of the light, his blonde curls were dusted with gold. Peeta was also not exempt from the makeup, he wore dark heavy eyeliner and his prep team had accentuated his jawline and cheekbones to such an extent that he looked nothing like the gentle Peeta she’d woken up to that morning.

“Cinna did a good job on your dress,”

“And Portia on your suit,” Katniss responded quietly. Peeta nodded and entered the room, he closed the door behind him, preventing passer-bys from overhearing whatever he wanted to discuss.

Peeta wanted to clear the tension before they had to spend the evening madly in love, it had proven much easier when they were at least friendly with each other. He also didn’t want to sleep alone that night.

“Can we talk about earlier?” He asked hesitantly,

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She stated,

“Look Katniss, this works better when we’re open with each other,”

“Agreed.”

Peeta waited momentarily, assuming her agreement would evoke further comment.

That was the thing with Katniss though, you could never assume anything.

Peeta grew impatient with every passing second,

“Well I can’t read your damn mind sweetheart,” Katniss recoiled at the term, Peeta knew that name got under her skin.“Look Katniss, I get that this is hard for you but we can’t get through this if we don’t work together.“

“You don’t understand Peeta,” She snapped dismissively,

“Help me understand, I want to understand Katniss!” He snapped back, running a hand through his hair, erasing what was probably hours of work.

Katniss pursed her lips, staring blankly at Peeta, how could she even begin to make him understand. She didn’t want him to ever have to understand the crushing weight that she carried constantly.

“You just wouldn’t get it.” She stated, with a sense of finality that Peeta couldn’t be bothered to argue with.

Peeta left, though he was cautious not to slam the door and immediately don a charming smile.

Katniss and Peeta made sure that they acted the same as usual all through dinner, though there wasn’t much of a difference: it was always an act anyway.

The main difference occurred after dinner, when Katniss sat on the edge of her bed waiting for Peeta. As more time passed she began to feel increasingly foolish. She had just expected him to apologize like he usually would, though she knew it wasn’t his fault. Katniss was so used to him doting upon her that it was easy to pretend she was always in the right.

Exhaustion and fear began to overtake her. The lack of sleep from the night before was beginning to catch up to her but she couldn’t handle the darkness of night alone. Without Peeta.

She did feel terrible for the things she’d said in the moment, she knew Peeta had been under similar pressures, she just felt jealous that he was able to handle it better than her.

The guilt of yelling at Peeta was the last unsteady brick needed to bring her crumbling down.

Katniss slipped on a deep green cardigan over her silky gray t-shirt and lounge pants before heading towards Peeta’s room. It was empty, bed made, shoes neatly lined by the door, bathroom door wide open- also, empty. Katniss had never really seen Peeta’s room before, he always came to her. It looked identical to hers, only she doubted it had ever been destroyed in a fit of rage.

Katniss continued her search, going to the next logical place- despite it being her least favorite room on the train. The door to Peeta’s studio was cracked slightly open and she could smell the paint fumes leaking out from it. She knocked on the door,

“Peeta?” She called weakly,

Peeta appeared at the door.

Peeta’s long sleeved cotton shirt and linen pants were speckled and splattered in paint- primarily, greens and reds. Katniss noticed Peeta’s leg was detached and perched against the wall. He clutched an elegant golden walking stick to support himself.

“Peeta-“ She started, “I’m sorry,”

“No, I am,”

The two clambered over each other to apologize.

“No Peeta. I’m sorry. I’ve been really stressed recently and I was just…” Katniss struggled to put words to her feelings.

“I get it Katniss, I’m not mad. I know you’ve been put under a lot of pressure recently,”

“I’m still sorry,”

“Thank you.” Peeta smiled, limping to the stool in the middle of the room.

Katniss lets herself in, keeping her eyes trained to the floor- a fear of nightmares written on every walk in this room. She sat cross legged on the floor in front of him.

“We should talk about it though, when you’re ready?” Peeta suggested,

“I know,” Katniss nodded, this time deciding she probably ought to continue.

“Glimmer and Marvel… I killed both of them. Their blood, it’s in my hands.”

Peeta’s brows furrowed thoughtfully. If he believed the train wasn’t bugged he’d assure Katniss that the only hands stained crimson were Snow’s. However, Peeta wasn’t stupid.

“I killed Foxface,” He murmured instead.

Katniss was shocked, her illusion of loneliness in guilt being shattered around her was enough to make her look up to meet Peeta’s eyes despite the horrors all around them.

“What? Peeta, no. She ate those berries, it wasn't your fault,” Katniss corrected him.

“If I hadn’t been gathering them…”

Katniss couldn’t help but reach forward and gently rest her hand against his one knee.

“It wasn’t your fault Peet,” she promised, horrified at how someone as perfect as Peeta could be plagued by the same guilt she’d carried for so many months.

“Then it wasn’t your fault either,” Peeta took Katniss’s hand off his knee and cradled it in his hand,

“Promise me you won’t blame yourself for their deaths Katniss,”

“I promise,” She sighed, unsure how she’d ever truly keep that promise, but for Peeta she was willing to try.

(Let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome)

#first time posting my writing here so let me know #no beta we die like literally every thg character #katniss and Peeta fight #edited at 11 pm so don’t trust it #the hunger games #the hunger games trilogy #katniss everdeen #thg #everlark #mockingjay #catching fire #peeta mellark #district 1

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darthmaulification · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him.

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

#star wars #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x reader #luke skywalker x reader #star wars din djarin #star wars luke skywalker #din djarin x you #luke skywalker x you #anon ask #anon #request

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finaledenialist · 4 years

Text

okay eveyone please stop yelling at me in the tags that you want to sue me for therapy money, here, quick, grab a happy ending (also yes, i am shamelessly tagging you @lobotomycastiel because this is all your fault:

When the Empty spits him out he doesn't know where he is or what year it is. He looks around and well, this is certainly Earth and it's still existing

There is nothing for you back there.

But he has no clue how much time has passed. He looks around. It seems to be a field in the middle of nowhere. In the distance he sees a bunch of trees. They look like they are slowly changing colours, they are not bright red yet but the browns and yellows are already showing; the sun is warm and birght but the temperature is not what could be described as hot. It's early autumn.

There is nothing for you back there.

He shakes the words echoing in his mind and starts walking towards the slowly setting sun in search of a road. After a couple of miles he finds it but there are no cars, there is nothing but the silence of a lazy evening, and he is worried. No cars on the road doesn't immediately mean that it has been years, he thinks, maybe it's just one of those long forgotten roads that lead to nowhere, one of those he ended up on when he had to leave the bunker. It's been hours until he hitched a ride back then, maybe this was a similar case.

He walked until the night fell, and then he just kept on walking, because what else was he suposed to do, finding comfort in the fact that at least the world still somehow existed. But how many years it has been? He put one foot in front of the other in total darkness and suddenly he noticed a shadow. It was definitely his shadow, and the night was starless, moon hidden safely behind the clouds; but if there was a shadow then there also had to be... A light?

He turned around and he let out the deepest sight of relief when he saw two front lights of a car driving in his direction. He stood there, wonderstruck. That's how Noah must heave felt like when he saw the returning dove, carrying an olive branch after days with no sight of land, he thought as he waved at the driver.

This time he catches a ride much sooner than the last time, but he doesn't want to think about it. The car looks old, but normal-old, he saw these kind of cars before, the radio plays a song he vaguely remembers, but he's too afraid to ask the driver what year is it; it would make things weird and he needs this ride more than anything. He navigates his way through the small talk, yeah, I just got lost in the woods, yes just take me to the nearest town and I got it from there, please and thank you so much for your kindness, he adds. The driver is an older man who looks tired and they spend the rest of the ride in silence.

He doesn't know the town’s name but he notices a phone booth, hidden in the alley; it's dark but the booth's light shines like a beacon and he feels like he found an oasis on a desert. He has no money, but there is a sticker that has the town's name written on it, along with some emergency numbers. It also says that if you press the correct combination of zeroes and hashes you might get a chance to call someone and that person would be charged for the call. So at least that problem is solved.

But what if

there is nothing for you back there?

He wants to call Dean. He wants to more than anything, but he ends up staring at the numbers and not daring to make the call. What if no one answers, what if they are all long dead and gone? What if the only thing he hears is silence? There is a little screen next to the keyboard that tells the hour, it's almost 2 a.m., and despite claiming that he is already saved to the Empty's face just hours ago, he feels completely lost.

It's 3:24 a.m., when he finally taps Dean's number on the old, worn out keyboard, desperately clutches onto the phone, closes his eyes and fucking prays.

There is signal.

And after the third one, there is also an answer.

After he manages to tell Dean where he is and that yes, I am fine, I am somehow, again, back, he hangs up and he just breaks. He steps out of the booth, breathes in the cold autumn air that smells like rain and dirt, and starts to cry. He didn't mean to, he wasn't supposed to feel anything that deeply, he wasn't supposed to feel anything at all, really, but he feels, he feels like the crushing weight on his back was just lifted, disappeared, and now all he has to do is just wait and then, then everything will be okay. He looks at the starless sky and the tears just run down his cheeks freely, because he was given yet another chance, undeserved and probably one-too-many, but that didn't matter, because he was alive, and Dean and Sam were alive and that's all that mattered.

He heard the approaching car before he saw the shadows casted by the impala's lights on the pavement. He would recognize the sound anywhere; after all he spent a lot of hours in that car, in the passenger seat, in the backseat...

He took another breath and quickly wiped his face with his sleeves. When he heard the car's door opening, he slowly turned around and saw them. Dean and Sam. Dean looking at him like he was witnessing a revelation and the shock on Sam's face. They looked just like he remembered them. Maybe that much time didn't pass after all.

'How long was I gone?', he manages to ask.

'Too damn long', Dean answers immediately and Sam's jaw drops.

'I don't know what to say', Sam says, and the little smile starts to make it's way on his face.

'I do', Dean says and takes a step, and then the second one, towards Cas, and suddenly Dean holds him, embraces him, like that one time in Purgatory years ago. 'I missed you so damn much, Cas', Dean's whisper is meant only for the two of them.

Suddenly there is a cry. A child's cry. Dean makes a step back and looks at Cas. He looks exhausted, Cas judges by the bags under Dean's eyes, but Dean smiles, the widest smile Cas has ever seen and says:

'We have a child to raise, Cas.'

It's Thursday and everything is alright again.

#baby jack truthing #widower arc #here here it's okay guys enough of this angst

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damn-stark · 4 years

Text

I missed you

Reiner Braun x reader

Requested by anon “Are you asking for Reiner's request? I have one! How about a NSFW and hurt/comfort drabble about S4 Reiner x female reader where he’s depressed and thinks like he’s undeserving of any sort of kindness or affection but reader comforts him? Reader was Reiner's former partner in the scouts and one of his best friends before he reveals himself as a titan shifter. She no longer hates him. Reiner being a sub. If you don't want to do it NSFW, just do it fluff. Fluff is fine too! Add some angst. Thanks!”

A/N- sorry if this wasn’t the smut you, but since what they talk about is serious, I wanted to keep it serious

Warning- Angst, slight sexual intentions but nothing to grande, talk of death and low

———-

“Come on,” you whisper as you take Reiners hand and pull him with you deeper into the woods.

“I guess old habits don’t die. You still like sneaking around, huh?”

You smirk and look at him over your shoulder, “I do remember you would follow me...like now.” You return your eyes to your designated path ahead and you make sure not to get seen by the soldiers keeping watch from the trees above. “Plus it��s okay to—”

“Have a little fun.” Reiner finishes for you. “Yeah you would say that too,” he finishes with a soft chuckle.

You express a lighthearted scoff and quietly continue manuerving to the place you had intended taking him, making it to the last obstacle in your way and having to push away some branches, and going through some tall bushes to finally make it to the cliff that overlooked a big beautiful lake that reflected the moon in the sky.

You pull your hand from Reiners grip and walk to the edge, crouching down to pick up a small stone and throwing it as far as you could over the cliff. “I really do wish we were by the ocean,” you groan as you sit down on the edge and admire the view nonetheless. “The world is so big and we were blind and naive before, hidden from it all.” You slide your eyes to the side to see Reiner sit at your side, looking at you instead of looking out at the glimmering lake. “And let’s not talk about the food,” you muse with a happy smile on your lips. “It’s all so good, I could cry right now.” You fall back to rest your head on his shoulder. “You truly were hiding all of it.”

“I…” he begins to stammer, losing that happy spark in his eyes.

“Reiner, I was just teasing.” You chuckle while you pull away and turn slightly to be able to face him, moving your hand to cup his cheek and let your eyes wonder his face as your smile widened. “Don't worry about it.”

Even before, when you had seen him for the first time after four years, you instantly took notice that he had grown taller, that he had let his beard grow on his face, that he had lost weight and his cheeks were now slightly more hallowed in; you noticed that he was also more handsome. The only thing that was the same, was his pretty gold eyes.

“Reiner,” you finally mutter with a smirk, “you know, I really like your beard, I think it suits you very well.” You begin to gently caress his cheek and notice the smile slowly tugging on his lips.

“You think so?” He asks almost unsurely.

“Mhmm,” you lean closer and see him swallow thickly, see as his eyes like yours drift down to each other’s lips. You don’t hesitate to close the gap slowly, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips, and then moving to press a kiss on his cheek to then whisper by his ear. “You know, I missed you.” You move and swing your legs over either side of his lap and slide your hands over his biceps and slide them to his shoulders to then wrap them around his neck. “So much.”

Reiner carefully places his hands on your hips and he presses a kiss on your jaw.

“After all this time?” He queried, “even after all I did?”

You move to meet his gaze and you sigh out slowly, “I’ve had four years to be mad at you, I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t. Reiner…” you pause and offer him a soft smile, seeing his eyes gleam and reflect the moonlight behind you and your face as you stay before him. “I love you, and I have since before you left.”

Reiner smiles and he lifts his hands to cup your cheeks, leaning in and pulling you in for a deep, yet short kiss that he began to slowly pull away from to then whisper his own comment by your lips, glancing repeatedly from your lips and to your eyes. “Im...in love with you too.”

A grin slowly spreads on your lips and you once again close the small gap left between you too to kiss him, sliding your hands to the back of his head to knot your fingers in his hair, feeling how soft it felt in between your fingers. Reiner proceeds to slowly skim his fingers down your body, creating chills all over your body yet not making you falter. Instead you proceeded to part his lips as you slide your tongue over his bottom lip, the sensation of your tongue over his lip making him shiver and causing him to express a soft moan in the back of his throat.

You smirk and pull away to start leaving warm and wet kisses on his jaw and down to his neck, you pause and let your lips brush over a part of his skin, pressing small kisses on that piece of skin and beginning to whisper what you had already told him, but what you couldn’t hold back. “I missed you. I missed talking to you and I missed kissing you.”

Reiner lets out a shaky breath and his fingers dig into your hips, he keeps quiet and let’s you continue kissing his skin, let’s you take the piece of his skin in between your teeth to gently suck on it and make him express another moan.

You slide your hands down to the button of his shirt to rip his shirt apart, pulling your head away and meeting his gaze to offer him a sweet mile, but before you could remove his shirt his hand cupped your cheeks and he tilted your head so your eyes met his once again. A smile decorates his features, but it slowly falls and made your breathing calm and your own smile falter.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

You pull away from his hold and your lips drop to form a frown. “What...what are you talking about?”

Reiner raises his hands and tries to again get a hold of your face so you’d listen, but they just hovered over your cheeks as he shook his head and began to explain himself in a shaky voice. “I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you, or the kindness and love you give me.” He inhaled deeply and shakily exhaled, showing tears well in his eyes whilst he pulled back and got on his knees instead. “I don’t deserve to live after what I did, I-I’m a despicable human being.”

“Reiner,” you interject softly, dropping the anger that had begun to boil and replacing it with deep concern. “Reiner don’t say that—”

“But it’s true,” he raises his voice as more tears stream down his face and he falls on his hands and knees. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, not after the pain I caused you. Not after the pain I caused our comrades.” He cries out, digging his fingers into the ground while his body trembled. “I love you, but I can’t let you love me. I can’t do this, just kill me!”

You hesitate for a moment, remain speechless and with your head full of racing thoughts; tears sting your eyes and you can’t find what to do or say to him to comfort him. All you could piece together was the whisper of his name, “Reiner…”

Reiner sobbed to the ground and made your own tears roll down the curve of your cheeks, you didn’t agree with anything he said, it upset you deeply that he would say that about himself. Actually the way he expressed himself left you in disbelief.

What you start to do is crawl closer to him, placing a hand on the back of his head and tilting your head down to try and see his face and eyes. But failing to do so as he kept his head down.

“Reiner,” you whisper, “please look at me.”

Said man doesn’t listen and keeps himself down and cries more softly than before.

“Look at me.” You say in a more strict tone, slowly earning what you demanded and seeing his gold eyes look up at you. “Yes, what you may have done was bad, but I know why you did it, I know why you left, I knew why you did everything past that. It’s not because you’re a bad person, it’s because you were just doing what you thought was right, we were both raised differently, and after spending time undercover where you were raised I understand why you did it, I would’ve done it too. You don’t deserve to die, and you do deserve all the love in the world.” You cup his cheeks and offer him a gentle and assuring smile. “Don’t blame yourself, all that matters is that you’re doing what’s right now.”

Reiner gets on his knees and you proceed to wipe the tears off his cheeks to continue. “You’re a good man, I see the way you’re with your cousin and I notice the way she admires you. You go out of your way to help and protect people, you’re trying to save humanity and I admire that. You have to live to see the peace your efforts will cause.” You laugh softly and press your forehead against his, “you’re important Reiner. Not only to me, but to your cousin, that little boy that came with her, the rest of your family and to humanity.”

Reiner cups your hands and you notice that he calms down, his breathing is shaky and his eyes are still glossy, but he isn’t crying anymore. His lips are formed into a sad frown, but you notice relief in his eyes.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and I always have and I always will.”

A soft and small smile tugs on his lips and he gently squeezes your hands. “Thank you. I love you.” He whispers. “Thank you.”

You pull away and move to sit beside him, interlacing your hand with his and resting your head on his shoulder. “Why don’t we stay here for another little while before we go back, yeah?”

“Sounds good.” He assures you.

#attack on titan #Reiner Braun #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan imagines #aot #aot imagines #aot imagine #aot Reiner #reiner braun imagine #reiner braun fanfiction #reiner braun x reader #Reiner Braun imagines #reiner x you

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mobagehelllocal · 3 years

Text

“lucky ending” extra notes i & iii

Hi, I said I would do it but then I released ver i so long ago that I felt I shouldn't do this unless I had another version out at least so yay! finally! ... I'll add ver ii here when I get around to writing it... *shifty eyes* So as usual, this is just my thought process and ideas while writing lol.

*please do not read if you haven’t read “lucky ending” ver i (dorm leaders) & ver iii (rook & lilia).

It was inspired by an anon ask and the button tradition from Japanese schools.

The anon ask went like this: First at all, I like do much your writing and I hope you are doing well. Second, I was wondering what would happen if the MC (Fem!s/o I guess) decided to not go back to her world, like she decide stay with her villain? Can you do make headcanons of this for the dorm leaders? Thank you very much. – from Anonymous

The button tradition, as narrated by the first years, is done when one person confesses and the other responds by giving them the button closest to their heart. In most Japanese uniforms it’s the second uniform, but in Twisted Wonderland--I looked at the ceremonial robes and the closest button should be the fifth. Maybe. I could be wrong.

The songs I listened to while writing this!

The original dorm leaders (and Rook) was written while listening to “Lucky Ending”, the ending theme of Fruits Basket. The English lyrics (translated by otenkiame!) are:

“Change is important. I want to do it well,/ but I wanna cry. It's still bad. I wanna cry”

“The word "goodbye" has disappeared completely from this world/ All that remains is me fooling around next to you/A day you don't laugh won't come anymore”

“I've understood it since being here/ These feelings of wanting to protect you aren't a misunderstanding/ If we can call what connects us bonds,/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Even if in a different world, it'll never be different/ everything changes/ everybody changes/ Don't change, ever/ Stay here, stay here”

I think it’s obvious why I chose to use this as the title of the series. It’s a story about change but it’s also a story about the things you don’t want to change... And I think it’s not wrong to want to hold onto things.

I also listened to the same playlist that I listened to while writing “wendy?” “hello peter pan”:

“Can’t help falling in love” cover by Annapantsu, “If you’re not the one” by David Beddingfield, “Who Knew” by P!nk and “All Too Well” by Taylor Swift.

For Lilia in particular, I was listening to three Beauty and the Beast songs on loop. “Evermore” by Josh Groban, “Days in the Sun” by the live action cast and, of course--”How does a moment last forever” by Celine Dion.

“How does a moment last forever?/ How can a story never die?/ It is love we must hold onto/ Never easy, but we try/ Sometimes our happiness is captured/ Somehow, our time and place stand still/ Love lives on inside our hearts and always will”

Also for Lilia, Tolerate It by Taylor Swift.

“You're so much older and wiser and I/ I wait by the door like I'm just a kid”

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky/Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life”

Malleus was definitely the first piece finished. Closely followed by Vil’s. I believe there was a gap inbetween them before I did the others? I wrote bits and pieces of Leona, Idia, Kalim and Azul’s. I think I finished Leona, Idia, Kalim then Riddle because I distinctly remember saving Azul for last.

One of the most important things for me, is that each story stands distinct of each other. So I gave myself a really hard time trying to figure out how each one uniquely belonged to each of the characters.

For the Prologue... I think because it’s set at the graduation of certain characters, I used that to my advantage and implied the stronger bonds between the Yuu!Reader and the entirety of the cast. Because a lot of time has passed and I feel like--regardless of what other people believe, bonds will be made and relationships will have strengthened enough for it to happen.

Riddle is honestly another really difficult character for me to write. I generally do love him and I enjoy his story, but something about him is difficult and I’m not sure why.

I think a part of me is also really miffed because from Heartslabyul-Savanaclaw, you could feel that Riddle really cared for Yuu on some level but then he just straight up disappears come Octavinelle chapter. I feel like there was potential to develop their relationship even more.

He WENT UP AND TIED YOUR RIBBON I REMEMBER I WENT DOKI DOKI OVER THAT.

I feel like because I’ve established that it’s a Yuu!Reader, it’s impossible for this story to not include both Ace and Deuce. So of course they featured in really big roles for this one, being responsible for telling Riddle the story.

I have to thank my friend, Mes, for bouncing ideas with me. They were the one who suggested what I could do with Riddle’s story by having ADeuce play such a big part!

I also tried my hardest to include Trey and Cater, and I’m pretty happy with their cameo. In a way, they definitely helped Riddle figure out his own feelings for you.

My favourite lines are: “I think you earned that much. I don’t believe anyone’s ever been in your situation before so—there’s no right or wrong about what you’re doing. It’s all about what you want to do.”

I wish someone would tell this to Yuu in general though. They’re the only one who has ever been in their situation (to our knowledge at least) and like... they’re definitely allowed to be even more selfish.

Leona is someone who I used to dislike a lot. I never hid that. It’s primarily because of how disappointed I am in the story of Savanaclaw probably. But like, I was always concerned about writing him properly because I thought that it was only right that I did right by him, because there would be people reading these stories who loved him. And I felt like I had to do right by that love.

I think... it’s wrong to believe that characters... villains... cannot fall in love or “won’t fall in love.” I think it’s wrong also to think that “people don’t change for love.”

In fact, people do change. You definitely shouldn’t change yourself to be loved, but... people change all the time to be their “better” selves. So whose to say that a good person, who you love, will not make you want to improve yourself? Isn’t that what we want when we meet people? To fall in love with someone who will ultimately make you better and never worse.

Or so that’s how I try to write the Twisted characters when they fall in love... With an understanding that “morally” the person they are falling for is “kind” and “good” and how a part of them might just want to be better just for that person. (Especially Leona and Azul). They don’t necessarily have to be nice to everyone, but if they can be better for one person... We stan healthy character growth.

But yeah, Leona is driven by understanding that he’s a very selfish person. But that he’s also very unfortunate and he doesn’t want tie you with someone who, he thinks, is actually worthless. He probably, deeply, thinks you deserve more.

Though his selfishness eventually wins out and well... Won’t you forgive him for it? :) For tying you down to this worthless second prince?

I think his own self-awareness does make him try harder. Not for everyone or everything... but for you. Just for you. I think that would be Leona’s love language--spending time with you, trying for you.

He’d appreciate if you didn’t call him out on it though, that would be very embarrassing.

Looking back, I’m surprised that it was the only version where none of the other boys from his dorm showed up lol. Which means Ruggie is the sole character who has yet to appear in the “lucky ending” series, huh.

My favourite lines from his story that still leaves me breathless and patting my past self in the back: ““I’m home—” you said—even if a part of you felt that home should have been two green eyes, a cocky smirk, and a warm patch of sunlight on the grassy ground.”

Like honestly, what was I on? Who was she?

Azul is, like Leona, someone who is so keenly aware of the things he’s lacking. In fact, he’s someone who thinks he’s lacking when he’s probably perfect in some aspects. He might act proud but a part of him--I think--thinks its not enough. It’s never enough. He can certainly do better still.

In that light, it’s why he thinks he’s undeserving of a partner. Especially one who is “kind” and “understanding.” While ultimately, Azul deserves people in his life who are that and “accepting” of him--I think he still thinks he doesn’t.

And thats why he lets go of the Yuu!Reader. It’s why he doesn’t “chase” after her like Leona did.

It’s because he’s selfish, because he wants her--that he forces himself to let go.

Azul needs someone who’ll tell him that he is worth something and that he’s definitely worth the effort. So please praise him a lot until he’s crying in happiness. I’m sure it’s the one thing he’s always wanted to hear from people around him.

Also my Poly!Octavinelle Agenda has never died and I am pleased Past!Ai got away with so much Poly!Octa hints in this story lol. But honestly, regardless of wht Octavinelle says... god, you can tell they genuinely care about each other.

I recently rewatched Octavinelle’s chapter and... by god, the amount of things I missed out on first watch. Jade’s concern when he realized Azul wanted to get rid of that photo... The fact Floyd was so willing to drop the fight to return to Azul too... Anyways, Poly!Octa Agenda for life.

Favourite lines: “Azul’s pathetic whimpers turned into guttural sobs. His fingers spread to cover his eyes—and his glasses slid off his face, down to his lap and then to the ground—at his actions. His whole body shook as he cried his heart out.”

It’s not as poetic as a lot of my other favourites, but for some reason these lines always get me when I reread them. There’s something so visceral about it.

Azul’s piece is probably the least visually stimulating out of all these stories? His was so emotionally driven compared to the others and I worried a lot about that.

I think I remember I was crying so badly as I was writing this.

Kalim is really hard for me because I feel like I struggle a lot with finding conflict in his character? He’s such a genuinely nice person, I find it hard to believe that the Yuu!Reader would feel alienated from him or something. So I brought in “environment” to get in the way.

My use of celestial imagery for Kalim is because of the Scarabia trailer! I really loved how it put Kalim as the sun and Jamil as the moon. I definitely will take advantage of that when I get around to writing for Jamil.

So because I wanted to use the sun, I chose to use the idea of comets for Kalim? I think I remember something about how meteors are drawn to the gravitation pull of the sun and can “escape” it or “be destroyed” by it. Haha, hot.

Jamil is someone who ultimately cares about Kalim too and I had fun writing his banter with the Yuu!Reader. I think I wanted to decribe the shadows licking his face reminscent to the marks from his Overblot but... I felt like doing that would give Jamil too much focus so I ultimately decided against it.

It would’ve been hot though.

Oh yes, one thing I wanted to talk about is Kalim’s rushed proposal. I remember people talking about it in the tags, comments... even in asks at that time. The reason he does it is because he’s someone who didn’t realize his feelings until you spelled out your own. It was a sort of: “Oh. Right. That is the word I’d use to describe my feelings.”

My favourite lines from his story is: “How does one bid goodbye to the sun?” and “No one ever willingly bids goodbye to the sun.They spend the rest of their lives trying to find the right way back to it.”

My god, who was this genius.

Vil is probably the most visually stunning out of all these stories. I feel like my stories go from super vivid imagery and setting to just complete emotional disasters lol. (Vil being the former and Azul’s being the latter... not that it’s bad, it actually suits the characters).

Oh man, I remember thinking that Vil is such a hard character to write because we don’t know what his motivation for perfection is. All we knows is that he wants to be the best but, why?

It’s like, for example, Idia. His motivations could be otaku-related. He doesn’t want to go to class because he’d rather go play or something. That sounds in character--but Vil was so hard because he wanted perfection.

But we already see him as such a perfect character, so what else did he need to be even more perfect? In that light, Chapter 5 did a really good job on presenting Vil’s motivations.

But honestly, I think I can comfortably say that the Vil I’ve written so far is pretty accurate? To his character. I’m really grateful I read his chat lines because his comment about intelligence really got me thinking about his possible motivations. It made it really easy to understand that Vil wasn’t like majority of the real world’s influencers.

One other thing that I was really happy about with his story is the use of the flower language. It’s something I hope I can use more because it’s so beautiful.

Oh! And the roses the Yuu!Reader talks about are double delight roses. They are specifically bred to have two colors--yellow in the center and pink on the outside. I thought it fitting that the Yuu!Reader breed special roses for Vil.

They can be called... err... Vil Roses?

My favourite lines from his story is: ““My happiness will not be dictated by others—no, Vil Schoenheit is a person who will grasp happiness with his own hands.” [...] “I’m giving you this button because I’ve already found happiness by your side.””

This line was actually inspired by Zelda C.W.’s MYth series. Specifically Hera’s story, Will.

Idia ...for him, I somehow had a very hard time imagining him trying to tell the reader to stay. Like that didn’t compute for me? I felt like his version was better approached in a more comedic light somehow.

I also felt that it would be cuter if the Yuu!Reader had already chosen to stay and Idia would need to hastily retrack his confession... Unfortunately, Yuu!Reader won’t let him.

Honestly looking back on it, I wonder how much of Chapter 6 is going to make me scream and want to rewrite Idia’s part?

My favourite lines from his story is: “He was never particularly good at lying—nor was he good at keeping secrets from you. You were a person he considered a dear friend—and he was always the type of person who ended up spilling everything to you. He liked being able to talk about the things he enjoyed—he liked that he had found someone who wanted to hear him out.”

A lot of my interpretation for Idia is closely linked to personal experience as an anime, manga and gaming fan. It was just a couple of years ago where people would actually be bullied for liking these things--but nowadays its become a norm. It’s... stunning actually but it makes me happy to know that maybe nobody will be judged for loving anime.

That being said, Idia’s longing to find someone he can talk to is something I really relate too--back then, it was so difficult to find someone to talk to about my interests... So I interpreted Idia as much the same. That what he enjoys about the Yuu!Reader is their ability to simply sit and listen to him talk.

Malleus... man, recently I’ve been starting to fall in love with him all over again. He was my first oshi ever... Anyways, moving on. You think I’ve talked enough about immortal x mortal but nope, we are not done. I love this theme in general, romantic or platonic.

I will never shut up about it you can’t make me.

Sebek having a good enough friendship with Yuu!Reader is such a delicious concept. Like mutual respect and Sebek understanding that Yuu!Reader gives Malleus a different type of companionship that Sebek, Silver or Lilia couldn’t...

And also, ultimately, Sebek and Yuu!Reader do love Malleus. In different ways, but I like the thought of Sebek respecting that and respecting the Yuu!Reader.

Me realizing just now that Silver joins Ruggie in the: “has never appeared in a lucky ending fic club.”... Sorry Silver, I swear soon. Once we get more content on you.

Celestial themes for Malleus are primarily, again, because he only ever seemed to meet you at night. And I thought it would be wonderful, if you were a bright spark to him.

Favourite lines are definitely: “Oh, bright light… I would prefer to live the rest of your life by your side… rather than spend centuries contemplating what it could have felt… to hold you in my arms.”

I am, always, going to be such a big sucker for the idea of immortals constantly remembering and loving mortals. Always holding them close in their memories, because in that way--their lovers have become immortal with them.

I also like to imagine that he eventually figures out a way to connect your worlds together so you can still talk to your friends and family from that world. He is one of the most powerful magicians around, I’m sure its possible.

Rook was honestly the most difficult piece for me to write because he’s so hard(?) for me to understand. He’s a mess of contradictions honestly and I... guess I’m excited to see what he’ll do come Chapter 6.

I actually rewrote his story so much. I got about 500 words with a different idea/plot in mind before deleting that completely and restarting from scratch.

I feel like Rook is someone who talks big and talks about love without actually knowing what it truly might feel like. He’s someone who doesn’t understand it and ends up mistaking it for his fascination.

Aside from me enjoying inserting other characters from the same dorm as much as possible, I felt that Vil was the perfect person to snap some sense into Rook.

Epel’s appearance there is basically to reflect how much I really hope the first year kids get really close to one another.

Rook is also someone who I think, doesn’t try to explain himself too much. He’s someone who I think talks a lot, but if people don’t understand him then he doesn’t need to be understood? That’s my impression. Lol, when “lucky ending” became a character study.

I also really loved the idea that Rook was fine with people running from him--to him that makes it all the more thrilling. But then you start running away from him and that just ends up making dread pool in his stomach.

My favourite lines from his story: “‘When something ends, it must be sad. So, tell me then, how an ending could be so beautiful?’ [...] .‘But there was one ending that was beautiful, non?’ [...] ‘That’s right. ‘They lived happily ever after’—are those not the words that define a beautiful ending?’”

I used the dusk metaphor for Rook. My idea is that he starts seeing dusk as an ending and how he can’t fathom how any “ending” is beautiful. When a story ends, it’s not beautiful to him, humu. But when that ending is the happily ever after then... That makes all the difference.

Lilia was actually easier than Rook’s but also fairly difficult. I had written the middle of Lilia’s piece while stumped on Rook’s actually. Lilia’s was probably easier because I love the idea of immortals and mortals.

I don’t really like the idea of mortals becoming immortals. Like, yes, it’s certainly sweet and spending eternity with a one true love is definitely the best possible ending but... I think there’s so much weight in an immortal choosing to love a mortal while knowing that they will ultimately lose them.

The biggest theme for Lilia is definitely time.

Thinking about it now... There’s been a lot of things in real life that’s just... Made me think about how we have less time than we actually think we have. And I think I ended up channeling that through Lilia... Though I feel like it is ultimately things Lilia would think about though.

The most important imagery would probably be the stars.

I honestly wanted to avoid it because I used celestial imagery for both Kalim and Malleus but the words just flowed out in a way that I felt that I couldn’t replace. So I went with it.

Lilia is no stranger to loneliness. One of the reasons he feels less alone is because he has family now and he doesn’t want to rob you of that. Family is so important to him because they are people who are meant to be with you--they are people who will make you less lonely--or so thats how I think? he thinks.

My favourite lines from his story: “He would relish in the way—You made the world pause. You made a moment extend into an eternity. You made an immortal crave just a little more time.”

I’m so immensely proud of this one? I don’t really have much else to say. There’s something so raw about it that I love. Also the part where it continues on to say that “Because there is never enough time.”

Me realizing my extra notes is just half me simping over these characters, half sharing headcanons, have actually giving good advice? perspective?, half song lyrics, half character study/analysis?

“lucky ending” is about change. Whether we want them to happen or not it’s... the human condition to change. For better or worse, we change--day by day. I think we all operate under a small panic about how everyday things are changing...

But “lucky ending” is also about the things that don’t change. Won’t change. Will never change. The things worth holding onto, the thing worth fighting for... or so I’d like to think.

#aimuses #ainotes #ai lucky series #twst #twisted wonderland #its 6 AM HEEHOOO

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buzzykrueger · 4 years

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The moment when Gon’s priorities start to change - ch. 64 and 65

While working in my meta of the separation scene (which will take some time still, sorry), I came across these chapters again: 64 and 65. Two of my favorite. As a linguistic and literature student, I’m always trying to catch hints in Togashi’s writing - we know he carefully thinks about each word used. Have a good read and keep in mind is just a thought - and the dialogues and panels chosen to be showed in here are meaningful. This is not a deep research with theory references, but just some of the various examples of how artistic and textual strategies work in Hunter x Hunter, that they are not random and how even the slightest changing of words and switching perspectives can impact the story in order to provoke a reaction, meaning something to the audience, leading us to a way.

Anyways.

The boys had just finished the Heaven’s Arena, with tons of hints of how they would bond more and more, for example, Killua wanting to evolve with Gon in the same pace regarding both the Floors and the Nen training. The scene where Killua and Gon are meditating together, Killua getting more protective of Gon, as they soon become a pair.

They take a short well deserved break: it’s time to visit Whale Island. After all, Gon came to Kukuroo Mountain, and Killua wants to recollect what is home to Gon, too. Fair enough, it’s how I understand he’s self-inviting.

When they arrive. we are introduced to the fact that Gon, someone who deeply cares about his family, hasn’t called once since he passed the Exam. Of course, he got extremely focused on rescuing Killua and then training with him in the Arena, getting distracted. Not that he doesn’t care about Mito or anything, but he’s found something that kept his focus real heard. And Mito imagines what it is.

Their dialogue and her glance right after that hint why she can’t even be angry at Gon - because she’s not looking at him, only. Every time it would make sense to show only Gon but we get to see Killua by his side, too, is a visual message to the readers. Mito could’ve only looked at Gon, ‘cause she just met Killua and he’s not related to her. But she observes the meaning of his presence, even if Gon does not say it.

The star gazing scene, one of the most important in the story and something we are very familiar with so, sorry to bring it up again - I know you all must be tired of seeing the same panels (but I adore it and I will keep using it). It starts with scenery that are important memories of Gon’s life when he was alone, now bringing a new meaning to them, someone to share with: Killua.

When Killua approached Gon’s plans from now on, and after getting his answer, he questions what he should do. Gon says that he should come with him.

And here is another example how a simple choice of words - not only the words itself, but the timing when they’re said and the position, the “breath” between then, or even their absence - can mean so much as fantastic and complex storytelling strategies. Because Gon only gets to know that Killua, actually, doesn’t have any plan AFTER he asks him to join. He’s not asking because Killua don’t have it - he didn’t know that before he asked - but because he wants him to stick together. This is why it’s important that this request was said and showed before Killua elaborates on his feelings, so we can know that it’s not because “since you have nothing to do”. And fun fact: Killua is the only friend that Gon actually insists to not leave. The chapter when Kurapika and Leorio head to their goals, Gon just said “oh, already? - okay, see you/good luck/something like that”, with a honest smile. And I know Gon says “see you around” to Killua at the separation scene, but it’s also the first time he's shown unsatisfied with this decision, not smiling at all, implying he’s not okay.

Continuing, its Gon putting Killua in a place that no other belongs. It’s a re-signification of Killua, Gon’s favorite places, his home and their future - everything starts to change and take form to the audience.

To Gon, it’s about sticking together because they like hanging out. This is the main reason for his request, since it’s the first thing he says about it - and further he adds their individual reasons, to be more convincing, but the core is what it is.

As we know, Mito overheard everything, specially the moment when they start to compliment her and Gon says she is his real mother. Then, later, we have chapter 65, now a re-signification of Gon’s relationship with Ging and Mito.

After accidentally hearing his words, we can interpret that she’s not that insecure anymore about losing Gon to his new found career. It was bittersweet when Gon left, after all “he is indeed his son”. But she realizes he’s different from Ging - he comes back, he values her, he could be in search of something he doesn’t have like news from his biological mom but instead, he chooses to embrace what he does have. Gon can’t even imagine how impactful his reassuring words were, and it’s also a opportunity for Mito to let out the resent on Ging and the Hunters, giving place to finally trust Gon.

And she tells him what the absence of Ging means to her. How she got hurt, but still wanted to have him around. And that’s when Gon takes Ging out of his place in his heart: it’s time to put him in his true place and make space for those who stay: Mito and Killua.

We don’t need to give titles and special places to those who are undeserved of it and should just perform a specific role in our lives as we let them. Mito herself craved for Ging’s attention, always running after him, seeing him only by his back, hiding/missing just for him to come to her aid. Gon realizes that it’s what he’s doing - he does not have someone to call a father, because Ging never make up to this title. He downgrades Ging to the same person Mito knew.

And now, even if he still feels the urge to prove Ging he’s not weak and undeserved of attention, company and worth, he definitely is not the same person and does not want to be. Ging is not the “dad who I want to follow the same steps” anymore. And then, we go back to Killua:

“But Bea, what does this have to do with Killua? We’re only seeing Mito and Gon there!” Actually not! We’re seeing Killua too, but not physically. We get to connect Killua to this scene by a simple line Gon said one chapter before, about Killua’s meaning to his life:

To Gon, it’s enough just to know this answer. Why? This line is VERY specific, literally the same thing he said to Killua in the previous chapter. He chose to bring it to table. It’s a soft - and literary - way to say his priority changed and to connect Killua to his objective. He reclaims Mito as his real mother, downgrades Ging AND shows what it comes first at his mind now - wanting to know if Ging had the same thing he has with Killua, stating his friend’s importance. “Look, Ging, how far I got. Who I took with me. Did you have this?”

And this could easily be sided with the end of Greed Island, when Gon says the first thing he’ll do when finding Ging is to introduce Killua. ‘Cause in his main goal now, the first things that come up to his mind aren’t being just like Ging and reunite with him anymore - it’s the “friend around my age”, it’s “Killua” and everything that refers to him. It changed. Gon was behind something he didn’t have, his father presence and some pride, and comes back with something even better he didn’t have either: a true friendship, who wants to be there and assure his worth.

And for me, that is the reason Togashi ends Mito and Gon’s conversation with a specific panel, not of them, not with a picture of Ging, not with the sky only... but with this:

Killua. A person not mentioned in their dialogue directly, and someone who’s not family and isn’t in the same room as them. But that is there, respecting his privacy with Mito. This is there for us to catch. It’s not a direct exchange between Gon and Killua, they’ll still do it in their way, because its meant for us: when two characters are not showed together in the same situation/moment, but are referred directly or indirectly, it’s a writing choice that means “it’s for you, the readers, to connect this.”

Togashi could've never put the “did he have friends his age?” line that wouldn’t make a difference - we would go with this Gon “new approach on Ging” because of how Mito feels, and would be satisfying enough. But the author, with this sentence used in the previous chapter and this panel, it’s reclaiming the audience to catch Gon’s new focus and remind us of Killua, that he’s there, relaxed, patient - and does not intend to leave.

EDIT: I truly think Mito will play a major role in the realization of Gon’s feelings. She’s, since the beginning, an important person and a cog who makes his significations move, first subconsciously, now more actively - but I’ll elaborate more on that in future posts.

Not deep, not a serious research, but something fun to elaborate that is implied in text, i’m used to catch this stuff and seeing by this perspective by dealing with literature classes on a daily basis. Does not mean I’m an expert or that I’m right, but that is something I’m quite sure its on purpose. Hope you all enjoyed!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #meta #hxh meta #killua #gon #ging freecss

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cotccotc · 4 years

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♡ 10:56 am ; safe space

set in the domus amoris universe !

genre/s: comfort, angst > fluff, established relationship au, hyunjin x gn reader

wc: ~2.6k

warnings: non-sexual nudity (mc, not hyunjin; vague descriptions of body parts), anxious/depressed/self-deprecating thoughts, in-depth description of a panic attack, mc has hair that’s long enough to brush

a/n: this one’s based on a suggestion by the lovely @crscendoforsung !! i wanted to make it a bit angsty for ya since,,,, i Know You :) it’s also a pretty exact account of an experience i had as well so.. that’s fun... lol. if you ever have a suggestion for the series feel free to check out the suggestion box !!

there are always going to be times where nothing seems to be going your way. sometimes days, sometimes weeks, sometimes years… and it’s hard opening up about those things. those things that eat away at your psyche until it seems as though there’s little to nothing left; the things you never say out loud for fear they might manifest themselves; the things you even dread telling the man you love for fear of worrying him. it’s times like these where you don’t want to be heard or seen, but rather to curl up into a ball and let everything you need to out of your system. it creeps up on you. right now, as beads of hot water pierce your back and your face rests in your trembling hands, you’re reminded of this feeling. it plagues your body, haunts your thoughts… and honestly, you’re not sure how it happened. but you know that if hyunjin sees or hears you, he’ll take on your troubles as if they’re his own. so you stay quiet.

you’re honestly just confused. angry at yourself. frustrated. you’d caught yourself staring into space again. it happens every so often, but each time it does you get more and more fed up with your lack of self control. your dazed, dissociated mind will get the best of you at times. it can get to the point where, like today, you can be in the middle of a simple, everyday task - taking a shower, brushing your teeth, sometimes even doing work - and you’d just be stripped of your attention span. and, it can last for as short or as long a period of time as it so chooses. it makes you feel like you’re out of control of your own body; as if the vessel in which your spirit is contained is caving from the outside in, crushing your spirit in the process.

heart racing against your thoughts, shallow breaths rising and falling at a staggering pace, fingers trembling as you fold your hands together and squeeze them closer in a weak attempt to make it all go away. you begin to wonder why you’re like this. how you can go from applying shampoo to your hair to feeling the water grow lukewarm as your mind wanders into oblivion. oftentimes, you blame yourself, citing a simple lack of intelligence for the way your head takes over like this. you don’t even know when it began. prior to moving in with hyunjin, of course, but… were you always like this? was this always how your brain decided to occupy itself? have you always been so spacey… so vacant, so stupid? why are you like this? why are you so broken? why won’t it all just slow down or stop? why don’t you just-

whoa. where did that come from?

these thoughts strike you, almost as if you’ve been slapped in the face. your cheeks heat up as a stinging sensation overtakes your eyes. tears. droplets of disparity, dripping down the drain. what feels like a chill courses through your body, making your bones shake and joints buckle. seeing stars, your knees give out, sending you to the porcelain floor of the bathtub. you sit with your legs folded, leaning over with your face in your hands. heaving breaths, hot tears, piercing beads of water shooting out from the showerhead to the sensitive skin on your back. shaking, shuttering, ashamed. especially since you’ve given up trying to stay silent.

you hear the bathroom door creak open. shit. but just like any other instance, you can’t seem to stop convulsing nor crying.

“baby…?” you hear hyunjin’s soft, youthful voice calling to you over the running water. “baby, are you okay?” he must’ve heard you fall.

you try to catch your breath. and, of course, you fail. just like you failed to pay attention to the task at hand, failed to conceal the breathy sobs over which your lover must now worry… you’re choking on your own futility. “no,” you whisper, your face still contorting in your hands.

before you can object, a hand reaches into the shower and shuts the water off before hastily pushing the shower curtain to the side. now, more than ever, you’re hyperaware of the volume at which you’ve been sobbing. the chill of the air rises over your naked form but is quelled by hyunjin’s warm hand against your back. he’s taken a seat next to the tub, a look of concern and shock spread across his face. you can’t even look at him. you can’t bear the fact that he can see you right now. your physical bareness doesn’t even concern you. it’s the emotional nakedness that sends you deeper into your descent.

but oh, what it’s doing to hyunjin.

he feels so helpless. so terrible. so guilty. he doesn’t even know what happened, and yet his only wish is to be able to go back and stop it from happening. guilt, responsibility, fear... it’s enough to force a tear from his own eye, as well. “what’s wrong,” he whispers, his voice trembling as his face tightens and lips quiver. you can’t help but let out another bout of choked sobs and convulsions. he leans into the tub, gently pulling your wet hair out of your face and draping his arm across your bare back. he presses a kiss to your spine, then rests his cheek against you. as more teardrops emerge from his eyes, he strokes your hair. “breathe,” he murmurs. under his breath, closing his eyes, he adds, “please, breathe.”

mind you, this isn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. maybe not in the same circumstances, but you’ve had similar episodes while out in public, while doing work, or even while trying to fall asleep. however, when he’s around, he’s able to help calm you down before things get this extreme. many times, his prolonged embrace alone is enough to drag you out of your daze and back to reality. but every time he holds you close enough to feel your heart fervently pulsing within your chest, his pangs for you. whenever your heartbeats are not aligned, he wants nothing more than to trade.

you do as he says. you try to concentrate on your breathing. though your mind is still fuzzy, you rely on your senses. with the aid of hyunjin’s caresses and directions, you’re able to begin breathing at a semi-regular pace. though a stutter remains in your breathing pattern, everything seems to have slowed. he lifts himself from you, leaning toward your face to get a better look at you, regardless of the agony your aching expression puts him through. “you did so well,” he mutters. you sit up, wrapping your arms around yourself as the air hits your wet skin. “here,” he says, quickly rising to grab a towel from the metal rack on the wall. wrapping it around you, he holds onto your arms as you use the side of the tub to lift yourself up to a standing position. he helps you step out of the tub and onto the floor. despite the humidity of the confined room, the tile beneath your feet is chilling.

you sniffle, wiping your face with your hands. he takes two fistfuls of the towel and replaces your hands, patting your face dry. that’s when you notice he’d been crying too. you look into his pink tinted eyes with an overwhelming twinge of guilt. “i’m-” you croak. but he knows what you’re going to say.

“don’t be sorry,” he interjects, looking deeply into your eyes and cupping your face in his hands. “please?” you nod, averting your eyes from him. he makes you so happy. so comfortable. so at home. and yet, you feel so embarrassed. he’s seen you like this before. but the feeling never seems to lift. he licks his lips, placing a kiss against your cheek before travelling across your jaw and down to your neck. then, he begins patting you dry with the towel, gently brushing over your skin with the cotton fabric.

you’re so grateful for him. he shouldn’t have to do this for you. he shouldn’t have to care for you as if you’re a child; you should be able to do basic tasks. it’s all you can think about as he travels down your body, blotting the water off of you. so much so that it brings back the wetness in your eyes. you think you’re undeserving. you think you’re hopeless.

he stands back up, getting ready to towel dry your hair. that is, until he sees the single tear dripping down your cheek. his stomach drops. he wonders if his efforts aren’t enough. he wonders if he deserves to be the one who takes care of you. if he can’t do that, what can he do? at least that’s what he’s made himself believe.

so much unspoken.

“love, what’s wrong?” he asks, tilting your chin toward him with his thumb and forefinger.

“i…” you start. you don’t even know where to begin.

you glance away, eyes flicking to the clothes you’d picked out to wear after you showered - the main component being one of his t-shirts. he follows your eyes, hastily setting the towel down and grabbing the garments. “let’s put these on. i’ll help you.” you nod, sniffling. he gives you a bittersweet smile, crouching down to help you step into your underwear. once your undergarments and shorts are on, he picks up the t-shirt and smiles to himself. he didn’t quite recognize it as his own before. it’s a mixed feeling. he helps you into the shirt, his warm fingertips pressing against your waist as the fabric settles atop your form. his thumbs rub back and forth against the material. it’s a small gesture, but it’s soothing.

you shakily place a hand against his chest. “thank you,” you mumble, your voice still small and strained.

he gives you a half-smile before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. you know he’s trying his best. and he knows you are too. that’s why he doesn’t prod. instead, he grabs the towel from the counter and a hairbrush with his other hand. “come on,” he says, leading you out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. he takes a seat on the bed, his back resting on the headboard. he taps a hand to his thigh. you climb onto the bed, then onto his lap, facing him. “close your eyes, baby.” and so, you do as instructed. his efforts are beginning to elicit more endearment than guilt out of you. it’s dawning on you that he’s enjoying the surface level elements of taking care of you just as much as you’ve relished in receiving them. he wraps the towel around the back of you, placing it atop your wet head. as he massages your scalp with the towel, rubbing and compressing your dripping locks, you hum in relief. it feels so warm. he makes you feel so warm.

you take a deep breath. he smiles at you, even though you can’t see it. he thinks you’re adorable. and he’s relieved you can breathe again.

after he’s done drying your hair, he tosses the wet towel down onto the floor beside the bed and grabs the brush. placing his other hand on your waist, he says, “tell me if it hurts. if i’m hurting you, i’ll stop.”

opening your eyes, you let out a small giggle. “you could never hurt me,” you reply. and, it’s true. he never has, and he never will. you pinky swore on it a long, long time ago.

a breath escapes his nose as his smile grows wider. “ok.” he tilts your head to the side. ever so gently, he begins brushing through your still-damp hair, carefully and slowly untangling any knots. eventually, he turns your head to the other side so he can reach more of you. once your hair has been fully detangled, he places the brush down on the bedside table in favor of wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. “all done.” you encase his neck in your arms, resting your head against his shoulder. the pads of his fingertips roam all over the expanse of your back, lulling you into a relaxed state of mind.

“thank you,” you whisper into his neck.

“you don’t need to thank me.”

“yes i do,” you respond, sitting upright. “you shouldn’t have to do all of this for me. but you did. but you do.”

he cuts you off slightly, hands passionately gripping onto your hips. “i do this because i want to. we take care of each other. you would do the same for me.”

you roll your eyes. not because you’re angry or annoyed, but because what he said is true. you would do the same for him, any time. but that’s because he deserves it. why do you? “yeah, but…” you trail off, eyes drifting to the side as that familiar tingling arises in your face. your lip trembles, signalling to hyunjin that, once again, his efforts were ineffective.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he whispers, placing a hand on your cheek to draw your face back to center. you look at him, your brow furrowed and a tear escaping your eye, reaching up to hold his hand as he strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. he wipes the salty remnants of your pain off of your skin, though the sentiment remains.

you climb off of his lap. he lifts the covers and blankets so the two of you can slip inside. laying down and facing him, you let out a deep sigh.

“it’s just… it happened again,” you say. he pulls the covers over your bodies and shifts closer toward you.

he tucks your freshly brushed hair behind your ear before placing his hand upon your side. “mhm.”

“and i couldn’t concentrate on anything else. i forgot where i was, and what i was doing…” you sniffle. you don’t want to send yourself back into such an emotional state, but you want to help him understand how you’re feeling. so, you do your best to explain. everything. everything from zoning out to your body becoming fragile, and even to the feeling of worthlessness that accompanies it all.

he comes close to crying again, but he pulls himself together for your sake. he doesn’t want you to feel guilty for feeling. instead, he pulls himself closer to you and presses a kiss upon your cheek. “i’m proud of you, you know,” he says before kissing your face again.

“why?” you ask, chuckling with a slight smile spread across your lips.

“because!” he objects. he tickles your side, prompting your smile to widen and laughter to continue. “you were brave enough to tell me.”

“i thought i was a baby,” you tease. you playfully grab his hands off of you… but you know you won’t get too far.

“you’re not a baby.” he climbs on top of you, pinning your arms above your head and placing a trail of kisses along your cheek and neck. then, with his hands traveling back to your sides to tickle you some more, his voice deepens. “but you’re my baby.” you can’t help but giggle, bombarded with kisses and blushing from the contact. your reaction only eggs him on. he smiles into the crook of your neck before leaving a series of kisses against it, tickling you all the while.

sure enough, you’ve forgotten all about what had happened just an hour ago. it’s as if nothing occurred at all. not because you’re distracted, not because you’ve dismissed it, but rather because you felt comfortable enough with your lover to share your deepest, most vulnerable inner turmoil. and he received you with open arms, an even more accepting heart, and a trail of sloppily laid kisses that’ll leave a swarm of butterflies aflutter in your stomach for days to come.

he succeeded, finally. and the both of you couldn’t be more pleased.

another note: if you’ve experienced something similar to this, please know you’re far from alone, and i’m always here if you need someone to talk to. i hope this can comfort you in some way. love u ♡

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @ncityluvvs (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

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thebountyfucker · 3 years

Text

The Royal Affair - A Choose Your Own Prince Fic

18+ ONLY - NSFW

I wanted to try an experiment where I wrote a story with two parallel branches so readers could choose which character they wanted to read without me writing two separate fics! Let me know what you think! (Subject to more parts!)

Embo x AFAB!Reader or Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader

Tags/CW: Threats of violence/assault, embarrassment

Here's the link to my masterpost!

Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's my taglist application!!

You eased up to the table, smiling despite yourself, and bowed your head. You didn’t say anything to them, as per the instructions from your boss, and carefully handed out the flutes of champagne. The royals prattled on in Durese, hardly paying you any mind, though the Prince did cast a glance up at you from the periphery of his vision. You bowed your head once more, and turned to leave.

You had never been more nervous in your life than you were now; with a tray of champagne flutes balanced in your hand, and the heel on your left shoe coming loose, you had to put the entirety of your focus onto your task at hand. It was a simple one, really - deliver the drinks to the Duros royal family, bow, and return back to the kitchen to fetch hors d'oeuvres. Simple. Easy. Yet the wobbling in your ankle frightened you. The last thing you needed was to drop the crystal flutes in front of everyone - or worse, on someone.

As you turned, you heard a loud snap, and your ankle buckled and rolled; you went down, your tray clattering to the floor. Conversations around you stopped, and the gazes of three royal families found you collapsed on the floor. A horrified blush crept up on your cheeks as you crawled toward your tray and gathered it up in your arms; you pulled off your shoes and slowly stood, pain blossoming from your ankle. You limped to the back room, and tossed your shoes straight into the garbage.

“What happened to you?” One of your coworkers, a pretty Rutian Twi’lek, asked, glancing down at your now bare feet and rapidly-swelling ankle.

“My fucking heel broke!”

“Oof, tough luck.” She shook her head as she kneeled down and prodded at your ankle. The pain was horrendous, but she didn’t look concerned. “It ain’t broken… I’ll see if I can get a wrap and some new shoes for you.”

“Thank you, Salicia.” You muttered as you sat down, propping your leg up on the seat beside you. Your other coworkers came and went, taking out drinks and snacks, and coming back with dishes and trash. They hardly spared you a glance. There was work to be done and attending to the weak link would only slow it down. You sighed softly as Salicia returned with a bandage and a pair of silken flats.

She sat beside you, gingerly lifting your leg to wrap your ankle. She was gentle, and the pressure of the bandage made it feel instantaneously better. When she had secured it in place, she handed you the pair of flats; colored a vibrant blue, the flats sported a winged lizard embroidered on each of the sides. The slippers clashed with your uniform, but it was better than nothing; you eased them on, and cast Salicia a glance.

“Queen Esmera gave these to me when she saw me asking the other girls. She saw you fall, said these would probably be more comfortable than anything we could offer.” She explained, her lekku tips curling up as she shrugged. “I think she may be fishing for a thank you… so… you might want to go out and tell her.”

“Alright.” You sighed as you stood and brought your tray back to the bar; the bartender noted you with a frown, but knew better than to say anything. “Can you get me seven glasses of your most expensive Phatrongi red? You can… add it to the party’s tab.”

“Did Queen Esmera give you those?” He asked, suspicion heavy in his voice. You glanced down at your shoes and nodded.

“Yep.”

“I suppose the wine is a ‘thank you’ to her.” He muttered, waiting for your nod, before continuing. “And you’re stroking her ego because…?”

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, I guess.” You shrugged, and he shook his head as he poured the thick, purple wine into the glasses.

“Yeah. Polite. And then they turn around and treat you like trash.”

“They’ve been nice to me so far.” You muttered as he helped stack the seven glasses of red wine onto your tray. Your departure toward Queen Esmera’s table was slow-going, as you didn’t want to risk tripping or putting undue stress on your ankle. Your coworkers were careful about not bumping into you, but there were a few close calls.

You made your way toward the Kyuzan Queen, careful to stand a distance away in case she turned her head to regard you; her ostentatious crown, constructed of metals and jewels and silken cloths, was large enough that it could sweep the wine right off your tray. That was the last thing you wanted.

She did, in fact, turn when she noticed you, and you breathed a small sigh of relief as her crown cleared your tray. She offered you a kind, mask-less smile, and you bowed your head respectfully in response.

“Thank you for your kindne-.”

And then it happened. You took a few step closer and the slippers caught on something - likely the queen’s dress. You tripped, and the tray of wine went flying; the wine splashed upon the Queen’s lap and onto the table. The princes and the King jumped back from the table as the wine spread out toward them. Your heart plummeted to the bottom of your chest, and you dropped to your knees at her side.

“I am so sorry.” Tears welled in your eyes. Salicia rushed over with towels, much sooner than you expected, and thrust one at you; she mopped up the table, apologizing to the princes, while you gingerly dabbed at the Queen’s dress. The red wine marred her white and gold gown, and you knew that the stain would never come out. “Please forgive me. Please. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”

The Queen gingerly patted your head as you dabbed at her gown; the weight of her ring-covered hand was rather comforting, and it did make you feel quite a bit better.

“There, there, Little One.” Her voice was honeyed and velvet-smooth, yet there was an imposing timbre deep beneath it, as if she knew and reveled in the power she had in this situation. “It was an accident, and these things happen. It is okay.”

“It is not okay!” The King’s booming voice startled you from the calmed stupor the Queen had put you in. Your gaze focused on the Queen’s dress as the party hall went quiet. “This insolent worm ruined your dress!”

“There is no reason to be upset. What is done is done.” Queen Esmera continued to pat your head reassuringly.

“There must be recompense!”

“Enough. You are causing a scene.” Her voice was even and steely, and her husband eased back down into his chair. The waves of rage radiating off the king made your skin crawl - he was one of those kings where the rumors of his temper far outshined any good he had done. There were numerous stories about girls being used and thrown in ditches after minor misdeeds. You hoped your employer would protect you from the likes of him… but that was no certainty. “The dress is ruined. I will call for a maid to bring me another.”

“I’m so sorry.” You repeated, and she tilted your chin up.

“That is enough, Little One. Now run along, okay?” She smiled sweetly, and you got up with your metaphorical tail between your legs. You limped back to the staging room, where you found a bench and collapsed onto it. Tears threatened to spill over, but you rubbed them away with the heels of your hands. You felt so foolish, so demeaned. The worst part of this, though, was that it was all your fault. No royal had made you spill the wine. No royal purposefully tripped you, nor did they break the heel from your shoe. It was your own insolence. You buried your head in your hands, a strangled sob leaving your lips.

Someone sat down on the bench beside you. You figured it was Salicia, until you noticed their scent - it was woodsy and entirely manish. You couldn’t think of anyone you knew who smelled like that. Curious, you spread your fingers open and peeked through them; sitting beside you was one of the Kyuzan Princes - the youngest of the four, whose name, you believed, was Embo. He cast you a glance, his browridge cocked.

“Oh! Uh…” You wiped your eyes on your hands, and then wiped your hands on your skirt. “Hello there, Prince.”

“You are in trouble.” He spoke, his voice unwavering and deeply serious. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach dropped.

“W-what?”

“My father is like a jungle cat chasing a rat. In his eyes, you wronged him, and he will not rest until you pay the price.” He explained, his voice low and conspiratory.

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” You squeaked.

“You embarrassed him, and my mother. He believes you made fools of them both before our allies.” Embo explained, his hands laced together and resting on his lap. “I came to offer my help. The last thing I want is for someone undeserving to be left in a ditch to die.”

“But you’re his son. How can I trust you?”

“Just know that I would rather see him dead than let any harm come to you.” He replied, his gold eyes narrowed and a small growl rumbling in his chest. You blinked at him, and then looked down at your hands. “And he knows better than to touch anything I lay claim to. If I tell him you are under my protection, he will not dare bother you.”

“I… wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. My family keeps a large staff already. We would hardly notice one more.”

Your gaze remained on your hands, your mind running a million miles a minute. If you didn’t take the Prince’s protection, what would happen to you? Would the king stoop to harming you? It seemed that if his own son was worried, the answer was likely yes. So it would be best to go with the prince then. What if he was lying? What if this was all some elaborate ruse to get you into bed with him, or worse?

“I’ll… need time to think.” You replied, your voice shaking.

“Of course. You have until the end of the night.” He got up, dusting off his expensive suit, and disappeared through the door which led back out to the main hall.

You sat there, still trying to process what was going on; the staff around you stared at you, either concerned or shocked that you had gotten so close to the Prince without mention of sexual activities. You glanced at them, before standing.

“I… I need to take a walk.”

No one stopped you as you slipped out the door into the main hall. The royals were all happily conversing, and you noted that Queen Esmera had, indeed, changed her dress. You ducked down the hallway to the front door, desperately needing some fresh air to help clear your head. Ugh, you had a headache.

The guards allowed you outside, and you sat down on the top step to gather your wits. The warm, humid Coruscant air caressed your bare skin, grounding you to reality. The ambience of the thousands of speeders and marching of armor-clad guards drowned out any sounds from the gala itself. You buried your head in your hands once more, just trying to think.

“You’ve got some shit luck tonight.”

You turned toward the intruder, noting that the Duros Prince was approaching; he had a lit cig between his fingers, and he took a long drag.

“First de heel, den sullying Queen Esmera’s dress…” He shook his head as he eased down onto the step beside you. He offered you the cig, but you declined. “What gods did ya anger?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shaking your head. Cad leaned back, perching the cig between his lips.

“I assume de big guy already warned ya?”

“About his dad? Yeah.” You answered, your worry rising again; it was one thing to hear about the danger from the King’s son… now you were hearing it from an unrelated royal? Great….

“Den ya know you’ll need t’ low ‘til he comes t’ his sense, right?”

You nodded at this. “Prince Embo offered to let me stay with him.”

“Did he now? Doesn’t seem quite safe t’ be going back to de same home as yer threat.” He mused as he took a drag of his cig. “I came t’ offer de same thing.”

“Why?” You asked, wary of Cad’s intentions.

“Well, King Triakt has no domain over me and my family. And messing wit’ us could end badly fer him.” Cad drawled as he plucked the cig from his lips and flicked the ashes off of the end.

“Seems like a lot of trouble for someone you don’t know.”

“I don’t know ya but dat doesn’t mean I can’t extend some kindness.” He took a long drag of his cig.

“What’s the price?” You asked, watching his lips twitch into a small smirk.

“I don’ know yet. We’ll figure dat out as we go.” Cad smothered the cig beneath his boot. “Whaddya say?”

“I… need to think about it.”

“Sure, sure. When you make up yer mind, come find me.” He winked at you and stood, straightening out his outfit. He sauntered back inside, leaving you alone in your thoughts. Now, you just had to decide who to go with...

Who do you choose? Embo or Cad Bane

Tags List: @justanotherstarwarswhore, @doctor-ren, @that-clone-wars-girl, @some-serendipity-snail

#embo #cad bane #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #iri writes #my fanfiction

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besanii · 4 years

Note

Hi! if you'd like, I'd love to see number 6 (lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up) for your SM verse. Thanks!

Shattered Mirrors 58

Lan Wangji is standing by the window behind the desk, one arm tucked against the small of his back, the other resting by his side, when Wen Yuan enters the study. He turns as Wen Yuan gets to his knees and clasps his hands before him in a bow.

“Hanguang-wangye, you sent for me?”

“Wen Yuan.” Lan Wangji motions for him to rise. “I hear you are lodging at an inn in the city.”

Wen Yuan obediently rises to his feet and keeps his eyes lowered respectfully, though the smile on his face is warm and easy.

“Wangye heard correctly,” he replies. “It is only a modest inn, but it is clean and its furnishings sturdy. It is more than adequate.”

“That is good to hear.” After a pause, he adds: “There are rooms available here, if you do not mind that we are lacking in preparation. I’m sure Wei Ying would be pleased to have you stay here with us.”

Wen Yuan bows.

“Thank you, Wangye, for the generous offer,” he says. “But I do not wish to intrude. I am only here to deliver the antidote and call upon a few business associates, and then I will be on my way.”

“You do not plan to stay?” Lan Wangji asks, surprised.

Wen Yuan shakes his head and smiles.

“The nature of my business means I am constantly travelling,” he explains. “It’s the only life I’ve known—to be honest, Wangye, I’m not sure I would be suited to staying in one place for an extended period of time.”

To a man like Lan Wangji, whose identity is so deeply rooted in his nation, his people, the thought of not having a place to call home is unfathomable. Even during the years at war, when he had been constantly travelling along the front lines, Caiyi and Gusu had always lingered in the back of his mind, a constant, comforting promise. He remembers with a pang of guilt that Wen Yuan has not had a place to call home since he was very young.

“If your mind is made up on the matter, then I will not press the issue,” he says with a nod. Wen Yuan bows in thanks. “However, please know that the doors of Hanguang-wang-fu will always be open to you, should you wish to stay.”

“Wangye is too generous,” Wen Yuan murmurs. “This one is undeserving.”

There is something about the way he smiles—polite, detached, almost secretive—that stirs a faint sense of recognition in the recesses of Lan Wangji’s mind.

“Wen Yuan,” he begins, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “Have we met before?”

Wen Yuan’s smile grows wider, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Does Wangye not remember?” he asks, the playfulness in his voice so similar to Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji is reminded that this young man was practically raised under his husband’s wing. “This one was fortunate enough to meet Hanguang-wang when he was still Er-dianxia, near Jiangling.”

Jiangling. He had been stationed there for a while during the war, when they had been preparing to march on the Qishan Wen stronghold in Yiling. It was there they had received much-needed support from General Ouyang in Baling, enough to turn the tides of the stalemate they had been locked in for the better part of three months. They had discovered Wen Chao there, rotting away in his own filth, barely alive and out of his wits.

It was also there that he had received the first news of Wei Wuxian in over a year, a cryptic message delivered by a boy, along with a note—

“It was you,” he realises. “You were the messenger.”

Wen Yuan bows. “I was.”

The air rushes from Lan Wangji’s lungs and he steadies himself against the back of the chair. It was Wen Yuan, all those years ago, sent to him by a mysterious ally, who had also brought General Ouyang to their cause. And then General Ouyang had delivered them Wen Chao, the crucial element they needed to turn the tide of the war.

“And your master…” Lan Wangji looks up at him for confirmation, half-afraid of the answer. “Who is your master?”

Wen Yuan keeps smiling.

“I think Wangye already knows,” he says.

——

Wei Wuxian is asleep when he returns to their rooms, curled up under the covers as the warm afternoon sunlight spills in through the window by their bed. He has been sleeping poorly, plagued by nightmares and lingering pains from his illness—although the antidote has helped ease the latter quite significantly—and Lan Wangji is loathe to wake him. But the enormity of the new information fills him, threatening to burst out of his chest at the very sight of Wei Wuxian, alive and well before him, after so many years.

He sits down on the edge of the bed beside Wei Wuxian’s head and watches the rise and fall of his chest, soft and deep in slumber.

All these years he had gone without knowing what had happened to Wei Wuxian after he left Gusu, not knowing where he was after the fall of Yunmeng, if he was safe or captured or even dead. He had spent all these years desperately searching for Wei Wuxian, vowing to care for and protect him, to shield him from any further harm—when in fact, it had been Wei Wuxian who had protected him from the shadows this whole time.

He brushes back a lock of hair from his forehead gently, leans down to brush a tender kiss over his lips, and feels Wei Wuxian stir.

“Lan Zhan?” he mumbles, instinctively turning into his touch, eyes still closed.

Lan Wangji laughs softly, his eyes stinging.

“Yes, love,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and peers at him blearily, still clouded with sleep.

“What’s happening?” he asks. “What time is it?”

“Nothing, everything is fine,” Lan Wangji assures him. He presses another kiss to his forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

“Mm,” Wei Wuxian hums, letting his eyes drift closed again. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He climbs under the covers and arranges them so Wei Wuxian is nestled in his arms, head pillowed on his chest, over his heart, warm and pliant and alive—

He pulls him a little closer, holds him a little tighter, presses his lips to the top of his head as the tears start to fall.

“Thank you,” he whispers hoarsely. “Thank you, Wei Ying.”

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#lepetiterik #asks #shattered mirrors fic #my writing #shattered mirrors au #wangxian #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wen yuan #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #courtesan!wwx #prince!lwj #kiss prompts

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tessiete · 4 years

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Prompt request where crechemates Obi Wan, Quinlan, and Luminara catch up after Obi Wan’s year on Mandalore. They’re Jedi but they’re also lifelong friends and Obi Wan is sad...

ANON!!! I’m so sorry this has taken ages, but you know - we did it! Thank you so much for the prompt. It was an absolute joy to write Luminara, and try to meld together my Legends peeps with canon. ❤️❤️❤️

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

He comes back changed, so different that in that first brief moment between arrival and recognition, Luminara thinks she’s never known him at all. There’s a stiffness to his spine that speaks of something deeper than injury, and a weariness to his eyes that comes not from fatigue, but wisdom. His master’s hand lingers on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan leans into the touch, his frame trailing like the tail of a comet in Qui-Gon’s wake. But then he sees her, and he smiles, and he looks like he always has.

“Senior Padawan Luminara,” he says, stepping close and bowing deep. “I heard the good news on the platform as soon as we touched down. Congratulations.”

She bows back, neither as deeply, nor as grave, his impish humour undeserving of too much indulgence.

“And you as well, padawan,” she says. “Only you would manage to find a Council-sanctioned reason for skipping an entire year of Astronav.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” he says, eyes alight with mirth. “It was a matter of utmost political delicacy, and I am honoured that the Council, as well as the Chancellor himself saw fit to trust my master and I with such a task.”

“Ah, yes,” she says. “You are well known for your love of politicians. Tell me, is the Duchess of Mandalore very pretty?”

He falters then, a furrow forming between his brows, his lashes fluttering and eyes sliding away from hers in search of something that isn’t there. Ah. She raises her hand, and with a slender forefinger, smoothes away the crease.

“Hush, Obi-Wan,” she says. “This too will pass in time.”

He takes her hand in his, and holds tight. A smile, just as tight, flits bravely across his face, and he inhales sharp, and bright.

“It’s nothing,” he says. Then, as though for proof he adds, “And she was very pretty.”

But Luminara isn’t fooled at all.

She watches him at meals, and in classes - though with a year between them now, their schedules don’t quite match as neatly as they once had. Still, she sees. There are the usual things that linger in any padawan, or knight, after more difficult missions, of course. He keeps his back to the wall. He looks for exits. He always is the last to leave a room, and tries to be the first to enter one, but there is more than that.

There is a softness now. It’s...it’s nearly unnoticeable, and even more undefinable, but there is something soft about him that wasn’t there before. He listens more attentively. He watches more carefully. He frowns and thinks before he speaks, and the little furrow between his brows is remembered by his skin. He leans close when she whispers to him, so near that his hair grazes gently over her lips, and he doesn’t stare at Siri anymore. Not like he used to. But he laughs, and he offers her his hand instinctively, when they take an aircar to the lower districts one evening.

He has learned intimacy.

“Must’ve been some kind of girl!” Quinlan shouts, as they reminisce over drinks in a seedy little club in CocoTown. Obi-Wan grimaces as Quin lands a jocund punch on his bicep. He’s in high spirits tonight, having managed to scrape his way through Theoretical Basic with Obi-Wan’s help. “I know you’d never leave me to suffer as I did for just anyone.”

“Cut it out, Quin,” says Siri, knocking back a shot of something thick and glowing. “Can’t you see he’s distraught?”

“I’m not distraught,” Obi-Wan protests. “I’m just embarrassed to be out in public with you lot.”

“Aw, Obi-Bi,” says Quinlan. “You missed us. Admit it. There’s no duchess in this entire Force-forsaken galaxy that can hold a candle to the pleasure of my company.”

“Oh, please,” scoffs Siri, her mouth grimacing at the sour twist of liquor and Quinlan’s own peculiar arrogance. “You make Gardulla the Hutt look like Alderaanian royalty.”

“Hey Tachi,” says Quinlan, “Aren’t you too young to be out without your master?”

“Hey Vos,” she retorts, “Aren’t you too old to still have one?”

He flicks a protato wedge across the table, which Siri dodges easily, snatching it out of the air with a deft application of the Force, and eating it while he protests her theft.

“I paid for that!”

Garen laughs, while Reeft is too busy scarfing down half a nerf to offer his opinion one way or another. But Luminara watches. Obi-Wan smiles, and smiles but it never lasts for longer than he is observed. It falls away quickly when he drops his eyes, or ducks his head as though the weight of it is pulling his whole being down. His presence in the Force isn’t dimmed. He is as cool, and clear as he has ever been, but she cannot sound him. Like the ocean, he is fathoms deep.

She nudges his foot beneath the table, and he looks at her, attentive to whatever she might need, for surely there is something he might do, something he might say that would fulfill her want and distract him from his own. But she only cocks her head, and studies him, mouthing “Are you okay?” over empty drek and ale bottles.

He blinks. Confusion springs up like a keen defensive blade and he nods as though she were a fool for asking. She presses her lips until they are thin as flimsi, and takes a sip of drek.

“Here, Obi,” says Quin, shoving a shot into his hand. “You and me are gonna drink Tachi under the table.”

“And no purging,” Siri adds. She raises her own glass in salute. “Last woman standing wins!”

And with a cry, and an encouraging hand guiding his own, Obi-Wan joins in the competition, drinking until Quinlan winds up half-conscious in the fresher, and Siri is slapped with a lifetime ban. Reeft, and Garen stagger off to Dex’s, while as penance, Siri vows to see Quinlan safely to the Halls of Healing. Hopefully Bant is on duty and will take pity on them.

“If I really grovel, she might even hook us up with one of those Corellian selamine drips!” Siri slurs, Quinlan draped over her shoulders and drowsing.

Luminara seriously doubts that is a possibility, but says nothing. She only nods encouragingly, and adjusts her hold on her own unstable burden. Obi-Wan has fared better than Quinlan, knowing better than to challenge Siri to a bet, and having learned, somewhere along the way, that some battles are better left unfought, but still he struggles to keep his feet, and Luminara braces herself to steady him.

They squeeze into the aircar together, but are forced to walk the last few blocks to the Temple, when Quinlan unceremoniously vomits out the back window. Most of it is whipped away by the wind, but their driver is furious, and refuses to go any further. And while guiding the steps of three drunken beings is more tedious than simply shoving them in a taxi had been, there is some fortune in this outcome as they manage to make it past Temple security with far less notice than if they’d had to be cleared at the private docks.

Still, Siri and Quinlan make no secret of their passage, laughing and giggling at every missed step or absent whim. At the crossroads between quarters and the Halls, she waits until they stagger out of sight before turning her charge towards his master’s rooms. He’s quiet, pliant, and easily led - a state that she cannot attribute to anything except the quantity of drink in his system, since his stubborn willfulness is something which was left quite unchanged.

“Come on, Obi-Wan,” she whispers, as they approach his chamber door. “Help me out, here.”

She nudges him in the ribs, and lifts his arm while his head lolls sideways to tuck under her chin. She feels his lips against her neck, his breath hot. He smells of sweat, and stale cigarra, and brittle nighttime wind.

“Rejorhaa'ir ni meg gar copad, Sat’ika.”

The words are soft, reverent, hardly more than a kiss upon her skin, and Luminara knows they are not for her. She shakes him harder. Hard enough to dislodge him from his perch atop her collarbone, and drop him into wakefulness.

“Satine?” he mumbles, blinking in the dark. He speaks the name like an orison, and Luminara feels her heart ache with the weight of his prayer.

“I’m not Satine,” she says. “You’re home now. You have to open the door and go in.”

“What?”

“The door, Obi-Wan.” She nudges him further ahead, forcing his feet to accept the responsibility of gravity.

He stumbles, but catches himself, and lets out a sigh.

“Master Qui-Gon is never going to let me hear the end of this,” he says, pressing his palm flat beside the door, and staggering through as it slides away with a hiss.

She follows him in, catching him at the waist as he makes an aborted attempt to collapse across the couch in the common room. His hand hits a clay pot, sending it spinning, and his foot strikes a hollow note against the little wooden table at his side.

“Careful,” she scolds, righting the plant, and listening for the sound of a wakeful master. “We’re going to go to your room.”

“Ah, Padawan Unduli, you’re trying to sed-”

“Padawan Kenobi, keep quiet, lest you wake your master.”

“Right,” he says. And that is sufficient threat, for he keeps any further jibes and jokes to himself as they pick their way down the hall to his room.

This time, she opens the door, her hand firmly in the middle of his back as she escorts him in. The room is still musty from his time away, and though it is no bigger than any standard issue room in any other double suite, it still feels empty and cavernous around them. Obi-Wan hasn’t lived here in a very long time. The walls themselves have forgotten him.

“Thanks for helping me home,” he says. He drops upon his bed, shrugging off his cloak and pulling at the clasps upon his boots. His fingers are wild and clumsy. She watches him struggle for a moment, before pity takes hold, and she kneels down to assist. She brushes his hands aside, and he falls back against the wall, his breaths rasping loudly in the dark.

“If you’re going to be sick let me know,” she says, with a brow raised in barest concern. “I don’t want you to aspirate on your own.”

“I’m not going to be sick,” he insists, voice thick.

“Or if you’re going to cry,” she adds.

“I’m not,” he says. “I’m not. I missed you.””

She shucks the boots, and lifts his legs onto the bed, pulling a blanket across him. He closes his eyes but his jaw is tight, and that furrow in his brow remains. She reaches out to smooth it.

“I missed you, too. Sleep now,” she says. “And dream of lovely things.”

“I’d rather dream of nothing,” he whispers. “I’d rather not dream at all, if all I’ll see is her.”

His hand clenches over the edge of the sheets. She sits, and folds his hand beneath her own. In the stillness of this empty room, and the comfort of his childhood bed, he fights. He bites his lip, until the blood has fled, and the tender flesh turns white. He turns his head, and swallows hard, again and again to drown that anguish, to bridle that emotion, and master himself, just as a Jedi ought. At the corner of one eye, sorrow beads and slips across his cheek. She soothes that injury, too, and murmurs to him sweetly.

“Hush, Obi-Wan, you’re home, now. You’re safe. You’re here. I’m here. Be here, with me.”

“But I will never be there again,” he says, choking on the words as they break free. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I’ll miss her forever. It’s all over, now.”

“It is,” she sighs, stroking his hair. It has grown long in a year, and his braid is nearly hidden. “It’s over, but it happened. You loved her. And she loved you.”

“I could have stayed,” he cries. “I would have left for her.”

“But you didn’t. You came back. Do you now regret it?”

He gasps. A wretched sob breaks loose, and he surges up, panic, and despair, and overwhelming loss sending him reeling into her arms. He weeps against her chest until he is exhausted, and her robes are crystalised with salt.

“You can still go back,” she whispers, a secret in his ear. “If you wanted. The choice is yours to make.”

He shakes his head, and tightens his grip.

“I made my choice,” he says, tongue thick and slow. But his tone is clear. His heart resolved. He knows what it is he speaks. “I am a Jedi. This is where I’m meant to be.”

“Then trust the Force,” she tells him, gently. “And trust yourself. This, too, shall pass in time.”

#My fic #prompt fill #luminara unduli #obi wan kenobi #sw fic #Star wars

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aye-masakalii · 3 years

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Understanding Pallavi: The Deshmukhs, Raghav, and her Redemption?

An insight on Pallavi's perspective, looking at the show so far, situated in the timeline right after the infamous mirchi incident.

Pallavi and the Deshmukh Clan

Ugh, okay, so I hate them all. From my reading of the scenario, it feels like Pallavi has been trapped in a deeply abusive relationship with that family. Only Nikhil cares a damn about her. Sulochana and Amrutha have not hidden their disdain, so I see no reason to address it. Mansi has turned out to be quite venomous herself. Milind, I believe, does care but I also believe in ‘impact, not intent’. As well intentioned as he may be, not once has he acted in a way to positively impact Pallavi’s life.

As for Vijay and Sharda, I don’t think either of them deserve the title of ‘Aai’ and ‘Baba’ from Pallavi. Apart from the night Sharda called Vijay’s bluff and walked out with Nikhil to find Pallavi after the kicking-out incident, neither of them have acted like parents. In the very first episode, their insistence on getting her remarried, even though she was visibly distraught at the idea, put me off, and it’s been downhill from there. Vijay was appropriately called out by Raghav for trusting him instead of his so-called daughter when he followed her to his house to investigate the nature of their relationship. Foreshadowing for when Vijay would once again believe Raghav over Pallavi when he assassinates her character. Sharda, while less abrasive, has also not been supportive. She can insist however much she wants that Pallavi should share her troubles with her, it’s all empty words for she’s never given her that comfort and security. The onus for developing that sense of security is not on the child.

That said, Pallavi has never had parents, she doesn't know what to expect. Her brother obviously did his best, but she doesn’t know what healthy, large families look like. What she does know is, her husband died on the night of their wedding, and when this family could have turned her out, and like often happens, blamed her for bringing ill-luck upon their young son, they shielded her from society and had her back. I believe she feels indebted to them. Add to that her promises to Mandaar, and I understand her unhealthy hero-worship of this undeserving lot. She’s aware she’s being mistreated- she has called out Mansi and Sulochana to their faces, and every word she said to Sharda when she came to stop the wedding was true, she didn’t pull it out of thin air- those are her actual emotions. Yet, the feeling of debt and the overwhelming desire to hold onto the family, makes her overlook it.

Also, holy shit, this is a slap happy bunch. From the barrage of slaps to Raghav, to Milind slapping Sulochana, Sulochana beating up Amrutha, Vijay slapping Farhad, Mansi’s slap to Nikhil and the physically violent way in which Pallavi was thrown out of the house….yikes. This is unacceptable, no two ways to it, and it really needs to stop. Between here and another show I've been watching on the channel, there's just too much normalizing of physical abuse, especially against men. I am not defending it, and will never do so. It's plain wrong.

I would love to see Pallavi realize that she needs to get distance from this lot, and become Pallavi instead of ‘Deshmukh-parivar-ki-vidhwa-bahu-who-they-accepted’, and I was so glad to see Raghav bring this up! Definitely won him some points from my end, and I’m so excited to see him follow through on that. But, it’s also important to acknowledge that moving away from the Deshmukhs needn’t mean moving towards Raghav. And coming to that…

Pallavi and Raghav

I’m so impressed with the redemption arc we’re seeing with Raghav right now. I think it was such a brilliant decision to execute this before the two fell in love- I’m so very glad that we get to see him repent not because he’s in love with the person who he inflicted his tortures upon, but because he’s a good person who made some terrible mistakes, and is man enough to own up to them and earn forgiveness. Similarly, I look forward to Pallavi’s forgiveness not because she’s in love with her former tormentor, but because she sees his genuine regret. It allows us to progress into the inevitable love story without the dark clouds of past deeds.

That being said, Pallavi has not seen what we’ve seen. She doesn’t know that the panic attack she walked in on was triggered by his guilt towards her. She hasn’t seen him cry at her bedside when she collapsed. She isn’t seeing his genuine attempts with the Deshmukhs. She isn’t witness to the conversations between him and his alter ego. So, what does Pallavi know?

She knows that the first time she met this man, he burned up her sari material, critical to her livelihood and that of her family’s, without a second thought or a moment of regret. She knows he purchased her shop with seemingly the sole purpose to make her life miserable. Sure, she shouldn’t have slapped him in the market without finding out what was going on- but he got back at her by kidnapping her and tying her down in the path of a speeding truck, so let’s call it even (though in my heart, that was disproportionate retribution). He then barged in on every wedding function of her sister, again, without any real reason (as far as she knows), despite her repeatedly telling him to stay away because it was causing issues for her.

The relationship between them mellowed down after the harrowing night with Lion, but the pregnancy-abortion drama immediately following, and him once again being desperate to get her to shut shop and leave the city didn’t help. Yes, he helped clear her name in the abortion mess, but from where she’s standing, he deliberately made it a bigger, more public affair than it had to, just to get under her skin. And once again, her misplaced attachment to her family prevents her from seeing beyond Mansi’s pain in that moment. Raghav’s only fault here was a lack of tact, but with the storm that hit her family after this, she couldn’t see beyond that and understand his point of view. Definitely selfish, and an error on her part, but given the state of the family that day (recall the night she walks around her house seeing every single family member in pain), I can’t say I don’t understand.

What happened after this was a complete shitstorm. He acknowledged her victory, and under the pretence of selling her the shop with dignity, got her to sign incriminating paperwork. For no apparent reason except his own shits and giggles, he broke shocking news to her family that she’d been covering up for the fear of her father’s health. Insinuated that she was a wh*re in front of her whole family. Yes, what happened next shows that these people have never been family, but that doesn’t mean Raghav didn’t trigger the sequence of events that lead to her being thrown out of her home, insulted and disowned, in the middle of a stormy night and her father ending up critically ill. As if this wasn’t enough, he gets her brother arrested and corners her into a marriage against her will. When he realizes he messed up, he comes to her, and doesn’t immediately apologize- he talks about how pathetic and undeserving the family he caused her to lose is. Yes, they are. However, it should have been her journey to realize that and cut them off, not an accidental and brutal consequence of his thoughtless actions.

Just think of what Pallavi has been through physically in the 13 odd days since the wedding- she’s fainted due to stress and trauma twice, while also recovering from chicken pox. Emotional trauma, explained above. When it got too much, she decided to leave, and when Raghav begged for a chance, she responded with tons more empathy and dignity that I would have in her position by giving it to him.

Now, yes, Raghav is being genuine and heartfelt. But, it’s just been a couple of days. The last time he was genuine and heartfelt, he agreed to sell her the shop, and we saw how that ended. She is wary, she should be wary. Again, we know he’s legit, she doesn’t. And even if she knows he’s genuine- she does not owe him forgiveness. Yes, it was sad to see her not consider him her husband, and the beautiful Tum Hi Ho sequence tugged all my heartstrings...but just because he accepts this marriage, she does not have to. His acceptance doesn’t change the fact that she was blackmailed into this situation. She does not owe him acceptance.

And to be honest, she is melting already. It’s so evident. In fact, it’s a testament to how kind she is that she’s seeing his efforts, she’s able to smile with him, and have conversations with him after everything that has gone down.

Pallavi’s Redemption?

Pallavi has gotten a lot of backlash for the mirchi thing today, and I am just unable to take that criticism seriously. Old Pallavi would have gone at Raghav, guns blazing, for daring to misbehave with her father, even to the extent we saw (and I’m sure Amrutha added spice to that tale, and Milind, as usual, watched disapprovingly). Instead, she responded with a harmless prank. How’s she to know about his allergy?? She assumed he’d have a bite, cough, have a glass of milk, and be over with it. Ab woh khud khushi khushi kha raha hai, toh Pallavi ko sapna aayega that he’s gonna have a deathly reaction to this? Come on, cut her some slack. We all know that had she had even a hint of the allergy, she wouldn’t have gone ahead with this in her wildest dreams. Raghav being masochistic here is not on her. And once she finds out, I’m sure she’ll respond with regret and care, and I think the matter can end there. One other demand I’ve been seeing quite often has been for Pallavi’s redemption...I’m sorry, what? Why does she need to redeem herself with Raghav? When has she wronged him?

To be honest, the one thing for which I’m disappointed with Pallavi right now is the lack of a conversation between her and Keerti. I think that’s a result of the shooting restrictions- recently all of Keerti’s scenes have been video calls with Sunny. I don’t think it’s on Pallavi to punish Sulochana and Amrita for what went down. Raghav, Jaya and Keerti have all the evidence and contacts they need to carry this through. If they’ve chosen not to (god only knows why), she doesn’t have the right to overrule them. I believe it would actually be disrespectful of her to do so. Nor is she now considered a member of the Deshmukh family, and she can’t respond through that channel. However, a quick hug between Pallavi and Keerti after she found out, even without any dialogues, would have been wonderful. For my own peace of mind, I’m choosing to believe this happened offscreen. While I don’t hold Pallavi responsible for what happened (and clearly, neither do Jaya and Keerti), Keerti is the one person apart from Nikhil who has consistently acted in Pallavi’s best interest and wanted her happiness from episode one. With the kind of empathy Pallavi has shown even Raghav during the worst of their relationship in the past (the accident, for instance), it’s impossible for me to believe Pallavi didn’t feel for her friend here, even while grappling with her own traumatic situation.

All in all, I’m definitely not claiming that Pallavi is perfect, but neither is Raghav (especially from her point of view). But honestly, if they were perfect, we wouldn’t watch them. It wouldn’t be a compelling story. A few days of kindness can’t undo the pain he’s caused her. Her eventual forgiveness is also not going to override his issues with love, as he said to Farhad today. They both bring baggage of exes who turned their lives upside down. I’m excited to see them learn to trust and love together- that’s the journey I signed up for!

Archived from indiaforums, dated 28 May, 2021. Original post (x)

#mehndi hai rachne waali #pallavi deshmukh #pallavi rao #mhrw #television #thoughts

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sirensmojo · 4 years

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“Heal me” - Ivar The Boneless x Reader

Summary: Imagine Ivar come back from the battle against his elder brother severely banged up, you're the healer of Kattegat, but usually no one gets close to you due to rumors you're a sorceress. Nonetheless, you seem to be the last hope for the Prince to survive his wounds as a curse progressively appears to make him profoundly fall in love with you.

Warnings: suspense, fluff, smut

Word Count: 2,913

*Masterlist*

A knock on the door made you lift your nose out your plate, you stood back on your feet and put on the hood of your cloak. You manage your way to the door. "Yes?" You asked the door slightly open. "You need to help him, he is dying" "I can not rearrange someone's fate" "Please, it is the prince of Kattegat!" "Ivar?" You asked, and without a second thought, you entirely opened the door to let them enter. There was one man that held Ivar into his arms, to which you show a bed to place the wounded. "What happened to him, Hvitserk?"

You came nearer the men, keeping a certain distance with the one standing by the end of the bed. Hvitserk looked at you with confusion but was too concerned by his brother's health "It's Bjorn, he..." "What is his major wound?" "He didn't open his eyes since we left the battlefield. It's his head, I think" Hvitserk responded. You took some herbs into a pot and mixed it "You can't stay..." You murmured, "What?" "It is not safe for you to stay, you must go back to town" "Why not? What tell me you're not going to kill him deliberately if I leave" "Nothing, but I hope you'll understand I'm not appreciated by your people. You're a prince and have a good reputation, you can not afford to be associate with me. But for Ivar it's okay, they don't like him much anyway" You shrug as getting closer to his brother, you softly put your hand under his head to lift it and pull the pot on his lips, for him to swallow your potion. "I know you're right, but-" "You don't trust me" You finished his sentence. "I can feel it" "How- Hum, don't respond to that" He got up seeing his brother responding to your touch "I can promise you I will do my best for him to heal" "You're my only hope" He openly said, and you nodded without even looking at him. "I'll come back soon enough to see him" Hvitserk lets out as he opened the door. "Thank you" He lastly said, and this time you lift your gaze to him, but he already closed the wooden door.

***

"Where am I?" "Please don't move, you're safe I will not harm you" You hassle to put your palm on his chest, which he looked intently before lying back. "You're in my house, I'm Y/N" "The healer..." He succeeds to speak despite his injuries. "Calm down, don't waste too much energy. You lost a lot of blood, you must rest" "Why are you hiding from me?" He asked with a low and harsh voice. He grabbed your cloak and pull it, but you placed your hand on his with a delicacy that stopped him in the track. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to-" "It's okay, don't apologize, never do it again," You said as you hold him a pot "You need to drink this, it will not taste good, but it's good for your head "What is it with my head?" "You passed out for too long" "How did I even end up here?" "You're brother, Hvitserk brought you here, it was a week ago. He comes every day to watch you sleep" Ivar looked at you as you stood up and got away from him, to the table and you took a sit there. You were filling some pot with flowers and others with soil. "Where are you going? Why are you going away from me?" "I should heal you, nothing more" "If it is about the rumor, I don't believe in them" "Which rumors?" You feigned not to be aware of the gossip about you. "You deal with the gods. Or, anyone that may see your face will be cursed, for it is not a face that was shaped to be be seen by the human eye". "Who said that again?" "People" "Your people" "They don't like me, I'm better off dead" You crashed a pot filled with water on the table, and the liquid spilled on your cloak. "Fuck" You muttered, "Is everything okay?" "No one should ever feel like it'll be better if they were dead, I forbid you to think that under my roof" You got up and took off the fabric and the hood with it. Your hair was very long, embracing your hips, speaking of which, Ivar couldn't get his eyes off of. Your curves were perfectly complimented by your dress, all black and long, reaching your ankles. Your clothing didn't let any flesh out to be seen, only your neck. You ran your fingers through your hair and exhaled deeply before moving forward another cloak. "You don't need to hide from me, I'm also banished, in a certain way. We're not that different you and I" Ivar exclaimed, and you touch upon the piece of fabric. You quickly glanced at him before turning your face again. "Wait..." He said, but before he could add anything, he fell asleep once again.

***

"Y/N" You heard Ivar call your name while sleeping, and you scramble to the bed, taking his hand in yours. As soon as your skin touched, his heavy breath turned out into normal breathing, and he wasn't waggling anymore. "I'm here" You murmured, and the man opened his eyes, directly looking at you. "I'm hungry" "Yes, of course, it's been two weeks now you're here. I knew that moment would come. When you'll have enough of eating what we found on the ground." "You talk too much, nobody told you?" Ivar raised his brows at you, and you giggled. "It seems like you're getting better and better. if only you could be less provocative..."

"Am I? By telling the truth." He answered with a snappy tone. You help him get up by holding his waist with your left arm and held him his crutch. Still, you didn't let go of him until he was sat at the table near the hearth. "Tell me you're not cold, we don't have any wood left. I'll have to go out if you're cold" "I'm not, I told what I was Y/N: hungry" He dawdled on the last word while intently looking at you in the eyes before you abruptly looked away. You couldn't explain why but every time his eyes laid on you, you were bewildered, but in the right way, if it even was possible. You poured some stew into his plate and glanced at him. "You should probably eat really slowly and just a little, it's been some time you didn't eat something substantial" "You think I'm going to die because I rushed myself eating?" He muffled his laugh as much as he could. "My dad died like that, so yes" You dramatically let out, and his facial expression immediately changed. You burst out laughing and filched the spoon that was on his mouth to taste what you cooked for him.

"I'm teasing you!" You tilted your head, and he chortled. "You're quite a phenomenon Y/N when you put aside your shy mask" "Is that what you think? You curtly said, "Don't change your mood that fast I can't follow..." "Who said you had to" "I want to !" "You shouldn't" "Well, I didn't choose to like what I see when I see you" "What?" You murmured with a high pitched voice, but Ivar cleared his throat. Can I eat in peace?" "You are preoccupied with peace now..." You laughed at him.

***

"Y/N" "Does it still hurt? I can give you another-" "No, it's- it's okay I just wanted to make sure..." "I was there" You added, and a smile grew on your lips. You were lying on your back right next to the Viking, looking at the ceiling, but he looked intently at your eyes and lifted his hand to your face, softly. You closed your orbs as his fingers stroke your skin. "Open your eyes again," Ivar lowly said, and you opened your eyes, looking downward. "Look at me, Y/N, I'd like to see your soul" He talked, but you refused to look him in the eyes. "Why are you doing this? Why are you always hiding away from me, you can't live a life like this, it isn't fair." His tone was tense, he was angry but not at you, he could never. He was mad at anybody that let you believed you undeserved to be looking at and cherish. "You're so kind and soft, why are you taking care of me anyway?" "Because I knew Ragnar, I mean, when I was younger he used to visit me. When my father was still alive and lived with me. They were good friends, and he always talked to me about you. How strong you were, how he found himself wrong about you so many times. He thought your legs would've been your weakness, but in fact, that difference was something he couldn't understand, although he tried" "He tried, to understand me?" He asked, eyes fluttering. "He did understand when he was older. Even when my father died, he continued to visit me and tell me everything about Kattegat and the burden of a king and how he hated to make a decision." You stopped, searching for his eyes. "Your father was a great man, the greatest I believe, he told me to never close my door to you if one day you'd come. I made him a promise, and I kept it," You were brimming with emotions, just as every time you got to tell out loud the memories that never left your heart. You were cradling his hands with both of yours in a soothing way, owning a smile from your guest. "Your eyes, they are glimmering" "I loved your father and appreciated him with all my soul, he never considered me as a monster, he knew I was different, he never told me otherwise. But that didn't make him despise me." "Who can honestly despise you, Y/N?" He asked as he straightened up, and you chuckled. You wanted to cry, but when a tear threatened to drop from your eye, Ivar wipes it away with his thumb sooner said than done. He got closer to your face and cup your cheek, with you leaning into his touch.

You breathe loudly, but your breath as cut by the kiss Ivar drops on your mouth. He simply smacked you at first to gauge your reaction, and when you opened your mouth to let out a moan, he kissed you entirely. You were pressing your forehead to his and exert a hold over it, only expressing you hunger for him. "We are magnets, but we can never repel one another, we were meant to be together" Ivar soughed against your lips, and in response, you simply straddled him, trying your best to be careful with his wounds. You sneaked both of your hands under the fabric of his shirt and caress his skin with your nails. Your lips were still sealed together when he was kneading your haunches on top of your dress. You benched up that last one to your waist to be able to feel him against your core. His bump grew hard as you grind down on him in a hurry. "You're so eager" "I don't know what is it" You responded, and for the first time in three weeks, you managed to intently and thoroughly look him in the eye, that darkened with desire. "Do you want me?" You asked without breaking the gaze, and him grabbing and pinching your arse gave you the response you wanted. "I barely deserve such an endearing person Y/N, don't make me change my mind by making me wait" "Are you sure you could even change your mind?" You retort, pulling away from his trousers. He was reluctant about you seeing him wholly naked, but you reassured him by letting him know how embarrassing you were to even realize he was touching your bum, which made him laugh and relax. He went down on you cunt with his fingers, teasing your clit. Still, you stopped his hand "I want to feel you, entirely, inside of me" Even if you couldn't do better than aligns words at this moment, he understood you and inserted one then two of his fingers inside of you to make sure you were ready for him. You squealed and let out a long "Oh" when he curled his fingers inside of you, stroking your sweet spot. You closed your lids for a second before opening your eyes again and grab his neck with one hand. You leaned atop him as he aligns himself and thrust into you entirely in one attempt. You winced and laughed at the same time, "What is it now?" He demanded, he didn't seem any surprised by the total energy you showed in this moment of intimacy. As if he presumed behind all of this faint-heartedness, was hiding a fire that screamed to be kindled. Once you adjusted to his size, you started to go up and down on him at a slow pace first. Your moans mixed with his guttural noises made a song for the gods only as no one was around, but you'd swear to yourself this symphony was so beautiful you could sing it anywhere at any time for people to hear it. He abruptly spins you on your belly as he thrusts you with haste to be nearer you, you let out a scream as you bite your bottom lips and Ivar dropped some warm and wet kisses all over your shoulders.

When your walls clenched around him, your body shaking and toes curling, he let out a groan and thrust a few times more. Nonetheless, he bit your earlobe and spilled his seed inside, filling you entirely. You exhaled deeply as turning around to meet his delicious face and body. He hooked your leg over his hip and lean for a kiss. You just couldn't let go of his lips. His touch became more hungry as you chuckled against his lips. You pressed down his body to yours with your heels and feel his growing bump. "Again?" You asked. "I don't know" He shrugged, and you gently hit his chest as the side of his lips lift up.

***

You fell asleep in Ivar's arm, naked and hands in hands, it's been a few days Hvitserk didn't show up, and you couldn't ask for more. Not that you disliked the man, but being with Ivar all day long was something else, something you'd hope would never end. "I see you take good care of him" Hvitserk opened the door and entered without announcing himself, you immediately jump out of panic. "Hvitserk, get out!" "Why, I brought-" "Please, I'm pleading you, just get out" You loudly say reluctantly. He obeyed and got out, you straightened up and looked at the door, as you were nervously looking for your clothes. "What is it, Y/N?" Ivar asked he squeezed your hand in an attempt to soothe you, but you hassle to put on your hood before glancing at the door. "Your brother is here, I'm going out anyway" "You can stay, please stay, you took care of me, and it is your house" You let out a long sigh and got out without even looking at him. "Do not rush him nor overwhelm him, he still needs rest" You ordered passing by Hvitserk as you vanished in the woods behind a hurst.

When you came back, the sun has already set, and the moon was high in the sky encircled by a thousand stars. You carefully open the door, happy to know someone was waiting for you, and it wasn't anybody. It was the man who got you heartbeat pumping like crazy and your inside set on fire "Ivar..." You murmured, you turn around as there was no response nor a single noise, the bed was empty. He wasn't there, and neither was his brother Hvitserk. Even though the most current things was that he had left you searched everywhere in the house, as your eyes filled up with tears. You couldn't also see anything when you finally accept the truth: he got what he wanted, so he'd gone. You crumbled to the ground and curse yourself for you have believed for once someone truly cared for you, and see something else than just a lonely woman with the knowledge of plants. But you were wrong, and the person you were attached the most left you more desolate than ever. You were torn between the thought of going into Kattegat and looking for him or staying here and hoped for his come back, and Nothing could help you soothe now, he wasn't there to cradle your hand nor to squeeze it. He wasn't there anymore.

Ivar Permanent Tag: @youbloodymadgenius

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