#it’s great to wake up to that but man i have a weak heart pls prepare me first

[gojoest]

he can’t smile like that and get away with it every time

[blueteller]

TCF Summary Arc by Arc (Part 1/8)

Every TCF story arc in a nutshell

Volume 1: chapters 1-99

[Index] [Next >]

Transmigration Cale: *randomly wakes up as a minor villain in a novel* Cale: You mean I'm rich and I have reputation of being trash, with no responsibility or expectations?? Cale: PERFECT

Role Adjustment Cale: (Being trash sure is great) Cale: *is nice and polite to everyone* Everyone: Young master smiled?? Young master gave a compliment?? Young master's not breaking anything??? Cale: (Yep. No one suspects a thing)

Meeting the Protagonist Cale: (Let's change this character's fate from the novel and avoid the plot altogether.) Cale: Come with me, I'll feed you. (So pls don't beat me up) Choi Han: *gratitude mode activated* I shall follow this man for the rest of my life Cale: What Choi Han: What

Establishing Power Base Cale: Well if I want to survive I need a power-up of some kind Cale: Depending on divine beings is a bad idea. Let's just get an average-strength human power Cale: *gets an extremely holy-looking power* Cale: ... Cale: I'm sure this won't bite me in the a** later [Wood Ancient Power: Indestructible Shield, acquired!]

First Adoption Kittens: *hungry and homeless* Cale: Tsk. Cale: *feeds them* (It's to keep them quiet) Cale: *gives them more food* (It's not like I care) Cale: *gives them medicine* (I don't even like cats) Cale: *takes them in* (They might be useful, I guess) Cale: *spoils them* (Children are supposed to play and eat well) Cale: *becomes a legit parent* (It's not like this makes me a good person)

Starting the Journey Deruth: So we thought we'd be sending Basen to the capital, but we'll be sending you instead Deruth: (My son has been in such a good mood lately, he might actually agree this time!) Cale: (What is this?? I don't want to go, that's where the plot and danger happens!!) Basen: *smol cute bro vibes* Big brother, it's okay. I don't mind if you go in my place Cale: … Cale: (Well f***)

Rescuing a Dragon Cale: There you go, little dragon. Now go and live freely Cale: (I have no intention of adopting THIS one. Way too much trouble) Raon: *protective mode activated* I shall follow this weak human everywhere, b-but it's not like I like him or anything, b-baka! Cale: (…so I got one more, huh)

Helping an Invalid Cale: *collects another power which was Taylor's in the novel* Cale: Ok, I anonymously sent him enough info to change his storyline so he'll survive this time. Let's ignore him from n- Taylor: Greetings! Cale: (Well f***) Cale: *helps him* Taylor: *admiration mode activated* Cale: (IGNORE) [Human Ancient Power: Vitality of the Heart, acquired!] *Cale's Ancient Power counter: 2*

Enter the Wolf Tribe Cale: *chilling with the kids* Ah, slacker life is best- Choi Han: *barges in* Cale-nim, we got plot on our hands!! Cale: (Well f***) Cale: *helps out Lock* Lock: Thank you so much! Can you help my family, too? Cale: I don't want to. Lock: Huh? Cale: *adopts him and his siblings anyway*

Meeting the Crown Prince Alberu: Young master Cale! A free spirit from such a noble family! Cale: Your highness! The shining sun of our kingdom! Alberu: … Cale: … Alberu: (…We both know we're totally faking, right?) Cale: (Right) Alberu: (Let's never meet again) Cale: (Agreed) *And so Began a Beautiful Friendship*

Plaza Terror Incident Cale's allies: Just sit back and relax. We'll handle everything Cale: I'm great at being still. Cale: *saves the day with a holy-looking shield* Everyone: HERO!!! Cale: (Well f***) Alberu: So you saved the day, what do you want as reward? Power? A medal? Cale: Hell no. I take cash only Alberu: Okay then…? *gives him a two-time use credit card to his personal bank account* Alberu: (This is in no shape or form a bad idea. What could he possibly buy?) Cale: *smirks* (You, sir, just made a big miscalculation) *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 2*

Sea Encounters Cale: Well in the novel the Whales didn't show up until like Volume 5, so I should be safe from the plot for no- Toonka: Hi! My name is Bob. Cale: (Well f***) Paseton: *dying of poison* Save… me… please… Cale: (WELL F***) Cale: *helps both of them* Cale: This much should be okay, right? (It's not like I'm going to get involved any further...) [Wind Ancient Power: Sound of Wind, acquired!] *Cale's Ancient Power counter: 3* *Fire Suppressing Water has been added to the Inventory* *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 3*

Field Trip to the Forest of Darkness Witira: So I'm here to thank you for saving my brother Cale: (I know that) Witira: Who was there because we're fighting the mermairds Cale: (I know that too) Witira: Who are using your territory's resources to make themselves stronger Cale: *spit-take* WHAT Cale: *gets further involved* Also Cale: Well, heeeello new power-up! *gets a scamming power* [Human Ancient Power: Dominating Aura, acquired!] *Cale's Ancient Power counter: 4* *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 4*

Unexpected Results Cale: *suddenly realizes he's got 2 Cats, a Dragon, 11 Wolf children, the protagonist, and a bunch of big shot alliances on his hands* Cale: HOW did this even HAPPEN???

Buying the Magic Tower Cale: Why am I buying a worthless wreck of a building for 10 billions? Boasting rights, obviously Toonka: I 100% believe you! You're such a good friend! Cale: *loots the secret floor filled with riches and steals himself an architect* Cale: Yes. I'm a very good friend, aren't I Toonka: *trust mode activated* Cale: (IGNORE) Lock: *brings Cale the Absorbing Necklace* [Artificial Water Ancient Power: Fire Suppressing Necklace, acquired!] *Cale's Ancient Power counter: 4.5*

Returning from the Path of No Return Litana: The legend said there was a dragon here who randomly shows up to grant people's wishes. But I guess- Cale: *randomly shows up* Hello, I'm here to save your Jungle from the fire Litana: … Litana: So the legend WAS true! Cale: …Huh?

A Dragon's Revenge Everyone and their mother: Young master Cale is such a good, pure person! Cale: *rents a torture dungeon* Odeus: *terrified* (LIES! ALL LIES! THIS MAN IS NOT PURE OR INNOCENT AT ALL) Cale: *helps his son overcome his trauma by getting back at his abuser* Cale: So you see, this is why I'm absolutely not a good person Cale's group: (LIES.)

Getting to Know the Crown Prince Better Cale: So anyway, I've figured out that you're part Dark Elf. Here's some dead mana from a motherf***ing dragon. Alberu: … Cale: What? Alberu: Are you gonna blackmail me, or…? Cale: Keep serving me as a bank account and that'll do it, I think Alberu: You sly bastard Cale: Why thank you Alberu: Get out of my office Cale: With pleasure Alberu: *reluctant trust mode activated*

Hit and Run, Cale-style Cale: So now that's over, I'm going to rest for a bi- Ron: *shows up poisoned with his arm cut off* Cale: … Cale: Welp. Time to blow up an island, I guess Cale: *goes on a war path* Cale's group: ... Cale: (My poor life. Why am I constantly surrounded by such crazy, vicious individuals?) *Cale & Co. blow up and/or destroy things counter: 5*

Running an Errand Cale: *staring blankly into space* The children: Is he okay?? Is he bored?? Is he sick?? Cale: (Ahhh, slacker life sure is best-) Alberu: *calling* Are you free right now? Cale: No Alberu: Great! Anyway, go pick up something from the Dark Elves for me Cale: No thank you Alberu: If you won't help me there's a high chance I'm going to be exposed and die. Cale: … Cale: (Well f***)

Recruiting a Necromancer Everybody: Necromancers are evil, dangerous beings. All fear their dark cursed powers Cale: *looks at Mary* Cale: There's no reason not to adopt this child who is actually older than me.

End Volume 1.

[Index] [Next >]

[pigeonp0st]

Hey can you do a fic where reader is under mind control of some sort from an enemy and is forced to attack Nat and the rest of the avengers and Nat has to talk her out of it and calm her down something rlly intense and angsty pls

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #6

Words: 2,177

Warnings: Agnst

(tell me if there’s more I should add)

Notes:

I realized after I finished writing that I didn’t have Nat talk R out of it like you asked...I solved it in another way...i’m sorry!! I hope you enjoy anyways, thanks a lot for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes...there’s probably a lot) also sorry for this in general...I’m disappointed in it and the ending...I was sleep deprived and delirious for half of it...

———

It was supposed to be a simple mission, and a simple day. You and Nat had planned to head to the beach for the first time in a long time afterwards and everything. It was supposed to be a good day.

Good day...ha.

The sad truth is, is that things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes things go horribly wrong.

Sometimes you get mind controlled by the ‘big bad’ and hurt the people you love most. Or maybe that stuff only happened to people like you. ‘Heroes.’

——-

You were conscious. That was the cruel agonizing part of it all. It’s that with every swing of your knife, every landed hit, every plea that fell from their lips, you knew what was happening.

You knew what was happening but could do nothing about it. Well...you could, technically, but it hurt. It hurt to fight. The pain was similar, you imagine, to what it feels like getting burned alive and then ran over eighteen times.

You didn’t think you could do it. Your will power wasn’t that strong. You would probably die trying to gain control—

It hurt. It hurt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t, you—

Natasha. Natasha was saying; “fight it, Y/N, fight it,” and to you and to the pain that fighting the mind control caused, she may as well have been saying, “die, Y/N, die”

And yeah. Okay. For her, you will. For her you must.

Tears were running down your cheeks, it was the one thing the mind control didn’t have control of. It was...weird. Weird feeling such an immense amount of pain, such an immense amount of suffering, and being unable to show it. Unable to scream. You were silent, but your body felt loud, your head felt loud.

For a long minute you couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t even register the things you were seeing, all you knew was pain, everything outside of that was illegitimate.

Then, silence. For a brief, blissful moment before it was gone again. Nat’s arms were around you, and you were shaking, but completely still otherwise—finally, finally, you weren’t hurting them— “You’re okay,” Nat whispered, and how could that concept, in a few moments of agony, become something so foreign. Have you ever been okay before? Have you ever lived without this much hurt?

———-

“Nat,” you croaked, the words shaking almost as roughly as your body. “Natasha, kill me.”

Those three words, said with an immeasurable amount of desperation, were just as much not your own as your body was at this moment. They were said in a moment of pain.

Somehow, Natasha knew that. She knew that. She knows what you look like when you’re experiencing physical pain. It’s been seared into her mind countless times, but that doesn’t prevent her heart from aching as much as it does when you start begging.

“Natasha please, please baby, please. Somebody, please! Before it—”

And then you were screaming, and Natasha hates how it’s even worse than the begging.

Somehow you’ve managed to gain control of your vocals, but your body isn’t yours again, she realizes it when you start struggling against her arms…it’s a terrible thing to realize.

“Stop,” Nat yells, so obviously terrified and raw that half of the Avengers freeze where they’re circling you. “Stop fighting it, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She holds you as tightly as she can, with her eyes screwed shut. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And god, she hates the way it sounds like a goodbye too, but she just knows that even if you could register her voice right now, you aren’t going to listen.

You’re going to keep fighting to protect her and the others, because it’s what you’ve always done.

So Natasha takes a deep breath, in and out, and tries to think about her options. She tries to think about her options with you struggling and trying to reach for your knife, and the Avengers circled around her with nothing but ashen expressions that speak of nightmares to come, and she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.

There’s no safe way for her to knock you out for a long period of time, not ones that won’t cause long term problems afterwards, but she doesn’t need any because suddenly your body stops struggling, and stops moving, and you’re slumped unconscious in her arms.

It’s a great relief for everyone until Natasha lifts her hand from your pulse, and says, shockingly and terrifyingly devoid of emotion; “I think she’s going into shock.”

——

Everything is a blur to Natasha after that. She recalls yelling, lights, arriving at the hospital, a countdown of; one, two, three, and then she’s sitting in a seat next to your hospital bed wondering when everything went so wrong.

——

All Natasha hears when she closes her eyes is you screaming in agony at the top of her lungs, and all she feels is the phantom touch of your cold ashen skin against her hands.

You’re okay now, Natasha reminds herself. You’re going to be okay, but there’s something deeply traumatizing and everlasting about the moments where you’re sure everything won’t be—the moments you’re almost sure the love of your life won’t be.

Hearing someone you love beg you to kill them, seeing the person you love most in so much agony, it’s...scarring...but Natasha will be strong. She has to be, because being weak hurts too much, but more importantly; you need her to be.

As traumatizing as the experience was for her, she knows that yours was just as bad—if not worse. You were strong for her, so she’ll be for you.

Like protecting her to you seemed like your only option, even while you were hurting so much because of it, it’s Natasha’s only option too.

So she’ll keep it all together, until you’re back to normal and she doesn’t have to anymore.

——-

Natasha startles when you wake up. She physically startles, because the first thing you do is start sobbing, sobbing hard enough to make Natasha concerned that you’ll start hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, up from her seat in a flash to be by your side, “is he still mind controlling you? Are you still hurting?”

You aren’t looking at her, Natasha realizes with a large amount of grief. You won’t look at her, but you’re shaking your head no to her questions, and she supposes that perhaps you are okay—physically.

She wants more than that for you, so she sighs, heavily and sadly— because she can’t protect you from this anymore than she was able to protect you from the mind control—and wraps her arms around your distraught form.

“It’s okay,” Nat mumbles, and then winces and corrects herself because it’s so clearly not. “It will be okay.”

That she is sure of, but you aren’t.

“Natasha,” you force out (Natasha tries not to remember the way you said her name yesterday), “You’re covered in- you’re covered in bruises and cuts...baby, i’m so sorry.”

Your voice cracks on sorry, and Natasha closes her eyes to prevent her own tears from falling. “It wasn’t you,” she whispers fiercely, “i’m not mad at you. Of course i’m not.”

“You should be.”

You pull away from her then. Natasha feels the loss in her heart, she’s sure.

All she wants to do is hold you in her arms and never let go, but with the amount of unjustified shame you’re feeling she doubts you’ll let her.

“Your arm,” you stutter, “did it need stitches?”

Natasha won’t lie to you, so she says nothing—instead she tries to meet your haunted eyes. It’s a useless attempt.

She knows what you’re remembering, and she hates it. “The cut on my neck...it wasn’t that deep. It shouldn’t even scar.”

“I didn’t ask you about the cut on your neck, Natasha.”

Natasha tenses where she’s standing, caught off guard by the loathing in your voice until she realizes that it’s not directed at her, but at yourself.

Your eyes finally, finally, meet Natasha’s. They’re tear brimmed, scared, and unbelievably angry. “I’m going to kill him,” you rasp brokenly, “Natasha, i’m going to kill him.”

——-

Nat says nothing. She just continues to stare back at you.

“He had no right, Natasha, he had no right to do that to me,” your face is crumbling now, anger turning back into devastation in an instant. “Nat, why—why was it me? I—god, i’m so angry, i’m so—i’m so sorry. I’m sorry, i’m sorry. God...what did I do?”

Natasha still says nothing, why isn’t she saying anything? You want to yell at her, you want her to yell at you, you want—you want.

“Is Clint...is he okay?” You ask wobbly.

You remember vividly the moment you stabbed him, and the betrayal on his face, the betrayal on everyone’s faces until they realized you weren’t in control of your own body.

“He’s okay,” Natasha says simply. Then, “the man who did what he did to you...Wanda is handling it. She’s able to block out his mind control.”

“Okay.”

“Can I hold you?”

“What?”

Natasha shifts where she stands, looking down. She’s never looked more uncertain. “You didn’t seem to want me close before...I wasn’t sure…”

Oh.

“Nat,” you whisper, heartbroken, “I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust I’m me.”

Natasha tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down to kiss your temple. You want nothing more than for her to get away from you. You don’t want to hurt her ever again. You can’t. “Oh baby,” she laughs a sad sort of laugh, “you’ve been handcuffed.”

And that, for whatever reason, starts another wave of unreleased tears, but you're laughing now too...if only at the insanity of your situation.

You feel restricted by the handcuffs, trapped in the way you were during the mind control, but you also feel safe. Safe from doing harm, so you allow her, between breaths, to join you on the hospital bed.

She lets out a relieved breath when you do, both because she’s allowed to hold you, and because you’re laughing...yeah it might me a manic sort of laugh, but it’s something.

Something is better than nothing. It’s a start.

——

“Natasha, I can tie my own fucking shoes.”

Nat looks up at you from where she’s crouched by your feet, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Then why’d you ask me to do it?”

“W-What? No I didn’t.” Mind controlled. You were mind controlled again. Fuck—

“Yeah you did,” Natasha reminds gently, “while you were eating your disgusting jello.”

Oh. Yeah.

You release a shaky breath, laughing quietly all the while, because wow. Wow. You’re losing your mind. “I totally remembered that...they just slipped something into my jello…”

Natasha watches you carefully for a few moments before rolling her eyes and getting to her feet. “Tie your own shoes.”

“Asshole,” you mutter bitterly under your breath. Natasha pretends not to hear you and simply presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” she confesses quietly. Natasha’s been saying as much over and over again since you first awoke.

“Now I feel like the asshole. Just go get the discharge papers.”

Finally, Natasha laughs.

——-

You’re healing still, emotionally, the Avengers and Natasha are very aware of that. They’ve been as gentle as they can possibly be with you since you left the hospital a couple of weeks ago, but now—now it’s time for an intervention.

So naturally, you press the big red emergency meeting button Steve hides in his room and force everyone to meet in the living room.

“I’m not sad anymore,” You announce to them all when Wanda asks why the fuck she was woken up for.

The grumbling immediately quiets.

“Well,” you pause, considering, “I...am. Deep down. I’m tryna work through it but it’s kinda hard now that I'm forgetting a lot of what happened.”

Natasha sits up at that, alarmed. “You’re forgetting?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “My mind is blocking it out. I’m traumatized...but pretty okay otherwise.” The others don’t look convinced, so with an annoyed groan you relent. “I’m thinking about seeing Steve’s therapist. You guys should too.”

A chorus of protest instantly comes forward, not to your surprise...but Wanda...Wanda does surprise you.

“I am, too.”

Then Natasha, “I...was actually considering it myself.”

Well then.

“I’m also considering making my own sitcom,” Wanda continues, resting her head in her hand. “What do you guys think?”

“Stick to therapy, Wanda. Stick to therapy.”

At that, everyone comes forward in agreement.

You’re sure, in that moment, that with these people you’ll be okay.

[staytiny-yaps]

heya! I saw your post about requests so can i have like a Regulus x reader? Maybe Regulus and reader went to the cave together? (died or survived? idm) ty! love your works

A/n: Dear Lord I need to get my act together w my writing. I'm so sorry to the people who have requested and not got theirs for like- months. Hope you enjoy! Sorry I decided you were a hufflepuff bc lets be real, if Reg lived, he would've married a puff. As always constructive criticism welcome, but pls polite 💖🥰

Call Her Mistress

You stood in the dark of the cave glaring at the liquid in front of you. When Kreacher told Regulus of what Voldemort had done, his Master decided to find the locket and he begged you to stay behind.

So naturally, you wrapped your arms around him and told him there was no way in hell.

A soft, cold hand made its way into yours and squeezed. You looked up at the man next to you.

"You have to drink it?" You asked him, voice a lot shakier than you intended.

Regulus' hand squeezed yours again and his eyes flashed.

"Yes, darling."

"And I just have to... to what? Stand here? Watch you?" Regulus let out a resigned sigh as he listened to your worries.

"Yes, darling. Kreacher will force the drink down my throat if he needs, just as he has been ordered. And if I don't make it-"

"You'll make it!" You cut him off with a yelp. He winced at the pain in your voice.

"If I don't make it, you and Kreacher take the locket and destroy it. Kreacher is also under orders to protect you." He says slowly.

His voice is low and it's almost as is he has given up already.

You pull him close and rest your free hand on his cheek. His light grey eyes glisten with tears, yet they're still the most beautiful things you've ever seen.

His silken, black hair tickles your hand as it moves against your hard brrathing and you close your eyes for just a moment, relishing the feeling of his cheek against your palm. The feeling of your hand in his.

"You. Will. Make it." You stated defiantly and brushed your lips against his ever so lightly.

When you pulled away, Regulus chased your lips for a real kiss and you pressed a finger to his lips.

"You'll get more when we get out of here."

"Are you trying to bribe me into surviving?" He asked with a small glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Is it working?" You asked, biting your lip and he let out a humourless chuckle.

"I love you Y/n."

"I love you too Regulus."

🔸️

Only a few days ago were you sitting in a library with your love, giggling as he placed kisses all over your face. Now you held him still as he screamed and thrashed while Kreacher tried to pour the horrid substance into his mouth.

Well, you held him as still as you could.

Even weakened this way, Regulus was much stronger than you and his body was currently pumping him full of adrenaline.

"Come on Reg just a little bit more. Please Reggie for me, just a little bit more I promise. Kreacher, how many more mouthfuls?" You stroked Regulus' hair with one hand as the other held his mouth open.

"About two M-" He stopped when he realised he didn't know how to adress you.

"Two more, my love. Two more mouthfuls, please..." You begged him as he pleaded with you and the house elf to let him free.

Your heart broke every time a strained plea left his mouth. His cheeks were wet with tears and your eyes blurred with your own.

Horrible thoughts raced through your mind as his screams echoed about the cave. You must be a monster to put the love of your life through this. You should've done it yourself.

Next time you go after a horcrux, it's you who goes through the pain.

You and Kreacher coaxed the last drop into his mouth and then you let him go.

"W-water..." He mumbled and you nodded.

"Yes sweetheart. Kreacher you stay with him, I'll get him water." You ordered and pressed a kiss to Regulus' head before you ran off.

His hair was stuck to his face with sweat and you could've cried with how greatful you were.

Regulus leaned forward and muttered some words to his house elf. Kreacher looked unsure, but a weak, yet stern glare from his Master seemed to convince him.

"M-Mistress no!" Kreacher yelled, stumbling over the first word, unused to calling you, a hufflepuff of all things, Mistress.

But it was his Master's orders.

You stopped still at Kreachers yell, standing only feet away from the water.

"Mistress musn't go any further. Do not call attention to the Inferi!" Kreacher warned and as you began to back up, a sickly hand popped out of the water and landed on the stone in front of you.

"Shit!" You shrieked and scrambled back up to where Regulus lay.

"Kreacher can you apparate us out of here?" You asked before conjuring some water directly into Regulus' mouth.

He spluttered and choked for a moment beacuse of how he was laying, but soon swallowed the water and begged for more.

"I may be able to, but there are many defenses in this cave Mistress. It may take Kreacher a while." He answered as you pulled Regulus' head up onto your lap to get him into a better position for drinking.

"That's okay, do whatever you can just please get him out of here." Hundreds of Inferi were crawling up from the water at a swift pace.

Your heart was beating out of your chest and your throat tightened in fear, you didn't want to die.

And more than that, you didn't want Regulus to die.

"I'm under my Master's orders to keep you alive." Kreacher pointed oif while scrunching his face up, digging around his magic to gather the strength to apparate the three of them out of there.

"Yeah well you call me Mistress, which means I can give you orders too. And I order you to save him at any cost." You cried out trying to stifle your sobs in favour of keeping Regulus calm.

"W-water..." He rasped again and you complied.

"Yes dear, water. Stay alive and you can have all the water you want I promise you." You pushed his hair out of his eyes and gave him more water.

Your fear and panic was rising and making it harder for you to cast spells.

"Kreacher hurry!" You yelled out as you felt a disgusting, bony hand wrap around your ankle and begin to drag towards the water.

"Y-Y/n!" Regulus' head had gathered itself together enough for him to realise you were in danger.

"Master Regulus must stay calm." Kreacher told him and Regulus panicked as your body was pulled from underneath him.

"Kreacher save her!" Regulus screamed as he began to sit up, crawling towards the Inferi.

"Stay away from the Inferi Master Regulus!" Was the last thing you heard before you head hit a jagged piece of stone and the world around you faded from existence.

🔸️

"Y/n... love?" A small voice echoed through your head. You knew that voice.

Did this mean you had both died?

"Sweetheart... please... please wake up..." The voice you loved more than anyone elses sounded through your head again.

His voice was strained and tired and it pulled at your heart.

Your eyes slowly blinked open to see a blurry figure above you.

"Y/n! You're alive!" He rejoiced and you blinked slowly.

"I am?" You muttered as you began to sit up. Pain racked through your body and your head pounded.

"Doesn't feel like it." You groaned, but nevertheless stayed sitting up.

You looked around the room and found yourself on the ground of the small apartment you shared with Regulus since the beginning of your seventh year at Hogwarts.

Regulus still looked like death, but here he was kneeling over you.

"W- how?" You asked and Regulus let out a breathless laugh.

"The Inferi got you, I crawled after you and Kreacher crawled after us. He apparated us out of there. He's fine. He's drawing us a bath now, then he'll be returning back to my parents house."

You looked at him with wonder. How lucky could you have been to not only have landed a man like him, but go through that and both of you come out alive.

"You're a bloody idiot Regulus Black." You laughed and surged forward to kiss him.

After a few moments of sinking into the comforting feeling of your lips on his he pulled away.

"One more thing."

"But I promised you those kisses if we survived. What, now you don't want one?" You giggled, but his eyes had turned serious - filled with love - but serious.

"I told Kreacher to call you Mistress because... I was hoping you would be." He admitted solemnly and you raised a brow at him.

"Y/n please, please, pretty please marry me?"

[scrambleddragonegg]

Ummm ypu said send an ask so write some bkdk angst pls?

So I have 2 of these that I just never responded to????? I am SO sorry! my mental health has been shit recently. buuuuut here's the story! I hope I did a good job!

~

Katsuki wakes up slowly, his eyes stinging as the light hits his pupils. As soon as it registers where he is, his mind goes to Deku.

DEKU!

“Bakugo! You’re awake! I’ll go get the nurse and-” Sero starts, but Katsuki is already standing up, pulling off the oxygen mask and yanking the IVs out of his arm. There’s no time. His mind won’t stop replaying scenes of Deku dying, bleeding out alone on the ground. He needs to see him. Now.

“Whoa, Bakugo! You should get back in bed! You’re not fully healed yet!”

Katsuki doesn’t so much as flinch when Sero grabs his arm and tries to guide him back to the hospital bed.

“Soy Sauce, if you don’t get out of my way right now, I will blast you through this wall.” Maybe it’s his tone, or maybe it’s the look Katsuki gives him, but Sero releases Katsuki without much more of an arguement.

“He’s awake!”

“Bakugo!”

“Blasty!”

“Oh, I’m so relieved!”

There’s quite the commotion when he slams the door open. His classmates were waiting outside for him to wake up. He might even be greatful if Deku weren’t the only thing on his mind.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, okay?! I’m up! Where’s Deku?!”

The hall goes silent and Katsuki feels his stomach drop. No. NO! He’s not- He can’t be-

“He hasn’t woken up yet. He practically destroyed himself out there and-” Uraraka starts. Katsuki tunes her out, feeling air fill his lungs before he realizes he even stopped breathing in the first place.

“At the end of the hall.” Tsuyu summarizes, seeing Katsuki about to lose it. He mentally thanks her, only audibly grunting in response before he pushes past everyone and sprints down the hallway.

As he enters the room, Katsuki sees All Might sitting in the chair next to the nerd’s bed. The room is silent except for the faint beeping of the heart monitor and Deku’s labored breathing. He sounds like he’s fighting for every breath, and that’s with the oxygen mask.

It’s calm. Eerily calm.

“How long has it been?” Katsuki asks. All Might turns around sharply, somehow having not noticed that Katsuki entered the room.

“Young Bakugo! Shouldn’t you be in-”

“How. Long. Has. It. Been?” He doesn’t have time for this shit.

“Three days.” All Might finally answers. He opens his mouth to tell Katsuki to go back to bed, but the explosive blonde silences him with a glare that may even rival his mother’s. Katsuki eventually pulls over another chair, sitting on the other side of the bed from All Might, eyes scanning Deku’s face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

He looks so peaceful. Almost too peaceful. Almost like he’s-

“Young Bakugo, I need you to look at me.” All Might’s voice is suddenly very close. Looking away from Deku, Katsuki can see that the man is now standing right next to him. When did he get up?

“He’s alive, Young Bakugo. He’s going to be okay. He’s just asleep right now. Young Midoriya’s body is resting so that it may heal.” Katsuki glares at the retired pro, but its then that he realizes that he feels very weak. He hates feeling weak.. He tries to move his hands, but they shake so horribly that he decides resting them on his lap is a better decision. He can’t breathe. Katsuki stands up, hands popping.

"That little SHIT!" He's going to kill the nerd when he wakes up. He deserves it after putting them all through this much worry. If only he didn't destroy himself like he always fucking does.

He wants to throw something, break something, even blow something up. Deku needs to wake up now.

"Young Bakugo-" "Shut up, Skeletor." Katsuki snaps. He leans over Izuku’s unconscious body, seeing the nerd looking too pale.

"Deku, wake up."

"Deku."

"Wake. Up. Nerd."

Katsuki feels tears form in his eyes. he can't cry, not now. Not in front of All Might. Just as tears are about to fall, Izuku’s breathing picks up.

"Deku...?" His chest heaves and his heart monitor skyrockets. It's beating way too fast.

Then, it suddenly slows.

Katsuki knows that's not good.

"FUCK! Deku wake up, you have to wake up! This isn't fucking funny anymore Shitty Nerd!" He's shaking the green haired boy, trying anything he can think of to wake him up. Suddenly, he's shoved aside and pulled out of the room as doctors and nurses flood the room.

"DEKU!" Katsuki screams.

"Keep him with us!"

"He's not responding!"

"We're losing him!"

Everything stops. His vision swims as his breathing turns rapid. He knows he's shaking, crying even, but he doesn't care. They're losing him. They're losing Deku. His chest feels like it's caving in as he stumbles into a nearby wall, unable to keep himself balanced. His hands fly to his head, yanking his hair as he stresses over his childhood friend's condition.

"Kacchan!" Deku calls, tripping over his own two feet to get to get to the blonde as quickly as possible.

"Deku, you stupid nerd!" The elated green eyes flicker with sadness for a brief moment. Katsuki almost misses it.

"You've got to stop tripping over yourself when we become heroes!" Izuku squeales with joy.

"I won't fall, Kacchan! I'll be standing right next to you!"

As the memory fades, Katsuki hears the heart monitor flatline.

No!

"DEKU YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU BETTER SURVIVE THIS SHIT!" He screams, tears falling rapidly.

"Clear!"

He wants to push through all of them, to see Deku before the world finally takes him.

"Clear!"

Katsuki flinches. Izuku’s heart isn't starting. They’re losing him, they're losing Deku. He can't focus, and begins to feel light-headed. He can't lose Deku. Not after he finally got him back. Not when he hasn't made up for every shitty thing he's done to him. Not when-

"We've got a pulse!"

Katsuki collapses, falling to his hands and knees as a loud sob wracks through his body. The stress is too much for his already injured body, however, so he quickly blacks out.

When he wakes up again, Izuku is gone. Not dead, but he left. He ran away. Katsuki holds the letter addressed to him tightly, debating blowing it up here and now. Whatever the nerd wrote in here... He can tell him himself. He's not going to open the letter. He won't except Izuku’s disappearance. He can't. It'll be like losing him all over again. Izuku can't do this on his own. He just can't. He wants to draw the battle away from everyone, but at what cost? Himself? Bullshit.

Bull. Shit.

[justasimplesinner]

hello, i just found your tumblr😊😊 i would like to ask for a scenario where Eddie from Arkham games has been working non-stop for days and his s/o starts to get jealous since his attention goes all to batman ❤ Fluff pls~🥰 (Sorry for my bad english)

this stinky gremlin i swear, i don’t know if i want to punch him or kiss him

dumb bitch Arkham!Eddie overworking himself AGAIN:

– You're doing it again, Edward. – you sighed at his hunched back, fingers skimming over some parts on the workbench near you, but he never even budged, never acknowledged your presence.

Because of him overworking and neglecting himself, his spine was starting to take shape of one of those curly questionmarks he doodled on every aviable space. It was concerning, to say the least...

– I'm disappointed. – this one struck. You knew this one struck. But if pressing on his soft spots was the only way to get his attention, you didn't have a choice.

– Disappointed? – he may have been snorting, he may have been laughing at you, but the subtle way in which his body immediately froze after you words didn't escape your trained eye. After all those years, you knew what made him tick. – Who are you to tell me you're disappointed? Do you seriously think I'd care for-...

Ah, there went the defensive mechanisms of his - denial, insults, feeding his own ego to recompensate for any moderatively hurtful comment directed at him. The whole package. Despite how he prided himself in being an enigma, he was awfully easy to read.

Looking at it, you could understand why some of your friends tried to convince you this was a toxic relationship. Who knew, maybe they were right. But you knew something they didn't - you knew Edward Nigma for all he was, all his faults and strengths, but most importantly, you knew he was but a child trapped in a man's body.

When children threw tantrums, nobody called them toxic - why should this be different? What with Edward's stunted emotional growth, he had little to no control over his feelings and their outbursts. But especially, he had little to no control over what he was saying when they happened - not to say you were never hurt by his spiteful words, but you knew better than to take them to heart.

You wouldn't be here, with him, if you did. And he knew that damn well - he knew damn well that if you didn't care for him you wouldn't put up with his bullshit, and yet, despite how grateful he really was, you never seemed to get the recognition you truly deserve.

Not from him, at least - his henchmen, though... that was a whole different story. There was a reason most of them called you "Mom" behind Edward's back.

– You promised. – maybe it was just as childish of you to cut in with this as it was for him to make a scene over nothing, but if you let him go on, you'd be sitting here for another hour or so. 

– In the first place, you shouldn't believe in promises. The world is full of them-... – you were sure he was about to go full Paulo Coelho on you and quote the entire thing if you'd only let him. There was no chance at blowing his own horn that this man wouldn't take.

– So you're calling yourself a liar? – you mused instead, walking up to him to lay your hands on his shoulders - which almost immediately lost some of the tension, mind you – What happened to being the "man of your word"? I distinctly remember you giving me a whole speech, and call me foolish, but I was under the impression you're the type of man to practise what you preach. – pointing out his mistakes like this was satisfying on a petty level, you had to admit that much. No matter what he said, he'd be only digging his own grave and you both knew that. You left him with no room to wiggle, no way to escape.

You weren't stupid, despite him often saying that - he wouldn't pick himself no bimbo or himbo, after all. And in times like these, it was clear he hated you for it.

– You're manipulating me into giving in. – he accused with a pout, crossing his arms, and it took everything you had in you not to laugh then. Nothing but a child, indeed...

– Whatever it takes to get you to bed. – your murmured sweetly, leaning down to his ear, but every intention of placing a kiss under it died once the smell of sweat, grime and motor oil reached your nose – And a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

He rolled his eyes as you scrunched up your face - good lord above, you'll have to visit more often because this man couldn't take care of himself anymore. The only thing he really cared about now was Batman - his humiliation, his downfall, his surrender to the great mind of Edward Nigma, The Riddler, The Ultimate Boss or whatever it is Ed called himself nowadays.

Watching him spiral down into madness over the years really took its' toll on you, but it made Edward need you more than ever. He couldn't even take a bath by himself, it seemed.

– Please. – begging was your last resort, but like you said - you'd do anything to get him to rest. Besides, you knew that making him feel in power was a huge weakness of his - he'd figure out a way to bring you a star from the sky if you'd only said one sweet "please".

And hearing him sigh in resignation, feeling his back straighten and press harder into your hands, you knew you won him over.

– Only because you asked nicely. – he grumbled laying his palms flat on the surface of his desk, preparing to get up. Of course, not before you stole a grateful kiss from him. Good boys deserved rewards, after all.

You'd lie if you said you didn't enjoy the way a blush crawled from his neck up to his ears. No matter how many years passed, this dork still blushed every time you kissed him and it must've been the most adorable thing you've ever witnessed.

– I was serious about the shower. You stink.

You laughed at hearing his agonized groaning. There was no getting out of this one.

***

Despite some minor difficulties, like Edward barely being able to support his own weight, let alone wash himself, you considered the shower a success. After a good scrub and a clean shave, you had your handsome riddle-man back. With triple bags under his eyes and a hairline you were starting to worry about, but handsome nonetheless.

– Are you hungry? – you asked, cupping his cheeks and smiling at the smoothness of them. God only knew that terrible stubble of his was like needles to your skin... But, instead of a proper answer, his head fell onto your shoulder heavily as he leaned almost all of his weight on you.

– Bed. – he moaned and you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you as you patted his still wet hair condescendingly.

Seems you'd have to re-schedule a warm meal to another time. You'd make him something in the morning. Or afternoon, considering it was well after three in the morning and once Edward fell asleep, there was no chance of waking him up for at least twelve hours.

– Of course, baby, c'mon. – you chuckled, tugging him out of the bathroom and leading the way to his office. He had a fatigued sofa bed for when he was caught up with work - which was most of the time. Didn't mean he used it, though. He was the type of man to work himself into exhaustion and fall asleep right where he's standing, only to complain about back problems to you later.

It was a shame he didn't use the sofa more often, too - it was almost unbelieveably comfortable for something that costed less than a decent meal.

– Go on and lay down, – you encouraged, watching as he all but fell onto the sofa – I'll go tell the boys to-... 

It was with surprising strength that he pulled you back harshly, apparently not minding the way you literally tumbled into him as his lean arms circled your form and forcefully rolled you over so that his head was laying comfortably on your chest - his favourite pillow of all.

– Or not. – you huffed, rolling your eyes at him as his grip around you only tightened and he nuzzled his face into your t-shirt. Nothing but a big man-child...

– Don't ever stop. – he murmured, so low you barely caught it, once his breathing synchronized with yours and your arms hugged him back as one of your hands went to his head to brush through his hair.

– Hm? Stop what?

You felt his arms squeeze you tightly one last time.

– Loving me.

You watched him fall asleep with a smile on your face. Damn this absolute dork... Like you'd ever stop loving him.

[msbelmonttepesbelnades]

A/n: Trevor is my favorite... so enjoy ;) Also as I’m writing and looking at the other a-z I’ve written. I can see I missed a few letters in some of them lmao.

Trevor

Aftercare

Trevor is a tad bit indolent with his aftercare. He likes to lay there with his partner, usually behind them or on his side. Just so he can plant soft kisses on your back and shoulders. He’s one to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his broad chest.

Body Part

For himself, I can see Trevor liking his hands and forearms. His hands are strong and warm, they’re what keep you safe from harm. He also knows he has an angular jaw. He likes when you trace your fingers along his chin and jawline.

On his s/o, Trevor can’t seem to choose because he likes everything. Relishing the fact that he has you naked and in his hands. But, I suppose if he had to pick it would be your thighs. He loves to squeeze them, bite them and lay his head in your lap. His stubble tickles when he’s in between them.

Cum

It’s very thick and hard to swallow at first, it’s not very sticky but don’t let it dry cause it’ll be a bitch to try and get out later. Fucking cements over lmao. Despite that it surprisingly tastes great and it isn’t very salty. He says it the beer and ale he drinks that makes it tastes so...intoxicating.

Dirty Secret

In his younger days whilst traveling around, he would often drink himself into a coma just to get to sleep at night. He does it less now that he has the company of Sypha. But one night while staying in an inn he saw this servant girl working down in the tavern. As the night went on, Trevor would catch her stealing suggestive glances his way. Trevor tried to ignore it but he couldn’t, it had been ages since his last lay and he was definitely aching for the touch of a woman. So, that night he invited her to his room. He had every intent on fucking her filthy but...didn’t? Or rather he couldn’t, not the way he intended. She had brought him a complimentary tankard of ale. She drugged him, tied him up to the bed post and had her way with him. In the midst of the haze that was inflicted on him he could see through cloudy vision that she was robbing him. She took everything. The next morning he woke up still tied down and with an intense headache. He had to call for help, it was extremely embarrassing and when he was asked what happened he didn’t say. It’s a dirty little secret he’s taking to the grave. He actually saw the girl again but didn’t have the heart to go confront her about it.

Experience

He’s got it under his belt, he’s not a horn dog but he’s slept around enough to know what he’s doing. How to do it right, how to do it even better. As well as knowing what he likes and what turns him on. Surely there will never be disappointment when sleeping with Trevor. Unless he’s completely wasted.

Favorite Position

Kneeling missionary, he likes hovering over you. Your back on the ground while he’s thrusting into you at an angle that’s extremely difficult to not let drive you mad. He likes looking at your face, he likes seeing your chest heave and your lips parted. It makes him hard and his thrusts harder. He also likes it when you’re on top riding him, he likes it playful and a bit rough so do whatever you want to him.

Goofy

It’s not overly silly with him but you can’t have sex with Trevor and not laugh. He likes to joke about how flustered he makes his you. This man is so much fun, but when the night calls for passion. He makes you giggle a little less and moan and whimper a lot more.

Hair

He’s mildly hairy at best. He’s got a happy trail but surprisingly very little chest hair. I’m not gonna lie you might catch a pube going down on him lmao. Which will make him actually trim, but very little. He likes having quite a bit of hair down there.

Intimacy

He can be very intimate, it won’t ever be awkward with him. He makes sure you’re comfortable and let you know that he adores you when his words aren’t enough. Trevor is likely very sensual too, so it’s not always about an orgasm with him.

Jack-Off

He does it, not very often he’s usually good at holding it off while he’s traveling. It doesn’t resonate when he has to climb through shit pipes and fight drunks at taverns who have a personal vendetta against his family. But, when he’s finally relaxed and not dealing with any imminent stress or danger it sets in. He can’t ignore it once he starts think about it and it tends to help him feel better.

Kink

Trevor likes bondage, has an oral fixation when it comes to his partner. He loves their lips and mouth. Suck/lick on his fingers playfully or do the same to yours and he’ll just stare. He doesn’t fancy hurting his partner but he will choke playfully. He also likes to Roleplay, I could see him being into fucking you dressed up as a nun. His dirty talk is better than anyone else’s too, it’s probably bc he swears a lot.

Location

Back of the wagon, anywhere you’ll be covered and undisturbed. He doesn’t mind getting caught but he doesn’t want to have a too high risk of it happening. Mainly because he wants to finish what he’s started with you and because he likes being thorough with his fucking. He doesn’t care if people hear though lmao.

Motivation

When he’s relaxed and is able to let his guard down without any fear of something crazy or outlandish happening he will fuck as much as you want and may even ask for it on his own. His libido is medium to high depending on the day. During the winter it’s much higher for some reason? Maybe it’s the need to keep a regular body temperature.

No

Nothing insanely public, he won’t do anything they involves a risk of life endangerment. Like fucking in the middle of the night outside in the forest where night creatures run amuck. Sex is supposed to be fun, adventurous and experimental. No excess adrenaline pls, be gets enough of that already. Other than that he’ll probably do whatever you ask for.

Oral

A receiver however he can give, he’s good if he’s walked through it; a bit messy but still decent. He can definitely make your toes curl a few times if he’s really into it. But, nothing beats him seeing his your lips wrapped around his dick. It’s thick too, so if you can take the whole thing then he’ll blank out. He loves how it makes him weak in the knees and writhe a bit when he’s sitting. Trevor will gladly face fuck you. If you swallow he’ll do anything you want I swear lmao.

Pace

Given Trevor’s size, he has to go slow. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he wants to make you feel good. His pace quickens the more adjusted you become. His thrusts are deep and extremely filling, there’s no part of you that will be left untouched and stretched out.

Quickie

Yeah he’s down, definitely down to fuck. All you need to do in those small moments of relaxation and peace that you both share together while on the road traveling, is to ask. He’s down to have you to himself during these moments and they’re surprisingly sensual and intimate.

Risk

Not into it, I mean he might fuck in risky places but he definitely prefers not to. He’s always on edge and needs to relax and if he wants to really enjoy the time he has with you, he wants to do it risk free.

Stamina

If he rushes, two-three rounds with a 10 minute refractory period. If he takes his time, about 4-6 rounds and that is not counting when the sun comes up. One round lasts between 35 minutes to two hours with him, maybe three if y’all are getting kinky.

Toy

I don’t believe he owns any ‘toys’ with the exception of his whip. He won’t hit you with it lmao but he will tie you up with it.

X-Ray

He’s got girth, 4in inches thick he’s a bit above average in length aground 7.5in maybe 8in. He as a prominent vein going up the underside of his shaft to the base of his head. It would be wise to listen to him when he says take your time.

Yearning

His yearning is about average, possibly above average with his s/o constantly around. The Belmont has an unbelievable amount of self control, except when he’s drunk lmao.

Zzz

He has trouble sleeping when he’s alone but, after the act and when he’s with you cuddled up in bed he’ll KO and will happily sleep through the night. Though there are times when he’ll wake up during the night and his movements will stir you. Just hold him close and tell him it’ll be okay and he’ll go back to sleep!

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.2

Q & A… or more like Q & more Q

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)    x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 3050

Summary: Team Free Will (Dean, Sam and Cas) try to explain the situation and they are not all that great at it. Your amnesia isn’t exactly helping; the words tattooed on your body might.

Warnings: swearing, mention of death, mention of blood, amnesia, Team Free Will being themselves

The briefest guide to SPN characters of Team Free Will (at the end of the post)

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

An ominous silence fell on the motel room for what felt like minutes. The woman was watching them with a mixture of emotions so complicated it was hard to identify them all; but there sure was fear, confusion and hope to be waking up from whatever insane dream this was.

To be fair, Sam wished for the same thing.

Neither of them had such luck.

He blinked several times, but the image remained the same. Wonderful.

“Oh. So we have a Jane Doe,” Dean stated with a sarcastic smile. “With amnesia. That’s… really great, Cas. Thanks for that.”

Both Sam and Castiel shot him a look of disapproval.

“Who are you? Why… why do I look like I’m wearing your clothes?” her trembling voice asked, her gaze shifting from one man to another.

“Cause you are wearing mine,“ Dean hummed proudly and Sam was just so done with the company he kept.

“And why can’t I… why can’t I remember anything?” she sobbed, watching them with terrified and absolutely perplexed eyes.

Sam decided to speak up before any of his tactless companions could. “We don’t know. But I promise you, we’ll do everything to help you.”

“You were… you were soaked in blood,” she choked out, her whole body shaking. Sam grimaced. Well, that… yeah, he imagined that freaked her out even more and he couldn’t blame her. Amnesia, supernatural powers on display, their pathetic explanations… “And he just… snapped his fingers and-“

“Yeah. The truth is, we didn’t quite find you on a side of the road and we’ll get to that. It’s hard to explain and I know this must be so much to wrap your head around, but like I said. We want to help you,” Sam whispered in earnest, holding her gaze and adding what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Are you… aliens?” she breathed out sheepishly, but lost the deadly grip on the covers that had been keeping her knuckles white.

Dean snorted, while Castiel simply answered her. “No. They’re humans. I’m an angel of the Lord.”

Sam hid his face in his palms and let out a silent whine.

“Are you guys crazy?” she continued her questions, eyeing them warily. Sam could tell she had no idea what to think. She had seen Castiel’s powers already. “Or are you messing with me? Am I drugged? I should probably just go-”

“You have no ID, no wallet, no memory and your face looks like you ran away from a costume party for firemen. I don’t think you should be going anywhere, sweetcheeks,” Dean deadpanned, causing the woman to inhale sharply, but not to respond as she realized she had been delivered the harsh truth.

Well, if Dean decided to be the ass of the three of them it looked like Sam had to be the nice guy; just like most of the time after all.

“Are you hungry? We can order something. And you can take a shower-“

“I could just-“ Castiel interrupted and Sam cut him off with a pointed look.

“You can take a shower. I’ll get you a clean towel, alright? And… clean clothes,” Sam hurried, reaching for something from his own-

“Dude. You have a sasquatch size. Just grab something mine… again.”

Alright, that was a good point; maybe they should have thought it through in the first place, cleaning her up with Cas powers as well before dressing her up. Well. Too late.

Sam smiled at the woman apologetically and she unsurely tried to reciprocate the gesture – it came out looking more like a grimace really, but he appreciated the effort and trust.

“You’re… you’re not gonna hurt me, are you?” she asked in weak voice, cautiously climbing from the bed.

“Don’t worry, Fire Princess,” Dean grinned at her, adding a wink and she hesitantly smiled back.

“What…? Please, don’t call me that… or that,” she murmured and Dean rolled her eyes.

“What do we call you then? Until we figure it out?” Castiel inquired gently.

“I’ll… think about it. But… I think I’d like Natasha. I don’t think it’s my name, but… I like it,” she admitted sheepishly and Sam nodded, handing her a pile of clothes and a towel with a spare toothbrush.

“Natasha it is.”

The moment the door clicked behind her, Sam sat down on the bed heavily.

“What are we gonna do?”

“I’d say drop her on the nearest police station, but…” Dean started, only for Castiel to finish.

“…I brought her back from death. I was told to bring her here and take care of her for a reason.”

Dean just pointed a finger at him, smirking as if he wanted to say ‘exactly’.

“And what the reason might be?” Sam asked, not expecting an answer at all. They never got the answers they wanted.

“I don’t know. But…”

“But? Cas?”

Castiel frowned, staring in the direction of the bathroom as if he could see through, watching the woman and hoping to figure her out. The shower started running and Castiel’s gaze shifted back to Sam and Dean.

“But she has a soulmark.”

“A what now?” Dean asked, his forehead crinkled in confusion.

“She has a soulmate?” Sam blurted out, pleasantly surprised for multiple reasons.

That could be a great clue! And also a bummer, because there was someone out there, who had lost their soulmate to what could be a house fire. Sam always liked the idea of the soul bond, rather wounded he didn’t have a soulmate himself. Seeing what he did for living though, it was probably for the best.

“I thought soulmates were just a fairy tale,” Dean exclaimed, dubious. “You’re telling me it’s a thing? Because cupids aren’t enough?”

“Pretty common, actually,” Sam sassed him, remembering the one time they had encountered with a cupid… and Dean punched him in his face. Good times.

“Can you use the mark to find her soulmate?” Sam queried, hopeful.

When Castiel sighed in response, the brothers got their answer.

“I can’t, unfortunately.”

“Of course it doesn’t work like that,” Dean muttered under his breath, falling backwards into his own bed. Right. Beds. There were only two. Shit. The couch in the room was tiny. Plus, she might not be comfortable sleeping in the same room as them – not that she would get a choice. God, Sam just wanted to sleep.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sam groaned, running his hand down his face. “In the morning.”

“You think she’s gonna sleep?”  Dean questioned, making space between his feet to see Sam when he raised his head.

“Doubt it, actually. We should prepare for the ‘monsters are real’ talk.”

Dean whined.

“If don’t want to do it, I can-“

“No!” the brothers cried out in unison, causing Castiel to flinch.

“But... you should stay here for it. ‘Cause angels? Good impression. Ever when they can be dicks…” Dean added and Sam rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching. “Hey, can’t you search her mind or something? That would be helpful!”

“I can try,” Castiel replied in mild voice. Sam didn’t believe it could be so easy, but hey, there was usually no harm in trying, right? “Even though I doubt it will work either.”

“Yeah, because that would be too easy.”

“We’ll see,” Sam breathed out, lost in thoughts. Soulmates. What a case. “We need to not to break her trust first.”

“Looking forward to it,” Dean remarked sarcastically as he went to the fridge for a beer and Sam couldn’t quite blame him.

Yeah, he did too.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

She took her time with cleaning up – not that Sam could blame her. He was confident she was also trying to reconcile with what she had learned so far and mostly with what she hadn’t. They all had been there, having their brain scrambled in some way and they knew it wasn’t exactly walk in a park.

While Dean and Castiel went hunting for food, Sam busied himself with searching information on soulmates so he wouldn’t fall asleep. They had never encountered such thing before, which was about as convenient as surprising; after all, soulmates weren’t that rare. He even tried to look into some websites that claimed to be able to find one’s soulmate when being told their words. Hell, Sam even started considering finding one of those dubious forums in which people posted ideas about their other half’s expected words based on the ones they had on their skin.

Of course, they didn’t know Natasha’s words yet.

She emerged from the bathroom, steam following her. Her hair was dripping wet, her figure swimming in Dean’s clothes. Sam attempted not to think about the lack of undergarment; they would have to go shopping. A lot.

The woman smiled at him reluctantly, the gesture not quite reaching her red-rimmed eyes. Sam’s heart clenched; she had been crying in the shower.

“I’m sorry if I took too long,” she murmured, her voice weak.

Sam just shook his head, returning the smile. “That’s fine. How do you feel?”

‘Natasha’ gave an uncertain shrug. “Better than before the shower. I… uhm, I found out I have tattoos. Do you think it might be helpful?”

Before Sam could process her words, Dean and Castiel returned with the groceries.

“Hey. How we’re doing? Magically remembered everything? Please tell me you did…” Dean hummed, clearly not serious. Sam shot him a withering look and he grinned in return. “No? Sorry, just had to make sure…”

Castiel put the plastic bags down, meeting Natasha’s gaze. “We weren’t sure about what you’d like… we have both, the good stuff as Dean calls it and ‘rabbit food’.”

Sam rolled his eyes, not at all surprised at the woman’s confused gaze.

“He means fruit and vegetables.”

“Oh. Thank you. I… I’m not sure either,” she admitted with a sigh, her eyes getting glassy.

Sam quickly cleared his throat, hoping to stop the waterfalls before they could start. “What were you saying before?”

“Uh, the tattoos, yes. I have them on my collarbones, one at each,” she explained, unbuttoning the upper part of the plaid shirt, enough to be able to show them and stay decent at the same time.

Sam’s mind raced as he exchanged looks with the other men. Two soulmarks then? What exactly that meant? Why couldn’t simply have an easy case for once?

Oblivious to their inner mussing, Natasha carefully pulled at the collar, revealing a set of crossed out words. The line over them surprised Sam the most as he reluctantly came closer to read the words.

“But I really am 95,” Sam read out loud, perplexed. Well. He turned to Dean and Cas before looking at Natasha. “Ideas? Anyone?”

“We might have a case of gerontophilia at our hands,” Castiel offered flatly and Sam grimaced. Please let him be wrong. “Or it could mean anything else. A hotel room number, a locker room number, order number in a fast food. Literally anything.”

Sam internally whined in frustration; he couldn’t tell which option he liked better. The one that she had been with someone that old or that this was zero clue.

Natasha sighed and showed Sam the other mark. “I hate dreams like this. Huh.”

“Cause that’s really telling,” Dean stated sarcastically, opening another bottle of beer.

“Why would I have tattoos like these?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t know about soulmates either.

“It’s not a tattoo, not really. You were born with these – or people who have them usually are,” Sam explained, distancing himself to left her some personal space. It gave him a perfect view of her confused frown.

“I don’t understand.”

“The lines you have written on your body – they are called soulmarks. These are the first words your soulmate told you – or will tell you,” Castiel interjected softly and Natasha’s lips parted.

Sam gulped when her eyes went wide. Did she understand what it meant? Did she have any clue what was the meaning of the word ‘soulmate’ in the first place?

“Soulmates are real?!” she breathed out, astounded. “Like… someone perfect for each of us, but… actually real? These words will help me find them? That’s…” she chuckled incredulously, not noticing their stares. So she did have an idea of what a soulmate meant. “Why do I have two? Why is this one… crossed out?”

“Well, not to be a party pooper, but I’d blame dying, that might be it,” Dean suggested bluntly and Sam mentally rolled his eyes.

Sure, Dean, why beat around the bush…

“Oh?” her face visibly saddened, but then she revealed her uncrossed words. “So why do I have this one? Does that… does that mean that I have… another soulmate? Is that even possible?”

“Or you could meet your original one, supposedly for the first time, since you don’t remember… can I see both of those at once?” Sam scooted closer again, intrigued.

He squinted at the marks. It might have been only a wishful thinking, but… the handwriting looked similar.

“It looks like it’s written by one person,” the younger hunter stated, casting a questioning gaze towards Castiel. “What do you think?”

“Well, it is… unusual for a person to have two soulmates. It is not unheard of, but I only saw it few times in thousands of years of my existence, so it might be just another of their first meetings. Just like Sam said, if you don’t remember them…”

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “Firstly – is that my soulmate’s handwriting? That’s so freaking cool. Secondly… you’re that old? I mean… thousands of years?”

“Well, I am an angel,” Castiel reminded her with a gentle smile and she just shook her head, incredulous.

“Says the girl who has ‘But I’m really 95’ on her,” Dean teased her, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I don’t think I’d be with someone who is-“

The thought struck Sam with a force of a train.

“Maybe they’re not human? I mean, that would explain why you were told to bring her back, right? This might be important-”

“What do you mean that they’re not human? Like an angel then? And bring me back? Bring me back from where?” Natasha took a step back, watching them with sudden wariness.  

“Oh, there are many different unhuman things alright.”

“…the death,” said Castiel at the same time and Sam seriously considered having them signed up for some course in communication. How about breaking things to her slowly?!

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve been dead, Natasha. I’ve been tasked to bring your soul back from Heaven,” Castiel continued, oblivious to Sam’s exasperation, but at least his voice sounded more… patient. “And we don’t know why.”

“Until now. This might be a thing,” Sam added with a sigh, watching her squirm uncomfortably as she buttoned up the shirt again, looking as if she wished for the fabric to hide all of her.

“I… I was… dead? In… in H-heaven?”

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed, closely inspecting her reaction just in case she was about to a) run away or b) pass out. “We think you died in a house fire or something of that sort.”

Her face suddenly lacked colour so laboriously earned in the hot shower. Her voice was dull, emotionless. “That’s why I was… dirty.”

“And naked.”

“Dean…” Sam scolded him tiredly and his brother shrugged innocently.

“What? She was!”

Luckily – or unfortunately – Natasha chose to ignore the additional information. “I was dead?”

“Hey, that’s okay. It happens. I was dead too,” Dean informed her swiftly, causing her eyes to bulge, and not caring for boundaries he made her way to her and patted her shoulder. She didn’t even flinch when he touched her.

Apparently, openness worked as much as Sam’s lets-break-it-to-her-slowly approach. Huh. Who would have thought…. perhaps it was the combination. There was a reason they always played the good cop-bad cop combo.

“What?! Really?”

“Actually… so was Sam,” Dean pointed at the younger brother, unfazed. “But I made a deal with a demon, which caused me to die and go to Hell, literally, but Cas brought my soul back, much like he did with yours-“

“I was dead too at some point,” Castiel supplied helpfully.

That had the woman finally freeze, blank stare her only reaction. Sam threw his hands in the air. “Really, guys?”

“I’m afraid we broke her.”

“No kidding.“ Sam shot both Castiel and Dean a murderous glare before shifting his attention back to the woman. “Hey, Natasha, you okay? I know this is a lot to take in-“

“Everyone in this room was dead at some point?!” she yelped, her voice unnaturally high-pitched, making everyone flinch. Sam worried his bottom lip with his teeth, dreading her reaction.

“…yeah. The world is a much stranger place then you were led to believe.”

“Not that I remember much from that…” she huffed, sitting down to a couch heavily.

“Yeah, about that. We thought Castiel could try a thing,” Sam remembered, smiling reassuringly when Natasha eyed the angel warily.

“A… a thing?”

“I’d like to try and look inside your mind,” Castiel explained, slowly approaching her, the coat dancing around his feet. “To see if I can do anything about the amnesia or at least find a clue that would lead us to someone who knew you.”

Natasha opened her mouth, no sound coming out for a while. Then she shook her head as if she was trying to get rid of some annoying thought.

“O-okay. I guess… it’s not gonna kill me again, is it?” she joked, her voice too anxious for anyone to actually laugh.

“No. Believe me, if I meet an obstacle and the only way of overcoming it would mean hurting you, I’ll stop. You can trust me, Natasha. I have no reason to cause you any harm.”

Sam was impressed; that was a good speech. Wow. Dean had been right. Angels = good impressions

“Okay. I trust you, Castiel. Do your… thing.”

Cas nodded and smiled at her briefly before placing his hands to hover next to her temples. She automatically closed her eyes with a deep inhale.

“Alright. Tell me if anything hurts…”

The familiar glow of angel grace wrapped her scalp. The brothers held their breath, eyes flickering between the angel and the woman.

Natasha’s features hardened, but she didn’t let out a sound. If she was in pain, it was either bearable or paralysing. Sam really hoped for the first option.

It didn’t even take a minute. Castiel’s hands fell to his sides and he stepped back, his lips in a frustrated line.

“Nothing?” Dean wanted to know, but they all both had a hunch that the question was rhetorical. The answer was written all over Castiel’s face.

The angel only shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 3

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

I’m having fun... are you? ;) Thank you for reading!

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Tags: @cxptain​ @smilexcaptainx​ , @murdermornings​ @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​ @eliza5616​ @rayofdawnworld @victor-criss-bish​ @skychild29​  @elysianecho​ @simmisblog​ @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt​ @silver-winter-wolf​ @guardian-tn @janieavalos  @vxidnik​, @patzammit​ , @annathesillyfriend​ and @maravderofthephoenix​ (I’m really sorry about forgetting to tag you in previous chapters)

[haljathefangirlcat]

Okay, pls tell me about this: "heartfic au"

As you MAY have already guessed ;) it’s a fic inspired by @janiedean’s beautiful ASOIAF heartfics. 

For those unaware: one day, an anon suggested Janie write an ASOIAF fanfic set in an AU where, after suffering too much pain and trauma, people’s hearts (represented by glowing spheres of light) may crack and bleed and, eventually, spontaneously disappear from their owners’ chest to reappear wherever their soulmate is. Said soulmate then takes care of the heart, trying to heal its wounds and/or stop its bleeding, until they’re finally able to give it back. And then, ofc, romance and (more) hurt/comfort ensue. I think the initial prompt was JB, because iirc that’s what the first heartfic was? But Janie also wrote similar fics about other ships, like Davos and his wife getting Stannis’ heart or Sansa getting Sandor’s.

Janie has said on a couple of occasion that she’s fine with other people using the same concept, since it was that anon who came up with it. I decided to write Arthurian fic about it because the whole idea was just screaming GALAHAD/MORDRED!!!! over and over at me. 

Basic plot is “kid!Galahad gets a cracked, bleeding heart and figures it’s that of a damsel in distress he will have to save one day because ofc, he’s Miracle Boy and everything, but oh no, all the ballads say brave noble knights marry the damsels in distress whose hearts they heal, and he has to stay Pure to find the Grail!! ... but hey, maybe they can be just friends?? Then he grows up, goes to Camelot, starts this weird friendship (?) with Mordred as the two Local Subtly (Or Not So Subtly) Ostracized Awkward Prophesized Bastards Of Very Important People, and realizes it was never about a damsel at all. Cue DRAMA on both sides (”WAIT HOW DOES IT WORK DOES THIS MAKE IT BETTER OR WORSE I MEAN CAN WE HAVE LIKE A PLATONIC VIRILE FRIENDSHIP OR DO WE HAVE TO --” “OH GREAT I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH EVEN FOR MY GD SOULMATE NOW” and a bunch of other stuff) until Galahad leaves on the Grail Quest and experiences a lot of horrible shit until his own heart goes to Mordred to protect itself, proving they truly ARE meant to be together and prompting Galahad to refuse the Grail and ascending to Heaven (after a lot more internal turmoil, probably) so he can come back to him.”

Here’s a peek from a scene I’m particularly proud of:

As it turns out, he wasn’t lying.

Mordred can’t deny it as he stares at the thing Galahad took out of the chest under his bed, the thing that was in the leather pouch, the thing wrapped in wool like it was fragile and precious. The thing in Galahad’s hands, held gently, shivering like a branch in the wind, glowing like live coals, pulsating – no, not pulsating, beating.

The void in his chest longs for it, aches for it, covets it. No. No, it’s more than that. It’s not just desire but a need, a hunger. It makes him helpless before it, pulls him towards it like a riptide, and it’s all he can do to struggle against it and resist it, holding his arms rigid by his sides and not moving an inch from his position.

«It’s yours,» Galahad say, uselessly, and he opens and closes his mouth and lowers his gaze like he doesn’t know what else to say.

«Yes. It’s mine,» Mordred replies, just as uselessly. Then, after a moment, he adds: «Those are even my colors.» More because he’s just noticed than for any other reason. His bewildered tone probably makes his words sound even more foolish. But he won’t blame himself for that too much, not right now, because the first thing he noticed was the redness – the blood. The splotches of blood and the many, ragged scars. Hard to notice anything else, after seeing that.

His heart is an ugly thing. That’s not surprising, at all, but he chokes back bitter laughter all the same. 

Galahad’s head whips back up at the sound, and he looks startled and a bit confused. «Uh. Ah, yes, that’s true. I hadn’t thought… or, mh, noticed…» He stops, frowning.

Right then, a thought strikes him like a slap across the face, part hope and part dread and entirely stupid. «Gaheris has silver and purple in his arms, too.» Mordred hesitates and bites his lip, feeling inexplicably like a child about to confide some secret that’s at once all too important and too silly to be exposed, and then continues: «Not only that, but the silver reminds me of Orkney’s sea in winter… and that purple, of a flower that blooms sometimes on the heaths near the sea. My brothers and I all used to play on the coast as boys. They already did it long before I was even born.» Another pause. «As for the flower, I think we all picked it for our mother at least once.» And now, its color is dirtied and muddled by bloodstains.

Galahad shakes his head. «I’ve never thought too much about what the colors might mean. But I’ve also never felt like it could belong to any of your brothers.» There’s a light flush on his cheeks, now, a thin note of something that’s almost stubbornness in his voice. Mordred is aware that he could use that to tease him.

He doesn’t feel like teasing him. «Still… how can you be so certain?»

Galahad blinks and then stares him right in the eye, and suddenly his chest is tight, full of something that itches and stings and prickles under the other man’s calm, blue gaze. «Aren’t you? Don’t you feel it’s your heart?»

He does. He does, and that’s just the problem. The itch grows more intense, more unbearable with every moment he keeps his mouth shut to avoid answering. He drops his gaze to the thing that’s still in Galahad’s hands, the thing that’s calling to him and only him and seems to be beating faster and brighter the more he looks at it and does nothing else, almost like it’s yelling at him in its own way for making it wait so long.

«What if I don’t want it,» he says, and his voice sounds rough and weak to his own ears.

«Why wouldn’t you want it?» Galahad asks that like he honestly can’t think of any reason why, like this is the first time anyone in the whole world has ever said anything like what Mordred, not-so-secret bastard prince and prophesized kingslayer and kinslayer of Camelot, has just said. Maybe it is. He’s pretty sure he’s never heard any songs about any beleaguered damsel who simply told the dashing hero at the foot of her dreary tower, oh no, my good sir, you may keep it, I was fine without it and I will not need it anytime soon.

But Mordred is not a vulnerable maiden or locked up against his will and at the mercy of a cruel brother or uncle or eagerly waiting to be rescued since he was half his current height, so he steels himself and tries again: «What if I’m just fine the way I am now? What if I don’t need it, after all? I’ve spent years not feeling anything, I’m used to it.»

He looks up in time to catch the flash of naked hurt that crosses Galahad’s fine features, briefly replacing startled incredulity before it turns into barely concealed worry. «Are you sure?» Then, he seems to really think about it… and the fingers of his right hand start stroking the thing, lightly and unthinkingly. «I… I can imagine something has happened that you may not want to remember. Maybe you’ve felt things you don’t want to feel again. But is this really better? Would you really keep living like this?»

The spark of anger mixed with spite that flares up in his gut – at Galahad’s questioning and his assumptions that he can imagine and that he knows what living like this is like, those soft caresses that feel so impossibly familiar and intimate when at most they should be irritating or even disturbing in their presumptuousness, the way he feels himself ache for entirely new reasons – tempts him to say that yes, he would, and yes, this is better. It has to be. Has to be better than this ridiculous, confusing, terrible mess that Galahad’s dragged him into. Had he never come to Camelot, or least, had he never come to him with truths that sounded like bad jokes and his honest, open gaze and their stupidly engaging arguments and the quiet evenings spent together hiding away from everyone else and…

«Aren’t there things you’d like to feel? For your family, or your friends, or…»

Mordred sighs. There were lots of things, back when he had first given up his heart and spent his every waking moment wishing to get it back somehow. That was years ago, though, and after some time had passed and he had finally figured out that wishing never helped with anything, all of them had started to seem less desirable, less important… just, less. They didn’t matter anymore, and so he didn’t want them then and doesn’t want them now. And yet… it seems foolish to even think about it, like he’s slipping back into stale old fantasies and half-forgotten, senseless hopes, but… maybe there are a couple of new things, now.

He sighs again, this time trying for a slightly exasperated but mostly careless tone, and holds his hands out in front of him as soon as he’s sure they’ve stopped shaking. He swallows and says: «Alright, I think I’ll give it a try. But know that I might just throw it out again and then you’ll be stuck with it.» He tells himself that he’s not afraid. He is, of course, but he’s such a convincing liar, he knows he can convince himself. It can’t be too hard, right?

Galahad grimaces, and that’s not too encouraging, even if he’s quick to school his features before he slowly, almost gingerly reaches his hands out to him, too. Mordred has half a mind to snap at him and say, look, I was only jesting, I’m not saying you’ll really have to keep it or that I’d care if you left it on the wayside or threw it into a well, but then he worries that the bile might blend with actual pity and so he says nothing except for: «How am I supposed to do this, then?» The songs, of course, skip the boring technical details.

Galahad fits the glowing sphere between his palms like he’s putting a newborn into the cradle, touches his fingers to make them curl over it as if he’s afraid he’ll drop it. The sphere is light as a breath, yet somehow solid, and warm like a living thing… which it truly is, all things considered, although that thought still feels a little absurd. Galahad’s skin is warm, too. «I’m not sure,» Galahad admits. «I’ve… never done this before.»

«Yeah, well, neither have I.»

[itsthebiiii]

A messy summary of Ikepri Yves’ route up to chapter 15

So I've reached the point in Yves' route where I could choose which ending route (? idk) to pick and lemme just say that it's been cute... up until chap 15-ish. Also I drained my wallet dry just to get the premium avatars and his povs because imma simp for Yves so RIP me I guess

Okay, so summaries mean spoilers so imma put them all under the cut for all yall who don't wanna get spoiled. I may or may not have missed some points (especially about the plot i’msosorry) and maybe I understood some things wrong so feel free to correct me (pls). This is SUPER messy so proceed with caution

So first of all.

YVES IS SO CUTE WTF ???????

I mean he gave me strong Jonah vibes at first, it’s still there but kinda... different?

On MC's first day at the castle, while she was strolling around, she notices Yves  watching her from behind a pillar wtf. When he's found out he was like "i-it's not like I was worried about you stfu" and afterwards he told MC that he's gonna keep an eye on her because he's not sure she’d do her job as Belle right but he says he's only doing it because he's doing his duty as a prince yea right

Later they bumped into Nokto who reminded MC about the Belle system (MC: dafuq is that???). After they explained all that Yves was like "yo you better not fall in love with me or else" and MC replied with "bruh if you ever steal my heart then I'm all yours for eternity" then Yves comes back with "if you ever steal mine then imma do the same. But i kid you not, that will NEVER happen" and they both laughed it off like it's nothing. Meanwhile Nokto's just listening from the side like "HA HA BET"

Anyway, part of Yves keeping an eye on MC means he'd spend some quality time™️ with her and him going to her room to wake her up 😂 also, he decided to show her around and tell her about the princes so she can get a grasp of them to see who is the most suitable to be the next King. So he gives her a memo pad to write their deets down on and she got to talk to everyone except Chevalier cuz that dude scary 😭 MC's feeling down because she really wanted to know what his plans are if he becomes King. Seeing this, Yves comforts her with a leFtOvEr piece of cake from dinner. MC goes on bout how being affected by this whole thing is a disgrace to her Belle title so she's determined to try again. Yves is impressed by this so he silently supports her. In the end, ye, MC got Chevalier to talk and all is well not

After all the introductions, our girl MC straight out tells Yves "Aye this is great and all, but you've never really told me about yourself fam" because ye, she got a point tho. He kept singing praises about the other princes but never really talked about himself

SO... he takes her out to town on a date the next day to show (yes, show) her, and while walking she notices that everyone they passed by whispered under their breaths about how Yves has such a doll-like face and all that. But that's not all...

They also whispered bout how they shouldn't go near Yves and his backstory is revealed: Yves has some Obsidian blood in him, and the Obsidian kingdom, let's say, have some beef that's as old as time with Rhodolite and the other kingdoms(??). Also his earring was given to him by his mother who is from Obsidian 🥺 But he doesn't hate her from what I've read so, there's that

SOOO ye. Everyone avoids him and spreads rumors bout him, he thinks everyone hates him but he doesn't give a fuck bout that. He says as long as he realizes his own self worth, all those don't matter to him. But MC notices that Yves hates himself more than anyone does. That he puts up this proud façade just to hide his real feelings. That before you can even ask him to spit it out, he's just gonna sweep all that aside with his 'idgaf' attitude. He also revealed that he plans to bring the Kloss family’s honor back if he becomes King. Oh, and he mentioned there may come a time when he’ll betray Rhodolite so... o.O

Returning from the date, MC bumps into Leon who decided to spill some tea bout why Yves actually wanted to keep an eye on her (I'm sorry but I kinda breezed through this part so this was all I could remember 🙇‍♀️). Then one day Leon and Licht (either or both of them, idk) told them Jin suddenly collapsed or smth, so they rushed to the kitchen and saw Jin looking weak as he laid on the floor. Yves was worried af, while MC just noticed how Leon and Licht were all chill bout the whole thing, so she realized they were clowning Yves lolol. Jin dramatically tells Yves how he would die if he weren't to eat some of Yves' sweets and Yves was like "??? U CLOWN you even got MC worried-- wdym you caught on??? Haaa!?" And they teased him loool. In the end, Yves bakes a cake for them, when MC notices that it looked like the leftover cake Yves gave her one time. MC asked Yves if it was and he was in full panic mode. Licht was like "leftover??? But whenever Yves bakes smth there are never leftovers 🤔" so Licht tells her that Yves might have baked it just for her, to which the latter denied lolol u tsun

Anyway, to get to know Yves more, MC spends more time with him, yada yada, all that stuff, until they go out to town again. There they notice a group of performers playing and she also notices how interested he was. She then asked him if he wanted to watch them, but Yves declined since he's worried he'll only ruin the mood (iirc he thinks of himself as a bad luck magnet of some sort?). MC manages to persuade him and after he plays, everyone is in awe and like "omg, Prince Yves is actually good :O" And for the first time, Yves felt like he actually belonged and wasn't feared by the Rhodolites.

Everything was cute and all until they get caught in the rain, yada yada, and when they get home they both get sick so Sariel tells them to rest up. Oh, and did I mention they SHARED A BED? No? Well, they did 😏

When Yves wakes up, he notices he's been hugging MC in his sleep and he's SHOOKETH. He then has a slight internal conflict bout why his heart is going doki doki with just hugging MC, then as if he's struck by lightning he's like "omg, I like MC???" When she wakes up he immediately sputters "i don't like u ok!!?!" Then he rushes out to go to the library and look up the meaning of love lololol then he finds they are all applicable to what he feels for MC. But he still denies it because of the stupid system 🙄 then he's found by Luke and gets teased 🤣

After the gathering, she runs to the kitchen and finds Yves there. He told her he spent the night preparing a whole FEAST for MC to reward her for going through all that shiz and MC immediately feels guilty so she cries. She tried to play it off like it’s nothing and the next thing she knew Yves was kissing her tears away. It was her turn to be SHOOKETH but before she could comprehend shit Yves remembered he forgot smth then zoomed out the kitchen. Once outside, he was in panic mode yet again because he didn’t mean to actually do that. He’s like “oh no I like MC I’m screwed”, but in the end, he thinks MC is the one in trouble because she’s liked by someone like him boi I can’t wait for him to see the light istg

After all that, MC is informed bout a gathering Rhodolite is to hold with Benitoite and Jade so she gets ready for that, and when the day comes she’s kinda nervous and stuff. Before going she bumps into Yves who decides to ease her nervousness by fixing her hair (ugh get you a man 💯) and they talk some more about him, how Yves put more effort into acting and looking like a prince to hide the fact that he’s actually 'defective goods’ or smth and through that he feels like he actually has some value. Then he cheers her up by returning the words she’d told him before and it works like a charm ❤ MC then learns that Yves won’t be going to the gathering because “no Obsidian peeps allowed” and since he’s half Obsidian... 🥺 She did promise to meet him at the kitchen once it’s over. Anyways, MC meets diff people, until some punk from Benitoite or Jade talks smack about Yves and comments how he should just be sent back to Obsidian. As much as this pissed her off, all she could do was be silent and wait for the convo to end.

Also, by the end of chap 15, some stuff happens that will actually get the plot moving lol

Aaaaand that’s that for chappies 1~15! I might make another one for the remaining half or when I finish an ending. If you made it this far, here's this leFtOvEr cake from Yves 🍰

[gingerwritess]

Hi ! May I request Loki bringing reader and Elliot for the first time in Asgard ? I really love your writing !

ahh thank you!! this is such a good request omL

okay idk what time period this is, for my purposes Odin Badparent is still on the throne but lovely Frigga has died, but Loki was with you instead of in prison. idk pls be nice.

whoops i made it a lil angsty

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You still remember the first time you saw Asgard: the bifrost had dropped the two of you off at the end of the rainbow bridge and you had promptly grabbed Loki’s hand and used it to punch yourself in the face.

Needless to say, you weren’t dreaming, and the mighty Heimdall’s first impression of you would forever be tainted by Loki shrieking “WHY IN THE NAME OF ODIN DID YOU DO THAT?!”

…followed by you screaming “I FORGOT YOU’RE, LIKE, MYTHOLOGICAL OR SOME SHIT!!” right back at him.

Then you had taken off down the bridge dragging your boyfriend sputtering behind you.

You had ended up staying in Asgard for probably over two months (you kind of lost track of time) and every single day was an adventure. By the time you decided you should really go back home and get your earthly life sorted out, you’d made sure to sneak secret kisses in every tiny closet the palace provided, and every single night had been spent on the highest palace balcony, staring at the stars until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

It’s easily the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. Golden buildings rising in the middle of bustling streets, mountains and waterfalls and rivers and more natural beauty than you’d ever beheld, and then there’s the food. The food alone is enough to make you seriously consider leaving the entire planet earth and just becoming a full time Asgardian.

You’d taken every opportunity to go back any time you were able to escape your life on Earth, and when you had finally decided to get married, the two of you spent another extended period of time in the realm during your first few months as a newly wed couple. It has certainly become your home away from home, and even Loki has started to enjoy being there more. The smug bastard says it has something to do with a change in the political dealings of the realm, but you know it’s just because you love it so much.

Not that he’d ever tell you such a sappy, hopelessly romantic thing like that.

He suggests you go visit as often as he can, just so he can see the shock on your face when the bifrost surrounds you, so he can hear the excited squeal when you see the golden castles in the distance, and of course so that he can laugh at you when you fail to address his family and the rest of the royal court properly (you do believe you’re the one being who has ever called Odin Allfather “dude” and lived to see another day).

But after his mother’s death, the realm eternal lost every ounce of its appeal. Wonderful memories became painful, tensions rose, and any joy that had come from Asgard was forgotten. It had taken ages just to get your lover to smile again, and you knew better than to suggest returning to the realm.

It was Elliot’s birth that finally brought a sliver of light back to his life. Yes, he tried to stay positive for your sake and still tried his best to keep your spirits lifted, but you could tell that something was missing from his life, a little light had gone out and needed rekindling.

Nothing does the job quite like a baby.

Once Elliot was born, travelling across space and time into another universe became the furthest thing from your mind, so it took you by complete surprise when Loki suggested you all spend the weekend showing the three month old baby around Asgard. Of course you agreed right away, hoping this could be a chance for him to reconcile old disagreements and even possibly gain closure on a treasured but lost relationship.

Now you find yourself at the foot of the rainbow bridge for the first time in a very long time, this time with a baby tucked in one arm and Loki’s hand locked with yours. Almost as an instinct, Loki looks at you when you step into the glaring Asgard sun, waiting for your face to light up when you see the city as it always has.

Your excitement doesn’t disappoint.

It’s wonderful to be back, but this visit is bittersweet; you’re excited to explore again this time with your son, but something about Loki still seems off.

The three of you spend the day traipsing through the lower levels of the city, mingling with the commoners and enjoying the street food and everyday life of what you guess are normal Asgardians.

It’s pretty obvious that Loki is avoiding the palace.

But he reluctantly agrees to return to the palace for dinner, knowing he owes his father the chance to meet his grandson. Hopefully Thor will be there to help keep things civil at the reunion.

Once again, baby to the rescue.

At first it was extremely tense around the table, but the Allfather seemed to have a soft spot for your little boy. He kept trying to hand him drumsticks of some kind of dark meat, which you politely tried to decline and secretly pushed onto Loki’s plate. Come on, the baby isn’t even one year yet. At one point you even caught Loki smiling when Odin asked to hold Elliot; your heart twisted when Loki caught your eye with an excited gleam in his own at the thought of his adoptive father favouring his son, something of his creation.

He’ll always be searching for some kind of validation from the man who lied to him, whether he realises that or not.

You kind of lost your husband and your son after dinner.

You had taken a quick run back to your room to go get your phone (Loki and Elliot were being too cute at dinner and you had to get a picture) but when you came back, they were gone.

After asking around for a bit, a chambermaid tells you she saw Loki step outside a few minutes ago, and she points you to a winding path leading away from the palace, away from the city into a dark expanse of land.

Figures, doesn’t it? What a great, totally not-threatening place for Loki to take his three month old son.

But despite your fears, the path leads you to a little garden, beautifully well-kept and so brightly coloured that the flowers seem to glow right through the darkness of the night. Out of the corner of your eye you spot Loki, walking slowly between the trees with Elliot in his arms.

For some reason you don’t call out to him just yet, and you follow him until he comes to a stop in front of an exquisitely painted mural on a stone wall. The mural is breathtaking, it looks like it’s been painted with actual gold—wait, these are gods. It probably is.

The scene painted is of a woman, you can’t tell who from the distance you’re watching, but you can tell she is beautiful, elegant, and in every way regal, judging by the golden crown that adorns her head. She’s standing in a forest, it seems, a forest or garden of sorts that looks strangely similar to the one you’re in. Loki is staring at it, and he reaches out a hand to brush his finger over the chipping paint.

Something about this is weirdly familiar.

You silently watch as he sinks to his knees on the damp grass before the mural, Elliot cradled in one arm as the other hand brushes across the ground—a strange type of darkly petaled wildflower sprouts from the soil where his hand touched, an oddly shadowed addition to the beautiful garden you find yourself in.

You’re about to call out to him when you hear him speaking in a barely audible, noticeably pained voice.

“Hello, mother.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Have I…have I made you proud?”

Should you go to him? Leave him be? You don’t want to interrupt. You hear him continue speaking before you can decide what to do.

“Look, mother. After all I’ve done, every—every mistake I’ve made, I’ve still somehow been given a son.” He slightly lifts the bundle of blankets in his arms, pulling the blanket away from the baby’s face. “We’ve named him Elliot…and he is the most beautiful child ever created.”

He’s just talking quietly into the air. You’re not sure if he’s speaking to the mural or just to himself; it seems as if his words are swallowed by the wind and cast around every living thing in the lush garden. You might just be sleep deprived and going crazy, but it’s almost as if the flowers and trees are bending towards the god and his son—listening.

Elliot is waking up, slowly starting to gargle cries as he squirms in his father’s arms, and Loki quickly shifts to hug the baby to his chest, shushing him and running a soothing hand over his back.

The simple movement nearly breaks your heart. You step out from behind the tree and quietly walk over to your family, placing a gentle hand on Loki’s back as you take a seat on the grass next to him.

He looks at you in surprise when he feels you, his cheeks faintly flushed at the state you’ve found him in. He never meant for you to see him like this, so exposed, vulnerable…weak.

You put a hand on the side of his face and reach up to kiss him softly, pouring every ounce of reassurance and strength into your lips. His cheeks are slightly wet against yours and when you pull away with a comforting smile, it’s a new, fresh tear that races down his face.

“Your majesty,” you suddenly call out, an idea forming in the back of your mind. You turn to the mural and lean against Loki’s side, squeezing his hand tightly in your own. “Your son is the most incredible father.”

…it feels kind of stupid when you say it. You’re not sure if this is how it works, if just anyone can speak with deceased goddesses by talking to a painting of them, but you push your doubts aside and keep speaking. If anything, Loki is the one who needs to hear this.

“You know, he’s changed my life,” you continue, laying your head on his shoulder and reaching over to rub a hand on Elliot’s back. “The life he’s given me, our son, whatever the future holds for our weird little family…I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like him, but, um, I think I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to repay him.”

“You don’t need to lie in attempt to comfort me.” His voice is so quiet you can barely hear him. “I don’t need your false reassurance.”

If it weren’t for the sensitivity of the current situation, you would have smacked him across the face and kissed some sense into him, but that doesn’t exactly seem appropriate for right now. So you resolve to rolling your eyes and moving your hand to cover his mouth. “Shh. Just listen to me, please.”

Pulling yourself to your feet, you take Elliot out of Loki’s arms and step closer to the mural, lightly bouncing the little baby when he gives another cry and stretches out a tiny, tired arm to the painting on the wall. “You know, Loki has changed, your majesty.” You wince; this probably isn’t how you should speak to a goddess-queen. “He’s changed a lot the past few years. He’s…opened his heart. To me, to our son, even to his brother and father at times. You raised a-a god with a beautiful mind, and yeah, his heart is a little stormy most of the time, but, well…” you catch Loki’s eye and smile. “Most of the time he lets me dance in the rain.”

Loki’s behind you now, his arms around your waist and swaying the three of you gently side to side. You’re cradling Elliot to keep him warm from the chilly night breeze picking up, and Loki’s lips are pressed to your temple, not moving, just wanting to feel you.

“Thank you, my love,” he whispers, and you don’t expect him to say any more.

However, he holds out a hand, and that same dark, unnaturally ominous flower from earlier appears in his palm. There’s a handful of threatening thorns lining the stem, but Loki runs a finger down the stem and the thorns promptly fall to the ground. Thank goodness, too, because then he tucks the flower behind your ear, brushing his hand along your cheek with a small smile as he withdraws his hand.

An unusually sweet gesture from your lover, an action strangely…midgardian.

“‘He lets me dance in the rain’?” He repeats, tilting your head up to look at him. An amused smile is hinting at his lips—meaning you’ve done your job. “My dear…that was awful. So tasteless. Honestly,” he chuckles at the feigned hurt on your face. “I thought I was training you better.”

“Hey, geez, sorry for caring!” You laugh and slap him in the chest, shifting Elliot to your other side. “Sorry I’m not some ‘scholarly poet’ like you, oh exalted one…my mediocre mortal vocabulary will have to suffice.”

Laughing, he takes Elliot out of your arms and wraps the blankets tighter around the little boy, then slips an arm behind your neck to pull you closer to him. “I suppose I appreciate the sentiment.” Thankfully chipper and smiling again, he leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Sentiment. Such a fickle thing.”

You slip your arms around his waist and hug him tighter than you probably should, but hey, he’s a god. He can handle it. “Yes, sentiment, idiot…good thing a mighty god such as yourself would never stoop so low as to actually share his sentiments with another being.”

He sighs and nods in agreement, trying to pry your arms from his waist while holding his son in one arm. “Your sentiments tend to be overtly physical, dear.”

“Shh. You need it, and I know you love it.”

Loki pauses and you take the opportunity to grab his face and kiss him, not letting go of your hold around his waist. Then Elliot lets out a squeal and frees a tiny arm from his cocoon of blankets, grabbing Loki’s shirt and pulling himself tighter against his father’s chest—you almost laugh.

The baby is trying to hug Loki too.

There’s absolutely no way Loki can’t smile at that, and he hoists the baby further up on his chest to press his lips to Elliot’s forehead. “You’ve broken me. Ruined me, softened me, demolished my reputation…”

He gives a dramatic sigh and finally wraps his empty arm around you.

“And I can never thank you enough for that.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

[wulfy08]

A prologue to something I started out of a need not to burn out on other stuff. It just took off!

CILLIN:

Cillin’s skin felt hot and tight, like it would boil away or tear at the seams if he moved too much. He lay there, curled up and shivering on the floor, arms wrapped around his head. His teeth were clenched so tight against the agony burning just below the surface of his flesh, he was sure his jaw would break. He felt it then, the first pop of his joints. Claws pushed from his fingertips, tearing up the dirty carpet beneath him. What’s happening to me?! His thoughts screamed as terror and pain washed over his entire being. His jaw snapped open, his mouth filling with the taste of blood. It was all too much, lancing through him like white hot lightning. He couldn’t even scream. His heart hammered against his chest, threatening to burst, his breaths were quick pants of panic. He was sure he was dying, that whatever had happened to him, was killing him. His spine arched, wrenching him back as his muscles tightened. What’s...happening?! Sweat poured from his skin and then, something else, something warm. It soaked into his clothes, sticking them to his skin. A sound escaped his throw, animalistic and horrifying. He begged for it to stop, swearing he would do anything, if it just stopped.

Everything went black. It was like an extended blink, and then he was running. It was like a maddening blur of sensations. Something hit his nose, the tangy scent of iron that slipped into the back of his throat, driving him forward. He took the twists and turns, the world zooming past him and then he found the source and jumped. Pain blossomed through his skull and he felt his body hit something hard. Clarity struck him for a moment. What...what’s happening? He was panting, laying on his side. He could hear someone, the tap of shoes, the brush of cloth, as they approached. He blinked and there was someone there, leaning over him. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a whine. The scent hit him again, that hunger slotting back into place so he snarled. He felt fingers grip the back of his neck and haul him up. He tried to flinch away, but was simply slammed against a wall. His vision spun again and his vision clouded.

“Oi, hound, wake up.” He felt a light tapping on his cheek, gentle at first and then a little harder. “I said wake up.” Cillin groaned and he slowly opened his eyes. His entire body felt like bruised lead. Even breathing hurt. “Well, you’re not dead, fancy that.” His vision was blurry and unfocused, but he could at least tell the voice was male and touched by an Irish brogue. “You put the heart crossway in me, sneaking up on me like that.”

“Wh…” his throat was raw and dry, he couldn’t even swallow.

“Hold on then.” Footsteps retreated, the movement causing a scent to waft up his nose. Cigars, whiskey, leather, and something metallic. They came back and he felt fingers touch him. He jerked away, blinking furiously to clear his vision. “Easy, beast.” The voice was gentle, yet commanding.

“Pl...pl…” he couldn’t get the words out.

“It’s alright, beast, I just want to give you some water.”

Cillin’s vision finally cleared and his eyes locked with the man’s. One was a baby blue, the other a light violet and they sat in a pale face. They were shocking to the point he froze. “I…”

“Let me help you.”

He let out a whimper. He was helpless, at the mercy of this stranger. He could do anything to him. His next thought, was maybe if he complied, he wouldn’t be harmed. Again. He thought. He nodded and the man’s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, gently pulling him up. The glass was pressed to his lips and tipped just enough that he could slowly suck the water into his mouth. The cool liquid felt amazing as it slipped past his tongue and down his throat. He gave a sigh of relief and the stranger pulled the glass back and put it down. “Thank you.” Cillin whispered.

“I’m going to prop you up, alright?”

“Yeah.”

He studied the stranger as he worked. Raven black hair and the beginnings of five o’clock shadow stood out against his skin. His mismatched eyes were intense, almost predatory, but beautiful all the same. Cillin let his eyes move down. A black leather duster over a blue shirt covered broad shoulders. They slid down further, resting on the sword at his hip. “Don’t worry, beast, I don’t plan on hurting you again as long as you keep your wits about you.” Cillin’s eyes jumped up, heat rising to his face.

“Sorry.”

“I would feel the same in your position.”

“I shouldn’t stare.”

The stranger chuckled. “I’m going to lift you, ready?” Cillin nodded and he was suddenly being moved. His back rested against the stack of pillows and he breathed easier now that he didn’t feel as vulnerable.

He looked around the room. “Where am I?”

“My home.”

“Oh.” He looked down. He was wearing clean clothes that were definitely not his. “What happened?”

“You attacked me beast.”

Cillin frowned, eyebrows knitting. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

The stranger arched an eyebrow. “Because, you’re a wolf, a beast.”

A memory, violent and bloody, and humiliating jumped to the surface. His heart jumped and he looked away, afraid. “I’m not.”

“You are.” The stranger leaned closer, hands rest on either side of his hips as he forced Cillin to make eye contact. “I saw you.” The stranger searched his face. “You know it.”

“No, I...no, it wasn’t, it was…”

The stranger reached up, taking Cillin’s hand in his, turning it over, and letting his thumb stroke over his wrist. Cillin shivered, his muscles tensing. “Have you never changed before?” Cillin shook his head. “Who made you, then?” He shook his head again. “You don’t have to say, I can easily see.”

“What does that mean?”

The stranger lowered his voice. “I am a beast too, mo chara, and a Hunter.”

Cillin swallowed. “Like…”

“I drink blood, a vampire.” It couldn’t be, but then he had felt a change in himself after his attack. A monstrous sort of change. Something had crawled beneath his skin that wasn’t the shame he had felt upon leaving the hospital. “Let me see, beast.”

Cillin swallowed. “What...what’s your name, first?”

The stranger smiled. “Aelin McClure. And you?”

“Cillin...Cillin Reynolds.”

AELIN:

The wolf was a ball of nerves, his petite body quivering at Aelin’s touch, his cornflower blue eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. “Cillin, it means little warrior. Did you know that?”

“No...no I didn’t.” He watched Cillin’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “It was my great-grandfather’s.”

Aelin smiled. “There’s some responsibility in it, then.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done it justice.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” He continued to gently stroke his wrist. “Where are you from?”

“I…” Cillin frowned, “I’m not…I don’t have a home.”

Aelin nodded. “How long have you been on the streets?”

“Five years.”

“No parents?”

“No, not really.”

That was a partial lie. Aelin could tell by the slight stutter of his heart. “Cillin, I would really like to know who your Maker is.”

The panicked skipping of the wolf’s heart and the look of shame on his face, told Aelin it was bad. Something horrifying had happened. “I...I can’t.” Cillin’s eyes slid away from him. “What happened to me?”

Aelin sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping ahold of the wolf, feeling his pulse dancing beneath the surface. “If what you say is true, little beast, you experienced your first change. It’s surprising you didn’t attack anyone else.”

“How do you know?”

“I would have smelled the blood on you.”

“So...so what are you going to do with me?”

Aelin sighed. “Well, I can’t let you leave.”

Cillin tried to pull away from him, but was still too weak. “I won’t say anything, I’ll stay away from people.” He was starting to panic again, his pulse jumping. “I swear.” He was pressing back into the pillows, making himself seem smaller. Cillin’s breathing picked up, his eyes filling with tears. “Please...please just let me go. I won’t hurt anyone or...or call the cops, I’ll just disappear.” He was shaking now, truly terrified.

Aelin reached up, taking the wolf’s face in his hands, ignoring his flinch. He didn’t want him passing out. “Breathe, mo chara.” He commanded gently as he stared into Cillin’s eyes. “Breathe.”

“I don’t want to die, I just want to go...please?”

“Hey, breathe.” He inhaled. “Breathe.” He let the air out of his lungs. “Follow me.” Cillin nodded as he forced his lungs to slow down. “Good, in and out.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do.” He sounded so broken and desperate.

“Until I find your maker, I need you to stay here. You are newborn, you need rest and to get a handle on your new...gifts.”

Cillin’s lip trembled as a look of defeat crossed his face. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“I don’t want to force you to stay, but until this is resolved, you must.”

The wolf nodded. “Okay...okay I’ll stay.”

[metoo-desu]

broken mask - prologue

“The boy got away, Kana-sama.” 

A man turned his attention away from the two slain bodies beside him, standing from his crouched position and wiped at the blood that stained his mouth. He glared at the messenger that ran to the engawa with news, his golden eyes glowing under the moonlight as he felt rage surge through his body. 

“How in the world could you let a mere child get away?”

Kana kicked the bodies over so their faces revealed, the victims were a couple in their early thirties— a former swordsman known for his great skills and a beautiful, peach-haired lady. Their yukatas completely stained crimson, chunks of their necks were missing and the other man couldn’t help but notice, his body trembling in fear before the strong demon.

“You heard from the feast,” Kana spoke calmly, sitting himself down once again and stroking the face of the dead lady who he thought was beautiful. He would’ve asked for her instead of the younger one from the night before. Too bad, he thought.

He then turned to her husband, “I was promised. You have ten years to get the Marechi and I want no other. Whatever it takes to get the Marechi back, I don’t care.” 

*·゜ﾟ·*:.。..。.:*·'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'·*:.。. .。.:*·゜ﾟ·*

“I don’t want to be here anymore!”

Makomo took a step back as she watched her best friend throw things around the room, unable to help the grieving girl who was already at her breaking point. Tears streamed down Makomo’s cheeks, desperately shouting for their mentor to come to Seiren’s side to calm her down and almost immediately, Urokodaki rushed to the peach-haired girl, restraining her from breaking more things and hurting herself. 

Seiren clung to his yukata, slowly collapsing to the floor as she let out a strained sob, “He promised me! He promised he would come home!” 

Urokodaki enveloped her in a comforting embrace, saddened by his disciple’s current condition and how frail she felt under his embrace. The poor girl hasn’t been eating and sleeping well for the past two weeks, always waking up in the middle of the night mourning for her brother. The other two were affected by it with Makomo sleeping less to comfort her and a tremendous amount of guilt eating at Giyuu for not being able to save his best friend. Urokodaki too grieved for her brother, but being their mentor, he had to suppress his feelings to keep the rest from completely falling apart as well. 

“Everything reminds me of him,” Seiren whimpered. “I don’t want to be here anymore. Take me somewhere else. Please.”

For three years, she and her brother had been in his care. Just like any other orphans he took in, he treated the two and loved them as his own. Only six at the time, Seiren had already captured his heart when he first encountered them at a nearby town. So it truly pained him to make such a decision to grant her wish, the only thing he could do for her after sending her brother to his death. 

“Alright,” the masked-man spoke after waiting for Seiren to calm down. He pulled away and wiped the tears that endlessly streamed down her face and brushed away the pink strands that stuck to her flushed cheeks. “We will leave at dawn. I’ll bring you to someone I know who can take you in.” 

The room was silent with only Seiren’s uneven breaths and hiccups filling it up. Giyuu had been awake the whole time in the next room over, listening in on the whole commotion with tears in his eyes. He would have to face her before she leaves, to bid his farewell and to say sorry for being too weak. Makomo entered their shared room, sitting against the wall and crying to herself for losing yet another friend, and one more after Giyuu heals up. 

When the sun rose, Urokodaki and Seiren were on their way out of the house with Giyuu and Makomo right behind them. Makomo was the first to say goodbye by engulfing Seiren in a big and teary hug. Still too ashamed, Giyuu avoided eye contact and stayed silent but the girl knew of his internal dilemma and approached him instead. 

“I’m sorry.” The tremble in her voice caught his attention, seeing the tears in her eyes as she tried so hard not to cry again. Just as guilty as Giyuu, she never paid attention to him the moment he arrived. She only paid attention to Sabito who never came, brushing off Giyuu to the side as if she wasn’t relieved and thankful that he came home. Failing to keep her tears at bay, one streamed down her cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, clasping his hands in hers. 

Giyuu furrowed his brows, feeling the tears coming as well. “What do you mean? I should b-“

“I didn’t mean to give you that impression that I wasn’t happy it was only you that returned to us. I’m happy that you’re here right now, that Sabito saved you even if it meant only one of you coming home.”

“I was too weak! If I was strong enough, I would have cut through that demon’s neck! I wouldn’t have been injured and Sabito wouldn’t have saved me and died!”

Seiren shook her head. “You didn’t know that and neither did he. But it’s not your fault, Giyuu! It wasn’t your fault! So don’t blame yourself. I’d hate to see you let it eat at you.” 

“I’m weak.”

“If you were weak, then you wouldn’t have come home to us either.” 

Giyuu’s eyes widened at her words, but he refused to believe it. He casted his eyes downwards and shakily muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Seiren hugged him, “Take care, okay?” She pulled Makomo in as well, letting out an ugly whimper, “I love you both.” 

＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

so how do you guys like it? i hope y’all enjoyed it so far! this has been sitting in my notes for quite awhile and the responses to my other fic kinda riled me up and made me do this~ 

i really love the kny community and decided to share my works so pls treat me and seiren well (๑·̑◡･̑๑)

[3norachas]

irremediable • lee know (IIII)

« irremediable - not able to be repaired or corrected »

— lee know x reader

— maleficent au, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers

— major angst ohohoho, a lil minsung bc I'm desperate, typos probably, minho is depressed, seungmin has a lil crush on y/n, I kind of switch from different point of views so bare with me pls

masterlist

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 5

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

"Sounds great," Minho didn't even need to look at Jisung to know he's worried. The emptiness was there, in his chest and eyes. He stared up at the gate of the castle, sat beside a large tree near the bridge, wondering which room you're in.

It's been three days since you fell into an eternal sleep, and nothing can be worse than the fact that Minho can’t do anything about it.

Even as you're unconscious from his own curse.

"We need to get out of here before they see us."

"That sounds great, too."

Jisung frowns at the nonchalance in his voice. Ever since the princess fell into her eternal sleep, the palace have never been more guarded than ever at the thought that the evil man himself would show up to rub their lost on their face.

But it seems that he was more affected than them.

"She's alone there, 'Sung."

He murmured under his breath, but the said man heard it crystal clear. He heard the pain in Minho's voice and it brought up the fact that Minho's never been in this state other than the time that he had to endure the death of both is parents. He sat beside the warlock, letting the man lean on him for support.

"I can't imagine how dark it must be for her, wherever Y/n is."

Jisung wince at the crack in his voice, looking down at the vulnerable man beside him. Minho's eyes were glassy, but there was no glint of emotion in them.

"We need to go home, Minho."

"Home is the girl inside that castle."

Jisung sighed, taking Minho's hand to pull him up. Much to his surprise, the warlock didn't even resist for he was too weak and emotionally unstable to fight off. He started to pull the man away but as he turn back, he's met with the eyes of a purple fairy.

"Seungmin," Jisung pushed Minho behind him.

The said fairy has his eyes on the warlock, his eyes unreadable but in his hands were some keys. He took a few steps forward to the pair, his hands offering the keys.

“Is this a joke to you?” Jisung grunts, staring hard at the keys and up to the fairy’s eyes.

“No,” his eyes cast down on the floor, “But I know you can fix this, Minho.”

The latter laughed sarcastically, shaking his head in disbelief, but his eyes were on the keys. He may not be able to save you, but he really wants to see you before he gives up all hope.

“It’s useless.”

“I know, but you want to see her, right?”

Minho scrunch his face in confusion when Seungmin smiled. He doesn’t know whether he’s tricking him to go inside and meet his death, although that doesn’t sound too bad for him, or if he’s being genuine and really wanted to help him.

“You love her, right?”

“How are you even calm? Wasn’t I the reason she’s in this state?”

“Your love for her is enough for me to trust you, besides, you took care of her when she was young, right?”

“So you knew?”

“Doesn’t really matter. I’m giving you the chance to give it a try, so if I were you, I’d take these damn keys that I spent hours on trying to get and go to the back entrance, up stairs to the highest room or so help me god, I’m going to make you both eat my purple dusts.”

Jisung groans in disgust, “That’s not really necessary.”

Minho takes the keys, his desire to see Y/n overtaking the fact that there's a big chance that he'll get caught and might, definitely, get killed. The chances of him saving Y/n was low, but even the smallest percent was enough to make him drag a whiny Jisung with him to the very back of the castle, Seungmin leading.

"Can you shut your pet up because I'm this close to exposing you."

"Fucking fairies' moody attitudes."

Minho paid little attention to the bantering of the two, until the trio reached the hidden back door of the castle.

"I'll let you go alone, you'll see the stairs ahead, make sure the one you're going to has two unconscious guards," Seungmin pushed the door open.

"Do I even want to know if the guards are alive or not."

"I'm going to cut off your squirrel tail if you don't shut up."

Jisung ended up turning into a squirrel in fear, perched on Minho's shoulder.

"Thank you, Seungmin."

"Anything to save Y/n," he nods to the door, before stepping away from them to who knows where. Minho starts to head in the castle, his eyes glowing green to provide him light in the dark hallways.

"Fairies are scary when mad," Jisung whimpers.

"Well then don't get in their nerves."

It took Minho a while to find the unconscious guards Seungmin was talking about and the walk across the hallway was very long. He even have to sneak pass a few servants and guards, before he eventually found the stairs. And to Jisung's relief, the guards were pretty much alive, just unconscious.

The walk up the stairs was long and tiring jisung is complaining the whole time and he wasn't even walking, but Minho knew it's worth it. He was going to see her, even though he knew it would only hurt him to see her unresponsive from the curse. His heart was thumping from adrenaline, his knees begin to wobble a little with every step he takes and whether it's from how tired he was or the fact that he's getting closer and closer to you, he knew it's from the latter.

It felt like years before he got to the door of the room you're in.

His hands were a little bit shaky, forget that, his hands were literally trembling. His keeps fumbling with the keys, his hands kept on making mistakes as he searches the right one and he thought, why the hell did he forgot to ask Seungmin which one is the key to your room.

"Minho, take a deep breath."

He almost forgot that Jisung's with him and the presence of his friend was enough to calm him down even for a bit.

"What happens if I fail?"

"You won't."

He wonders if Jisung was telling the truth. This was his only chance of saving you and if he fails to do so, he'd die doing nothing to save you. The door made a clicking sound and his nervousness sky rocketed.

Jisung jump off his shoulder.

He pushes the door open and took a few steps inside.

"Y/n..."

He stares at your figure on the bed, like he always does when you sleep, but the difference is you're actually sleeping forever. His feet takes him close to where you lie, sitting on the edge of your bed. He can tell you're alive with how your chest rises and falls, but he remembered that there's a chance that you'll stay like that forever.

"Even in this kind of state you still managed to look beautiful.”

He pushes the stray hairs off your forehead and with a shaky exhale, the tears swell in his eyes, his cold trembling hands intertwines itself with yours.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry that you have to go through this.”

He breathes in, his eyes loving how the moon light reflects on your skin and making a halo around your hair, the warmth that radiates from your cheeks, your eyelashes that sits on top of your under eyes, your calm intake and exhale of air, and finally his eyes fell on your lips. With the hope that you’d wake up, he leans down, tears falling on the skin of your cheeks and he rest his forehead on yours.

“I love you.”

He whispers, before his lips connect with yours, soft and timid, with the fear that you’d break he if press any harder.

And it dawned to him, that he was not living in a fairy tale where everyone has a happily ever after and not every villain gets to undo their mistakes.

yes motherfucker it's the end and minho died im such a great person

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link :)

A/N: Hey guys! I know this is my marvel blog but since this is all posted on my AO3 account, I thought I’d post this here too in case anyone was interested in reading it! For my fellow gamers here’s my completely self-indulgent Red Dead 2 Arthur Morgan/Reader fic literally no one asked for even tho i have all my bucky wips to work on still, pls dont murder me. So yeah do with this what you will :)

{gif not mine!!}

Summary: “It’s a yeet or be yeeted world, and you refuse to be the latter.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Tags: time traveler!reader, accidental time travel, angst, fluff, attempt at humor, ENEMIES TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, eventual smut, because i have absolutely no self control when it comes to arthur morgan, of course imma ravage him at some point in this fic and vice versa, meaningful friendships, emotional hurt/comfort, happy ending, more tags on AO3

Prologue

For a moment, you think you're dreaming.

White brightness blinds you, your senses are muted and all is quiet, its just the core of you that lives in the center of your being throbbing through nothingness. The light fades only when the heaviness of matter begins to settle like an iron blanket over you, wrapping around your soul and pulling you from the void, manifesting you into the solidness required of the present. Color seeps in to stain your vision, swirling into the outlines of things and smearing horizons above and below you. It takes a second for anything to be recognizable, for consciousness to drive you.

A silent winter forest solidifies in your reality, a pocket of powdery snow cradles you from the frosty wind as it weaves like a giant invisible snake through the gaps between the trees. You uncurl from a fetal position once you get your bearings only to wince at the ache in your body as you slowly push yourself to sit up. Warmth oozes from your pores as your naked body jerks itself into spasms trying to loosen the chill that grips your spine and holds a fist of pressure just behind your lungs. From the ground, you look up at the towering snow-laden pine trees that surround you in a perfect impossible circle. 

The densely packed forest contrasts sharply with the negative space of the clearing that you sit dead center in, like you were dropped straight from the sky. There is no disturbed snow or any signs of movement within the forest line. The air is crisp and clear and empty of snowfall. The sheer unnaturalness of it all disturbs you to your core, making you shake harder as you wrap your arms around your body and rock yourself gently in attempt to curb your panic. Clouds are heavy with the blizzard brewing inside them as you gaze at the grey overcast sky searching for answers that aren't there. The trees seem to peer down at you and shiver with suspicion -- an arm of fresh snow slides off a low fanning branch somewhere behind you. Intruder is what the wind whispers as it laces through the pines’ thin green needles, the ancient residents of the forest hushing a word of caution to each other as the warning rustles its way across the mountain range. The wood seems to shift about you then, violently breaking its previous stillness as the wind grows stronger, like a great beast awakening. Unease settles heavily on your shoulders as the forest -- the world -- suddenly quiets again and...snow begins to fall.

It's then, with snowflakes tangling in your lashes and the white clouds of your breath swirling like smoke in front of you, that you realize you are far far from home because something is different. The trees look like trees, the snow looks like snow, the cold feels cold, but its off. Something is different. Elementally. Atomically. The esoteric wisdom that hovers between stars, that connects constellations, that lives cold and old within the tapestry of everything, stalks the very matter around you, suffocates you. And call it fear or call it instinct, call it a combination of both, but you know. You know that you have transcended into something far beyond your comprehension, stumbled onto a fated path you could not possibly fathom.  

--

When the wolves come they bring a man with them.

He's bloody and half dead and fighting. The savagery to stay alive is infectious as it takes hold in the harbor of your heart and gives you the necessary push you've been waiting for. Your survival instincts surge and boil under your skin as you and the man run in a collision of panic and confusion up out of the forest and into the jaws of the exposed glacial cliffs. The wolves leave you to your fates at the edge of the forest, knowing you'll either come back down eventually or die up here. Either way you become a meal.

The man grunts through his pain as you climb higher and doesn't acknowledge you struggling to keep up a few feet beside him. You chose to run with him when he burst into your clearing and you chose to stay with him after escaping mostly out of instinct, a raw part of you that was ripped from ancient genes belonging to a creature of survival more than that of a human urging you to do so. You knew sticking together was your best chance.

But once the spiked adrenaline born of the danger that the wolves brought fades, the man stops dead in his tracks and directs the fight in him at you -- another obstacle for him to face in order to survive. You forget to cover yourself but you do squat slowly to the ground after a beat of tense eye contact, the snow numbing your lower body as it touches the skin there. This display was also instinct -- to make yourself small. The shivering gets more violent as you're submerged in deep snow, but you worry about when the shivering will stop. The man who fought the wolves and lived sees you, truly sees you, and with his mind still locked in survival mode, John Marston registers you as -- Doe. Prey. Ally. Safe. You sense the moment he decides you aren't an enemy, you see it shift something in his eyes. He turns away.

Without words -- incapable of words -- you both work your way across the blizzard scorched cliff side. You eventually find a secluded patch of ground semi-sheltered from the wind by the cliff face looming behind it and stop there to rest. After a while, you notice the man is unable to get back up from where he laid down. He tries to heave his body up, groaning and screaming and gritting his teeth but is ultimately unable to continue on. You sense none of the fight he had in him earlier, in fact you feel him let it go as his body goes lax beside you and he lets out a soft broken sob. At the time it didn't even cross your mind to leave him, to keep going to try and find help or a way back down. You simply settled down next to him, not touching, not talking, and slowly froze to death together.

--

At some point you stopped shivering.

You stopped feeling limbs.

The man eventually left himself, fell into a coma of pain, mind thrown somewhere deep within his subconscious.

You left yourself too, you think. You don't remember much from that time, and that's what you tell them whenever they ask you about it. All you knew was muted emptiness, but different from the one that brought you here. And when Arthur and Javier find John next to a mostly dead naked woman, they have as many questions as you do when you wake up.

--

So I just spent the last 72+ hours playing through Red Dead 2 (bc sleep is for the weak and the emotionally stable), and I'm rolling up to the RDR2 fandom a distraught wreck over Arthur Morgan. So. Yeethaw.

Masterlist

Chapter 1

[swanqueensalad]

A Definitive Regina Mills Playlist

file under: sadder than anticipated

i've tried to order this into the chronology of regina's story since it was getting very long and out of hand.

pls feel free to reblog and add your own to the list! -

young regina;

broken crown // mumford & sons

well you can't tempt me if i don't see the day. the pull on my flesh was just too strong, it stifles the choice and the air in my lungs. i will not speak of your sin, there was a way out for him, the mirror shows not, your values are all shot. but oh, my heart was flawed, i knew my weakness. so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness. -

human // christina perri

but i'm only human and i bleed when i fall down. i'm only human and i crash and i break down, your words in my head, knives in my heart, you build me up and then i fall apart. -

castle // halsey

i'm headed straight for the castle, they want to make me their queen, and there's an old man sitting on a throne and saying that i probably shouldn't be so mean. i'm headed straight for the castle, they've got the kingdom locked up, and there's an old man sitting on a throne and saying i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut. -

gold // imagine dragons

first comes the blessing of all that you dreamed, but then comes the curses of diamonds and rings. who can you trust? when everything, everything, everything you touch turns to gold. -

hurts like hell // fleurie

i loved and i loved and i lost you. i loved and i loved and i lost you. i loved and i loved and i lost you. and it hurts like hell. -

the evil queen;

monster // imagine dragons

if i told you what i was, would you turn your back on me? and if i seem dangerous, would you be scared? i get the feeling just because everything i touch isn't dark enough, that this problem lies in me. i'm only a woman when the devil got me, i'm taking a stand to escape what's inside of me. -

narcissistic cannibal // earlyrise

don't want to be rude but i have to, nothing's good about the hell you put me through. i just want to break this crown, but it's hard when i'm so run down. sometimes i hate the life i made, everything is wrong every time. -

gasoline // halsey

and all the people say you can't wake up, this is not a dream, you are part of a machine, you are not a human being. with your face all made up, living on a screen, low on self-esteem so you run on gasoline. oh i think there's a fault in my code, these voices won't leave me alone. oh, my heart is gold and my hands are cold. -

arsonist's lullaby // hozier

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash. -

bird of sorrow // glen hansard

you've been kneeling in the dark for far too long, you've been waiting for that spark, but it hasn't come. well i'm calling to you please, get off the floor, love is going to find you again. love is going to find you, you better be ready then. -

the change;

organs // of monsters and men

i am tired of punching in the wind, i am tired of letting it all in. and i should eat you up and spit you right out. i should not care but i don't know how. so i take off my face, because it reminds me how it all went wrong. and i pull out my tongue, because it reminds me how it all went wrong. but i leave in my heart, because i don't want to stay in the dark. -

i'll be good // jaymes young

my past has tasted bitter for years now, so i weild an iron fist. grace is just weakness, or so i've been told. i've been cold, i've been merciless. but the blood on my hands scares me to death, maybe i'm waking up today. -

medicine // daughter

pick it all up and start again. you've got a second chance, you could go home, escape it all, it's just irrelevant. it's just medicine, it's just medicine. you can still be what you want to be, what you said you were when i met you. you've got a warm heart, you've got a beautiful brain, but it's disintegrating from all the medicine. -

please, please, please let me get what i want // slow moving millie

see the life i've had could make a good man turn bad. so please, please, please let me, let me, let me, let me get what i want this time. lord knows, it would be the first time. lord knows, it would be the first time. -

hope;

bird set free // sia

clipped wings, i was a broken thing, had a voice, had a voice, but i could not sing, you held me down, i struggled on the ground. but there's a scream inside that we all try to hide, i don't care if i sing off key, i got myself and my melodies, i sing for love, i sing for me, i shout it out like a bird set free. now i fly, hit the high notes, have a voice, have a voice, hear me roar tonight. -

the power of love // gabrielle aplin

love is the light scaring darkness away. the power of love, a force from above, cleaning my soul. flame on burn desire, love with tongues of fire, purge the soul, make love your goal. -

you'll be okay // a great big world

you'll be okay, you'll be okay. the sun will rise on better days. and change will come, it's on it's way. just look inside, you know the way.