#in this moment let’s all remember that Eye broke up with him and im certain still that he’d take me back in a heartbeat if i wanted

[reptilia2003]

** ** at the whcd…🫠

[luvrxbunny]

black oak

Pairing: Perv?BSF!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Fem!Reader 

Prompt: Voyeurism

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smoking (weed ofc),m! masturbation, f! masturbation, pillow humping, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: im cutting it so close w these fics (i made this literally yesterday)

This started happening more recently now that you’re hanging out with Eddie more. You hang out with him after school and he walks you home, but whenever he leaves there's a consuming heat between your legs. It’s more tame when you’re with him, like a subtle hum in the back of your mind but once he leaves you; your mind hyper-fixates on him. 

You’re trying to sleep but Eddie is in your head. You writhe around in your bed as you think about everything he is; brave, kind, caring, and sweet. You think about his hands, his hair, his rings, and his voice. You wiggle around in bed until your pillow makes its way between your thighs. Your hips stutter against it and you freeze, looking around the room as if someone may be watching you before letting yourself succumb to the pleasure of the fabric against your slit.

You tighten your thighs around the pillow, tilting your hips up to press your most sensitive spot against the pillow. You mutter timid curses under your breath, hugging your teddy bear to your chest with your eyes shut tight as you picture his face reluctantly. You always feel so dirty picturing him like this, thinking of him in this way. You can’t help but replay all the times you’ve seen him lick his lips, his pink, wet, tongue peeking from between them, the way he bites into the bottom one when trying to nail a certain chord. You can feel yourself getting even wetter between your legs, whining as you soak your pillow. It’s not enough. 

You whine as you push yourself into a sitting position, straddling the pillow with a curve in your back to press yourself perfectly into it. Your head falls back at the stimulation and your eyelids flutter, you slowly roll your head forward and notice your drapes and window slightly open. You consider closing them, not wanting anyone to see, to hear but you feel a certain rush in your stomach at the exposure and shyly decide to leave them be. 

Outside your window, is Eddie. He does this almost every night, this is the first time he’s seen this though. He walks you home after you hang out with him, and if the hangout has left something to be desired he simply climbs into his tree and watches you. There is this beautiful black oak tree that sits outside your window. If Eddie wanted more of you, but couldn’t hang out with you more- due to your very strict parent’s ruling- he suffered silently. He asked you if you could stay longer one time; the sad look in your eyes as you explained how upset your parents would be, broke his heart, so he never asked again. 

However, when you showed him the pretty tree beside your bedroom, right outside your bedroom window- there was only one thought in his head. So it became a routine, if he didn’t have plans, and remembered to bring a lighter with his joint. He’ll light up and just sit on his branch outside your window. He usually witnesses you doing your school work, writing in your diary, and talking with your stuffed animals. If he’s lucky you’ll change your clothes there, although the way you change actually lets him see nothing. Tonight? He can’t believe his eyes.

His joint has long gone out, still in between his fingers as the bulge grows in his pants and his eyes bulge out at you. He’s fighting an internal battle, his hands are twitching to touch himself but he feels guilty intruding on such a private moment. He’s thought about you in this way before- he tries not to but mostly just cannot help himself. You’re so sweet, so caring toward him, so loving that he can’t help but feel this way for you. When you sit on his bed in your skirt, forgetting to tuck it under your butt- your panties pressed right into his bed… he’s hard in an instant. He’s thought of you while jerking off more times than he could count but in all his creativity he could’ve never imagined himself in a scenario as lucky as this. 

He quickly puts the joint in his pocket and fumbles with his pants. He’s whining to no one as he undoes his belt. “Keep goin’, sweetheart. Ooh, so good, baby.” He shoves his hand into his underwear, quickly wrapping his fingers around his cock, pretending that it’s you. He’s already thrusting his hips into his fist as he watches you reach blindly for something to hug into your chest as your hips speed up. Eddie’s hand kicks up to match your pace and a moan rips itself from his throat. He watches you bite into your lip and your eyebrows twitch before you mutter something he wishes he could hear. 

He zeros in on your hips, the way they move over your pillow, how desperately he wishes that was him. He pulls his hand away from his cock with a groan and rubs himself through his jeans. It’s less stimulating but it lets him pretend that it’s you and that makes it feel better than his hands ever could. His eyes roll back into his head as his hands find the same rhythm as your hips and he moans your name into the night air. He’s not worried about being caught, he can only think of you. He forces his eyes open to watch as your hips begin to stutter in their pace. He lets out a pained moan, wishing he could help you keep it steady, help you cum as fast, and as hard as you could. 

You’re muttering something again, your volume climbing as you near your peak. Eddie’s legs are shaking as he holds off for you, wanting to cum at the same time. He watches you drop your teddy and place your hands on the pillow, holding it in place as you furrow your brows and grind harder, humping your pillow as your lips part into an ‘O’ shape. His stomach tenses painfully as he moans your name to no one, under his breath, just for him as he imagines you above him. The utterance of your name from his lips just brings him closer to the edge as he begins to hear a muffled translation of what your moans sound like. He shuffles himself a bit closer to your window, trying to hear as much of you as he can. He hears you saying something, a name, one he prays is his because he couldn’t handle the heartbreak of hearing someone else’s fall from your lips at a time like this. 

He thinks about what you’d sound like saying his name as a moan, a groan, or even a whine or whimper if he’s lucky. He tries to fit his name into the blurry shape of whatever sound is falling from your mouth and it fits brutally well. He has to take his hands away, thrusting up into the air blindly, eyes rolled back and shut as your noises assault his senses. He can’t believe how well his name fits in your mouth, like your lips were made to form around it. “Eddie.” He can hear it, you’d say it high and breathy, on the cusp of cumming all over him, all around him, however you want. “Ed- Eddie” His eyes snap open to watch your lips as they form over his name again, “Eddie, please!” Your voice kicks up into a whine and your hips stutter to a stop as you fold over, shaking as you cum all over your pillow. 

Eddie is painting the inside of his jeans, his hips thrusting erratically into his hand as he bites his lip so hard he’s scared he’ll take a chunk out of it. Your name and images of you are racing through his head, they do every time he cums, he just can’t help it anymore. He thinks about how you said his name, how it sounded from your lips… the fact that you’re thinking of him when you hump your pillow at night. 

A strangled groan-whimper shoves its way from his chest as his balls tighten even more, producing as much cum as they can for you. His head slams back against the tree painfully and his eyes cross as he worships you in his mind, thanking you for making him cum, for letting him touch himself for you. His eyes open back up slowly, his hand overstimulating himself gently as you slowly overstimulate yourself, rocking your hips lazily over the pillow, your thighs twitching every so often. He watches you topple over onto your bed, leaving the pillow between your legs as you reach out for a different teddy, a smile spreading over your face when you find what you’re looking for. 

He’s watching you through lidded eyes, his hips still twitching slightly. His brows furrow until he sees what you’re after, his heart swells and warms his chest. It’s a teddy bear he won for you at a fair, he’s wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, you said he reminded you of Eddie. 

He feels that little tingle he gets in his nose he gets when he’s about to cry and he tries his best to hold back as he starts climbing out of the tree, he always turns into a sap when he cums for you. He’s always wishing you loved him the way he loves you but for the first time, these tears are more positive. He peeks up at you one more time before dropping out of the tree and he gets to see you kiss ‘little Eddie’ on his head and snuggle him to your chest. He’s starting to actually think he may have a chance with you, and it’s the best feeling in the world. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[neptuneiris]

detachment (02/03)

did Aemond Targaryen truly loved you?

pairing: prince!aemond × niece!reader

summary: aemond not only breaks your heart after so many love promises, he also breaks his betrothal to you without any justification and announces his betrothal to a baratheon girl. now you will be married soon too.

word count: 7.9k

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hello beautiful people, finally here is the chapter you have been waiting for so long, im so happy, I hope you like it a lot❤ thank you very much for reading🥺

comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank u, you are all awesome❣

—TWO MOONS AGO.

"I'm so sorry, my sweet girl."

"No, it's all right, mother. Do not worry."

"I know this is not what you wished for but—

"It is my wish."

You interrupt your mother with a small smile that she instantly knows is neither genuine nor convincing, to which she watches you for a few moments without saying anything, watching you intently.

She takes your hand and places the other on your right cheek to come closer and leave a sweet kiss on your left cheek that you allow to feel that love that only she transmits and comforts you.

She then pulls away from you a little without letting go and watches you with a small smile on her lips and a slight gleam in her beautiful lilac eyes.

"You know you have my full support, my love. And don't even think that I will leave you alone in all this," she assures you, "But I know you and you must not lie to me, Y/N."

You know that at this moment your gaze gives you away, as well as all the true feelings you are conveying but you still want to show your mother that you are willing to do your duty.

And it really is your relief that it is this person you are going to marry when it could have been worse.

"Mother, you must not worry about me."

"But of course I do," she tells you instantly, "You're my daughter and I love you."

"I love you too. But this marriage to Cregan Stark couldn't be better not only for me, but for the whole family," you remind her, "He is a respectful and honorable man. I know there will be much respect between us and eventually affection will be born. And we will have all the support of the North when the time comes for you to become queen."

She smiles softly again with that warmth and affection, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb, looking directly into your eyes with all that sincerity and love.

"But he's not the one you wish to marry, is he?"

So all those pent up feelings, they want to come out at that moment. And even more so because of the way she is talking to you and understands you completely.

"Even with all that your marriage to Cregan Stark offers…. it's not him."

You swallow hard and press your lips together, starting to feel the tears want to come out of your eyes, as well as all that feeling for everything that happened and thinking about everything that could have been.

You remember how a while ago everything was fine, how everything seemed fine, how you thought you knew certain things and knew certain people.

However, he broke your heart.

Worst of all, you never knew why. You really wanted to know what had happened, what had changed his mind and if you had done something wrong, but… nothing.

He left you totally in the dark with his reasons. He preferred you to suffer and forget everything as if nothing had happened from one day to the next to accept his sudden betrothal to Floris Baratheon.

And you truly wanted to understand at the time, feeling completely broken and shattered… but he never gave you an answer.

"It doesn't matter anymore, mother. He is betrothed and now so am I. I do not doubt that after my wedding with lord Stark, his with lady Baratheon will happen soon after. He made his decision moons ago and now so have I."

"Very well," she nods at you, "You learned quickly, my sweet girl. Just as I had to when I accepted my fate."

You smile.

"You mean my father?"

"Our story was in short times, always with a lot of duty involved and inconveniences. Until we could finally be together after that horrible night," she tells you softly, "But when you truly love a person, you can't help it and you just want to join your blood with them, no matter what."

You nod, lowering your gaze, understanding.

But really understanding.

You know that feeling and you know exactly who you used to feel that way with. You were even close to being able to bond forever. But now… you're about to do your duty without that person.

"Then, my sweet girl…" your mother says to you, getting your attention again, "I'll just make sure to arrive at King's Landing a day before the wedding, as you asked. Everything will be ready by the time we get there."

You smile softly in her direction, feeling very relieved at that and nod.

"Thank you, mother."

"Anything for you, my love."

After spending part of your afternoon with your mother, you head to another of the great rooms of the Dragonstone castle, where your brothers are practicing High Valyrian and your younger brothers are being cared for by the maids.

You immediately join in caring for your brothers, listening to Jace and Luke's Valyrian, correcting them on some pronunciations and helping them to formulate words correctly.

Then Rhaena enters the room as well to look after and keep little Joffrey company, letting you know that Baela has flown to Driftmark.

Normally as the night draws in, your mother and father also spend time in this Room, all together as a family, a time when Rhaenyra wishes she could freeze and stay all together like this forever.

And that's exactly what she thinks when she enters the Room and sees all her children, or almost all of them, together attending to different duties, with a little smile and loving look on her face.

Daemon is writing something on the large table, to which she turns to him, stroking her barely noticeable two-moon belly, with a new member to the family coming into the world soon, the prince or princess.

"What are you writing, my love?"

Daemon raises his gaze to her, with the seal of House Targaryen about to embed it in the letter.

"The word to Kings Landing with the news of Y/N's marriage to Lord Stark."

"Ah yes, I forgot to do that."

"And that's why I do it for you, ābrazȳrys."

Rhaenyra leaves a soft and loving kiss on her husband's head to continue on her way to her eldest sons, listening attentively to the High Valyrian, just like Y/N, ready to correct them.

Not long after, considering that the distance between Dragonstone and Kings Landing is not too much, the raven arrives at the Red Keep with the new and unexpected news, with Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower reading the message.

The Heir, Princess Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing in less than two moons with her prince consort Prince Daemon and her entire family to celebrate the wedding of Princess Y/N Velaryon to Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

"This is vile and disgusting news."

"Father—

"With Lord Cregan Stark?" inquires Otto, "Do you know what this means, Alicent?"

"It can't be that bad, still Daeron's wedding to Lady Lannister adds soldiers and ships to us for Aegon's claim. So does Aemond's wedding to lady Baratheon."

"Rhaenyra will have the whole North on her side by the time the time comes and you know it. The whole fucking North fighting for her and her bastard daughter!" Otto exclaims in annoyance, "We can't let that wedding happen."

"Rhaenyra must already be getting everything ready at Dragonstone. And to try to stop her the wedding, she could easily marry Y/N to Lord Stark somewhere else," says the queen, "It will be useless."

"Call the Maester. Call the entire Council, immediately," Otto quickly orders one of his guards, annoyed and desperate.

The guard immediately complies with the Hand's order, so that very soon all the members enter and take their respective seats in the Council Chamber.

But not long after, Aegon and Aemond Targaryen also decide to burst into the room, Aemond mostly noticing that something is wrong and Aegon simply following, his grandsire surprised to see him in his five senses.

"What's the matter?" asks Aemond serious, approaching his mother.

But before his own mother can answer him, his grandsire does, only without answering him.

"Your wedding to Lady Baratheon will happen by the end of this month."

Aemond immediately observes his grandsire without any expression, hiding his surprise well, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room.

"We will send word to Storm's End's, Lady Floris should already be here by in less than five days and prepare everything immediately," Otto continues, "Not too soon after, we will send a raven to Oldtown and Prince Daeron's wedding to Lady Cerelle will also happen."

"May I ask, my Lord Hand, why so hurriedly?" asks lord Lannister.

"Yes, why?" inquires Aemond of his grandsire as well, with a tone of voice and a menacingly serious look.

But Otto Hightower deliberately ignores his grandson.

"Are you not pleased with the news, Lord Jason?" he inquires condecently, "After all, it is your daughter who is to marry a prince of the realm, my grandson."

"Not that I am complaining, my Lord, in fact I have been waiting to hear this news ever since we agreed to join our houses. But I was also hoping, just like my daughter, that the wedding would be relevant and not too attached to another wedding also of another prince of the realm. It certainly would not draw the attention of our people."

"This is not about getting people's attention, nor how attractive the union is, Lord Jason," Otto tells him seriously and clearly annoyed, "You should feel grateful that the union is going to happen, because I remind you that this is about Prince Aegon's claim to the Throne, or have you already forgotten?"

"I asked you a question and I'm not going to repeat myself," Aemond speaks again in his grandsire's direction, serious.

This immediately gets everyone's attention, but in the end it is Queen Alicent who responds in a soft, cautious voice.

"Y/N is going to be married."

This immediately gets Aemond's attention and also Aegon behind him, who was disinterested and even annoyed to hear his grandsire's words about his claim to the Iron Throne.

But this definitely gets his attention, he even watches his brother cautiously, waiting for his reaction, just like his mother.

However, Aemond keeps his usual neutral and at the same time serious face, hiding his true emotions very well, starting to feel how those true emotions run through his whole body and want to explode.

Otto watches him attentively, annoyed and serious, instantly knowing very well what he must be feeling. And that is what he, Otto Hightower, does not want.

"Yes, Aemond, with Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell," he tells him seriously, "You too have already forgotten why you are marrying Lady Baratheon precisely?"

Aemond clenches his jaw, immediately this getting his attention and watching his grandsire with a deadly and threatening look, all this together with his posture showing that he is losing his patience.

And that everyone notices.

"Aemond," Alicent calls out to him, rising from his seat.

"When?"

Aemond's voice interrupts him, in the direction of his grandsire, his whole posture tense and his hands made into fists, his jaw clenched and his gaze like that of a dragon about to burn everything to the ground.

"I told you, by the end of this month your wedding—

"No, when will Y/N's wedding to Cregan Stark be."

He interrupts her in a firm, menacingly serious voice.

"It doesn't matter when it will be," Otto tells him in annoyance, raising his voice higher, drawing everyone's attention, demanding, "What matters right now is that these two weddings happen before the wedding of Rhaenyra's daughter to Lord Stark so as to invite all the great houses, even Cregan Stark and form alliances before Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon."

"In two moons, approximately."

Alicent replies to Aemond, noting how his anger grows more and more as his grandsire speaks, not giving him an answer.

"That's what they said on the raven they sent this afternoon from Dragonstone."

Aemond lowers his gaze, beginning to think about it, about how the wedding will take place here, at King's Landing, where he will have to be present and witness it all…to Y/N, his Y/N, getting married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Lord Cregan fucking Stark.

"I doubt we can do anything about it, my Lord," Jasper Wylde speaks, "The wedding is already a done deal, we will not succeed in convincing Lord Stark to change his allegiance."

"And this is a great advantage for Princess Rhaenyra and her claim," says Jason Lannister, " Her daughter, Princess Y/N and Lord Stark together is an excellent and convenient match."

At the words of some of the council members, Aemond can't help but feel downright sick, thinking of Y/N and Lord Stark.

As you should.

His own mind tells him, feeling the fire and anger coursing through his veins, unable to control himself, thinking about what is really going on here.

"We will do whatever it takes to still have as much support as possible. King Viserys will not last long and by now we would have to secure all possible alliances for when the time comes. If war falls upon us and if we pull this off… fighting Rhaenyra and her alliances won't be so hard."

"She will have the entire North fighting for her, my Lord."

One of the members tells him cautiously, thinking about the number of soldiers Princess Rhaenyra will have at her disposal, also all the people supporting her claim, that adding up to the whole Valley.

"That's why we need to be more clever," Otto Hightower insists, "My grandchildren's weddings will be paramount in this. We need to send a raven to Oldtown, now," he turns to the Maester, "I need Daeron here at King's Landing and your daughter as well, Lord Jason. After Aemond's wedding, he—

"No."

Aemond Targaryen completely interrupts his grandsire in front of the Queen and the entire Council, drawing everyone's attention, surprised by his boldness and deadly behavior in the direction of his grandsire, who also gives him a threatening look.

"You had plenty of time to plan my wedding with Lord Borros' daughter. It's not my fault that until now you are acting when your job as the Hand is to act since you knew the threats," he tells her seriously and completely firm with his words, "If you want a wedding, plan Daeron's, not mine. I will not be a part of your incompetence when I have already given you too much."

"You are forgetting your place, Aemond," Otto warns him in a careful tone and one in which he fully tells him that he does not want to contradict him now.

But Aemond has had enough.

"You are forgetting your place," he replies in kind.

"Aemond, that's enough," his mother calls to him instantly, letting out a long breath, "You don't want to get married now, that's fine. But don't forget that eventually you will have to," she reminds him earnestly, "After all, Lady Baratheon is still your betrothed and she along with Lord Borros expect the wedding to take place soon."

Again Aemond feels sick to his stomach as he listens to his mother's words, thinking of his betrothed, Lady Floris Baratheon. The very thought of marrying her makes him feel unhappy.

But it is the truth… she is still his betrothed and whether he wishes it or not, he will eventually have to marry her, because his family swore an oath with hers, not him, but his family.

And he has to live up to the weight of that oath.

"We should continue to discuss the marriage of Princess Y/N to Lord Stark, my Queen," says the Maester.

"There is nothing more to discuss, the chances are slim with Lord Stark and we will have to focus on bringing the marriage of my son and Lady Cerelle to the attention of the great houses."

Queen Alicent begins to lead the entire Council, as Otto Hightower continues to watch Aemond with daggers in his eyes, serious, furious and incredulous at his behavior.

He thought he already had everything under control, but Otto forgot that he is not a dragon and the blood of the dragon in anyone who possesses it, especially in Aemond, is chaotic and reckless.

"Congratulations, brother."

Aegon catches Aemond's eye, watching him over his shoulder as he gives him a friendly clap on the back, almost whispering his words.

"You said you hoped our sweet niece would soon outgrow you? Well, now she's marrying the lord of all Winterfell," he says with a small smile, "She's definitely outgrown you."

And with nothing more to say, Aegon leaves the Council Chamber, not interested in the matters of the realm, much less to plan a fucking wedding and have his grandsire take it upon himself to form alliances for his claim to the Throne, as if he cares about such a thing.

As Aemond stands still for a few seconds, watching him go, his words repeating over and over in his mind, anger again coursing through his body, fire, hatred.

He wishes he could prove his brother right, but the truth is that he is very wrong.

Unable to stand it any longer, he quickly heads out of the room as well, not wanting nor caring at all to discuss these matters, this room really displeasing him by bringing back bad memories.

And as soon as he faces the corridors of the Keep, again Aemond remains static for a few moments and his mind again thinking about things he really doesn't want to think about.

But he can't help it.

Like that time he also rushed out of this room, leaving the woman he loves behind, tearing her apart in the worst possible way and pretending not to care.

Even as one of the fiercest and most brutal knights of his time, Prince Aemond doesn't know where he found the courage and strength to break Y/N's heart… his Y/N.

He has always characterized himself as an honorable and respectful man, especially to Y/N, but what he did to her… was out of his nature and highly unpleasant.

And once he was in the safety of his chamber, the first thing he did was sit in one of his chairs near his fireplace, wanting to feel the fire, with the realization slowly starting to become clearer to him, realizing what he had done.

Aemond remembers the last time he cried, it was when he was a little boy in one of his episodes over his lost eye.

A terrible migraine kept him awake for a whole day, he couldn't even get out of bed and couldn't bear to see the light of day. His mother held him tight and was there for him all the time, not even leaving him alone for a second.

Alicent tried and ordered everything to make him feel better, but the Maesters couldn't do much and all he could do, all he learned to do since he was a little boy, was to have to endure the pain.

And since then, the first tear falls down his right cheek.

Aemond, upset, angry and disgusted with himself, cries. And he actually allows himself to cry as he remembers his Y/N's precious face completely shattered and red from her crying, her whole look confused and in need of explanations.

And he couldn't even give her that, an explanation.

And the worst part was that they already had it all. It was all said and done, they were going to be husband and wife finally, as they had asked for so much.

But he finally snatched away her illusion and simply left her without explanations. And that's what makes him lose control completely.

Furious, feeling like a coward, an idiot and annoyed with himself, he lets out a growl and starts breaking everything in his room, with despair and anger in his body.

He screams and blames himself for that weight on his shoulders, a weight that does not belong to him, a weight that he had nothing to do with from the beginning and a weight that he had to let go of the woman he loves when he almost had her because of his family's ambition.

That night the servants had to silently clean the room of Prince Aemond, who, unable to bear it any longer, went for a ride in Vhagar, wanting to forget everything and everyone.

And now, in the present, him in the middle of the hall with the thought of Y/N marrying Lord Stark soon… it's too much.

And he knows it's the same feeling she must have felt when he broke her heart.

He couldn't agree more that he deserves it, but he didn't want to let her go either. Nothing he did was really his choice, but that was the right decision.

And now…he still has to face the consequences of his own actions: Y/N's marriage to a man who will not be him.

"There you have it, my princess."

"Thank you, Emelly," you smile at one of your maids, who leaves you a tray with your almost every night tea so you can fall asleep, "You can rest now."

" You don't need anything else, princess?"

"No, I'm good, thank you. See you in the morrow."

"Of course, princess. Get some rest."

The maid leaves your room, who looking at you in your mirror you continue brushing your straight, silver hair, preparing for sleep.

You've already gone to your siblings' and Rhaena's rooms, especially the little ones', to wish them good night.

Your mother and father have also already come to speak with you and have your usual conversations of the night, where they talk about your wedding to Lord Cregan more than anything else, Daemon and Rhaenyra making sure nothing else haunts your mind.

They know that a wedding can cause too much stress, especially when you're marrying the one you didn't expect from the start, talking about duty and what's expected next from you and your husband.

Your older brother Jace had told you it's a stressful but very necessary conversation, considering the next wedding in the family will be his and Baela's.

You let out a long breath, leave your brush on your dressing table and head off to drink your tea, needing to sleep.

You take the cup from the tray in your hands when the napkin catches your attention. You frown and notice how there is something sticking out from under that napkin, hidden but wanting to be seen specifically by you.

You set the cup down on the table and pick up the napkin, curious and wary, realizing that it is the small envelope of a letter, definitely catching your attention more than before.

You analyze it and there is no indication of who the message might be from. So you decide to open it, finding a small sentence and an addressee that makes your heart jump in your chest and your lips parted.

Meet me at our place by the Hour of the Wolf. I need to explain everything to you, please. I will be waiting.

A.T.

Your pulse starts to race, your whole body starts to shake and you read the message over and over again, your system making you feel more emotions and feelings as you read who has sent this to you.

You think to yourself that this must be a joke or even perhaps some kind of trap, thinking that this can't be. But you know it's him.

It's his handwriting, you would recognize it on any piece of paper, as well as the signature he always uses in all his messages, short and subtle.

Now you understand why so much mystery. But you honestly don't understand how he could have gotten his message to you. It's practically impossible.

Unless he hired or paid irrelevant people, because Emelly is extremely loyal to you and would not have done this considering your history with your uncle, as well as anyone else knows it.

Your uncle who right now must be waiting for you.

Your mind tells you as you look at his message in front of you, surprised with your parted lips, with a feeling starting to invade your chest that you don't know exactly what it is but… it causes you some emotion.

And you can't. You truly can't do this.

You remember everything that happened, what he did to you, what his grandsire did to you too, and how broken you felt, how he broke your heart and left you without explanation, only to become betrothed to Floris Baratheon.

You swallow hard, walking to your huge windows, looking out at the night outside and barely lit by the fire torches that light a little of the roads around Dragonstone, looking out beyond the sea, in the direction where that island is and where you and Aemond used to meet.

You press your lips together, feeling a sharp pain in your chest, as well as that uncertainty and beginning to take into consideration what he has written to you on that little piece of paper.

But again… you can't.

You are both betrothed. You are betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark, you will marry him soon and then… probably he will marry Lady Floris Baratheon as well.

You know you shouldn't even consider it, you know you shouldn't feel that curiosity and longing, because he doesn't deserve it.

That's why you make your decision just as he made his moons ago.

Even though you admit that it hurts and even costs you, you still think of yourself, because he doesn't deserve you to feel this way about him, not after all the damage caused.

You don't know what Aemond really thinks, but it certainly isn't entirely wise to ask you to meet in the hour of the Wolf as if nothing had happened.

And what a coincidence that he does this just when your wedding is in a few more weeks.

You stare out over the sea for a few more moments, thinking, but having already made up your mind. You let out a long breath and without hesitation, you head to your fireplace and throw his message into the fire.

Then you head back to your table to drink your tea and drink it all down so you can finally sleep and forget this ever happened.

While on the small island in Blackwater Bay, Aemond Targaryen keeps Vhagar close by, watching as he sits on a huge rock on the sand of the beach towards the direction of Dragonstone, waiting for you.

He doesn't really find much to entertain himself with, beginning to feel anxious with each passing minute and still not seeing any dragons approaching in the night sky, getting up and pacing back and forth, letting out long breaths and trying to calm himself.

He would be a fool not to have thought that maybe you would ignore him and not even in your greatest madness, the other side of the Targaryen coin, would you agree to meet him after all that happened.

Of course he had thought about it. But he still decided to risk it.

But the minutes pass and pass, with Aemond waiting for you, disappointment and reality coming at him like a strong wave every moment he is still there alone on the island.

He feels frustration beginning to course through his body, also anger but not for you, but for himself.

He thinks of your soon marriage to him, Lord Stark and feels more despair coursing through him, not even bearing the thought.

He asks the Seven to you please show up, really wanting to explain himself.

But he knows it is too late. He was never going to get this chance, because he really hurt you too much and he knows it, he knows it and he has the memory more vivid than ever.

But even though he knew it, he can't help but be disappointed as he continues to wait for a dragon in the night sky that never came.

—PRESENT

The days go by too fast after the conversation with your mother and after so many preparations and requests for the wedding.

When the wedding day finally arrives.

Your mother overlooks her pregnancy, considering she is barely four moons pregnant, to ride Syrax and take her with her to King's Landing while you ride Silverwing so you both arrive in the capital a day before the wedding, as you wished.

You try to suppress all feelings along with the nerves of returning to the Red Keep, where there are many buried memories and people from the past. However, you are here for your wedding.

You know that this visit is brief just to get the wedding over with and nothing more, then your family will return to Dragonstone or probably your mother will decide to stay again to take care of your grandsire, while you will go to Winterfell.

You really want to know the North. It was one of the few conversations you had with Lord Stark and he agreed, as well as both of you being present at Court after spending married moons.

And you really have no intention of anything else happening and just let it happen as it should. And just before the sun sets, you and your mother arrive at King's Landing.

You meet your father, your brothers, sisters, also your grandmother Rhaenys and your grandsire Corlys, even also Queen Alicent welcomes you both back and also gives you her congratulations for your wedding.

If you didn't know her, you wouldn't know that her smile is fake. Clearly Alicent didn't want you to marry her son but neither did she want you to marry a person as influential as Lord Stark. But honestly you don't care.

She is the one who directs you and your mother to the king's chambers, to whom your mother wishes to speak and also in case she wants to dedicate a few words to you for your wedding.

On your way back to your room you meet your aunt, sweet Helaena, who welcomes your mother with a charming look and smile, also you, congratulating you on your wedding.

Fortunately you don't meet any other relevant people, just as you didn't see him or his betrothed anywhere, which you are thankful for.

Because the sooner this could happen, without distractions and unexpected inconveniences, the better.

The only thing you remember about that night when you arrived at King's Landing is that you had to drink a large and considerable amount of your tea in order to sleep, not being able to fall asleep because you were thinking about tomorrow.

And honestly also for thinking a little about him.

You were afraid that he would suddenly enter your chamber through the secret door, because surely he hasn't forgotten his request to meet you on the island to explain everything and you never showed up, but fortunately that didn't happen.

And when you least expect it, you are already at the celebration feast with all the guests present, you looking like a bride, waiting for your betrothed, everything going according to your mother's plan.

The common thing in a wedding is to get married at the Septon and then move on to the feast, but in this case, your mother chose the other way around, just like her wedding to your father, Sr. Laenor.

You learned that Alicent had questioned this, but your mother didn't care much, just reminded her that this was how her wedding had once been and that this way, you would feel less overwhelmed, knowing you perfectly well.

When it all begins.

They have already announced the king, also all your family, only the Hightower-Targaryen and also your betrothed are missing.

Your grandsire is seated at the large table next to his wife on the right side, while your mother is seated on his left side, followed by your place and then your betrothed's place. Your father takes a seat at the head of the table on the left side along with your brothers and sisters.

All the lord's and lady's present are spread throughout the Throne Room, as the food will soon be served and the musicians are already in position to begin at any moment.

Your mother at your side holds your hand to give you her support and her soft, sweet smiles in your direction to help with your nerves. Although she also makes sure that your entire appearance is intact.

It was always Rhaenyra's wish that her daughter, her first daughter, would have a wedding like hers was.

She would also prefer a Valyrian wedding, in fact that was her illusion when the king gave his blessing for the wedding between Y/N and Aemond.

But now, things are different and considering that Lord Stark is not Targaryen, clearly, a Westerosi wedding was the best option. And you did not complain at all.

In fact, it filled you with excitement and affection that when your father and grandfather saw you entering the Room, with your appearance for the occasion, they instantly told you that you wore them many years ago, when they were also in this same place and your mother married your father, Laenor.

A white dress with shoulder-length sleeves draws attention with golden details and some chains adorn around your waist with dragon figures.

Your hair falls in elegant waves, reaching above your waist, with some very subtle braids adorning the top of your head.

Your mother wanted some golden pins to be placed between your hair, also jewelry such as gold necklaces, rings and bracelets, to look more and properly like a Targaryen princess.

When at that moment, they announce the missing people at the big table. The people or rather the person you most expected and never wanted to arrive at the same time.

"Prince Aegon Targaryen, first born son of King Viserys Targaryen with his lady wife, Princess Helaena Targaryen."

The doors directly in front of you allow you to see the entrance of your uncle and sweet aunt who together make their way over to you to take a seat beside Queen Alicent.

Aegon's appearance is appropriate, however, due to all the rumors that keep spreading to Dragonstone, his condition is far from the best for a prince of the realm. His tired face with large bags under his eyes and his clear boredom and disinterest in being here is clear.

However, after all he seems to be willing to drink wine and enjoy himself.

But your sweet aunt by his side completely overshadows him once the view is on her and her beautiful sky blue dress with light silver tones and all her bright and sweet look that characterizes her so much.

When they announce the next people and you try not to make a big deal of it once Aegon and Helaena take their seats.

"Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys and Prince Daeron Targaryen, the third and final son of the king."

So both of them, he, now enter the Throne Room and you avoid looking too much, as well as feeling too much.

You try to distract yourself with the fact that you hadn't seen Daeron in a very long time, nor had anyone else, not even your mother or father. You thought he would still be in Oldtown because he wasn't even here for Helaena and Aegon's wedding.

Maybe he really wanted to fly here, but he was not allowed to, maybe because of his age, knowing that Queen Alicent does not like dragons and is very overprotective in that aspect.

But now that you are looking at him, he is tall, very tall. Not as tall as he is, but for his age, he's definitely growing into a man. But even though you want to focus on Daeron, you don't as you focus on him, inevitably.

His walk hasn't changed, neither has that determination, that confidence and that kind of power he possesses just by looking at him, also that fear and respect at the same time.

And his appearance… hasn't changed either.

Maybe his continuous training has made him look a bit stockier of his arms and his body in general, but his hair, his face and his eye patch is the same.

But he gives you the impression that he's even more handsome.

You look away from him in an instant, as everything that happened comes back to you in a matter of seconds, which is inappropriate. But all you can think about is him.

His hugs, kisses, caresses… all those words of love, all those wishes and all those promises… all only to end in an unexplained broken heart. You swore that he and you were destined to burn together. You swore that you would marry in the tradition of your house.

You swore it would be him and you.

But he made his decision.

And now here you are. He's betrothed and so are you, where by the end of the day you'll be married.

You completely avoid looking at his face once he starts to walk up the steps to take a seat next to his brothers, just like Daeron. You don't feel his gaze at any moment, just as you don't dare to look at him either.

When you ask yourself; where is his betrothed?

She must be here for such celebrations if they are betrothed. And you are sure that Floris Baratheon would not want to miss such an important celebration at the Red Keep.

However, he is all alone and his betrothed seems to be nowhere to be found. Doubt lingers but the feast gives you something new to think about when they announce your betrothed.

"Cregan Stark, lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, the future lord husband of the bride, Y/N Velaryon."

At that moment, everyone at the table rises to greet your betrothed who walks towards you with a kind and respectful smile, looking very well for all this celebration. Or at least most of the people at the table stand up….

You can notice out of the corner of your eye how on Queen Alicent's side some people are still seated, but you don't dare look at them, though you get an idea of who they might be.

Still you focus on your betrothed who bows to the king once he arrives at the table and then makes his way to you to take a seat next to you.

Not before taking your mother's hand to plant a gentle kiss on the back of it, which she accepts with a kind and sweet smile and then turns to you and does the same with more affection.

You smile in his direction as you return his gesture by placing a soft kiss on his cheek and then both of you take a seat, as well as everyone else. When your grandsire, the king, gives a short speech before the feast begins.

And once everything has been said, the feast begins. The music starts and the food is served.

You feel his gaze for a few seconds, not long enough, but you don't notice him at all and continue to enjoy the feast. You talk to your mother from time to time and also to your betrothed, that is if your father and Jace are not talking to him asking him about Winterfell and the Wall.

Your sisters also ask you from time to time if you are feeling well and you can only nod, telling yourself that this is really happening and you have to completely ignore his presence.

When the time comes for the opening of the dance.

Cregan rises from his seat first and offers you his hand to lead you to the center of the Room, which you gladly accept and together you walk to dance in full view of everyone, a traditional Westerosi dance.

It is a simple dance, nothing difficult and you really enjoy it, while you focus your gaze at all times on him, Lord Cregan, who also smiles softly in your direction and does perfectly the right steps, all under the watchful eye of all the nobles present and also of your family.

Both of you stand back to back, and then both of you slowly raise your arms to shoulder height, while you can't help it and turn your gaze towards him, already feeling since the dance started his burning gaze.

Aemond has a meaningful look on his face when your gaze meets his, acting nonchalant, watching you intently, raising his wine glass to his lips.

You can only smile really ungracefully and turn your gaze to the front, continuing to dance and focusing only on your betrothed.

While Aemond at all times… wants this to be over and done with. Though I'd prefer to think this isn't really happening.

He feels like an alluring force, as he can't take his eye off of you, looking at you so beautiful in that dress, knowing in an instant that this is not the dress you would have worn for their wedding. But you still look really beautiful.

A true Targaryen beauty.

A warm feeling envelops him every second he sees you there, so perfect, dancing, smiling and catching everyone's attention, his especially at your every move, not realizing that his face gets softer every second as he watches you.

However… everything is replaced by hatred and anger when those smiles are directed at Lord Stark. And by the way he looks at you too… he wants to burn everything to the ground, clenching his hands into fists.

"Easy, little brother."

Aegon murmurs behind him, over his shoulder, amused, his breath smelling very strongly of wine.

"Everyone can sense how you're starting to wake up. You don't want to cause a fucking scene at our niece's wedding because of your jealousy, do you? Grandsire won't be too pleased."

Aemond can only feel that rage come over him more, knowing full well that Aegon has no intention of calming him down, but to provoke him further and do exactly as he has told him.

And he is succeeding.

Especially in the moment when he again focuses on you, smiling at Lord Stark, glowing and looking this beautiful but for him, Lord Stark, not for him, the one she was supposed to marry and be completely his.

And he regrets it so much, he regrets it so much that he called off their wedding and also leaving you without explanation, knowing that this is exactly what he deserves, to see you happy without him.

As the dance of just the two of them ends and a new song begins, in which he watches as Y/N, his Y/N, places one of her hands on Lord Stark's shoulder and the other intertwines with his, his other hand on her waist, this only making him angrier.

A more choreographed dance begins and the nobles in pairs also begin to join the center of the Room to dance, beginning the real celebration.

And Aemond sinking in his own misery, thinks that he could have survived watching Y/N dance with Lord Stark at an appropriate distance. But now they are both chest to chest, smiling and talking about something with all the nobles also dancing around them.

He doesn't understand that important thing that the two of them are talking about, but he doesn't like it at all, neither does the closeness. In fact he doesn't like any of it.

All he wants is to get her away from him, away from all of this and make her his, finally, no matter what.

His breathing starts to get heavier by the moment, thinking that by the time this is over, she will already be married to him and they will go away together, where they will have to consummate the marriage.

The very thought makes him only feel more enraged and more courageous to snatch her from his arms, not caring about her family and his, not caring about his grandsire and his words, not caring about his mother's words either about "you have to control yourself and think of us."

Not only does Aegon notice her state, so does his grandsire, who watches him intently and cautiously, noticing the look on Lord Stark's face more than menacing, about to do something foolish even though he was very clear with him before attending this feast.

He also catches the eye of Rhaenyra, who watches her husband and subtly points to her half-brother, instantly Daemon knowing exactly what is going on.

And how could he not know?

It reminds him of him many years ago, also watching the woman he loves, about to marry someone else who is not him.

He places a small half smile, bringing his wine glass to his lips, watching his nephew attentively and amused, almost expectantly, wondering even though Aemond has his full attention on you, if he will finally do something about it or what.

"Aemond," his grandsire mumbles to him.

But Aemond, beginning to go into his madness, doesn't watch or listen to him, watching you intently.

"Aemond, I'm warning you," his grandsire insists.

"Oh come on grandsire," Aegon tells him amused, "You know it will be useless. I can tell you don't know him."

And even though Aemond is immersed in his madness, he still thinks and remembers the words of his grandsire and mother.

"I will overlook that it was you who prevented the raven to Storms Ends from arriving when you knew perfectly well that your betrothed should have been here days ago."

His mother tells him seriously and annoyed.

"Now you will attend this wedding alone and I expect you to behave yourself. Just as I expect you to come to terms with the idea that you will marry Lady Baratheon by the end of next month, without protest."

"And you are not going to commit any of your foolishness at the Y/N wedding, do you understand me?" Otto immediately threatens him, "You're not going to talk to Y/N, you're not going to threaten Lord Stark either, and you're going to let the wedding happen in peace, is that clear? "

Aemond feels a bitter feeling, continuing to watch you attentively and him watching threateningly, with the fire in his body about to explode.

"You know what your problem is, grandsire?" Aegon says to Otto Hightower, who watches him seriously and on the verge of losing his patience, "You question the blood of the dragon too much."

And in that same instant, Aemond rises from his seat in a confident movement, with his gaze firmly fixed on you, who are completely disinterested in what is happening with him, completely focused on Lord Stark.

And Aemond's movement completely catches the attention of his grandsire, his mother, also your mother and father, who in an instant look at each other, definitely remembering the past.

Aemond makes his way towards you, not caring about anything.

He doesn't care about his mother and grandsire, he doesn't care about the war that will probably befall them when his father dies, the only thing he cares about at this moment is you.

taglist:

@iloveallmyboys @libdarkheart @angelianlearp @happinessinthebeing @targaryenmoony @tempt-ress @callsign-blue @twobluejeans @luna-salem @literatureluster @thekinslayersswordhand @queenofshinigamis @bugshideaway @minttea07 @itszzmoon

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Your account is so great and I really appreciate what you guys do here.

Im not sure if there are many of these out yet, but I’m looking for good fics of what season 3 could look like. Like the events of 1 and 2 are the same but then we get to see them dealing with that ending.

Thanks so much!

Hello! Here are some series three speculation fics...

Armageddon Part 2: The Second Coming by Halfling (M)

Takes place immediately following the end of season 2 of the show. Crowley just wants to be left alone but he keeps getting interrupted. Heaven is MIA, Hell is up in arms, and no one can get a moment's peace.

what we could have been (and what we one day shall be) by meetmeatthecoda (E)

The next time Crowley sees Aziraphale after the day he broke his heart, entered a blinding white lift, and left him behind, it’s in almost the exact same place. Three interminable months later. That awful day, driving aimless and slow in a silent Bentley, Crowley wasn’t sure if he would ever see Aziraphale again, let alone so soon, considering the way they left things. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care if he ever clapped eyes on his white blonde curls, steel gray eyes, and ridiculous tartan bow tie ever again, but the tears threatening to spill out from behind his sunglasses betrayed his true feelings. (Not to mention the random but persistent spots of bright yellow paint on his car’s otherwise pure black sheen, ruthlessly rubbed out with an index finger the temperature of an open flame.)

Bad Omen by lavender_mo0n (T)

There is a common misconception that owls are a bad omen, a warning sign for death and destruction that is to come. On the contrary, a better way to describe it is to say that they are a symbol of change. That change may come in the form of death, but perhaps that is more in reference to the death of life as we know it. And perhaps a certain angel is about to experience a ~very~ big change.

On the Side of the World by profdanglais (M)

The demon Crowley has gone rogue. Precisely what “rogue” looks like on a demon who was never anyone’s idea of “manageable” is something neither Heaven nor Hell is currently equipped to deal with. Hell is rebuilding and Heaven, under the auspices of the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, is focused on spreading the Word of their prophet, known as the Second Coming--of what, exactly, remains unspecified. Neither side seems to remember who Crowley used to be, nor have they bothered to change the passwords. The Metatron has no interest in demons, rogue or otherwise. His Plan is going swimmingly and he couldn't be more pleased. Now if only he could figure out who’s responsible for all these unauthorised miracles that just keep happening, far and wide, on planet Earth.

Of Gardens and the Second Coming by Serenity_Black (E)

Starting moments after S2E6... The new Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is in Heaven, juggling the Second Coming at The Metatron's behest. Crowley is wrestling with his romantic realizations, and losing. What is it going to take to get our lovestruck beings back on track so that they can save our favorite Libra and all its inhabitants? And where are God and Satan in all of this? There’s a lot of ground to cover before this ends, as it was always going to, in a garden.

The Better Book: A Brand New Testament for the End of Days by HollyGhostLightly (T)

The Second Coming is underway and it turns out there are competing plans to determine the fate of the world! An unofficial/unauthorized Season 3 of Good Omens… to stop the bleeding. 💔 Excerpt: Aziraphale frowned as his intelligence was insulted once again, “How can you expect us to put our faith in something that lacks any detail whatsoever?!” “Let’s try to remember the plan is still technically ineffable. I’m doing my best to make it effable for you guys but some things are obviously outside of my abilities.” The angel growled, “Oh, the plan is effable alright! If you ask me, it’s completely fucked!!” “Real nice language, coming from an angel! You’re putting money in that thwart jar!”

- Mod D

[xxlady-lunaxx]

spoilers to giyuu’s past<3 (under cut!) roughly couple hundred words?? (im too lazy to find smth for the word count)

He was young, he was scared, he was paralyzed from the screams. Yes, the screams. That he remembered for the next decade in his nightmares, waking him up with the same adrenaline-filled panic that ripped through his body and stunned him.

He could see, vaguely, through a slit in the door. It was dark. But he saw it. He saw something—something large and moving with a sort of brutal gracefulness. It lunged towards Tsutako’s silhouette. And then all he knew was the red—the splattering—the screaming—Tsutako’s screaming. The heart shattering, wrenching sobbing. And then— it stopped. And the silence was… so much worse.

Giyuu’s heart thumped loudly in his ears and he waited, certain the creature would come for him next. It didn’t. It just left, glancing around before charging back out the door.

For a few, horrible minutes, Giyuu lay there, the heat and plush of the futon’s blankets pressing against his body. And then he stood, unable to wait any longer. He didn’t care if the monster came after him. It didn’t matter. Was Tsutako okay? Maybe she was still alive.

He was fooling himself. He knew that. But he let himself hope for a moment as he nearly broke the bedroom door in his attempt to open it. Then he was standing amidst blood and limbs and—

His stomach churned and he sucked in a deep breath, but that only made it worse, the metallic smell of blood filling his lungs. He skittered back, pressing against the wall. His eyes stung as the whole of the situation finally got to him. For a moment, he wavered by the doorframe, shaking, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth and trying to stop himself from hurling. Then something caught the corner of his blurry vision and he stumbled forward, trying to avoid the splinters of white that peeked through the pools of blood. He reached out, barely able to control his hand as he grasped timidly at a piece of fabric; a bow, pink but stained red in places; Tsutako’s ribbon.

He clutched it to his chest, tears swimming in his eyes and making it impossible for him to see. He was kneeling on the ground and he could feel sticky liquid seeping into the knees of his clothing. He scrambled back upon coming to the conclusion—much too late—that it was Tsutako’s blood. His mind was hazy and he felt dizzy, falling back instead. Now he sat in the rivers of red, gasping as panic overtook him again and he stilled, though his chest heaved and his mouth gaped uselessly, trying to suck in air.

There was a clatter behind him and it was all he could do to turn around. Wet, hot tears poured down his cheeks as he moved and he stared at a man that stood in the doorway, unrecognizable to Giyuu with the moonlight framing his back, making his face shadowed. Giyuu cowered, letting out a choked cry as he tried moving away. Then the man was next to him, holding him, asking what happened and Giyuu realized it was Tsutako’s fiancé, rocking him in his arms.

For a moment, Giyuu sat stock-still. Then he let out a shuddery breath, drawing in another sharply. The exhale came out as a pathetic wail and next thing he knew, he was sobbing into his sister’s fiancé’s shoulder, blubbering as he tried and failed to explain. A hand soothed him, rubbing his back and calming him.

Giyuu was exhausted. He felt like he was drowning in his tears, somehow, and everything that had happened that night hit him like a tsunami. He tilted, dipping into the embrace, eyes fluttering and lashes dotted with salty water.

“Sleep,” he heard vaguely. “You can rest now, Giyuu. I’ll figure it out. Just sleep.”

The words echoed in Giyuu’s head like a mantra and he took it as a comfort. He was fine. He would be fine. He just had to sleep.

He let the next wave of exhaustion pull him under into the dizzying lull of sleep, ignorant to what might happen in the future as he clutched tightly at the bow in his hand. He was asleep before he could give it a second thought.

[candlemouse]

so when are we getting that bite the hand (that feeds me) update………………… take your time and all but remember that i will always be waiting, lurking, in my mail, waiting that update….. im getting my warrenessa…….

(Sneak peek of bite the hand under the cut 🤭)

Ha! First off, this was really sweet and flattering to know someone is just as obsessed with this fic as I am! 🫶🫶

Second, this made me laugh a lot so thank you so much 🫶🫶

Short answer: no clue!

Long answer: I have a curse to write out of order, so while there are only a couple of scenes left to write for the third chapter, I've actually mostly been writing the fourth chapter instead. But never fret! It will be coming. I'm hesitant to make a prediction because I am notoriously horrible at doing so (I say maybe three months, and the update is out the next day; or I say a week and it takes a year 😬)

Buuuuuut! I'm willing to share the earliest Warrenessa scene in Chapter 3 (which will cover GotSP through the end of KttDP)

The context is that Vanessa is out of the Quiet Box, in her cell, and Tanu and Warren are interrogating her (which was actually off-handedly mentioned in the book!) Also the exact writing may change!! This is a draft!

Irritation twitched in Warren’s jaw. “I don't know if you've realized, but we're not alone.”

“Oh, I'm certain Tanu expects enough,” Vanessa snapped.

The man in question stood stoically, further from her cell than Warren, who was dragging his hands down his face. His hair had already become a mess from his running hands. “You’re infuriating.”

Vanessa laughed and lounged in her bean-bag chair. She could feel the sharpness of her tongue and relished in wielding it like a knife. “Tanu, let me fill you in. Warren and I were mission partners in the Knights for about, what? Three years?”

“Mission partners is a fun term. It implies that one of us wasn't a traitor,” Warren seethed. The vehemence in his voice surprised her, building up her own.

“I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I have to apologize?”

Warren’s eyebrow quirked up, and for a moment, Vanessa saw the Burgess resemblance from Patton. “I believe that may be your first.”

The tight anger in her throat broke as she stifled a surprised laugh. “Oh.”

Tanu took the stunned silence to spread his hands placatingly. For a man caught between two volatile people with a long history, he kept surprisingly calm. “How would you feel about ingesting a truth serum?”

Vanessa straightened and the hair on the back of her neck prickled like a porcupine. Cold fear curdled in her. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Vanessa,” Warren said. “You understand how fraught our trust is in you.”

Adrenaline flooded through her body and she hid her trembling hands behind her. She shook her head again. Her mind remained hers and hers alone. They could cage her in the Quiet Box or the dungeon, but they couldn’t extract her mind. No. That was unfathomable.

“Consider it.” Warren locked eyes with Vanessa. “Consider the impossible task we have of convincing ourselves and others to trust you if we only go on your word.”

“I've already helped you with finding Kendra and exposing Maddox,” Vanessa protested. “Not even to mention the massive secret of the Sphinx.”

“You're right. But,” Warren sighed, "we need more.”

It had been many years since they had last fit together like puzzle pieces. But it was fleeting times like these when Vanessa felt like she had found the frequency again, and that she heard his unspoken words.

He was asking her to trust him.

“Fine,” Vanessa capitulated. She leaned back in the beanbag and steadied her voice to prevent any embarrassing relevations on her next words. “But only with you. Alone.”

Aaaaaand you'll have to wait until the chapter comes out to see what they talk about!! Sorry!!

Thank you for your kind words once again 🫶

[princessamahle]

I’ll remember for you…

fem!reader x bakugo x Kirishima

WARNING! Mentions of mental health. Spoilers to the end of the manga. You all succeeded the war. But at a greater cost. Will Kirishima and bakugo be able to move on with your now “special” new life?

The war had ended but with a huge cost for all. Lives were lost, buildings were destroyed and some received permanent damage. Deku became quirkless bakugo had a few permanent scars. And you….received the most life changing disability of all. Your mind….yes you had permanent head injury from your battle. And the worst part is you may never fully recover. When you awoke, you cried like a two year old who just wanted their mommy. And when the doctors and nurses finally calmed you down after a few days you started to remember things little by little.  You remembered your friends, your teacher, your family but you couldn’t remember yours days at U.A. everything you studied you don’t even remember the battle you all had together. Bakugo and Kirishima were not notified of this as they were still healing as well.

But as soon as they were discharged, they came to you. They wanted to know why you’re still there. The only ones that knew was deku,Momo, tenya, and  Todoroki. They tried stopping bakugo from going in. “The fuck are you guys doing? Move!” Momo finally spoke up “bakugo…you need to listen….she’s….she’s not….” Bakugo cocked an eyebrow. Deku interrupted “before you go in…there’s something you need to know about her…” bakugo at this point didn’t want to listen anymore he barged in and saw you sitting up on the bed playing with clay. He saw bandages wrapped around your head but not covering your hair. He saw you smiling seemingly enjoying what you are doing. And for a moment nothing seemed wrong. But something was off so he stayed alert. “Hey baby…how are you feeling?” You looked up smiling at him. “I’m good Katsuki! I made a bear out of clay!” Katsuki was confused why you seemed so excited like nothing else mattered. You didn’t even seem relieved that he was ok and well. So he sat down next to you and rubbed your back “babe…look at me for a sec…are you ok? Does your injuries hurt?” You looked around for a bit until you finally spoke up “I mean it hurts just a little bit…but the doctor says I’ll have jello soon!” Bakugo was now concerned “why are you talking like that?” he grabs your face to look at him “hey! Hey…..look at me babe….i need you to look at me…tell me what happened, something’s wrong…” but you looked like you were about to cry. Bakugo was making you nervous and trembling “you’re hurting my face Katsuki….” Bakugo looked deep into your eyes and that’s when it clicked. He stepped back a bit from you.

And then, he left the room for a moment and ran to deku and shook him “Izuku!!!!! What happened to her!??!! How bad is her injuries?!!?tell me!!!!!!” Deku looked down as he was tearing to bakugo “kacchan….im sorry…..it’s cognitive impairment….she was hurt so bad…..she was unconscious for days and when she finally woke up she couldn’t remember certain things…it’s as if she can’t even remember our days at the U.A. she remembers us but only bits and pieces. She may never recover from this…I’m sorry….” Bakugo showing signs of intense anger and confusion “what are you getting at? She’s gonna stay acting like a 7 year old? A vegetable? Hell no!!! She’ll recover!!! She will!!! She…..” another pair of footsteps reached the hallway. “Hey man…What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Kirishima came with a bouquet of flowers. Bakugo knew who those were for and his heart broke down…knowing damn well telling Kirishima the news wasn’t going to be easy. “Eijiro………….(y/n)….she’s…her injury…..” bakugo trembled as his words didn’t give him much strength to talk to Kirishima about the situation. But Kirishima being manly put his hand on bakugo’s shoulder to reassure him. “Whatever it is let’s be there for her….ok?” Bakugo didn’t say a word and nodded. They both walked back in to see you as you were still playing with clay. You smiled at Kirishima “Eijiro! You came!” At first Eijiro didn’t see anything wrong but as he continued to talk to you he realized why bakugo had a hard time telling him about your symptoms. Kirishima was now nervous but continued to talk to you gently “(y/n)? Do you remember the sports festival? When we use to play in the snow? Or when me and Katsuki took you to your first school dance? You were so beautiful that day….” You smiled at him “you think I’m beautiful?” He smiled at your question with tears in his eyes “yes…I think you’re very beautiful….i want you to always remember that….” He hugged you close to his chest like he was cradling a baby in his arms. You giggled as he held you “your too strong Eijiro…”bakugo laid his head down your back with tears streaming down his eyes.

He was still in denial of what is happening but he saw you were happy. And maybe…just maybe…at that very moment…that’s all that mattered. Because in your own way you still remembered them. Bakugo whispered to Kirishima  “you know…she may never recover from this…she may never remember all the things we did together..” Kirishima listened to bakugo and sniffed his nose while still holding you “I know…and that’s ok…I’ll remember for the both of us….” He cupped your face with his big hands and stared deep into your eyes “(y/n)….let me kiss you…” you stared at him this time smiling less “ok…..” once you gave him consent, he kissed you passionately, after his kiss bakugo kissed you next. The kiss kept going back and forth as they kept pouring affection for you letting you know you were loved. “I love you….” Kirishima said smiling tearfully at you. “I love you too Eijiro!” Bakugo spoke up “hey…I love you baby….” You smiled at bakugo as well “I love you too Katsuki!!!!” He smirked seeing you still said his name. As the week past it was time for you to go home. The doctor had made suggestions for your mental health and how it can approve daily. You were no longer a pro hero as you were now disabled. You however still graduated with your classmates given a special award for your heroic work and bravery.

After high school you stayed with your parents for a bit for treatment until Kirishima and bakugo was able to convince them about their love for you. They asked for precision for you to live with the both of them. After a few pleas (and maybe some bribery from bakugo) they accepted. You act as a house wife in their new apartment as you loved to cook and clean during the day. Bakugo was at first worried you were putting too much pressure on yourself but saw you were enjoying it. Kirishima believed it was good to keep you active during the day. Kirishima tried to make the best of it as he loved seeing you act as a housewife. Bakugo was starting to love it too but did miss you going on missions together. And ask for  your quirk….well it seemed you forgot you had one to begin with. Because of this it was unclear if you would ever learn to use it again. You enjoyed sleeping with them both but you really enjoyed sleeping with bakugo as he became more protective over you as you both slept. Playing with your hair as you slept. Feeling the permanent scar to your head. Hearing you moan in stress when you feel him touch it in your sleep. And he would stop when you were in pain. But you always got up in a good mood in the morning. You even got up early with Kirishima to make breakfast. At times you’d ask him to do it just to let him sleep more. Since they would be gone all day while you stayed home. During the days when they were working you started sculpting clay. And when they came home they loved seeing your artwork.  For awhile everything seemed peaceful.

8 years later a 25 year old izuku was coming out from working and decided to visit you. He saw you walking with a black hair little girl in hand and a blond baby boy in the stroller. He saw you were about to step out. “(Y/n)! Hey!” He waved cheerfully. You stopped in your tracks and waved at him. The little girl gripping your hand hid hear face as she was shy. But the baby in the stroller smiled cheerfully. Izuku leaned down to see the two children. “Awe it’s nice to meet you again little Hatsuko Chan!” Hatsuko blushed as she had a little crush on izuku. He smiled warmly then looked at the blond infant. “Hideo! You’re getting so big!” Izuku pulled out his finger for hideo to grab. And the baby made cooing sounds. You smiled at them warmly. “So what brings you here midoriya?” He stood up after getting his finger back. “Just wanted to see how you were doing. Also kacchan asked me to.” You sighed feeling Katsuki still didn’t trust you on your own. But overtime you adjusted to your new life style. Sadly you didn’t remember your quirk but your children showed signs of their powers early on. Which were similar to yours. You were just happy they had quirks of their own. “Well we were just going for a walk and I promised Hatsuko that I would stop for ice cream.” Izuku scratched his head. “Oh! Well I wouldn’t want you to stop your plans! You guys have fun! And I’ll see you around!” You waved goodbye as you and the children headed on your way. As you reached the ice cream shop you sat down and ate together. Hatsuko eating her ice cream cone on her own and you sharing a plain sundae with hideo with a spoon in his mouth. While eating you looked outside and saw pro hero red riot stoping a villain and many citizens cheering him on. Hatsuko looked out the window and yelled “Daddy!” You shushed your daughter and whispered “no suko Chan! That’s red riot….you only call him daddy when he’s not in his costume. Ok?” She nodded realizing what she had said “ok mommy..” but then she saw a pro hero yelling at new anchors “give me space god damnit!” She smiled and yelled “Daddy!” You once again had to correct her for using the word during their pro hero time. “No honey…that’s Dynamight…daddy is not out of his costume yet..” Hatsuko covered her mouth “oops sorry mommy…” as you both watched from outside red riot smiled as he saw you and the children. He blushed while grinning immensely at you. Bakugo also saw you as well and was now concerned. But he had to get away from the news reporters. Eijiro followed.

When they got to a secluded dark alley. Eijiro spoke up “hey…what’s up? You looked tensed back there…” bakugo huffed “well not counting the reporters giving me no space whatsoever, I saw (y/n) with the kids why is she out on her own!? I told izuku to take her out if she needed assistance!” Kirishima rubbed his head “I know you did but….” Bakugo cocked an eyebrow “huh? Whaddya mean but?” Kirishima looked up nervously “she wanted to take the kids out all on her own…so I called midoriya at the last minute after you did and told him to just check up on her but to leave afterwards” this very much upset him greatly “Eijiro……shes not ready…” bakugo grips his fist in a fit of anger. “I know man but….” “Shut up!! If you really knew that,then why did you let her!? I….im still worried about how she has to live. I mean… she can’t remember her quirk or how we all use to fight crime together. I worry…alright? I worry she’ll get hurt. It’s been 8 years now I just want her to get better..” Eijiro placed his hand on Katsuki shoulder. “She’ll never fully recover man, we just have to accept it. But honestly Katsuki, she’s doing great. We have to give her just a little independence, and we see she clearly has done things for herself. She tells me sometimes she’s scared when we go to work. Because she’s afraid will never come home. She knows the line of work we do. And yet we go anyway. So let’s give her that same hope she gave us. And don’t worry…I put a tracker on her in case she ever goes missing.” Bakugo’s face was less hardened after he heard about the tracker. “Tch! Admit it… you still worry about her too dumbass…” Kirishima rolled his eyes “well yeah….anyways let’s go….i want to get back to our wife and kids..” bakugo smirked and agreed. They both headed off wanting to come home to you ready to shower you with more hugs and kisses.

[trickstarbrave]

💖, 🥺, 🎶, and 🤲 for the Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask! Any, all, none! 🖤

💖 What made you start writing?

oh god. i dont remember. i have been writing fanfics since i was like 12 in middle school. i guess i just saw fanfic for the first time then and went "holy shit you can make your own stories???????" and went off the rails. never rly stopped tbh

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

i love just like. writing the little physical touches that show how close two characters are. little couple interactions. nerevar having voryn feel his beating heart, voryn fussing over nerevar's hair, either of them comforting each other by rubbing the other's arm and shoulders.... touch is such a fun thing to play with in fics and i think can communicate a lot about how two character's feel or how they work together. idk. two characters touch tenderly and brain go brrrrr

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

sometimes yeah! if i wanna set a mood i'll listen while i write or before on loop for ideas. chapter 11 of moon and star i wrote while listening to the song "take me back to eden" and "rain" by sleep token and i think it shows tbh. but maybe im just insane i cant stop listening to sleep token please help

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

sure. actually i rly do wanna share this one rly bad actually but mind the spoilers (also i gotta change some things in it LMAO im shifting stuff around atm if it changes later u know why)

He was in a tent. A nordic tent to be precise. He recognized the style from when he was captured, though this tent was far more elegant and homely than the one they kept prisoners in. There was only a dim lantern lighting up, illuminating the space with a soft, golden-orange glow. 

Voryn stripped off his robes, letting the fabric fall from his shoulders with practiced grace and elegance, knowing another was watching him. Gooseflesh broke out across his skin as he shivered slightly from the cold air meeting him. He tried to suppress it, but it was far too difficult in this climate. Yet, he wasn’t cold for long; as his robes met the carpeted ground two large, calloused hands were rubbing against his shoulders, before warm arms took him into an embrace. 

“Daelha,” Despite saying a chimeri word, the nordic accent on the man’s tongue was thick and heavy. But in its own way it was endearing—he adored Voryn so much he wanted to refer to Voryn as ‘love’ in Voryn’s tongue so he knew his earnestness. “So beautiful, as always…” He marveled, gently stroking along his skin. Voryn had to suppress a needy hiss from the brush of rough skin on his lower stomach only fanning the flames of his desire more. Then, he twisted, facing his lover properly. 

Blue eyes stared at him with warmth and affection twinking in them, a heavy grey-brown beard on a man who barely stood taller than him. Yet, despite the satisfaction that came with knowing he was loved, there was a gnawing at his core that wouldn’t go away. A hunger that was left unfulfilled. Something so tantalizingly close, and yet so far. 

Laid out on the cot, his want only grew stronger as he lost himself in the body of the powerful warrior on top of him. He moaned and sang and cried just as he knew he enjoyed it, but part of him wasn't there at that moment. A fragment of his heart was somewhere further away, and its absence was deafeningly loud. The blue of this man’s eyes was more like snow kissed mountains than the blaring hot sky. His body was too large and too tall, even if in its own way it was satisfying to be held and thrusted into by him. His beard too, while part of him enjoyed the way it tickled him when they kissed and curled up together, reminded him of what he was missing. 

A face crossed his mind as he screwed his eyes shut, and guilt followed. A golden face with snow-white hair and a devilish grin. He always felt guilty thinking of him when making love to another, yet it was sometimes impossible not to. Voryn could tell this was another one of those nights—another night he could only find release by imagining making sweet love to Nerevar instead. His lover’s calloused hands turned into the fantasy of Nerevar touching him, and the nordic accent fades softly, the tone shifting in his ears. He wondered what Nerevar would say, if he was under the other chimer. Would Nerevar affectionately call him ‘love’ just like the nord did? Would he be sweet and gentle with all the brutal strength in his body? Or would he be rough and cruel? 

Voryn sometimes felt like he hated Nerevar, especially in moments like this. Neht haunted his thoughts, and yet cruelly ignored him. When he was captured, Nerevar didn’t even come to his rescue, instead stationing himself on the other side of Resdayn. While Voryn was getting himself out of that mess, seducing their enemy in exchange for freedom and information while his heart grieved his mother, Nerevar was trying to win the queen’s favor. When he was finally freed and saw him again, the mer only awkwardly patted him on the shoulder and gave a half hearted, sheepish smile and said he was happy to see Voryn again. 

He wondered if Nerevar wished he had died instead. 

The feeling was burning hot in his chest when he thought of it, tears stinging his eyes. His lover brushed them away with all the tenderness he always craved from Neht, and that only made his guilt grow. The leader of House Dagoth instead moaned louder, wrapping his long legs around him, and buried his face in his shoulder. His guilt ached like a raw wound as he forced himself to think about Nerevar again, about Nerevar kissing him and fucking him to completion. Of Nerevar wanting him just as badly as Voryn wanted him. 

And it was because of that Voryn knew he didn't deserve this man either. If Nerevar was horrible, then Voryn was just as bad, making love to someone as gentle as him while thinking of his oldest friend. 

“Daelha…” Voryn mumbled back as he was kissed over and over again on the cot, pressed firmly under his lover’s weight. After sex he was always affectionate, something that made Voryn feel guiltier the longer it continued. At least he knew he was guilty and wanted to do away with the habit. In time he hoped the feeling would leave him, and he could finally love this man with all his heart as he deserved…

Voryn sat straight up out of bed with a start, panic rushing through him. He felt nauseous—positively sick, his mind trying to make sense of what he saw in his dream.

It was realistic. Far too realistic for comfort. He could taste the man on his tongue, feel the chill in the air, and then the heat of the nord’s body. It felt like a memory he was reliving, not a dream. 

But how could that be? How could he conceive of a lover that wasn’t Nerevar? How could he lay beneath someone else and hold back moaning Nerevar’s name? How could part of him hate Nerevar and hate himself all at once? And why did part of him still think of that other man’s face and feel a pang of longing and guilt even now that he was awake? 

The information sunk in as he forced himself to ignore the sex that made him feel too many incomprehensible emotions. Nerevar hadn’t rescued him. He had used his trained skills of seduction to get himself out of it. He laid beneath the leader of the nords and whispered sweet nothings and promises to help him. He…

Voryn had taken Ysmir Wulfharth as a lover. Continued to lay with him long after he needed to for freedom. Whispered promises and battle plans in his ear, as he worked to find the heart of a god.

Voryn had betrayed his people, his country, and Nerevar. 

“Voryn…?” Nerevar sleepily awoke, rolling over to look up at him. In the moonlight filtering in through the windows, Voryn could see the blue of his eyes and bile climbed up his throat as he scrambled out of bed. 

“Voryn?” Nerevar asked again, now more awake and worried. “I need some air.” Voryn said swiftly, tugging on a robe. “I just need some air.” 

He rushed to the balcony, dry heaving. The cool air provided some relief, but he felt even more ashamed of himself, unable to make sense of such a revelation. 

Voryn would never betray Nerevar, would he? Nerevar had told him he only stood against him because the Heart of Lorkhan had driven him to madness. That he wasn’t in his right mind when he attacked Nerevar. And Voryn had believed him—why else would he ever try to harm Neht if it wasn’t because he wasn’t able to think clearly? 

He could feel the hate burning in his chest though, white hot and angry. He knew the emotion was something vile and twisted. Hate, rage, and vindictive spite. He loved and wanted the man who denied him and pushed him away, keeping him at arm's length. Voryn wanted him so much he despised Nerevar, until it twisted him and corrupted him. He loved Nerevar so much it turned to pure hatred and rage that he couldn’t have him. And yet, even in that swirling pit of rage over the fact that Nerevar had essentially thrown him to the hounds, he still needed him to the point he hated himself. Until it was driving him mad. Until he saw Nerevar in another and desperately tried to claw those fragments of Nerevar closer and closer. 

Voryn had seen who he used to be, like a reflection in a shattered mirror. And he did not like what he saw—what he knew. 

“Are you alright?” Nerevar asked, now dressed in a loose robe himself. The hand rubbing soothing circles was too similar to how the memory of Wulfharth touching him, and the shame made him burn and ache with self loathing. He wished he could curl up and die right there, that he had the nerve to fling himself off this balcony, but instead all he could do was grip the balcony railing until his knuckles went white as tears rolled down his face. “Voryn…?” Nerevar’s voice was soft and sweet, unlike the voice of Nerevar he remembered laying under another man. 

In this life, Nerevar came for him. In this life, Nerevar loved and embraced him. Voryn was ever grateful for that, taking immense joy and solace in the fact he was not lost like the other version of himself. 

But now Voryn knew what kind of twisted, ugly person he would be without that love. What a horrible person he would become. There was no excuse for what he did—he wanted love selfishly—wanted it because he felt entitled, because it wasn’t given to him. He wanted Nerevar all to himself, and selfishly sought to comfort himself in a way that might harm the other for his own benefit. And a core part of him, that seed of something vile, was still inside him whether he wanted it to be or not.

“I’m sorry…” Voryn sobbed, unable to hold back the shaking in his body. “Neht, I’m so—please…” 

“Voryn—” Nerevar took him by the shoulders and turned him around, forcing Voryn to face him. The look of pure concern on his face, the love and adoration and honesty swirling in his eyes was too much. 

Voryn turned sharply again, throwing up over the balcony. Nerevar—kind, sweet Nerevar—pulled his hair out of his face as he indecently wretched and continued to gag long after the contents of his stomach were empty. And then, like a broken doll, his legs collapsed as he sank onto the stone balcony, trembling and sobbing.

“Shh…” Nerevar soothed him, before gently scooping him up off the cold stone. He left the doors to the balcony open to let in the much appreciated cool breeze and laid Voryn on the bed, letting him curl up. With gentle, clumsy hands he pulled the hair from his face once more, braiding it quickly and messily just to get it out of the way, tying it off. And then he went to the water pitcher in the room bringing a glass for Voryn and also soaking a rag, wiping it across his clammy forehead. 

Unworthy, Voryn’s mind hissed. How unworthy you are of his kindness when you would betray him so callously. How cruel you are to hurt him and lie to him just because you selfishly wanted him to love you back.

And his mind was correct—how could Voryn be worthy when he was only loyal right now because he got what he wanted? How is he worthy of Nerevar when he was so loving and kind like this, while Voryn hated and despised him in the past? He was selfish, greedy, and cruel to hurt the man he claimed to love because his affections weren’t returned. Not even that harlot Vivec slept with Ysmir Wulfharth just because he couldn’t have Nerevar.

“I think you ate something you shouldn’t have,” Nerevar’s voice was soft. “It clearly didn’t agree with your stomach.” Ah, how was he still so busy fussing over Voryn like this? Hadn’t Nerevar seen him in the past, so cruel and vile? How could Nerevar treat him so kindly now that Voryn didn’t deserve it? How could Neht love him after all that Voryn had done?

He only loves you because he lied to himself, the sinister voice in his mind whispers. He tells himself you didn’t mean it, that you were driven mad by divine power. How could he ever love you knowing all that you’ve done? He would hate you, just as much as you hate yourself.

[wooahaes]

under the sun [dk]

pairing: non-idol!seokmin x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 8.7k

warning: a lot of emotional vulnerability between reader and seokmin (angst). skinship. vague food mentions (they cook, so food implied). seokmin and reader both cry on each other multiple times. fluffy idiots who fall for each other and know it. minimal editing, admittedly (its 6 am).

daisy’s notes: im sorry i have 0 impulse control and wrote this in the span of a few hours.

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world... and between you and one of them.

< day 3 || masterlist  ||

Things were... hard in the beginning. Seokmin knew that just as much as everyone else did. Despite the fact he was always a ray of sunshine, according to everyone who knew him, he struggled when he first showed up with nothing but the clothes on his back. He hid that struggle well, in his opinion, since no one ever seemed to comment on it--more-so on the lack of a struggle. Joshua had once said it was like Seokmin had always been right there with them with how well he seemed to mesh into the group. He just smiled and nodded along, agreeing that the group always felt like family since he stepped into it--but he knew that he struggled a little with feeling... out of place. Maybe it came in part from being the only person there who wasn’t found by Seungcheol. It was something that still stung to think about, in a weird sense that he never told anyone. Like he had tread on forbidden ground, his stay allowed by someone who couldn’t fully guarantee it (but Jeonghan and Joshua had both promised him that he would be cared for, that Seungcheol would let him stay despite the anxiety in the back of his mind telling him that his word seemed to hold more power than theirs). Seokmin learned in time that, while Seungcheol did lead them, he valued the opinions of everyone there. People were allowed to make their case when fights broke out among the group (and they did: Seokmin witnessed so many and partook in some), and Seungcheol listened. But that was something Seokmin learned in time.

He saw himself in you, if he was honest. That same inkling of uncertainty that bled through in certain actions. He saw it in Mingyu when he first came, all hidden behind that happy exterior and a charming smile as he got along with everyone. In Minghao, too, in the way he retreated into himself, too uncertain of the others at first until Seokmin (and Jun--Seokmin knew it was a collaborative effort, even if his initial talks were enough to warm Minghao up a bit) helped build that bridge between them. In Seungkwan, who was brought into his friendship with Soonyoung with ease; in Hansol, who masked it well, too, but opened up when Seokmin prodded him to; and in Chan, who openly spoke to him one night about feeling out of place.

So when he found you outside one night, several days after you learned your name, he wasn’t surprised. Sure, you came out of your shell a little--in part because Chan took you on as his own companion, but Seokmin still saw it. The moments of uncertainty in your actions, more-so when you had to ask for help. He understood it. That was what he did: he understood the hard parts and tried his best to brighten them up so that everyone remembered they weren’t alone.

He stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching where you had sat down in the grass. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Your shoulders jerked as you whipped around to face him, and Seokmin could see where there were wet streaks down your cheeks. He understood that part, too. You wiped at your eyes roughly, apologizing without much of a second thought to it.

“I can leave if you need to be alone,” he said softly, but took a few steps forward just to crouch down next to you. “Do you want me to leave?”

He watched you think it over, lips pressing into a tight line before you shook your head. You scoot aside a little, giving him the space to sit down if he wanted to. “It’s okay,” you said. “I’m fine now.”

“Are you?” He sat down next to you, watching you carefully. “It’s okay to cry. We all know this is hard.”

“It shouldn’t be,” you hugged yourself. “It’s just...”

He said nothing. Seokmin just sat there, watching you take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. If you wanted to cry, though, he would let you. He just needed to know how to care for you if you did, even if that meant leaving you alone to let emotions run their course.

“It’s just hard.”

Seokmin looked ahead, watching tall wheat sway in the breeze. The moon was big and bright, and he wondered if he’d see another falling star. He remembered hearing about one the night of Chan’s celebration. Chan hadn’t shut up about it the entire morning they found you, after all, citing Seungcheol as being right there with him when he saw it. That felt special. Maybe Seokmin would witness something like that with you, if he were lucky. A little moment shared between the two of you might help make you feel more at home.

You reached up, wiping at your eyes again. “I feel like everyone’s just going to worry if I don’t act like I’m fine. I know it’s annoying having to teach me everything.”

“You’re learning,” he said. “Everyone learns differently. No one’s going to be upset with you for that.”

“I know.” You didn’t look at him, just staring straight ahead as you controlled your emotions as tightly as you could. “I don’t want anyone to worry about me any more than they already do.”

Seokmin just stared at you for a moment. He understood that part, too, a little too well. He just put on a smile instead, soft and understanding as he could make it. “It’s okay to be cared for,” he said. “We’re a family. We’re supposed to be here for each other. That includes you.”

He watched you shut your eyes, squeezing them tight, but the tension ease off of your shoulders a little.

He tore up pieces of grass. “But if it helps,” he said, letting them drop into the breeze. “You can come to me, and I won’t tell anyone unless you want me to.”

He could have cited Chan, or Seungcheol, or anyone else that you were probably closer to. Yet... Seokmin felt like he saw himself in you a little more than he saw in the others. Perhaps that was why he felt the need to be there for you. Right when he was about to apologize, to ask if he crossed a line with that, you relaxed a little and finally met his gaze.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “Thanks, Seokmin,” and you leaned forward, pressing a gentle peck against his cheek. “You’re sweet.”

He watched you stand up, stretching in place for a moment before making some remark about how you were going back to bed now. Mingyu was probably missing his cuddle partner. You asked if he was coming, and he waved you to go on ahead. He could use a moment to himself, too. He waited until you went back inside to finally let out a breath, burying his face in his hands for a moment. One little kiss on the cheek was enough to fluster him, definitely because he wasn’t sure you’d be that kind of person. His fingers brushed over where your lips had pressed earlier, and he smiled to himself.

Maybe the two of you would be good friends in the end, if you liked him enough to show that little display of affection in private. He was sure you’d do the same with someone like Chan, and he knew that Seungcheol would dote on you and give you tiny kisses on the top of your head when trying to comfort you (he’d seen Joshua do the same, to be honest). But he felt... a little special in getting your affection like this.

A week later, you pressed a small note into Seokmin’s hand when you passed by him, pausing long enough to ask him what he was doing with Minghao. He pushed the note into his pocket (you lingered behind long enough to watch him do it) and met you gaze with an understanding nod before you trailed off after Jeonghan to go play some card game he’d been wanting to show you. All you gave him was a general time and place (after everyone went to sleep in the gardens), and when the time came, you pulled yourself out of Chan’s embrace. He pulled your little mouse plush into his chest, falling back asleep soon enough while you tiptoed around bodies until you finally left to wait in the gardens. You sat down underneath the peach trees, shivering slightly in the night’s breeze. Normally it was so warm, but maybe it was your mood that was making you feel a little colder. Wasn’t there some science there? You weren’t completely sure.

Soon enough, Seokmin emerged from the church and found you. He walked over, slowly sinking into the spot next to you.

“What’s wrong?” He finally asked a few minutes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You just leaned into his side, shutting your eyes. A swell of guilt rose in your stomach over inviting him out just to vent your own frustrations. “I feel like I don’t belong here.”

Seokmin held back the urge to tell you that you did. That wasn’t what you needed right now, even if he did think that you belonged right there with them. “Why?”

A quiet inhale. A slow exhale. “I don’t remember anything.” You met his gaze a moment later. If it weren’t for the clear skies and the moon overhead, you wouldn’t be able to see his face. “I didn’t even remember my own name. It just feels... wrong.”

“It takes time,” he said. “Even if you never remember, it won’t change how we feel about you.” His hand brushed over your own. “You’re you. We like you.”

“But what about me?” You felt tears beginning to well up, and started trying to blink them back. “How can I like me if I don’t know who I am yet?”

Seokmin’s gaze softened tremendously at that, already reaching out to pull you closer. You folded into his arms without hesitation, eyes squeezing shut as you let go, tears spilling down your cheeks. He said nothing and just held you, slowly rubbing your back as you cried into his chest. Something in his chest ached at the thought of you being unable to love yourself. He hadn’t fully considered that aspect of it. Even with all the support around him, Seokmin could understand the feeling, too, of not being whole and trying to navigate that.

“I think... We have to love the parts of us we have,” he said quietly when your sobs grew softer. “And the people we’re becoming instead.”

You curled your hands into his shirt, fabric bunched between your fingers. “It’s just not fair--” You hiccuped, trying to bring yourself back down from your emotional high. “I just...”

Seokmin’s fingers grazed your shoulders for a moment as he brought you out of his chest, taking your face into his hands. He wiped away your tears. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s hard... but you can do it. We’ll love you no matter what,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t forget that. We’ll be right here with you.”

Seokmin felt something stir in his chest at that. A need to hold you, to just stay there with you. Was it the familiarity in you? In your words. Seokmin loved himself, that much was true. But loving something incomplete? The way a parent was meant to love their child? The way partners loved each other, or the way friends loved one another until the end point was reached? What was life if not a series of moments loving people who were still growing until you reached the end? His thumbs grazed your cheeks a moment longer before he let go of you, letting you move back into his arms to just stay there and be held. He understood that, too. Sometimes all he wanted was for the others to hold him for a moment, usually excused as him simply seeking skinship. The warmth of another person’s touch, their presence to remind you that they’re alive: how can someone live without it?

He thought about Seungcheol’s time alone sometimes. It flooded his nightmares, too, of a world where he was completely alone. Even his more recent dreams of being in a band with a few unfamiliar faces turned darker when they disappeared the moment he looked away. He’d wake up, sometimes with his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, and he’d remember he wasn’t alone. But even the thought of him being left alone terrified him most days. To not have Soonyoung to joke around with, or Minghao to sit with on lovely evenings, or fruit to share with Seungkwan... or you, right there in his arms because you trusted him to see the messy parts of you?

Seokmin wanted you to stay right there with him forever, just so he knew he’d have someone in his arms who could understand. He shut his eyes, letting you just hold onto him and snuggle into his chest.

A few more minutes, the two of you told yourselves. And then you’d go to bed after savoring that little moment of warmth a bit longer.

“Mouse.”

You’d been kneeling in the dirt when Minghao approached you, his own work completed. He’d waved to Jun on his way over before tucking his hands back into his jacket. He stood in front of you for a moment, quiet and watching you. You had greeted him in turn, glancing back at the blackberries you’d been picking before watching him for a moment longer. It was evident that he wanted to say something to you, yet... He was hesitating.

“Is everything okay?” You asked after another moment of waiting. “You can talk to me, Hao. It’s okay.”

Minghao glanced back to where Jun was before he turned back to you. “Do you want some help?”

You looked back at the blackberry bush in front of you, and then to Minghao. “I think I’ve got it handled!” You smiled, “Thanks--”

He kneeled down anyway, not joining in on the work at all. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said outright, “so I think I should just... say it.”

You frowned. Minghao didn’t exactly get along with you the way others did, but you didn’t think he disliked you. For the most part, you just tried to be mindful of his boundaries. “Did I do something?”

Minghao’s gaze flickered back up to your face instead of his own hands where he’d been fiddling with the bracelet he wore--something Joshua had made, you thought. It looked like the beaded jewelry he made. “No!” He said, “No, I...” He took a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you... I think Seokmin carries a lot on his shoulders.”

You furrowed your brow. “Okay?”

“I know the two of you have been talking,” he said. “I... saw the two of you, I mean. I didn’t hear anything, but...”

“You don’t want me to talk to him?”

Minghao didn’t meet your gaze. “You should talk to him if it helps you. I just wanted you to care for him a little more than you care for the rest of us.”

With a glance at your basket of berries, you decided you’d picked enough. You pulled off your juice-stained gloves, setting them into your lap as you settled into the grass. “I don’t understand.”

He looked up after a long inhale. “Seokmin talks to us, but I think he doesn’t do it enough. I was just thinking that maybe... if he isn’t going to talk to us yet, then maybe he’d open up to someone new. Someone different from us.”

Different stood out a little too much to you. But you masked the slight tinge of pain it brought on. “I’ll try,” you promised.

“I know it’s a lot of responsibility,” he said. “I don’t know how to tell you I don’t... expect you to do it? I just want Seokmin to know he can talk to someone. He doesn’t have to hide his feelings.”

“Why haven’t you tried talking to him?”

He pressed his lips together. “I’ve tried,” he admitted, “a few times. We’ve talked a little, and it helped, just...”

“Not enough.”

On one hand, you didn’t understand what Minghao wanted from you. If Seokmin wasn’t going to tell people he was close to about the way he felt, why would he talk to you, someone who was still a stranger to him? Sure, Minghao said that you were “different” from them in some way, but... why you? What could Seokmin tell you that he wouldn’t tell someone like Minghao, or Soonyoung, or even Seungcheol? But on the other hand, you could maybe understand it a little. In a sense, you were a new perspective to certain things. From what you heard, Chan seemed to get the hang of things and fit in with relative ease pretty early on. You were still finding your footing, trying to get into the rhythm of things a little over a week after you came.

“You don’t have to do much,” Minghao said. “Just be there for him if he asks for you to be.”

That much you could do for anyone there. The moment you promised to try, you could practically see the stress roll off of Minghao’s shoulders. He shyly pressed a gentle peck against your cheek, the way others confidently did, and thanked you before returning to his own work. Your fingers grazed over where his lips had just been, and you smiled to yourself.

It was nice to know how much this family cared for one another.

Out of everyone, you liked cooking with Seokmin the most. Maybe it was because of your blossoming feelings for him, but he was nice to stay around. He always asked you about your day and would gently correct you if he needed to, or he’d tell you a story from before you came. It was nice to hear about the way life was before Seungkwan and Hansol found you, or even before they found Chan... Just little stories there, most from that first month of Chan’s joining. Seokmin talked about the time they went swimming together once at that lake. They’d have to take you one day--maybe before your celebration when they all need the break from preparations.

“Seokmin?” You looked up. “Celebrations were your idea, right?”

He hummed in response. “Yes?”

“Why?” You paused for a moment, realizing how harsh that could come off, “I mean--It’s a nice idea. I really like it. I think it’s sweet how much you guys celebrate your time together. I was just thinking about it, that’s all.”

Seokmin’s actions slowed to a halt. “I think... We all deserve to be happy for once.”

“We’re happy without them, though, right?”

He hesitated for a moment, before giving you a curt nod. You could hear the sound of him beginning to chop again, knife hitting the cutting board with each slice. “Right. But before I came, it felt like everyone was more carefree about it. I think we should take the time to really appreciate what we have.”

You had continued working, nodding along as he spoke. “A home...”

“That, but... our family. The garden. We’re all here and we’re doing well,” he paused for a moment. “We’re surviving together. The others survived before we came here, too. And.. we joined,” he met your gaze a moment, “and we’re helping build this community, too.” His eyes were twinkling with joy. “I think that’s something we should celebrate.”

“Why a month?” You asked. “That’s what the others said: one, three, six, and then it was supposed to go by year.”

Seokmin grew a little flustered as he looked away from you. “I think it’s good to celebrate people deciding to stay and making the effort to live with each other. That’s all.”

You could see the appeal. All you did was nod once more, letting out a small hum of acknowledgement for the sentiment. Seokmin truly was sweet and probably one of the most openly caring people there.

“I think it’s important to feel special,” he said a moment later. “And to remember that you’re cared for.”

Again, you ended up pausing for a moment. That was sweet. Seokmin was sweet. You already knew you were starting to fall for him, for how kind he was, but that moment made you fall a little bit more. He thanked you for staying a moment later.

“Thank you for staying, too,” you said in return. “I’m glad you’re here, Seokmin.”

He couldn’t fight back the smile tugging at his lips, face warm and heart fluttering. He pressed another kiss against your forehead before he hugged you tight, thanking you for being a sweetheart. And maybe, just a little, he felt that feeling of needing to be close to you stir in his chest more.

When Seokmin fell asleep that night, he dreamed of fighting with something over something stupid. He remembered the fear of getting hit and backing down. It was familiar--like the silly fight he had with Mingyu once. But... different. The strangest sense of deja vu despite not recognizing the walls around him, the face of the person he was arguing with even though he swore he knew that person.

When he woke up, he saw your sleeping face across from his own. Soonyoung had curled up close to you again, face squished against your shoulder. You had a hand laid, palm-up in front of you as you peacefully slept. He reached up, cautious for a moment, but he gently placed his own over yours. He liked the way your hand seemed to perfectly fit in his own.

Maybe he already liked you. Seokmin was happy to admit that to himself. Maybe he’d tell you, too, sometime soon. When he was ready, he promised himself. 

You had asked Seokmin if he wanted to go on a walk with you one night. While you had no woes to really spill for once (you felt fine, to be honest), you hoped that maybe he’d open up to you this time. If nothing else, you were happy to have him as company. You were always happy to have Seokmin right next to you. He’d been sticking closer to you, too, lately. You weren’t always great at gauging when people had feelings for you--especially in such an affectionate group that seemed to press kisses onto your skin and hold your hand and cuddle close whenever given the chance--but... Seokmin always had this look on his face when he looked at you. It was overflowing with affection, more-so than the way he looked at the others. He loved everyone: that you were positive of. But... something about how tender he would be with you, fingers intertwined with your own so often like it was something he was meant to do...

You had a pretty good feeling about Seokmin. If you were a little braver, you’d ask him outright how he felt. But that could come later.

He had held your hand that night, walking with you alongside the river. Neither of you were going to go too far from the church, but with the moon bright above, you felt no worries about losing your way. Seokmin’s warm hand, palm pressed against yours, only served to make you feel safer. You hoped he felt the same with you there.

“Did someone put you up to this?” He asked after a while.

You looked up. “What?”

“Not the walk,” he said. “I think that was you. But... I know the others worry,” he said. “Was it Minghao? Or Jeonghan? Or... maybe Soonyoung,” he said, voice growing a little quieter, “did someone ask you to watch over me?”

You grew flustered, realizing how easily he saw through you. “No one put me up to this--”

Seokmin stopped, stepping into your way. “It’s okay,” he said. “Like I said... I know the others worry. I promise I’m okay,” he said, pulling his hand free. He took your face into his hands, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

“Would you?”

He nodded, not offended by the slight disbelief in your voice. “It’s my job to help make everyone happy,” he told you. “That’s why I suggested the celebrations. We all struggle sometimes... so I’m here to help make it better.”

You frowned. “Seokmin...” You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. You pressed your palms against his own, his fingers following your own as you stretched yours. “Then who’s supposed to hold you through your hard times?”

“I can take care of myself,” he promised. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

That... stung. You trusted him. Did he not trust you? “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Would it help if I promised to come to you?” He drew your hand closer to his mouth, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “If I need you?”

You nodded. “It would.”

“Then I will.” Another kiss against your knuckles. “Can I hold you tonight?”

You frowned. “Seokmin...” You pouted. “Chan already asked, I feel really bad going back on it--”

He laughed. He wasn’t offended by a promise to cuddle with someone else--but you pouting over having to turn him down only endeared you more to him. “Tomorrow, then,” he said. He pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Should we head back? This was nice,” he slipped his hand into your own again, fingers intertwined. “We should do this more.”

“Go for walks?”

“Be together,” he smiled at you. “I like being with you.”

You hid a smile behind your free hand, and the sound of Seokmin’s laugh only made the heat travel back to your face. Even if the night was a failure at getting him to open up, you felt... more certain that Seokmin liked you the way liked him. Maybe something would blossom further between the two of you. If you could have more little dates with Seokmin like this (and something told you, by that cute look on his face, that he’d be the kind of person to follow you anywhere), you’d be happy. Maybe he’d open up to you further as you grew closer.

He let go of your hand when you came back to the church, not wanting anyone to catch either of you in what was beginning to feel more intimate. But you turned back to him before the two of you could head down to rejoin the others, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Maybe he’d kiss you soon. You made him want to even more.

He watched you trail a few steps ahead, Chan looking up from where he’d changed for bed and been in conversation with Seungkwan, smiling the moment he saw the two of you had returned. He opened his arms out, doing grabby hands for you to come over.

“Let me change, you dork!” You called out, and Seokmin only smiled as he watched you walk off.

Cute. He liked how much you seemed to fit into their family now. He’d end up curled up between Seungkwan and Soonyoung soon enough, but he honestly ached to hold you in his arms again. Something about holding you made him feel safe.

He dragged himself from bed, quietly leaving the room to get a glass of water. The sound of someone coming in pulled his attention away from the tap, and he felt water spill over his fingers as Seungcheol stood in the doorway.

“Is everything okay?” Seungcheol asked once he grew a little closer, leaning against the counter.

Seokmin nodded, wiping off the side alongside his wet fingers. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Seungcheol nodded, arms folded across his chest. “How’s Mouse?”

“They’re--” He paused, hesitating. He figured someone would have noticed the way you two would sneak away to talk at night--and it didn’t surprise him that Seungcheol either would have been told or noticed on his own. You had been struggling before, but he promised he wouldn’t tell Seungcheol without reason.

“They don’t know I’m talking to you,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything they trusted you with, Seokmin. But... is there anything the rest of us can do for either of you?”

Seokmin caught that, too outright for him not to. “I’m fine,” he insisted further. “I think they’re having a rough time. They’ll come to you when they’re ready.”

Seungcheol nodded, busying himself with straightening up. “What about you?” 

“Cheol,” Seokmin frowned. “I promise I’m okay.”

Seungcheol looked up. “You can always talk to us,” he said again. “I just wanted you to know that--”

“I know you worry,” he said. “I appreciate the concern. I promise I’ll come to you if I need you.”

Seungcheol drifted a step back. “Okay,” he said. “Sleep well. You know we’re here for both of you.”

Seokmin thanked him as Seungcheol began to head back to bed, and he called out a goodnight to him before he left completely. He sighed, feeling as though his mask was slipping a little too much nowadays. He had heard Seungkwan venting frustrations to Hansol the other night, talking about how much of his previous life felt like it was right there at the tip of his tongue. He heard Soonyoung swear that Jihoon’s songs reminded him of something. That Jihoon was getting frustrated again, because now he was struggling to write lyrics in general--and even though he never managed to finish those songs, something blocking out any inspiration to do so, it was... more frustrating this time.

Seokmin decided he would be the sunshine they all needed to clear away the rainy feelings. He could deal with his own feelings later. But when he went back to bed, to curl up next to Seungkwan and Soonyoung again, he looked back at your sleeping form. Chan’s arms were wrapped around you, your back pressed against his chest so he could bury your face in his shoulder. Mingyu was on the other side of you, holding your hand. That little stuffed mouse you slept with was nestled close to you, too.

Maybe Seokmin could tell you, first. You’d been open enough with him. Maybe it was his turn to open up.

There was a little pressure to do things well whenever Seungcheol was working with you. Most of the time, you realized it wasn’t necessary. While he would check in with whoever was on the same chore as him, he wasn’t going to hover over your shoulder and chastise. Sometimes he’d catch mistakes, but they were always met with a firm correction and an explanation on what you were doing wrong if you needed it. But most days, he’d go off and work on harvesting his own things, or he’d focus on his own share of the laundry. He was a leader, yes, but he still had to complete his own share of the chores every day.

Yet he stayed close to you that day, watching the way you were pruning plants the way he taught you. Just to observe, he told you. Yet he stayed kneeled nearby, picking his own share of fruit from those bushes while you dropped yours into the basket between the two of you. Sometimes clipping away at the dead leaves that had shriveled up enough that you could safely remove them. Seungcheol watched on with the slight sense of pride in his eyes that you had listened well.

After the longest time of not talking, save for the occasional note of praise, he spoke up again: “Is everything okay?”

You said nothing, caught off-guard by the sudden question. Did Seokmin say something...? Had you said something worrisome by accident? You weren’t sure. You hadn’t had any problems lately, after all. Was that what worried Seokmin...?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me about it,” he continued on after a moment, not looking up from his own gardening. “But you should know you can always come to me if you need to.”

You nodded. “Right. Thank you, Seungcheol.”

He frowned immediately at that, looking over at you with a pout. “Cheol,” he corrected you, only slightly whiny as he did so. “Don’t call me Seungcheol...”

You almost laughed at how cute he could be sometimes. Despite being the leader of this rag-tag bunch, he still had his moments where the “strong, responsible” leader melted away and revealed him to be someone stubborn and sweet. You hadn’t seen it during your first week there, and you assumed it was because he was still in his “leader” mode to make sure you were comfortable with your new surroundings. But he wrapped his arms around you two separate times before, complaining about how the others (Seungkwan, once, and another time it had been Chan) wouldn’t tell him that they loved him back. He had smiled, teasingly asking if you’d say it back.

You had laughed a little, but you told him both times that you loved him. He giggled, pressing a kiss to your temple before saying that you were his new favorite. It was sweet. You were glad to have someone like Seungcheol guiding the group.

“Sorry, Cheol,” you said, trying not to laugh at how he was still sulking over your slip-up. “I guess I have a lot on my mind.”

He nodded. “Are you talking to someone here...?”

Shit, would it offend him that you only talked to Seokmin...? “Sometimes Seokmin and I talk,” you confessed. “Is that okay?”

“As long as you have someone you’re comfortable talking to, I’m happy.” He stopped in his work, looking up to meet your gaze. “I know it’s still hard, but we’re all here for you whenever you feel ready to open up.”

You didn’t think before you started to speak. “It’s hard to open up when it feels like no one else wants to.” You tore your gaze away from his, going back into your work. “I mean... Sometimes Seungkwan will talk about his feelings, and so do a few others, but it feels like we’re all still holding everything close to our chests. I know you want us to be open and honest with each other, Cheol, but I think it’ll take more than just telling people we have the space to do so. We’re fourteen people,” you dropped a berry into the basket, and then plucked a dried-up leaf that’d fallen in. “It’s hard to bring up things without feeling out of place,” you tossed it away. “Like we’re intruding. Vulnerability is hard.”

Seungcheol watched you carefully. “Is there a way we can help with that?”

You swallowed the doubt you felt. Hopefully you didn’t cross a line. “Maybe you should lead by example, Cheol,” you finally looked back up to watch him. He was serious now, taking in every word you were saying. So you continued on, “I think we all look up to you. If you talked about what’s on your mind... Maybe it’d help all of us feel more comfortable, too.”

He nodded, letting the words sink in. He reached out, bringing you in to press a kiss against your temple. “I’ll try,” he said, although it felt... too quiet. Too light, too airy. Like it was a lie in its most obvious form, but surely Seungcheol wouldn’t lie so obviously to your face. “If you think that’ll help...”

“I do,” you insisted. “I think he looks up to you a lot. Maybe it could... inspire people, I guess.”

Seungcheol watched you for a moment longer, just studying the way you gazed off into the distance. He knew. “You’re worried about someone.”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay,” he said, voice soft. “But... Mouse?” He smiled, “Promise me you’ll pursue what makes you happy.”

You blinked in confusion, and then once more. “What do you mean?”

Seungcheol didn’t answer you, giving you a gentle pat on the head as he stood up. You could already hear the sound of someone--two people, actually--running through the trees. You looked up to see Seokmin and Soonyoung standing there, smiling and out of breath as they caught sight of you.

The two greeted him casually enough, and then Soonyoung looked at you. “When you’re done, you should come join us--”

“They’re done,” Seungcheol said, casual as can be. You immediately looked toward him, fully aware you had more work to do. “I can carry these inside, Mouse,” Seungcheol told you. He nodded for you to go on, to join the others, and you said nothing.

Soonyoung looked from you to Seungcheol, not oblivious to the fact that you were clearly not finished. But Seokmin held a hand out to you, happy to help you to your feet before he started helping you dust yourself off. He was already explaining the card game he wanted to play with you and Soonyoung, and Soonyoung took one look at Seokmin before it clicked. He met Seungcheol’s eyes, and the leader merely smiled at him and nodded toward the direction of the church.

The three of you headed back toward the church, and Seungcheol noticed the way Seokmin tightly held your hand in his own. He looked back at where you had abandoned your work, and sighed. He shook his head. Maybe he shouldn’t take over for you--at least not make a habit of it--but... What was one more day of picking up the slack if it meant you could be happy? He saw the way you lit up when you saw Seokmin had come to find you. If you smiled at him that way...

Seungcheol sighed once more, and smiled to himself. He hoped you’d take his words to heart in the end. Even when he was carrying both your and his parts of the day’s harvest, he could hear the way your laugh carried down from the attic. You were calling Soonyoung a cheater, and trying to get Seokmin (who was laughing, too) onto your side.

He wondered when you’d realize that Seokmin was already right there, and that he’d likely stay right there if you’d let him.

Seungcheol was the first to confess a few days later that he worried about his leadership being enough. He spoke up in the middle of dinner, surprising most of you aside from Jeonghan and Joshua--who seemed to be fully aware of this in advance. Everyone fell in to support him, praising him or giving him critique about how he can do better if he truly felt that he needed it. It led Jihoon to admit he was worried about his own talent. About whether he was chasing something empty by writing so many songs, even though he’d never finish a single one. He felt like he was getting a part of himself back.

Soonyoung understood the feeling. Sometimes when he danced, it felt like he was closer to something. Chan could understand the feeling--as did Jun and Minghao. Hansol could, too, when he worked on his own lyrics.

All Seokmin did was provide support throughout all of it. Not everyone shared something they’d been holding to their chest (Joshua said nothing, and neither did Mingyu or Chan aside from any feelings they could understand), so it didn’t feel obvious that Seokmin was holding something back. But he met your gaze soon enough when you admitted to feeling... incomplete.

“It’s hard to love someone incomplete,” you said. “But I think I understand how other people do it. I just need to learn how to love myself again, I think.”

People loved and supported you in that, just as Seokmin knew they would. Yet...

He wanted to say something. The words were lost in his throat, letters bundled up tight and staying lodged there no matter how he tried to word them. Maybe another night, he told himself. Tonight was everyone else’s night, perhaps. Seokmin didn’t need to add too heavily to it.

Another night, he promised himself. When he was ready.

A few nights later, Seokmin sat with his back against the wall of the church, legs tucked up close to himself. Most nights, it was easy for him to go on a walk to clear his head and cope with the feelings building up. That nasty, bitter taste of not being enough. He made others happy, sure, but what about himself? Seokmin was happy. He loved being there with everyone, with you, but he understood your own plights too well. The desire to remember more, no matter what pain it might bring. Forgetting could be seen as a blessing, especially if the world had ended and left you fourteen behind. Not remembering his mother’s smile or babies he used to make laugh, his school teachers growing up... That would be a blessing, wouldn’t it? Yet he yearned to have part of himself back. Perhaps some might call it selfish, especially if this was it, but he wanted to know.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, and let himself rest a little. To let that happy air down, to make way for a pensive moment just for himself. Yet he heard footsteps, and the quiet groan of someone pulling themself up into the church. The fabric was folded back.

“Seokmin?” You called out to him. Of course it was you. The one person he felt like saw through him and called him on it too often now. You had told him that he could be vulnerable with you: he let you be vulnerable, after all.

“Mouse.” He looked up, forcing a wavering smile as he saw you. This was not how his night was supposed to go, yet he felt the exhaustion build up too high. His walls too short to prevent the onslaught of emotions that were rising further and further inside him. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

His smile wavered a little more, the corners of his mouth twitching. Even without his answer, you started making your way over to him, and all he could do was raise up a hand to try and stop you. “I’ll be fine--”

You kneeled before him, and opened up your arms. “C’mere.”

And that was all he needed. He felt his breath catch in his throat, and he immediately dove into your arms and held on tight as he felt the tears well up as words started spilling from his mouth about everything he felt he needed to swallow and keep to himself. His job was to help take care of everyone, to make things happy. That was why he suggested the celebrations. Yet before you, he was reduced down to a whimpering man whose hot tears were staining your shirt as his emotions reached their crest and crashed over his walls. You rubbed circles onto his back, letting him cry as he needed to.

Seokmin wasn’t a man afraid to cry, and you knew that. But when was the last time he let himself truly break down and let everything go? He couldn’t remember.

“It’s hard,” he soon said, voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt. “It’s so hard sometimes...”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Your voice was gentle, no anger or accusations of him hiding things. Just the desire to understand.

His fingers bunched up the fabric of your shirt into his palms, eyes squeezing shut. “Everyone had enough to deal with,” he admitted, breathing evening out. “You had enough to deal with, too. I didn’t want to add to that.”

“Seokmin...” He watched you frown as he drew away from you, his hands resting at your waist. You were so warm and real underneath his fingers. If he let go, would you stay there? Would you disappear into stardust or light, like a lost memory? He liked knowing you were real and right there with him. “It’s okay to struggle,” you finally said, hands covering his own. “You don’t have to struggle alone. We’re all here.” You squeezed his hands. “And I’ll always be here, too, if you aren’t ready to tell the others yet. Or you can talk to Minghao, or Jeonghan, or... or anyone. You don’t have to talk to all of us. But we’re here,” you took his face into your hands, “and we love you, and we want to support you. You just have to let us in.”

He watched you, gaze flickering to your lips for only a moment. He wanted to kiss you, to tell you that he’d fallen for you. Not tonight, he told himself. The time to tell you was later, during a good day. He didn’t want you to think he was confessing because he was upset and not thinking straight. You deserved to know just how much he’d grown to love you.

His lip quivered, though, and he felt the warmth of being loved rise in his chest. He squeezed your hips again, and shut his eyes as you leaned in, lips grazing his forehead.

“We’re right here,” you promised. “All you have to do is ask.”

He loved you. It was all he could think about: he loved you with everything he had. He knew that was the kind of person he was. “I know,” he breathed. “It’s just... hard. Everyone’s hurting,” he said quietly. “It’s hard to take care of yourself when others’ have worse problems.”

“I know.” You sank down a little further to be on eye level with him. “But it’s okay to admit you’re hurting, too. It’s not a competition.”

He nodded. Despite the ache in his chest, the pain of being vulnerable that peeked through the warm love he carried for you, he could feel other thoughts clouding his mind. The desire to kiss you, to hold you, to tell you and be vulnerable in a different way. “Thank you for being here,” he said instead. I love you. Please don’t leave me alone. “Can you cuddle with me tonight?”

Seokmin watched the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. “Of course,” you had said, “If that’s what you want. I’m happy to be here for you.”

He held you tight in his arms that night, as if you’d disappear if he let you go. Despite confusing dreams of tired nights and days with hot, heavy lights pointed at him (maybe his thought that he was an actor in his past life wasn’t too far off, after all), you served to be his guiding light. The person who made him feel complete as he was, like life was crystal clear when you were around. He missed so many things about himself, yet those feelings seemed bearable when you were right there with him. He woke up when Minghao curled up close to him, an arm draped around him as a reminder that he wasn’t alone. That everyone in that room loved him.

If he was the sun, then you were the moon: reflecting the light back to him and reminding him that he wasn’t the only star in the sky.

Being vulnerable with you was hard in itself. But he spoke up days later, fully admitting to the others during dinner that he felt.. lesser. Like he had to make up for everything by carrying the burdens of everyone else. It was met with genuine care and conversation in return. No moments of making him feel like his feelings were wrong, like he shouldn’t feel like that.

“You’ve brought us all a lot of joy and comfort,” Seungcheol told him gently. “We want to be here for you, too.”

Everyone agreed. Even you, who pretended that you hadn’t heard any of this before, gave him a reassuring smile. He whispered to you to meet him in the attic half an hour after the group dispersed, before he disappeared to talk with a few others a little more. The full group had listened and validated him, yet Seungkwan had asked him to sit with him and a few others a little while longer. They, too, felt the guilt of wanting to remember despite knowing that forgetting could have been a blessing.

“I think being honest is hard,” he admitted to them. Hansol had nodded along as Seokmin continued, “but I think I need to start being completely open from now on. Even when it’s hard.”

Soonyoung knew. “Then you should go wait for them,” he hugged his knees close to him. “Right? That’s what you wanted to do.”

Seokmin hesitated. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m running away from you all--”

“You don’t,” Hansol said. “Go confess or whatever,” he smiled. “We’ll all be here for you whenever you want to talk more, alright?”

He was thankful for people who understood. Seokmin returned to the church, climbing up into that sun room. You hadn’t come up, thankfully, giving him time to think about what he wanted to say it. Should he even say it? He didn’t want to waste time anymore. He needed you to know how he felt. If he waited, he’d back down and make up excuses for a “better time” in a world where they never knew what day would be their last.

So he had to do this. He had to tell you.

He could hear the ladder buckle slightly, the sound of you making your way up it. Soon enough, you peeked over the top, and then climbed in to face him. His name was already on your lips when he turned to face you, back to that sun-window that was painting the room in orange hues from the dying light of day.

“I love you.” He watched your eyes widen in surprise, and steeled his nerves. “You make me feel confident in myself. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would have decided to open up like this to the others. And I know it’s sudden, but I wanted to tell you that I love you.”

“I... love you, too?” You paused. “Seokmin--”

“Not in that way,” he said. He knew he’d said it before to everyone. He’d heard you say it, too. “I’m in love with you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he curled his fingers into his palm. Stay strong. Tell them outright. “I just wanted you to know that I love you and I’m glad you stayed. I... I don’t think my world would be the same without you. Thank you for being you.”

You took a slow step toward him, and then another. “Seokmin, I...”

His chest ached at a lack of response. Maybe it was foolish, but he needed to tell you. If he didn’t, he felt like holding that feeling in forever would kill him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I understand--”

And then you kissed him, closing that distance too quick for him to process. His hands fell to your hips, holding you against him as he kissed you back. He shut his eyes, savoring the warm feeling of your body against him. Yet you pressed a little harder against him, and he staggered back, almost falling onto that bed as he steadied you. You drew back, barely getting a chance to apologize before he pulled you back in for another kiss.

You drew away fully soon enough. “I love you, too, by the way,” you smiled at him. “Thank you for being my sunshine.”

He felt his face heat up. “Can I... kiss you again?” He almost felt bad for not asking before, but you had stolen the first kiss. Was it a crime to steal one in return?

He’d steal as many kisses from you as he could, in the end. He didn’t have to convince you to stay with him up there for the night, just so he could hold you close without anyone else intruding. Other nights he could sleep with you close and someone else nearby, because Seokmin was more than okay with still cuddling with the others (he was a touchy person, after all). He just wanted to fall asleep with you next to him for once, and maybe again in the future when he wanted to steal you away for alone time. Your head rested on his shoulder, arm draped across his chest as he held you close.

“Are you still awake?” His voice was quiet in the calm of the night, and he felt you stir a little next to him. He almost wanted to call your name to ask again, but you yawned and settled back in next to him. “Thank you for being my night.”

He could feel you smile against his chest. If you’d be the calm night to end the day, he’d be your morning sunshine from now on.

general taglist: @wonuziex

under the sun taglist: @shiningstar-byulxx @twogyuu  @maijunejuly  @strawberri-uyu @junhui-recs  @bbmyungho @thedeeppoet @min-tata @silvsie @heeseung-lover686 @lilactangerine @jeonncafe  @bfwonu @junsimpsquad @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @wh4txium1n  @svt-rouge @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient

[random-yandere-fandom]

How about yandere TC meliodas but a soulmate au where him and the s/o( Fairy and goddess hybrid who fights for stigma) both share a connection to each other, from sharing emotion, to having vision of where they may meet for the first time. This seem like a nice concept, I imagine meliodas is use to constantly feeling pain from training all the way to fighting the war only to have a s/o who is yet to meet him but is willing to send over positive emotion and feeling to make him feel better. Im sucker for this kinds of things.

Oh hell yes, I love soulmate aus! Which is why it got a bit longer than what I normally write (and took so long lol)

Yandere TC Meliodas with soulmate darling

For as long as you can remember there had been a second layer to your emotions that you couldn`t quite grasp, let alone influence. It was just barely there, almost unnoticeable.  Annoyance, nonchalance and a deep-rooted but hidden pain. After learning that those belonged to your soulmate, to the being your were destined to meet and love, you were baffled. Three emotions. A few feelings. Was that all they were capable of, or was that all they could allow themselves to? You mused that they felt your surprise and pity and hoped they wouldn`t connect the dots, they didn`t seem like the kind of person to appreciate such sentiments. Nonetheless you wanted to help. If they weren`t able to and didn`t have the opportunity to experience joy, wonder, excitement and a healthy amount of sadness and grief that one felt at ending a wonderful book with no continuation than you would have to do it for them. If they were hurt you could send them comfort and if they were bored you`d jump down a cliff if you must only to open your wings at the last second to send them a dose of mixed excitement and fear and laughter.

Meliodas had known of the concept of soulmates for as long as he could remember. Since then he had always been told that he wouldn`t need them, that demons barely needed their destined partner and only to allow any connection beyond the unavoidable should they be of the same race. He knew that something was wrong with that but in the end he didn`t care enough to do anything about that. So they felt what he did and at some point he`d know where you two would meet. Great. As long as they don`t get in his way and he can do what he must it`d be fine. 

He always knew that his range of sentiments were by far not the widest or the happiest but he would do. Meliodas had to. He had to be strong and cold and unfeeling. That did not seem to be the case for his soulmate, however. There were a mix of emotions constantly changing, most of them he hadn`t even experienced himself. They are a bother, he told himself and ignored it. He also ignored the twinge in his chest whenever they felt sad, ashamed or dispirited. Told himself that he was lucky that they weren`t sending feelings consciously, especially when he had to concentrate.

That changed. There was no warning, no prompting, nothing. Meliodas was about to go to sleep when they did it for the first time. They must have felt his exhaustion and either they thought he didn`t deserve to rest or wanted to spite him because the next thing he knew he felt adrenaline coursing through his veins and excitement erupting. Cursing he sat up, trying to calm his racing hearts and suppress that stuff. The emotions promptly calmed down and went into their normal, ignorable state though he could make out some guilt. For good measure he made his annoyance clear before flopping back down and closing his eyes. That didn`t stop a small and rather short lived smile from surfacing.

Was it your best idea? No. Did you think about what you were doing? No. You had felt your soulmate`s fatigue and seeing as it was the afternoon and they didn`t normally feel like that at this certain time you had assumed that they needed a bit of energy. Luckily, you had been sitting on a rather high branch and before you could think it through you had thrown yourself of from it. Upon their rejection though you had quickly stopped your little stunt and the idea that they had wanted to sleep crossed your mind. Ups. This had been the first time you had enforced an emotion and it had gone wrong. Hoping that their first impression of you could still be fixed you laid low for a bit. 

The next opportunity presented itself when you had discovered a beautiful small pond in the forest. It was surrounded by rich plant live and some ducks were swimming on it, the sunshine reflected and sparkled on the water’s surface. Deciding that now would be a good opportunity you checked on their emotions. There was no apparent change from normal so it should be fine. Carefully and a lot slower this time you let your admiration seep through to them and being encouraged by the response, which was nothing, you strengthened it, letting yourself enjoy the coolness of the water as you dipped your feet in. Sitting there you shared this feeling, the contrast of the warm light and the refreshing cold, the calmness of the forest, far away from the others and the silence only being broke by the wind and birds in the sky. With all the work you had been doing and the tense atmosphere of your partner the relaxation was welcomed with open arms. 

After this first successful interaction you continued, first about once a week and then once a day and soon simply whenever you felt like it. You were a bit disappointed that your soulmate never openly reacted but you had noticed that their feelings had calmed down and that was enough to keep you going. Having long ago realised that they were fighting in the same war, the suspicion and caution mixed with the occasional numbness, you assumed that they numbed their feelings in hopes of suppressing regret, you sent as much comfort as you could. It was gut wrenching whenever you noticed the impassivity but you did your best to help.

Meliodas grew used to it, over time. He even grew to like it, not that he`d ever admit it. Sensing your enforced emotions brought him joy and comfort, knowing that there was someone out there who cared. He sometimes felt guilty about not replying but what did he have to share? So he let the one sided communication continue. 

You always made sure to only strengthen positive emotions or small harmless sadness, just to let them know what you were feeling. This time however you feared that you had made a mistake. You were patrolling and you were careless. It was close to enemy territory but there hadn`t been an incident here and there was this beautiful flower in full bloom and you simply had to send your amazement. Doing just that you hovered over the flower, it`s sweet smell calming your mind. The next thing you knew was a sharp pain in your side as you moved away, away from whatever had slashed you. 

It was a small demon and you were quickly able to take care of it before healing your wound. Before you could investigate if there were any others you felt their worry. It was overwhelming. For the first time they openly enforced their feelings and it was intense enough that you couldn`t breathe for a moment. You noticed some anger interlaced, too, directed at what had harmed you, you noted. Quickly sending them your calmed frame of mind you searched for any other attackers and upon finding none you returned to report to one of the other goddesses.

Meliodas had been walking down a lonely hallway when you noticed the flower. Humming in acknowledgement he opened the door to his room and froze. Instead of admiration you seemed to be in pain. What had happened? Were you okay? His mind raced as he allowed himself to worry and let that worry reach you. The seconds were he felt your pain, surprise, resignation and caution were agony. After he was assured you were fine he sighed in relief. 

After the second time the demon decided that he should contact you more. After his initial worry had subsided he had become anxious. Not only could you be harmed at any time, he had no way of helping you, not without knowing who or where you were. He realised he didn`t know much of you. Was there someone who liked you beside him, someone you liked? He hoped not. You were his. You two were fated to be, no matter how stupid that sounded. However he had no real way of checking, so interacting with you like this had to be enough for now. He also grew more attentive of your passive emotions, not letting a single feeling pass his attention.

It is a well known fact that before you meet your destined other, you envision the place you will first meet. You had been waiting for that day for ages, knowing that soon after you`d finally meet them, your soulmate. They had been so much more communicative and their joy caused by interactions grew day by day. So when you opened your eyes in a supposedly dream and felt closer to them than ever before you knew that your encounter was drawing near.

The first thing you noticed were your surroundings which resembled a patch of woods just on the border to demon territory. It was cold and clouds hung deep over the sky, it was eerily silent. Not the most romantic, you decided, but whatever. Taking a closer look you noticed a figure approaching from the woods, across from you and the border. It was more of a shadow than anything, you could make out the rather small height but any other details didn`t quite seem to be comprehensive or noticeable. So this was them. You smiled, though you could guess that they wouldn`t see that with how they most likely perceived you in a similar way that you could view them. No words were spoken as you stood only meters apart, time seemingly frozen as all you could do was hope that you could stay like this for longer. Neither they nor you moved, fearing that otherwise the bubble would burst and the glass would shatter and you would wake up, more lonely than ever now that you were apart again. You couldn`t speak, somehow knowing that sounds would not travel far here, but you didn`t need to do that, as all you needed was your connection and bond as soulmates. Warmth, affection and joy swirled between you both and almost felt tangible, as if all you needed to do was reach out to drown in these emotions. 

When Meliodas found himself in a dream more realistic than any other he wondered what had happened. He wandered a bit before recognising the forest to be the one crossing the border that Stigma established and vehemently defended. Feeling a presence he followed the strange pull, coming across the figure hidden in shadows with wings that couldn`t have been a fairy`s or a goddess`s. Something else or something in between? He didn`t care. All that mattered was the sense of recognition. It was you. His partner. His destined other. His soulmate. His.

Only after waking up did he realise where exactly you both would meet. The verge on which enemies would meet to battle. Where blood was spilled in the constantly ongoing war. The perimeter seemed in tact though, so you at least wouldn`t meet directly on a battlefield. One thing he did know now, however. You stood on opposing sides, Demons against Stigma, darkness against light, him versus you. How cruel to put you so far away from him, Meliodas mused. But if he had to he knew who to betray and who to stay loyal to. 

You spend the next days searching for the exact place you two would meet, ignoring the suspicious stares and whispers about, oh, look, the hybrid is slacking of, no wonder. You wondered how they`d react to your soulmate who was undeniably on the opposite force of the conflict. You supposed one of you would have to switch sides and if you couldn`t convince them than you would have to do so. Though with how they ended up emotionally before you interacted you hoped they would agree with you. Even if the others were against it, the higher ups respected your hard work and if that didn`t work you`d ask Elizabeth, who always seemed hesitant about the war and disliked judging others no matter who they were, for help. 

Either way, you thought, being prepared wouldn`t hurt. After finally finding the place you hid a small bag full of important belongings and necessities in the trunk of the hollow tree along with a small gift you hoped your soulmate would appreciate. Following the thickening of your bond you had started to feel other and smaller sensations of them and while you were quite distressed with how often they seemed to fight, you couldn`t deny the feeling of joy when you drank a wine and instantly knew that they liked it, having had a faint taste of it. Hoping that this time you could enjoy it together you made sure the bottle was secure before heading of again.

Every time the weather was like the one in your vision, your and their hope grew and while you reached the place in no time, having memorised the way, they still hadn’t found it. Meliodas wished to fly over the forest but he had seen himself walking and knew that was the only way to get to you. So he wandered around, over and over and when he finally recognised a turn he followed the path eagerly. It took a bit to notice your presence, it being hidden seeing as anything else would be suicide so close to a hostile region. He rushed through the trees, his and yours excitement mixing and growing as you waited, peering through the woods in hopes of catching a glimpse, the first glimpse of the person you had grown to love.

The wind, his hearts and time itself stopped as he came to a halt in front of you. Your eyes were the first things he noticed, shining with a light that warmed him, overflowing with affection. You stared just as much, his black eyes turning into a beautiful shade of green as he lowered himself to the ground, his black wings disappearing from sight. You did the same, letting your feet touch the earth below you before moving one in front of the other. The grin on your face widened as he did the same and before you knew it he wrapped his arms around you.

“Hello“, you whispered. All former thoughts and ideas on your first words spoken to him seeming too far away to speak now, all you could do was great him. He was so warm, his arms protectively shielding you away from a world that was to cruel to a wonderful being like you, he decided, as he responded in the same manner. His hearts were finally beating again and were much faster now.  

“My name is Meliodas“, he added, chin comfortably resting on your shoulders, eyes closed and melting into your embrace. It felt so right to finally have you. You fitted perfectly into his grasp, his eyes fluttering open and a smile tugging on his lips as he heard your name. You were finally here, with him. Meliodas knew in this moment he could never let you go. He would follow you wherever you wanted to and destroy anyone that dared and try harm you, no matter the consequences, as long as he could be with you, the one who cared and comforted him, the one that was made for him and the one he was made for, his soulmate.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part one - zuko x fem!reader

I am not your concern 

masterlist | part 2 

summary: as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to learn a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

a/n: im so excited about this guys you dont even know. i have so much planned and i hope you all love it as much as i do - just for reference, in this first chapter y/n is 9 and zuko is 10

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): mentions of a raid, reader and zuko both being little shits lmao

chapter title comes from not your concern by the hush sound! 

Y/N sprawled out on the grass and sighed contentedly as the sun shined down on her and her mother. Today was easier than most as they had been given the day off, an occasion that was rare in the royal palace. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent aerating their surroundings. Her senses were blessed with a mix of sea salt and fire lilies, an ever present reminder of the two worlds she walked in.

“Y/N,” her mother chided as she glanced down at her daughter from her sewing. “You shouldn’t lay in the grass like that. You know how hard those stains are to get out; I don’t need even more work on my plate.”

“Yes, mother,” she sighed as she sat up with mock exasperation. “I just feel like I should take advantage of this! We spend all day inside, and now that we’re out here you’re worried about things like stained clothes.” Y/N pushed herself to her feet and spread her arms out as she spun in a small circle. “Life is short, and I already spend all of it sewing and healing. Don’t you think I deserve some grass stains?”

“Did you find your way into the poetry books again?” she joked. “Of course I think you should have fun, but you know how things are here. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She continued to twirl, the soft breeze a welcome sensation on her skin. “I know, I know, but you don’t need to worry! I can—”

“Dear, watch where you’re going!”

Her mother’s warning didn’t reach her in time, a fact that became known to Y/N as she collided into the boy in front of her. A small gasp escaped her as recognition filled her now wide eyes.

“Prince Zuko!” she exclaimed, nervous hands finding their positions as she bowed. “Please forgive me for the accident, I didn’t realize you were there.”

Y/N had never spoken to the young prince directly — she mainly shadowed her mother while she did her work around the palace or honed her healing abilities under the watchful eye of Rika, their most skilled healer — but she knew enough to understand that she was to never disrespect the royal family in any way.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a small smile, alleviating the tension that had built up in her shoulders. “I’m sorry too, I wasn’t paying attention either. I actually came here for some help.” As she straightened her back, she noticed the bundle of fabric he was holding. “Are you Kura?”

“Oh, no. That’s my mother.” She pointed behind her where her mother greeted the prince with a respectful nod and smile of her own. “Did you come to get something fixed? She’s the best seamstress in all of the Four Nations.”

“My daughter flatters me,” Kura chucked. “What is it that you require, Prince Zuko?”

“She’s right, actually.” He held up the bundle of cloth which Y/N now recognized as one of the many outfits he owned. She didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but the prince’s extensive wardrobe was an exception to that rule. She had one set uniform for her work supplied by the Fire Nation, and a threadbare set for everything else that her mother had bought for her after saving up what little copper they had to spare. Y/N didn’t mind it too much as she was able to practice her sewing whenever the seams broke, but she was sure that her handiwork made up more of the outfit than the original by now.

“I tore one of the sleeves while I was training with Azula,” Zuko expressed with a frown. “I showed it to my mother, and she said that Kura would be able to fix it. I had to go through every single servant to find you, so I really hope you can. ”

Kura set her current project down and took the cloth from the prince, examining it with the skillful eye of a seamstress before meeting his eyes with another smile. “Of course, dear. I should have it ready for you by tomorrow; my daughter will deliver it to your quarters around midday.”

“Do it well,” he demanded. “I can’t focus on my training if my clothes are falling apart.”

“Hey!” she spoke up, scowling as she crossed her arms. It was like every shred of sense Y/N had disappeared the moment he talked down to her mother. “This is our day off, so you should be thankful that my mother is taking time out of her day to do this for you. Be nicer to her.”

“Y/N!” her mother scolded, her tone frantically apologetic as she turned back to the prince. “Please, forgive my daughter. She speaks her mind far too often, she doesn’t mean any disrespect.”

“No, you’re right.” A thoughtful expression found its way onto the young boy’s features, his eyes trained on her own displeasure. “My father always talks that way to the servants and I guess it came off on me. I’m sorry. It’s not nice.”

“Apology accepted,” Y/N said reluctantly.

“Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure to tell all my friends about your work.” The young prince smiled and walked off, though not without a curious second glance at the girl who righted his wrong.

As soon as the prince was out of range, Kura began to berate her daughter. “Y/N, by now you have to understand that under no circumstances may you ever speak to a member of the royal family like that! Do you know what kind of punishment you could’ve gotten if anyone else was around to hear that?”

She sighed and settled back on the ground, plucking a blade of grass from the ground. “I know, mother, but he needs to learn manners, prince or not!”

“That’s not how it works here. Our job is to serve the royal family without question. Sometimes they say mean things, but we can’t do anything about it. Apologies are not yours to demand or accept.”

“That’s not fair,” she mumbled as she wrapped the strand of grass around her finger. “Back home I could say whatever I wanted.”

“I know, honey, I know. But we’re not at home anymore, so the rules there don’t apply. We have to follow the rules that are put in place here. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me?”

“Yes, mother.” It was a phrase that seemed to always be at the tip of her tongue now that constant apologies were littered throughout her days, usually accompanied by a sigh.

“I miss home,” The murmured sentiment was almost too soft for Kura to hear and her heart sank. Her daughter’s gaze was trained on the ground, idle fingers tapping against her legs, and she put a momentary pause to her sewing with a sigh.

“Dear, don’t you have a healing session today with Rika?”

“You know I don’t,” she grumbled. “It’s my day off, which no one seems to remember.”

“Y/N.” Kura’s voice was more firm and she now understood that it wasn’t so much a suggestion as a demand. “I think you should pay Rika a visit.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh and stood up in a far more exaggerated gesture than necessary. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight, mother.” And as Y/N began her walk back to the palace, a sour feeling brewed in her chest.

Kura watched on, unable to prevent the fear that permeated her thoughts. They were fortunate that the young prince was generous, but along with his mother they might’ve been the only two who shared those views in the royal family. She hated having to constantly admonish her daughter — the girl was too young to constantly live in fear, especially having already been through so much — but in the Fire Nation they couldn’t afford to do anything less. A spitfire girl like her daughter was constantly treading on thin ice, and it was all she could do to keep her safe.

Kura feared the day when she wasn’t there to protect her.

-

After a short walk that consisted of muttering things to herself and taking her anger out on the pebbles unfortunate enough to be in her path, Y/N found herself back at the palace. She let herself into a side entrance meant only for servants and set on her way to the infirmary when she collided with someone else — an apology was already on the tip of her tongue when she recognized it was Prince Zuko once more. She truly had rotten luck.

Y/N shot quick glances around to ensure that they were alone, then lowered her voice just for extra security. “My mom says I’m not supposed to talk to you like this, but I don’t care. Just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you can just go around bumping into people!” she whispered angrily.

“But— you were the one who bumped into me the first time!”

She could feel her face heat up from embarrassment and she crossed her arms. “Just— whatever! Do you want something or do you just like popping up in places you're not supposed to be?”

“I guess I just wanted to talk to you,” Zuko shrugged. “I’ve never really seen you around before, and you’re interesting.”

Y/N scrutinized him trying to find out if he was tricking her somehow, but after staring at him for a solid ten seconds she finally caved. “Fine,” she said, already beginning to walk. “But you’d better make it fast. I have to get to a healing session.”

He took a few quick steps to catch up to her and frowned. “I’m the prince. Technically I could order you to stop and you would have to listen.”

“Yeah, well when it’s just the two of us, you’re just another boy. I don’t have time to talk to boys for hours.”

His brows creased for a moment as he thought about it, then ultimately shrugged once more. “Okay. You said you were going to a healing session- does that mean you’re a waterbender?”

She nodded, and Zuko waited for her to explain further. He heaved a sigh, realizing that he was going to have to carry this conversation. “Well.. what’s a waterbender doing in the Fire Nation?”

She fixed him with a puzzled look. “I’m a servant. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know that,” he frowned. “But most of the servants here are from the Fire Nation, and there are hardly any around your age. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

Y/N sighed heavily — she now knew that the child prince of the Fire Nation had zero sense of boundaries, and if she wanted to get him off her back she had to answer to his satisfaction. “My mother is a waterbender from the Northern Tribe. She left home when she was young to travel the world and help who she could with her healing, and eventually she fell in love with an earthbender. That was my father — they ended up marrying and settling down in his village where they had me a few years later. Last month, my village was raided by the Fire Nation, and my mother and I were captured after they discovered we were waterbenders. And now I’m here, being annoyed by a prince.”

Zuko frowned once more — it seemed if he continued hanging out with this girl the expression would be stuck permanently on his face — and he suddenly felt ashamed for pushing. “I’m really sorry,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”

She heaved another sigh and shook her head. “Yeah, well they probably keep a lot of the bad things they do from you. It’s easier to send raids to destroy families when your children don’t know.”

“What happened to your father?” he questioned.

Y/N’s body stiffened, and she had never been more thankful to see the infirmary door. “Save your questions for next time,” she grumbled.

Zuko’s eyes lit up, her earlier stumble going unnoticed, and a small smile found its way across his lips. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

She managed to cover up her own growing smile with an ambivalent shrug. “As long as you don’t bump into me again.” Y/N opened the door and gave him a polite parting nod before disappearing inside.

“Good afternoon, Master Rika,” she said with a small bow. “I know this is unexpected, but my mother insisted that I come here to—”

“Let me guess,” the older woman interrupted with a raised brow. “Kura got tired of you and sent you here to annoy me instead?”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she pushed the sleeves of her tunic up to her elbows. “When have I ever annoyed you?”

“That’s a question you don’t want me to answer,” she joked as she rummaged through the closet to get supplies. “Besides, what was that smile for? Meet a boy on your day off? A girl?”

Her eyes widened momentarily and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks intensely. “I don’t ask you about your life while we heal, you shouldn’t ask about mine!”

Zuko, who had been eavesdropping by the door in an extremely un-covert fashion, felt an even bigger smile. The girl was prickly as a cactus, but he found himself strangely drawn to her — not in spite of it, but because of it. He was so used to anyone he talked to outside of his immediate family and friends bending at the knee to fulfill his every will, and it was exhausting at times. But this girl — Y/N, as he had learned — was the complete opposite.

He started to walk away, sure that he was late for some kind of session of his own. Zuko found himself thinking of the glimpse of a smile he got, already finding himself scheming up ways to make it return.

And despite her request, he was almost certain he would try to bump into her again.

[1101001]

SOMEBODY STILL WRITES FOR KNB THATS AWESOME!!!!!!! When you get a chance, can I get prompt #17 with Akashi from knb? please I love him sm, bby deserves all the love in the world🥰🥰🥰 if you don’t want to that’s totally fine too, no rush!!!! Take care of yourself!

; YESS !! ahahahah im an endangered species,,, and ok i know maybe ur expecting smth super fluffy but i couldnt help myself and added just a bit of angst (idk if this qualifies as angst tbh) :”]

pairing .. yakuza!akashi seijuurou x civilian!reader

word count .. 0.3k

prompt .. “Please, can this moment last forever?”

You can’t remember the last time you saw sunlight illuminate his face. 

“It’s too dangerous to be seen out together during the day,” he says. Which is why he only ever comes to visit you under the cover of darkness. 

On quiet nights when his men are out carrying his orders, when he’s certain there will be peace for long enough, Akashi Seijuurou takes a step out of the underworld and into the warmth of your touch. 

For years it’s been like this. Sometimes he comes every night of the week. Other times, you don’t see him for months. However, a single rose always appears in the empty vase you keep on your dining table to signify his coming later that night. 

And that single rose is how you know he’s coming again tonight.

When he arrived, no words were exchanged. His lips on yours was more than enough to let you know how much he missed you.

Hours later, as the sun’s rays broke through the horizon and landed softly on Akashi’s sleeping face, you sighed to yourself. 

It’s been, you didn’t remember how long exactly but it’s been a long while since you’ve seen him this way.

In his sleep, he looked calm, free, relaxed. Every time he was with you he looked like that, but you could always see the exhaustion behind his eyes. 

You know about what he does. You know how risky it is for him to be with you. And yet, you want to wake up to him like this every day.

Gently, you ran your hand through his hair, pulling it out of his eyes. 

“Please, can this moment last forever?” you whispered, a silent prayer.

But it can’t. You know it can’t.

Again he’ll disappear, out your front door with no word of when he’ll be back again.

But whether it be days, weeks, months, or years, you’d wait for that single rose to appear. 

You’d wait for him to come home.

. . .

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

[ravenprinzess]

run away with me.

pairing ; knight!kazuha x fem!princess!reader.

genre ; hurt-comfort, angst, fluff.

summary ; the princess has to get married in a couple of days. a certain knight who happened to be in love with her, helps her escape from her fate.

word count ; 1.4k words.

warning ; might include curse words, mention of an unhealthy relationship.

note ; aa im kinda nervous. this is the first time i write a fic like that on this app so,, hope you like it !!

all the princess could do was stare out of the window of her room and dream of a life where she wouldn't feel trapped. just two days left till her wedding. and who will she marry, you're asking ? the ruthless duke, diluc ragnvindr. she had to met him two months ago, when her parents told her they found her a suitor. of course, if she could she would of rejected it. when it came to the topic of marriage, she thought people should marry the ones they fall in love with. however, for (y/n) this topic was a bit controversial. due to being a princess, she never got out of her castle and thus never met anyone outside of wealth and royalty. her mind then trailed towards her first "date" with duke diluc, sighing as she recalled their meeting.

---

"your highness !" (y/n)'s maids called out whilst bursting into her room. today should be an eventful day for her - she'd finally meet the said man that her parents praised so much. the maids helped her slip into a silky, blue dress before pulling her hair up into a tight bun. soon enough they caked her face up with a bit of make up. they had to make sure she looked the best; after all she heard he only liked 'pretty' things. what a shallow man, the princess thought, a sigh escaping from her lips when she was rushed outside towards the royal garden, where he had supposedly been waiting. she felt as anxiety filled her up. she wasn’t sure what to expect from the duke. she heard he was quiet and cold. however, this wasn’t the only description of him.

“greetings, your highness.” the red haired man greeted shortly, taking her hand to plant a kiss on the back of her hand. “nice to meet you, sir ragnvindr.” the princess greeted back, a small smile spreading across her lips. the two of them took a seat on the bench. she took a deep breath, her (e/c) orbs gazing at the man sitting besides her. “so.” she began, seeing as he wasn’t planning on starting up a conversation with her. “why do you wish to marry me ?” the question slipped out of her lips as she attempted to strike up a conversation. his blood-like orbs glared at her coldly, his lips parting to respond, but no noise left his lips. she raised her brow curiously, receiving a disapproving head shake from him. “just for money.” he had soon blurted out. his response made her heart sink - but she appreciated his honesty. at least he didn’t lie about having ulterior motives.

---

(y/n) was sure she’d never be loved for being herself - it’ll always be for the status and the crown. or so she had thought when one day a new, young knight was sent to watch over her. kazuha kaedehara. a young man with silver hair and a red strike in his hair. she thought his appearance was somewhat unique, but didn’t think much of it anymore. she remembered their first meeting. and now, he was also standing behind the door to her room. he was simply watching her. she felt as though he was the only one who treated her like a human being and the only one who understood her struggles. he was the only one who learned how to comfort her and she cherished that a lot. and so did the knight. kazuha was head-over-heels for the princess from the moment he had met her. not only due to her striking visuals, but also for her kind heart. she was the only one who had accepted him the way he was, the only one who made his heart race as if he just ran a marathon. he remembered the first time he had to comfort her, all because of the jerk she had to soon marry.

---

"you're really pathetic, you know that ?" diluc groaned as he trained along with the princess to his future, royalty life. the two were practicing a dance - (y/n)'s hands rested on his broad shoulders while his own hands snaked around her waist. "i-i am sorry." the female blurted out. "i didn't mean to step on you." and it was true - she didn't mean to hurt him. she knew how to dance, but it seemed like she couldn't say the same about her future partner. he moved stiffly, and his legs remained in the same spot. "you did it. again." the man hissed in pain and shoved the female off of himself.

---

she bit her lip nervously before stepping closer to the man to apologize. "don't get any closer, woman. you've done enough damage as it is. man, if you'd be the future ruler then our kingdom will be doomed. you cannot do a thing right." the fiery man spat out, causing (y/n) to widen her eyes in surprise. his words stung, more than she had thought they would. she could only mutter a quiet apology before storming out of the ballroom with tears spilling down her soft cheeks. kazuha followed shortly, his heart aching from the way her fiance was treating her. that sweet lady, she didn't deserve this, he thought.

he let out a sad chuckle as he recalled his feelings. he wanted nothing more than to save her. to save her from the monster that would only devour her when they'd get married. and as if reading his thoughts, he heard a shuffling inside of her room and then something pressing against the door. "hey, kazuha ?" he heard the princess call out, the tips of his ears turning into a light shade of red. she remembered his name ! he was as happy as he could get, just from that. "yes, your highness ?" the male hummed in response. his heart skipped a beat. what will she tell him ? "remember the first time you comforted me ?" his eyes fluttered, his face heating up when he realized that just like him, she was reminiscing their early memories together. "i could never forget it, my lady."

---

right after diluc's outburst, kazuha caught a glimpse of (y/n) rushing out of the ballroom where she had supposedly trained along with the aloof duke. what caught him off guard though, was the sight of the princess' glossy eyes - it was as though she was crying. and like a good, personal knight he followed her all the way back to her bedroom. his heart broke upon hearing her sniffles and watching her wipe her eyes. and yet more tears came out of her beautiful, (e/c) orbs. "why can't i be loved and appreciated ?" the female blurted out before feeling a warm hand on her shoulder. she turned around, her gaze meeting her knight's red hues. "you are loved and appreciated, just not by the people you're looking at." was all he told her. he took her hand to his lips, kissing it softly before letting her get into her room.

---

"what you said back then, did you mean it ?" her sweet voice came to his ears, snapping him out of his memories almost immediately. he let out a heavy sigh, biting his bottom lip nervously. "may i come in ? we should talk about this face to face." he knew that if he'd get caught he'd get into serious trouble - but right now that was the least of his troubles. instead, all he wanted was to comfort her and show her how much he, himself, loves her; unlike her own fiance. his eyes flickered in nervousness when he was greeted in silence in return. was that a stupid thing to say ? he opened his mouth to apologize, but before any word could escape - he heard the door opening swiftly and a hand tugging gently on his wrist.

he was met with the sight of the beautiful princess; his heart feeling as if it would burst out of his chest at any given moment. "so ?" she tilted her head as she watched him curiously and anticipated his response. kazuha could only note how adorable she looked like that. "it's true." he finally let out, taking a deep breath. if he'd already started, he might as well just confess already- right ? "i love you; i cherish you so much. you have no idea how painful it is to watch you dance with him. it's even more painful to watch him treat you like this. this is why i want to take care of you, i want to love you and cherish you. i want to show you how you should really be treated. so, run away with me. let me be your husband. let me love you forever and always, till death breaks us apart. what are you saying, princess (y/n) ?"

and suddenly, the idea of running away with kazuha was the only thing you wanted and hoped for. maybe with him you'd find your true happiness.

[ji-yaaan]

°•°•𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬•°•°

Yandere!Lilia Vanrouge × Reader

Warnings: Mild yandere, Delusional behavior, Obssesion.

Note: Uhm this was a draft I made from last year I forgot to post lmao. Anyways- Ngl this is more like angst tho :'D forgive my shit writing this was a year ago :'D

Lonely dewdrops trickled as the curtains of dark grey skies covered the heavens above. The smell of petrichor and damp nature was faint yet comforting. Under the thick linen sheets was a painfully familiar embrace. Arms that tightly held your waist as if you were to fly away at any moment.

The warmth you shared in the tight embrace was intoxicating so to say. You felt like giving it all up and melt beneath this man's arms. Drowsiness invaded your mind like an addicting drug. You can't help but feel your eyelids grow heavy and melt in the midst of the fae's arms.

Not long after, the figure shifted his position and burried his face in the small crook of your neck. His soft raven locks tickling the corners of your ears.

You know yourself what you're doing is wrong, but the bittersweet temptation continues to drag you in and simply accept his gestures and advances. 'Just a little bit more' you thought.

His lithe fingers makes their way to intertwine it between yours. He held your hands tightly, but your heart simply ached more for his touch. His lips that kissed your skin gently was such a temptation per say. Yet... his fleeting touches was painfully addicting like poison, but just a little more won't hurt right? Just a few more moments to bask under his warmth...

"Can't we just go back to what we used to be, my love?"

A pained gaze meets yours. If you were to be honest, it felt like it would be alright to give up everything and go back to lilia's arms, but you simply can't...

"After doing all of the things you did? Why should I trust you again Vanrouge?"

You held back your tears as you remember the vivid memories of a broken mirror shattered on the ground. Your last hope to come back home was gone within seconds as the glass touched the ground and broke to pieces. Everything was long gone, but a pair of ruby eyes gazed at your soul as it was reflected in the broken pieces of glass.

"Now now, I didn't know you'd grow this cold my dear, but I was just doing that so we could be together, no?"

The fae chuckled to himself. His pale fingers held your chin up to look back at him with your glossy eyes. A lonely tear fell on your cheek. It was a pathetic look enough to make you look so pitiful.

"Don't cry now my love, you know it yourself right? You love me too right? Why don't you be a doll and stay by my side, no?"

The pale moonlight illuminated the fae's face, quite the ethereal scenery enough to make you dizzy. The sound of the gentle rain accompanied with lilia's lullaby was hypnotizing so to say. Yet the fleeting touches simply made you crave for more even if its poison.

It's quite ironic if you think about it. Lilia seemed to love the idea of you more than he loves you. Yet you simply can't help to keep holding onto the fantasy of him truly loving you. But alas, a rotten obsession won't lead to a beautiful ending, no?

'Just a little bit more' you thought.

"Let's make this easy and not make me hurt you along the process alright?"

As the cold wind blew, your consciousness slowly fades away as the dizzying warmth under the linen sheets and an embrace of a certain someone held you tight. If only you were to wake up to the old times when Lilia seemed like he truly loved you, yet all the sweet nothings are a mere dream and fantasy to mask his underlying obsession.

"I won't let you escape me, dear."

Note: no words... its like 8am I haven't slept yet sighhhhh. Oh yeah but im back? Time to re-learn writing sighhhh. OH BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS EVEN IF IT'S EW THO༎ຶ‿༎ຶ♡

[infcrnalstars]

WHEN HE FELL

Grian was in shock, baffled by Scar’s sudden death. The elytra broke, just before he'd caught him. He watched them snap, and watched Scar’s face shift from joy to fear as he began his descent.

It all happened too quickly for Grian to even try to help him. When he safely lowered himself to the ground They had taken the body. Joel and Grian searched high and low throughout the valley but he was just gone.

Together they made a small grave where Grian was certain he saw him fall. Grian stood there, with the sun setting around him.

How many more times would he see him die? He couldn't do this anymore.

First by his own blade in the desert. He still remembered it, down to the god awful sound. And he simply closed his eyes and jumped, unable to handle it. They woke him up on a new server, to find other contestants for Their fucked up gamw.

The second time he was forced to play, he tried to distance himself from Scar. To keep himself separated in the small, enclosed arena. He thought if he was far away, he wouldn't have to watch. But then he watched him fall into the lava, watching scream out for help.

When he got sent back he found that They were done with this world too and sent the moon crashing into it. They'd managed to escape, but now they were just drifting through space.

And when Grian closed his eyes to rest, he was right back in the arena again. This time, with only Joel and Scar. It had to mean something, right? It had to.

He couldn't figure it out. He wondered if they'd get answers if they all survived long enough, but he'd watched Scar vanish. Whatever They wanted with him, he had served that purpose.

And then his own friends rose from the dead and killed them all. How many times would he have to watch the things he loved he destroyed?

His heart burned like a thousand suns. He sat down on top of the grave they made for Scar and let the tears fall.

He could hear Joel wading through the water looking for Scar’s helmet. “I don't think you're getting that helmet back, man.”

“That's not why I'm upset!” Grian shouted, hands shaking. “Im so…Im sick of seeing my friends die. I'm exhausted.”

Joel stopped and the world filled with static. No, no. Not again. He couldn't do this again. Why wouldn't They let him rest?

His vision went to complete static and he felt the grave under him disappear. He flapped his wings, hovering in the static.

When it cleared again he saw Xisuma standing in front of him, typing something on a tablet. Xisuma looked up at him, his face unreadable.

“X, what's happening,” he asked, letting his feet touch the ground.

“It's Season Nine,” he said. “You were stuck somewhere. I got Scar out but you were stubborn.”

He stared at X, wondering how on Earth he managed to move him before They were finished. His heart was racing. He had only one true concern at this moment.

“Scar,” he said quietly. “Where is Scar?”

X tapped something on the tablet. He pointed over his shoulder, starting to read off coordinates but Grian had already taken off. He left a few feathers in his wake.

He flew above the trees, searching, searching–There! Dressed as a strange looking elf now, Scar was swinging his stone axe at a tree. The bag hanging off the back of his wheelchair was overflowing with goods for a starter house.

“Scar!” he called out, crash landing next to him.

Scar jumped slightly, but a grin quickly spread across his face. He tucked away the axe and opened his arms for a hug. He wondered if someday They'd take him away forever. Grian buried that thought alive and leaned forward to hug him tight.

He tried to enjoy the moment. He knew soon that Scar would be too close to him and face the consequences.

Like Icarus to the Sun, Grian would be Scar’s doom.