#my mothers gifts are all things ive ever never heard of or have nothing to do with my interests or style

[rosenclaws]

Erased || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You are a powerful mutant with powers you hated. They ruined your life and it led you down paths you weren't proud of. Things changed and now you lived happily with Logan. Until your past seems to come back to ruin everything

warnings: angst. traumatic childhood, brief mentions of torture.

wc: 2.7k

Link to part 2

a/n: Hi guys, so this is kind of the you get hurt and he goes feral fic but i've combined it with this other wip i had laying around. I talked a lot about wanting more angst and tw death (my grandmother passed last night) so ive been in this weird state of sadness that i'm repressing. Either way i wrote a fic so there's that lol. I will def have a part 2 btw so don't worry.

Sometimes when you close your eyes you can remember your childhood. What it was like before your, gift, appeared and ruined everything. How your family loved you, how your friends welcomed you, how the world didn’t hate you. Everything was perfect.

Until the day it appeared. All you did was touch her arm. That’s all you did. An argument with your mother, silence, and then you touched her arm to try and apologize and next thing you knew she was asking who you were. Yelling at you to get out of her house. You cried not understanding what was happening.

She looked at you with nothing but confusion. Not even a hint of recognition. Then your father came home and you ran into his arms. Afraid and distraught when he pushed you off him. The same look in his eyes. Who are you? They threw you out, threatened to call the cops. They left you all alone, afraid, and confused.

It didn’t take long for you to understand. A mutant. You had heard of mutants but never thought you could be one. A mutant with a powerful ability. Memory manipulation. You could alter memories, dive into someone's deepest fears, their secrets, and even erase anything from heads. In a single moment their whole lives could be changed. It was a dangerous power and you wanted nothing to do with it.

For years you lived on the road. Keeping yourself moving, stealing when you needed to. Never getting too attached to one place, to anyone. You were alone.

Then one day some people found you. Dressed in stupid costumes. Still they took you in. Gave you a home, fed you, trained you. You grew up there. From teen to adult. Charles was kind and you don't think you could ever repay him for all that he's done. Your powers were strong but he taught you to control your emotions.

Still you tried to stay a safe distance away from people. Not just physically but emotionally. The nightmares of your parents haunt you everyday. They're nice. All of them are. The kids loved you and you enjoyed the mansion.

Still when the team invited you out you declined, when the kids wanted to crowd you during dinner you politely excused yourself to your office. You didn't go to parties, you didn't celebrate the holidays with them. You were just you, a nice, safe distance away from them. Then your world got flipped upside down.

The day Logan rolled into the mansion. He was mean and angry. He had that "I don't like being around people" kind of vibe but he stuck around. Ended up becoming more apart of the team than he wanted. And he liked it.

Logan was the first one to really break down your walls. Just like everyone else you stayed away from him. Smiling and greeting him but never going past that. Maybe that's what drew him to you. You were a mystery who smelled like vanilla. It was your perfume. He would try to flirt but he got nowhere. Eventually he gave up the flirting but his interest stayed. He find ways to talk to you, getting bits and pieces of information from you.

You quickly learned he was just like you in some ways. Guarded, a past life that you don't want to talk about, loners. Somehow in all of it, as he stayed at the mansion and grew to become part of this family, he wormed his way into your heart too. Just too loners who found out that being alone together is better than being lonely.

As time passed, your relationship with Logan evolved into something you never imagined you would experience. Love. You never let yourself feel this way, too afraid that you would do the same thing to them. That you would get close, build this connection, make these memories, only for it all to come crashing down with just a single touch. These memories are precious to you. Every single one of them.

You remember the day your feelings were revealed. Both of you desperate, afraid of what they meant, but neither of you could lose each other. It was the cure. Some company had found a way to suppress the gene. The moment you heard about it you were intrigued. Your mutation wasn't fun. It didn't let you control the weather or turn things to ice. You couldn't touch people. Just like rouge you were at risk for destroying someone's whole life.

Even with the years of lessons you weren't fully in control. You never let yourself try. Logan could see it in your eyes. The confrontation wasn't pretty.

It was anger at first, wondering how you could even consider that. Then it was anger from you, years of pent up feelings releasing all at once. The fighting turned into a deep confession. An intimate moment between the two of you. He cared for you in a way that scared the shit out of him. He couldn't say the words yet but he felt them. You felt the same way but just like Logan. Something was holding you back from saying those three words.

Still you showed your love to each other in other ways. You always let him know how much you cared for him. The words died on your tongue but he knew. You hope he did.

Logan bought you a necklace. Didn't make a big deal of it but you could see the blush on his face. Tossing you the box and mumbling something about him seeing it and thinking of you. It was gorgeous. Just a simple heart necklace with two sparkling stones. One for him and one for you.

Even if you couldn't touch he wanted apart of him to be with you. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. You had Logan. You had the team, the mansion. For once you felt like your life was falling into place.

Apparently the universe didn't like that. Charles had called the team in for an important mission. You weren't on the team due to your own choosing so when Logan came back to bed he started to talk.

"Yeah some rogue mutants. Bunch of assholes who enjoy torturing humans." He grumbled as he threw his jacket on. Fixing his hair in the mirror as you sit on the bed. You're doing everything you can to stay calm, to not set off Logan's super senses.

"Some guy named Mack is their leader. Guess he's got some illusion powers or something." Logan says it all like its nothing. To him it is nothing. Just another mission. To you though, it's the beginning of the end.

"Don't know who in their right mind would do shit like that. Just a bunch of low life idiots." He spits. You wince at his harsh tone. He notices your silence and glances over at you. You're practically frozen in place. An unreadable look in your eyes.

"You alright?" Logan moves to touch your arm but you jerk it away.

"Yeah sorry, just had another nightmare last night." You lie. Logan looks at you strangely before sitting on the bed. His hand intertwining with your gloved one.

"Though I told you to wake me up." You snort and roll your eyes playfully. "And I told you the same thing." You counter. He smirks, you have him there. Part of why you go so well together.

"I'll wake you next time, I promise." There's a loud knock at the door and Logan grumbles.

"Promised some dumb kids I'd take them to the mall. Storm promised me a six pack of beer." After saying goodbye you let your smile fall.

This couldn't be happening. You thought you were finally safe, this was years ago. How could they still be around. Before Charles had found you, you were involved with this group. You weren't proud if it but you were hungry and afraid and they found you. Mutants just like you. They weren't afraid of you. In fact they were in awe of you, something you had never felt before.

You fell into their group, participating in the horrible things they'd do. You never did anything yourself. You were clean up crew. Wiping memories of anyone who saw something they weren't supposed to. Still, you enabled it all. When you finally left, it wasn't easy. You had tried to erase their memories but for some reason they could block you. You got away but they swore one day they'd come back for you. You were one of them forever now. No one would understand, no one would forgive you. You were a monster just like them.

Your mind runs a mile a minute. Thinking of everyone in the mansion. The team. Storm, Jean, Scott, Rouge...everyone.

Logan, oh god Logan.

Would he understand? He would have to. He's just like you. He did things in his past. He was violent, angry, a survivor. He never claimed to be a hero. But that doubt swirls in your mind. Fear overtakes any rational thought. You know what you have to do.

This was your fight, not theirs. You could stop them, you needed to finish what you started. Grabbing your wrinkled old backpack you stuff clothes, money, and any essentials inside of it. You had to move quick before any of the mind readers got a hint of what you were thinking.

Especially Charles. You barely had time to think about this but the fear was creeping into your mind. Poisoning it. It's better this way. It's safer this way. They've done so much for you that you owe it to them to help. You're protecting them. All of them. Logan included.

You held on tightly to the necklace he had given you. Tucking it in your shirt as you leave the room. You smiled as you walked through the halls. Saying hello to those who passed by. By the time you were at the front doors you felt a pull to keep you here.

Deep down you didn't want to leave. Of course you didn't. But you overcome the pull and walk through the doors. Refusing to look back as the mansion grows smaller in the distance. You walked for hours. Your feet aching as you finally reached some rinky dink motel. The room is depressing but for now it's home. Curling up on the bed you bury your face in the pillow.

Your heart longing for Logan. You're scared, so scared. A part of you wants to go back and find him. Tell him everything and ask for help. But then you remember what he said. How would he react knowing that you were one of them? Would he forgive you or would he turn his back on you just like Mack always said?

You barely get a moment to think before there's a loud knock at the door. Hand slamming impatiently against it. You quietly get up and look through the peephole. You cover your mouth to hide your shocked gasp. Logan. How the hell did he find you?

"I know you're in there." Oh he's angry. You open the door and Logan steps through.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" His voice booms through the room.

"I come home to a ransacked room, I thought you were in danger. Only to be told that you ran away." He growls. He's clenching his fists tightly. How could you do this to him?

"How did you find me?" You demand as you slowly sink back towards your bag.

"Why did you leave? What's going on!" Logan is confused, lashing out on you because he just doesn't understand. Things were going great. You loved him and he loved you so why would you just run away. Away from the mansion, away from him. Did you not trust him anymore? Why?

"You wouldn't understand." You try to move past him but he grabs your shoulders and pressing you against the wall.

His claws coming out to pin you to it. The sharp adamantium knicks the chain around your neck, breaking it in two. The necklace falls to the ground but neither of you notice.

"Try me." The anger is slowly fading as he silently begs you to talk. To let him in.

"I'm sorry Logan, but I can't."

"Why not? What are you running from? I can help. Let me help." He begs. Please don't leave him. Please. He can do something. He can heal like crazy, he can track, he's fast, he's got fucking metal claws. He can help.

"You can't help me with this Logan. This is for your own good." You try to stay strong but looking into those gorgeous eyes of his was about to make you break.

"This is my fight and mine alone." He scoffs and lets go of you and starts to pace.

"Bullshit. This is our fight now. That's the deal. I lo-" He sighs and pulls you close. "Its you and me. Together." You gently trace his jaw with your gloved hands.

Tears glossing over your eyes as it takes everything in power to stay strong. To not fall into his arms. He's protected himself his whole life and you can't be the one to put him in more danger. He's a hero, he's your hero but tonight he's the love of your life and you need to protect him. Even if it feels like ripping out your own heart.

"Logan..." You say softly. He looks at you with those pretty eyes and you cup his face.

Slowly your lips brush against his. It's just a hint at first. Then it's everything at once. He smashes his lips to yours. Kissing you with a passion and need that you've dreamed off. This is your first kiss after all. It's everything you ever wanted. To feel his lips on yours. Skin to skin. You'll treasure this moment forever.

He's so wrapped up in the kiss that he doesn't notice you take your hand away. Taking off your gloves and move your hands to the side of his head. Hovering over his temples. He pulls away, breathing heavily as he leans in and kisses you again.

"I love you Logan, I love you so much." You say with tears falling down your cheeks. He realizes too late, a flash of fear as you press your hands to his face.

"No!" He roars but its too late.

Like he's in a trance he stands there. You cry as you erase every memory he has of you. He won't remember you, he won't know why he's here or how he got here. You know that you won't have long before someone else finds you and you'll erase their memory too. It's for the best. It's for his own good. His eyes flutter close as he falls to the floor. You catch his head, lowering him gently to the ground. A pillow placed under it. You can't stay, he'll wake any moment. But you have a few seconds. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you Logan Howlett." You whisper gently.

You take one last look at him before grabbing your bag and running out the door. Each step apart from him is like a knife in your chest. You tell yourself this what needed to happen. You'd rather lose Logan like this than watching him suffer because of you. This way he can be happy, he can move on.

You did this for him. All of it for him.

-

Logan wakes to a pounding in his head. Confusion washes over him as he takes in his surroundings. Where the fuck is he? He doesn't remember how he got here, why he came here. He stands up and looks around the room.

"What the hell?" He mumbles to himself.

Was this a prank or something? He cracks his neck and looks around. The room is mostly empty but a small glimmer catches his eyes. He walks over and sees six holes in the wall that match his claws.

Leaning down he picks up a necklace. A heart with two stones. He winces as a sharp pain shoots through his head. He stands up and slips the necklace in his pocket, something telling him to keep it close. He feels a pain in his chest. Not physical pain but something else. Maybe he finally got drunk. Drank enough to finally fuck him up.

All he knows is that he needs to get back to the mansion. As he leaves stops for a second. He shakes his head and continues on, hopping back on his motorcycle. For a second there he swears he caught a whiff of vanilla.

Must be his imagination.

[masqueradeoftheguilty]

sighs. im gonna try and stop thinking about it bcs its making me miserable but ive ended up putting (almost) all my christmas stuff from my mother into a bag and shoving it into a corner so i dont have to look at it anymore

[rawrmeansilyindinosawr]

what does it mean to be free?

i think we were meant for just that . i think kurt cobain was right when he said people were evil but some people were just straight up basic. and how that brings others into this weird way of viewing themselves where they’re abstract and have to hide from others the fact that they’re just so abstract. it’s an awkward conversation when you try to bring that to the surface so you might as well just dodge it. i think it’s not just self-wallowing when you find that you’re quirky. but i think i’ll take upon the responsibility to make sure every basic and normal person finds their inner weird and inner abnormal because that’s what i think would make the world a bit more harmonious.

what confines humans to a mortar shell in this prison incel of a society , modern cage of iron - are concepts of money and guilt. that money is something to be afraid of losing, something to keep on gaining. survival is a rat race and fight of the fittest. i was in 7th grade in mr Gouldes science class that i absolutely abhorred with every other class except art and english but i somehow won the game of darwinsim we played as a class. i just know when we came to this earth we were nothing but babes, naked and innocent and afraid. bloodied from our mothers wombs , without social branding of numbers and personal identifications and silly little cell phones that heard us talking to curate more silly little ads. but i don’t think we were meant to live like this —in a robotic like state. and you know what i don’t give a fuck anymore? i don’t give a fuck about the structures and timelines that i ought to succeed here and ought to do the things i ought to do in those certain little ways until i breathe my final breath and just die — because i quite frankly don’t think it would matter. ill die in a rapid and tremendous yet small way and i’ll die in my honesty that i still think we were meant to be free.

free to love , free to nurture , free to do as many as the drugs we want because nature vs nurture couldn’t have prepared us for the amount of fucking bullshit that life herself had devotedly surprised us with … like a gift wrapped in soft pastel tissue paper. i think some of us are too fucked up to live sober and that’s ok. i think some of us won’t ever be able to understand that and that’s ok . i think some of us will stand in the in-between carrying the guilt and the shame from not knowing how to think about sobriety and drugs but the solace in the fact that we could die from medication because we tries to kill the pain. and im utterly convinced once again that nothing matters. and once again, i am convinced nothing matters. but love. and that that’ll be the only reason why i choose to live, for love.

though my inherent values defy this world and call it breaking the law, call it unabiding or even uncivil. just as i am a published writer n i still don’t know how to spell basic words. i write for me. i let my words be for me. i let them mean what they want for me. i will live my life FOR ME.

they tell us not to smoke, not to drink, to be drug free …. but what they don’t tell us is how good it feels to be finally relived. what they wanted from me was to be an adult and by that they meant to take the child out of me. but why take the final parts? im too “immature im too young im too naive.” i think ive heard it all to the point where i interpret it as i kant simply just Be.

. …. i want to live like the kids of nostalgia, summertime sadness and godsent blue where i take risks and impulsive decisions because i really just want to. my therapist says that not all impulsive decisions means you’re self harming. i want to be in the back seat of my moms dodge chevrolet again with my headphones and big frown wrinkling my forehead wondering if ill feel this way forever and hating it but never realizing just how easy it was to just think that was all there was to feel and even that felt like the weight of the entire world. but years go on and you realize not every feeling is like another. and freedom isn’t always living in the wild eating berries n dreaming of electric fans. i think it’s just so funny when i feel the most enlightened when i’m crying and dry heaving after these drug binges but i know i’d miss a lot of things if i werent here today and tomorrow and forever. but i don’t want to live forever, i want to live everyday ….. with the sound of my friends voices vibrating through my ears as my brain comprehends their language to words to meaning to feelings like 8 track memories

i want to make absolutely no absolute promises because i really don’t know when it’ll stand true at the end if i’m honest. i want to live fully freely and safely with no one taking that away from me. i want to be free.

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 5 - zuko x fem!reader

I can go anywhere I want, I can go anywhere just not home

part 4 | masterlist | part 6

a/n: this was hard to get going but once i got to the end the words just flowed. ive come to the conclusion that writing dialogue with katara is my favorite thing to do

warning(s): nightmare at the beginning, survivor's guilt from y/n, some internalized homophobia :-( but aside from that its mostly fluff

wc: 3.6k

chapter title comes from my tears ricochet by taylor swift!

She was trapped.

It was a prison of never ending hallways in some kind of infinite void, complete with the rank stench of death and an innate feeling of hopelessness.

Y/N knew this place. It had been the subject of her nightmares on countless occasions, because it was where she was supposed to be. She had no choice but to start down the pathway of cracked stone — she knew what awaited her, but it was the only way out. She had developed some sick sense of awareness in this nightmare and it didn’t do her any favors.

She began to walk hastily down the path, the itch of paranoia already plaguing the back of her mind. Countless times she had been here, and yet it never got better.

Before Y/N knew it, she had reached her unwanted destination. The first tangible thing in what felt like miles was a prison cell, and she pushed forward despite knowing what awaited her. It was the only way.

“It wasn’t the only way.”

She froze, inhaling sharply as the dreamscape seemed to pull her thoughts out of her mind, and she forced herself to take another step closer, the inhabitant of the cell now visible.

“You did this to me.”

It was her mother, but… not quite her. Her voice strained and stiff, a gaunt appearance with cruel eyes, hunched over in a prison cell. Any sign of the woman Y/N knew her as was gone, and it was her fault. She was the reason Kura was gone — a mother’s ultimate sacrifice because her daughter was too stuck in her head.

“How could you do this to me?” she asked. “How could you be so selfish?”

Y/N tried to respond, but she couldn’t. It was no use anyway — her words would’ve come out in broken, pleading rambles to someone who couldn’t hear a thing. She knew it was fake, she knew this was a nightmare, but it still hurt all the same.

She had imagined her mother saying those words to her so many times they had found their way into her nightmares despite knowing that Kura would never utter a single syllable true to her fears. She had all but killed her mother, and instead of remembering her for what she had done for Y/N, she appeared in her nightmares.

She was a horrible daughter.

She heard footsteps and whirled around, instinctively taking a step back and wincing as her back slammed into the bars. A tall, dark figure creeped towards her and her breath caught in her throat — as it came into the light, she recognized him as the Fire Lord.

He chuckled coldly as he neared ever closer, the path he walked turning to flames behind him. Her eyes darted around for an escape only to find that everything was on fire. It was suffocating, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, and when she turned to look for her mother she was gone. Everything was gone, her dark void now a prison of flames.

She turned around once more and Ozai was right in front of her, the fire in his hands glowing red hot and a cruel smile on his lips.

“Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

-

She shot up in her bed, a scream on the edge of her lips but just barely managing to hold it back. Ragged breaths were ripped from her chest, her eyes shooting around wildly as she attempted to find anything at all to ground her. It took a few minutes, but with repeated mantras of it was just a dream and you are safe, she was able to calm down.

She pulled her knees to her chest and exhaled long and deep before pulling herself out of bed. It seemed that her day was going to be starting much earlier than planned.

Four years had passed since her arrival at the Northern Water Tribe, but the nightmares never ceased. It didn’t matter how many times she told herself she had done the right thing, that it was what her mother wanted, that if she stayed she would’ve died — she was constantly haunted by her past actions and memories of the Fire Nation.

She hasn’t taken off the necklace since her mother gave it to her, no matter what she does. It’s almost become a part of her now — a memory of Kura and her selflessness that knew no bounds, as well as a grim reminder of what it cost to get her here.

The Northern Water Tribe itself held countless memories of her mother — after all, it was where she had spent the first eighteen years of her life. Her name was well known throughout the tribe with nobles and elders alike, and it amazed Y/N to no end the impact that her mother left everywhere she went. She loved hearing stories about her mother and what she was like as a child, but it was always bittersweet.

She always carried an inherent sense of guilt with her because of who she lived with — her mother hadn’t been lying when she said that the necklace would get them to help her. Kura’s parents still lived in the tribe, and they had taken Y/N in after she revealed who she was. They loved her unconditionally and never made her feel like a burden, but Y/N would be lying to herself if she didn’t think they blamed her for the fate that befell her mother.

After all, she did.

She had never told anyone the full story of why she ran though. It was one thing to leave her mother behind for certain death because of the Fire Lord’s rage, it was another thing to admit that it was wholly her fault because she had fallen for a prince.

Zuko.

Not a day went by where she didn’t think of him. She still held the hope that she would see him again someday, but in lieu of travel she turned to letters.

Y/N had a shelf full of unmailed letters addressed to both Zuko and her mother — it was a way to get out her emotions whenever she was feeling particularly homesick or hopeless, and it did help at first, but after four years it had become something born out of habit rather than necessity.

She still wrote them though — Y/N had learned to hold onto any form of hope she could muster up, no matter how small, and in this moment she needed some.

She opened her shelf and rifled through piles upon piles of letters, some finished, some hardly started, and some crumpled from fits of rage, and her breath caught in her throat when her fingers brushed something different. Y/N pulled the material out and nearly started crying right then and there.

It was an unbelievably simple patch of fabric, but it meant the world to her — something that she had bought during her last night with Zuko, and one of the only pieces of material to have survived her journey to the Northern Water Tribe. She was forced to sell the rest of the fabric she had brought with her in order to make some easy money while on the run, but she had kept this as a memento. She could almost be brought back to the final sunset they shared if she looked at it for long enough.

Y/N bit down hard on her lip to stop the tears and shoved it back into the drawer before closing it and leaving her room in a haste. Sometimes she wasn’t strong enough to handle the memories.

She made her way to the living room and let out a sigh of relief when she noticed the silence. Y/N had never told her grandparents about the nightmares, and right now she just needed some time to herself. Never before was she so thankful for her grandmother’s gossiping nature and her grandfather’s work than she was in the mornings where she just wanted to be alone.

She sat down on the floor, not even bothering to get a cushion, and stared at her hands. Once smooth and untouched by the world, they were now rough and calloused with wrapped bandages resting just below her wrist. Permanent memories of what it took to get here. The ever present reminder that nothing came without a cost.

This morning seemed to be one full of yearning for the past. Y/N tried to shake her feelings off and got up once more, contemplating some steamed sea prunes before deeming it fruitless. Her appetite was lacking after her trip down memory lane.

She walked back to her room and got dressed hastily then ran out the door, but not before plucking a gift from her shelf. Today marked the birthday of a certain princess, and Y/N had to go fast if she was going to get it to her before class.

She was immediately hit by the frigid air of the North, pulling her anorak tighter around her frame as she began to run to the canals — one could always find Princess Yue there in the mornings — doing her best to avoid anyone else walking.

Y/N saw Yue just about to board one of the boats and sped up, waving one of her arms as a signal. “Yue, wait!”

She turned and her face immediately brightened up at the sight of Y/N, raising her open palm so the boatman would hold up. “Y/N! Would you like to join me?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

Yue’s nod prompted a shrug as she dropped down carefully into the gondola, taking extra care not to drop her gift, and took a seat next to her friend.

“This is a nice surprise,” Yue smiled as the boatman began to waterbend, effectively moving their gondola through the canal. “But if I might ask, what brought you here so early?”

Y/N laughed, thinking her reason for coming here obvious. “It’s your birthday, princess! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t come to wish you well in person?”

Her smile grew even brighter, the corners of her eyes creasing up in the way that made some kind of warmth blossom in Y/N’s chest. “Thank you! That’s so sweet — I’m especially honored that you woke up early just for me.”

“Of course.” Y/N brandished the gift she had been doing her best to hide, unable to do the same for her own smile. “And here’s your gift! I sewed it all myself.”

Yue gasped as she took the creation, giving it a slight squeeze and a thorough investigation before absolutely beaming. “You made me an otter penguin— oh, you know how much I love these!”

She wrapped Y/N in a tight hug before pulling away, but it was just long enough for the heat to rush to her cheeks. “Thank you so much, really. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Y/N beamed at the praise and nodded, shifting a little in her seat. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m glad you like it so much.”

The two girls grinned at each other then turned their gaze to the horizon, content to spend the rest of the ride together in comfortable silence.

Her friendship with the princess of the Northern Water Tribe was something that Y/N cherished with all her heart. She could confidently say that Princess Yue was her best friend, and she hoped it was a notion that Yue shared. As beautiful as she was kind, the princess always had a way of making her feel better on the hardest days — Yue was the only one who knew the whole truth of what happened in the Fire Nation, and she offered nothing but sympathy.

Y/N honestly didn’t know what she would do without Yue. She had been her rock during the whole process of getting situated in the tribe, always lending a helping hand when she stumbled in class or was completely oblivious to something in their culture, and she never made her feel stupid, or unwanted, or less-than for what she had come from.

The only thing that confused her about Yue was the feeling she got whenever Y/N was around her. The rushes of heat to her cheeks, the warmth blossoming in her chest, and the unusual happiness she felt anytime Yue smiled at her. The most peculiar of it all was the strange tug of jealousy any time a noble boy tried to flirt with the princess, and nothing but disinterest whenever they tried an angle on her instead.

She didn’t know what any of it meant, but she had the sneaking suspicion that it was wrong. So Y/N did the only thing she could and suppressed it.

Soon enough, though much to their chagrin, Y/N had to leave. After some exchanged hugs and one last wish of happy birthday, Y/N took off for her morning healing class. But as she hurried down the icy paths, she caught sight of the most peculiar thing.

A giant flying bison was being led through the canals with a team of waterbenders, three kids that couldn’t be any older than her on its back. One had an arrow on his head and sported orange and yellow robes, while the other two looked to be of Water Tribe descent.

Her interest was irrefutably piqued, but she didn’t have any more time to waste with gawking. So she began to run once again, apologies spilling from her lips as she maneuvered through the groups of people all just as awestruck by the strange arrival as she was. Y/N made a mental note to ask Yue about it later, but for now she was running very late to her healing class.

-

Sure enough, a few hours later, Y/N was able to get the answers she had been craving. She met up with Yue outside of the palace, and during a short walk, she learned that the boy was the Avatar. He had come to the Northern Water Tribe to master waterbending, and the two kids with him were his companions from the Southern Tribe — much to her excitement, the girl was a waterbender.

Needless to say, Y/N was even more enthusiastic than before, and Yue made her day by confirming that they would be coming to her birthday celebration that night as honored guests. She had already talked to her father about allowing Y/N to sit with her and he had said yes, which meant that she would get to meet him and his friends in person — it just served as a reminder that Y/N had no idea what she would do without Yue.

After what felt like hours of passing the time with lost games of Pai Sho against her grandfather and failed attempts at finishing her homework, it was finally time for the banquet. Once she arrived at the front of the palace she bid goodbye to her grandparents and went to find the seat that Yue had secured for her.

She settled down in the empty spot next to what she assumed was Yue’s — it was her birthday after all, so a dramatic entrance wasn’t out of the question — and nervously glanced at the three visitors, trying to figure out how to introduce herself.

Thankfully, she was saved when the girl met her eyes and waved, offering a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Katara; this is my brother Sokka, and that’s Aang.” She gestured in their direction with her head when she said their names and they both smiled and gave her polite nods.

She returned the sentiment gratefully. “I’m Y/N— I’m one of Princess Yue’s friends. Welcome to the Northern Water Tribe!”

“Thanks!” Aang said. “We’re here to find a master so Katara and I can master waterbending.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Master Pakku is one of the best there is, and even though he’s a total jerk, he’ll be able to teach you everything you need to know. And Katara, we have some amazing healing teachers— I can bring you along to my class tomorrow if you’re interested!”

Katara’s eyes lit up. “You’re a waterbender too?” When Y/N nodded, her smile grew even bigger, though slightly wistful.

“I’d really appreciate that,” she admitted, though her brows knit together. “But I’d like to learn from Master Pakku as well.”

Y/N frowned, about to correct her, when the distinct sound of drums began to echo throughout the hall. Her displeasure immediately disappeared as she grinned at them all excitedly, gesturing with her head towards the action.

Chief Arnook stood up from his spot and their table, his low voice booming. “Tonight, we celebrate the arrival of our brother and sister from the Southern Tribe. And they have brought with them someone very special, someone whom many of us believed disappeared from the world until now… the Avatar!”

Y/N’s own applause joined a symphony of others clapping and cheering as Aang waved bashfully, and once it died down, Arnook continued. “We also celebrate my daughter’s sixteenth birthday. Princess Yue is now of marrying age!”

She grinned as Yue walked out alongside her attendants — she would never get used to her beauty. Y/N noticed the way that Sokka’s eyes widened as he stared at her, and her stomach twisted at the act for some unknown reason.

“Thank you, Father,” she said. “May the great Ocean and Moon Spirits watch over us during these troubled times!”

Arnook smiled at his daughter and directed his attention back to his people. “Now, Master Pakku and his students will perform!”

She could tell that Katara and Aang were enraptured by the bending, while Sokka’s attention was already on Yue as she walked over to sit between Sokka and Y/N.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Yue exclaimed, greeting her friend with a short embrace.

Y/N gave her a sideways smile. “If you think that I would miss your birthday and a banquet, then I’m afraid you’re out of practice on Y/N trivia.”

The princess laughed and nodded amiably then turned her attention to Sokka, ever the diplomat.

“Hi there,” he grinned. “Sokka, Southern Water Tribe.”

Yue returned the sentiment and gave him a slight bow. “Very nice to meet you.”

As their conversation went on, Y/N found herself tuning out a bit. For whatever reason, she had to actively stop herself from rolling her eyes at Sokka’s flirting, that same feeling in her stomach coming back. She made a mental note to see a healer about her issues.

“Hey, Y/N!” She snapped out of her self-imposed trance at the sound of Katara calling her name as she gestured for her to come over. It looked like Aang had gotten up to converse with Master Pakku and Chief Arnook, so she took the invitation and switched seats.

“I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally be here,” Katara said once Y/N had settled next to her. “Back home, I’m the only waterbender. Here… it’s like paradise. It almost feels too good to be true. I mean, even seeing you is crazy — I’ve never met a waterbender my age.”

Y/N smiled, though not without a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for you to be able to experience this. How are you the only bender left down there?”

Katara was silent for a moment, a flurry of emotions warring on her face, before she answered. “The Southern Tribe hasn’t fared half as well as the Northern Tribe during the war. We don’t have one big, huge capital like this, we’re all split up into small villages. The Fire Nation has just been relentless with their raids, and without support from the North and a lack of communication between our sister tribes in the South, they were able to wipe us all out. Except for me.”

“Spirits, Katara…” Y/N set an amiable hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping that her softened expression could say what her words couldn’t. “My village was invaded when I was young, too. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

She nodded pensively but managed to meet her eyes with an appreciative smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry about your village as well.” Her gaze drifted off, once again taking in the view around them, and when Katara met her eyes again she seemed better. “But we’re here now, and I’m planning to take advantage of everything I can, starting with all this food. Which one of these is your favorite?”

Y/N grinned as Katara pointed at the platter of various dishes in front of them. “Oh, you’ve got to try this. See that giant crab up there? That’s what this is, and you have not lived until you have tried Northern crab.”

Conversation flowed just as easily through the rest of the night between the two girls, occasionally switching to include Sokka and Yue and eventually Aang once he returned. Between the swells of pride whenever they laughed at her jokes, getting to learn about all three of them, and the almost palpable euphoria in the air, Y/N was sure of one thing:

This was the happiest she had felt in a long time. She could only hope it would last.

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895

atla: @marianne1806

[airis-paris14]

See You Again

A/N: Just something short I never posted. It probably sucks, but I thought I'd share anyway. WE OUTSIDE YALL. (Please be outside RESPONSIBLY. COVID is still a thing. Please get vaccinated and or wear a mask.) Love Y'all.

Masterlist

“My King,” Okoye called, handing T’Challa a bag he forgot. “Next week.”

“ I know Okoye. I promise I will be ready to leave.” Okoye nodded before reboarding the jet. The king watched before beginning the short walk up to his friend's front door.

He rang the doorbell before staring up at the building. It’d been years since he’d last been in this apartment. Freshman year of college to be exact. Anaya’s parents had invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them after finding him and their daughter studying together on a surprise visit to their daughter's dorm. They weren’t in the room, lucky for them, but it seemed that her parents were invested in a dream that wouldn’t come true. Not that either of them was ready to admit they couldn’t be together either. At least that early on.

So much has changed since then. They graduated. Got two Ph. Ds respectively and then moved on. Anaya became a celebrated fashion historian and critic, and T’Challa a king. Halfway across the world, they’d reconnected by chance in Paris and hadn’t let go since. Somewhere T’Challa had been holding on to a silly notion that maybe he and Anaya could give being together another go, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

Same as his ringing of the doorbell had been. Worried, the king began knocking on the door. “Quit your racket! She’s not here!” An elderly woman crooned from her front porch. “Pardon?”

“She ain’t here! The baby called.” The woman chuckled to herself, “Ran outta here like a firecracker. Her two friends following close behind.”

“She was pregnant?”

“Don’t know how you missed it sonny, big as a blimp, carrying high though. My bets on a girl you know,” she paused to size up the young king. “And you must be that no good bastard baby’s father. Walking out on her like that you know I should-!”

“Ma’am, I promise you I am not him. As much as I wish I could have been,” the king mumbled the last part.

“Well then now’s your chance son. The real father ain’t here, and I hate to see that child grow up without a father figure. What’s keeping you from claiming that child?”

“A lot more than you’ll ever know..” T’Challa looked up, despair written across his face. The woman's gaze softened. “You’ll never know till you try. At least go and see her. I mean you came to her house. All dressed up with flowers and a bag of gifts. You must really care for her.”

“I do.”

“She’s at the university hospital.” The old woman instructed. “Thank you,” the king nodded. “Anything to see her happy, ever since her parents died she’s been sitting up in that house all alone. Make it right.”

Two hours and four phone calls later, T’Challa pulled up to the hospital in his hired car. The driver opened the back door of the SUV to allow the king and his baby present out into the air. He nodded at the driver before making his way up to the reception desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer. “You must be looking for our maternity ward. This your first?” She nodded at the gifts. “You could say that,” T’Challa chuckled.

“May I have your name and the patient’s?”

“T’Challa, and Anaya Johnson.”

“Great, Ms. Johnson is in room 408 in the maternity wing. Go down the hall, on the left, there will be an elevator. Take that up to the fourth floor, make a right and it should be the fourth door down. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” the king smiled hoisting up the big teddy bear, careful not to crush the flowers and various other bags. “Would you like an escort Mr. T’Challa?”

“I believe I can handle this one,” The king insisted. “Very well, and congratulations.”

The king frowned. “Thank you.”

Four floors up, and three doors down, T’Challa finally stood outside of room 408. He took several steadying breaths before knocking. “Who is it? A familiar voice called. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it carefully creaked open.

“T’Challa?”

The king smiled in surprise. “Tella? Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” The brown skin woman beamed, opening up the door, her eyes widening slightly as she saw all of the gifts.”She said she hadn’t heard from you in months.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to visit Anaya and her neighbor told me she was here, having a baby.”

“Yeah, um come in. She and Jean went for a walk, the doctor said it would help with contractions.” Tella grabbed the bear from T’Challa and moved to set it in a corner, while he found space to set down his other gifts. “So how’ve you been? We used to get status updates from Anaya for you. Then you just vanished.”

“Well, there is a lot I haven’t told you all. Wakanda is a monarchy, and my father, and his father, and his father, and his mother, and her father, and his mother, and so on, have all ruled our country. Now it is my turn.”

“To rule?”

“To rule.” The king nodded. “So you vanished because you became king?”

“I vanished because there was a coup, an attempt on my life, which was almost successful. The coup sent my country into a civil war,” The king explained.

“T’Challa, this doesn’t even sound real,” Tella interrupted. “I mean, how is anyone supposed to believe you?”

“May I see your phone?” T’Challa stopped her.

“T’Challa,”

“Just let me prove it to you. I did not ghost Anaya by choice. I still want to be with her.”

“After all this time-”

“Please, I know it seems implausible, but let me show you,” the king reached out a hand.

“Fine T’Challa-” Tella handed over her phone. “Ask siri,” the king instructed.

“Seriously?” Tella frowned. “Just ask her.”

“Siri, who is the king of Wakanda?”

Her phone glowed before responding, “T’Challa Udaku was crowned King of Wakanda after the passing of his father last summer during a United Nations Assembly. I found this article online from the New York Times and several other sources.”

“T’challa if this is true, I mean since this is true, the prospects of you and Anaya getting together is now even more impossible. Why are you here?”

“Because she is my friend, and I love her. She is having a baby, and I will support her.”

“You are not its father!”

“Don’t you think I know that? Do you know how much it hurts me to know that I’m not? That I may never be the father of any of her children.”

“This isn’t about you T.”

“I know, but the child’s father is not here. I am. Even if he was, I still would be, because she is my friend too Tella.”

“I just do not want to see her hurt. Don’t give her false hope T’Challa.”

“On the contrary, I believe it is she who gives me false hope,” the king sighed. Tella pulled him in for a hug. “Just give it time, and who knows, you’re a king now aren’t you?”

“That I am,” T’Challa nodded as the room’s door squeaked open. A nurse helped Anaya back into the room and T'Challa couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at Anaya’s pregnant form. His heart erupted in butterflies, imagining if that had been his child. Tella slapping his arm startled him back to reality. Tella jerked her head towards where the nurse was trying to help Anaya and maneuver the IV stand back into the room with her. T’Challa hurried over to wrap an arm around Anaya’s waist and grab her other hand. The nurse smiled in thanks and surprise. No surprise could top Anaya’s expression. She gaped as T’Challa shot her a smile. “Long time no see,” The king teased as he helped her further into the room and onto her bed. A grimace stole her smile as another contraction hit.

“I’ll grab Dr.Ben and she’ll be right in to check on your progress, Ms. Johnson.” The middle-aged black woman smiled at the expecting mother. “Thank you,” Anaya smiled before turning back to her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise you, only to find out from your neighbor that you were in labor,” The king smiled.

“Mrs. Patterson told you where I was?”

“I guess so,” the king frowned. Anaya and Tella laughed. “What did you do to her? Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like anyone. Especially men.” Tella explained.

“She did almost try to beat me up when she thought I was your ‘bastard baby’s father’.” T’Challa told the two women who groaned. Anaya grimaced her way through a contraction and T’Challa stepped over and offered her his hand. The mother smiled at his touch and threaded her fingers through his as the contraction dissipated.

“I’m gonna go find Jean in the gift shop,” Tella excused herself, leaving T’Challa and Anaya alone. “What’s been going on with you King T’Challa,” Anaya teased as she tried to push herself into a seated position.

“Nothing much. The world of politics cooled off for a while and I wanted to apologize for being awol these past months.” T’Challa helped rearrange the pillows so she could sit up. “What about you soon to be umama?”

“Well, this has been my life pretty much, still don’t know how I’m going to manage working at museums and shows towing this one around.”

“Where’s the father?” T’Challa asked softly. A tear formed in Anaya’s eye, “He doesn’t want to be involved. We were drunk that night and you know…..”

“You don’t have to explain,” T’Challa squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured. “What are you having?” The king inquired, sweeping some box braids back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be surprised.”

“Your neighbor thinks it’s a girl,” T’Challa laughed. “She’s been telling me about me carrying high since it became visible I was pregnant.” Anaya laughed. “I guess we’ll find out today or tomorrow.” T’Challa chuckled. His face quickly fell as she slipped into another contraction. He tried to help her breathe the way he’d seen on television but ended up making her laugh. “You’re really bad at this,” Anaya reclined back onto her pillows rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” T’Challa smiled. “It’s two quick ones and long out. Not in out in out,” Anaya explained. “I’ll do better next time,” T’Challa promised.

“How long are you visiting, you don’t have to stay. It could be another day or so before I give birth.”

“I’m here for the week, until next Tuesday. And Anaya I want to stay. Besides, I can give Tells and Tonya-Jean a break to walk around.”

“Thanks,” the pregnant mother smiled. Her face contorted as another contraction washed over her. “There you go,” T’Challa soothed as she squeezed his hand. He helped her breathe through and eventually, she settled back. “At this rate, it’ll only be a couple of hours until they’re here with us,” the mom to be sighed. “Then I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me be here,” T’Challa kissed the back of her hand. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and he reached for something to dab it away. “I want you here as long as you can be, distract me.”

“Why? You are not enjoying the miracle of life.”

“Says the man not currently pushing a baby out of his body.”

“Fair enough,” he raised his unoccupied arm in surrender. “Tell me about Wakanda and being a king,” Anaya asked, groaning through another contraction.

“Well,” T’Challa started.

Eight hours later, the room was silent. Tonya and Tells had gone home to catch up on sleep. Anaya was sleeping off her exhaustion and the king of Wakanda sat rocking a sleeping baby girl. Well, she was sleeping. Sydney Iesha Johnson’s big brown eyes fluttered open and stared at the man holding her. She stretched out her tiny body and T’Challa’s heart soared at the feeling of her moving around in the swaddle.

“Hi pretty girl,” he whispered. “Hi,” he cooed, smiling as she yawned. “You are so beautiful, just like your mommy. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and now she’s tied with you.” He rocked the infant softly. “T’Challa?” Anaya croaked. “Hey,” the king stood up and walked the baby over to her mother. “She was fussy in the crib, and the nurse suggested I hold her, I hope you don’t mind,” he rambled. Anaya laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. I love seeing you with her.

“You know I’m here for you right? Both of you now,” the king searched her eyes. “I know I’m not her father, and I’ll never try to be that for her, but she’s a part of you and that makes her important to me.”

Anaya teared up and nodded.

“I want you to move to Wakanda.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

[dear-yandere]

— oyasumi dazai.

ada! osamu dazai x reader.

cw: yandere, romanticization of suicide and death, nihilism, depersonalization, implied death, themes of regret and grief.

wc: 1985.

disclaimer: the following content does not depict a healthy relationship, please read the warnings carefully. by click the read more button, you are giving your consent to read this content.

“isn’t it lovely, all alone?” 

i.

he dreams of death.

the stench of iron and the sight of bones is nothing new, but he dreams of death like one would dream of the future. he supposes he is nobody, because no one ever dreams of their own passing (not willingly). people are pushed to that point, betrayed and hurt and put through enough suffering that life no longer seems worth living. whether life is or isn’t worth the effort lays with them, dazai reckons, but the urge to reason death from life has never crossed his mind. to him, to live is to suffer — that is, suffering is inevitable. within the same vein, it must mean that to live is to make the best of that suffering, but what is life if you’d never asked to be born?

the question is foreign and familiar all the same — bittersweet on his tongue, a plague on his mind. his life has always been filled with nothing. the smile of loving parents was a sight he’s unfamiliar with. in comparison to the misfortunes of many others, his parents were saints; and, in comparison to the fortunes of others, they were demons. and yet, that laid the problem. they have a role in this world, a calling, a purpose. but dazai… he is nothing. nothing but a black stain on this white earth. from the day he took his first breath, death has been both friend and foe, a tease and a reprieve for a boy who’d never wished to breathe life.

but, where death comes easy to others, it is nothing short of a luxury for him. it does not welcome him with open arms, nor does it even look his way. suicide after suicide attempt and yet he is still alive. and he has to wonder, is life a gift — as everyone claims it is — or a curse? and why? why was he gifted, why was he cursed? the distinction makes no difference to him, but why must it be him? was he brought into this world for a purpose? for some sort of greater good, or evil? or do the gods simply enjoy the frailty of human life and the suffering it comes with?

of all the people in this wretched world, why is he alive?

ii.

from his first breath, he begun to blacken. his heart is not his own, has never been his own (it beats for someone who is, and never will be, him.) his body holds nothing but muscle and blood and sinew, a vessel he’s been forced into without second thought. he’s never thought of it as anything more. not a temple nor a burden, just… some thing. something that is not his. something that isn’t meant to be his, as if he’s an outsider looking in through the hollows of his eyes.

humanity was always something unbeknownst to him, something he could never quite get a grasp of. the thoughts of others could never quite fit into the process of his mind, its recesses far too unaccustomed to how others should or shouldn’t feel. their expressions are unreadable at all times, a fault that has led to bullying and alienation. he never shed a tear; loneliness is to be expected when you have nowhere to fit in. he is pure black. he may as well be invisible to the human eye, no different than an ant that passersby would carelessly step on without thought. he is no different from anyone else, because he is worse.

had he sold his happiness to the devil in a past life? is life his punishment, or is this how dull it’s meant to be?

cynical — a word used to describe him all too often, but it’s never been dear to dazai’s heart. words, in fact, have never been able to describe him, not in a way he ever found fitting. what does it mean to be cynical? what does it mean to be human? what does it mean to be alive, to have a beating heart, to have feelings? twenty-one years on this earth and he’s never once found an answer.

life, it seems, is something not meant for the likes of him.

and yet, suicide never got him anywhere. whether it be the fault of dumb luck or his own ineptitude, dazai could never die. it’s laughable, how even though his heart beats without his own will, he cannot make it stop. as if some cruel god reveled in how much torture it is for him to live a life he did not ask for. every noose left him choking for air but never took his life. every gun shot blanked or missed his brain entirely. every stab and cut never hit his arteries, never allowed him the luxury of bleeding out. like water in a vase, waiting until the surface tension is broken by a slight drop and starts to overflow — dazai spent his days in hopes of when his own heart would overflow and spill.

life was given to him, and life will not be taken by his own hands.

iii.

he dreams of death so often, his only nightmare is awaking the next day.

he will only ever just be… him. forever living, forever beating and breathing — the thought of experiencing life like others do is something out of a children’s book, to him. to strive for goals, to be torn apart by failures, to get up after being knocked down again and again. he understands it in theory, the process of living, but to put any further meaning on his or anyone else’s existence seems beyond the furthest reaches of his mind.

nothing makes sense.

“i never understood the fuss over weddings, going so far as to plan one’s entire life around it.” he says one day, eyes locked on the black coffee in his hands. darkness always did make him feel at home. “funerals are much more exciting. i’ve planned mine already.” a smile twitches onto his face, one of genuine happiness and excitement. death is like a dear friend, one he feuds with often, and yet one he adores all the same.

but those aren’t words most would say. weddings are a day of joy, but to him, they can only bring grief, one unlike the kind funerals bring to others. the happiest day of his life will be the day he dies, and yet…

he finds himself wanting to marry you.

you, as beautiful as ever, crack a knowing smile and play his words off, shooing them from the air like a pesky insect. the coffee in your hands is almost pure white by this point; drowned in creams and syrups and sugars. he wonders if it’s a reflection of your heart or your soul. “but osamu, i’ve already planned our wedding. you wouldn’t die before we got married, would you?��

he smiles. it’s a reflection of your soul.

he wouldn’t dream of it.

iv.

there’s a reason for everything, or so he’s heard. a mantra mostly uttered by religious heretics, and yet the sentiment was enough to get him thinking; is there a reason he cannot die? is there a reason he’s doomed to live, until whatever entity that tortures him grows bored of his plights? is there a reason he’s alive?

you’re nothing new, nothing he hasn’t seen time and time again. but, he knew: you are his reason. he is a person that someone like you should never get close to. the sentiment is ingrained in his very being, to stay away from you. he knows already: that he will only taint you, corrupt you, drag you down to rock bottom with him. and, if there is a place lower than here, it would surely be hell.

you deserve better than that. you deserve better than him.

“if i were to ever unforgivably hurt you, promise me this.” his heart tugs uselessly, his mind already made up. “if i ever hurt you very, very deeply, please kill me at once.”

he places your hands at his neck and presses. your fingers don’t curl around the flesh like he wants them to, and he knows then that he will never deserve you. you are too good for him, too good to him; your heart is too white and his blackness will only taint it. but darkness cannot be without light. just as the pitch black can overtake the white, the white can overtake the pitch black. life is not solely black and white, he’s come to learn. to be born and to live is to tread through life in a series of greys. there is no good nor evil, only humanity. but, if he were to describe himself, he would surely be black.

“you’ll promise me this, right?”

you hesitate to answer. he caresses you gently, like his mother used to do for him. a means to quell and comfort others, he’s learned, and yet his heart still feels nothing but blackness. he’s never understood why you feel so hurt when he speaks of death so casually — his death is his and his alone, after all. no one would be affected, not for long. memories fade and hearts heal; he is but a stain on life, and no one would miss him.

“right, belladonna?” he prompts. “please say yes. to die by your hands would be my greatest joy. even more so if you were to join me in death, but i could never ask that of you…” he laughs at his desperation, knowing you’d never agree to a premature death like he. you have so much to live for, and he…

he was born to die.

“i promise, osamu.”

v.

you haunt him like a ghost.

he still dreams of death, because a world without you is one he no longer wants to live in. but you would want that for him. you know of his infatuation with the throes of death and yet you want the very thing he detests; for him to live. funny thing, life is. like an idiot ghost, he’d lived wandering through life without any direction. without purpose, dreams and ambitions never held any real meaning to him, not like they seemed to do for other people. the only thing that came close was… you.

he wants to hide like the coward he is. run away, start over again. forget this ever happened, forget he ever met you.

forget he ever tasted love.

it occurs to him that this must be that feeling of ‘regret’ he so often hears. and he’s reminded of odasaku, the only living being that had come close to eliciting some semblance of genuine emotion from dazai. the closest thing he could call to a true friend, dead. and, the closest thing he could call to a lover, gone. life isn’t meant for cowards like him.

but he lives. death has cursed him with the act of living; perhaps that’s a fate worse than death. he has spent all his life resisting the desire to end it, and he regrets never once succeeding. because now he has to live; to live with his own regrets and failures, all the things he said and didn’t say, all the things he did and shouldn’t have done.

he didn’t get to say ‘i love you’.

your tombstone is pristine and he wonders if death is just the same; clean. free of sin, free of burden. what a beautiful thought, one he’s begun to believe doesn’t truly exist. beauty is wasted on him and even death does not hear his pleas. because to seek beauty is human. to be played and toyed with is human.

and to break and destroy, is also human.

death is preferable to losing you. it laughed in his face when it came to claim you, took you away from him forever. to someplace far, far away — to someplace he can never belong.

he misses you. he wonders if you miss him too.

© dear-yandere, all rights reserved.

[missmonsters2]

Between the Lines || IX

PAIRING: Steve Rogers & Fem!Reader (Platonic) / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Vampire AU. Life has changed drastically since the 1600s. Things are always on the move, and you’ve been very careful to not get on SHIELDs radar. Living on the down-low owning a café, you’re content to live out a quiet existence. That is until the Avengers enter your life.

[Set after the New York Invasion, in CAWS, and goes up to AoU. Canon divergent after.]

Warnings: This series will contain smut(**), poly-relationship, and dark themes.

Note: Everyone last chapter: “I’m ready for Wanda to fucking ruin me.” LMAO SAME. 

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII

PART IX of XX

Count: 4782

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Antique.

That was the best way Natasha could describe your place. You had more warm colors for your walls and older styled furniture that made her feel like she was transcending time. 

They had just gotten back from visiting Allison, who was beyond ecstatic to see you and Natasha. Her mother seemed to be all better now, and no longer needed the extra care for Allison. The babysitter you had recommended last time seemed to be working just fine for them when her mother needed to pull extra shifts, but you still promised to visit Allison when you could.

"Your place is nice," Natasha smiles softly, and you turn your head around to smile back at her as you grab a cup from the cupboard. 

"Really? David says I have the taste of an old person. To my defense, I am old," you snort. 

Natasha chuckles, "I like it."

She feels a little excited because it looks like you're making coffee for her, and it feels like it's been such a long time since Natasha has had your coffee.

"Even though I've lived so long and have adapted, this style makes me feel more at home," you softly explain, and Natasha's eyes turn tender.

You finish brewing Natasha her coffee and bring it over to her. She takes a sip, sighing with bliss.

Grinning at her, you're about to say something else when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Pulling it out, you check to see that it's from David.

"We've got to head out," You tell the redhead. "David's got a lead for us."

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Your search didn't yield much more than what David could find, which was annoying. Luckily, you didn't end up having to use your gift and instead used compulsion to find information. 

Natasha trailed along, watching you work but also making herself useful when she could. 

Within two hours, you felt like you already found out what you could before heading back to shower and head off to the Stark tower again. 

When you get there, you already see David talking with Steve and Maria.

"Fatalities?" You could hear Steve ask. 

"Only when engaged," David says as he catches your eye when you enter the room. "Mostly guys left in a fugue state going on about old memories, worst fears, and something too fast to see."

"Maximoffs," Maria mutters, and you're curious about Wanda's powers. They seemed similar to Tatyana's, but you want to confirm if Wanda's powers had only come from the scepter. 

"That makes sense that he would seek them out. They have something in common," Steve said as he saw you approaching. "Find anything?" 

"No more than you did, apparently," you shrugged.

"Well," David says as he's looking at his tablet. "Nothing in common anymore." He flips the tablet and a picture of Strucker's dead body and the word 'PEACE' written in blood on the wall next to him.

"Lovely," Maria huffs. 

You see Clint on the phone just a couple feet from you, and Steve notices him too. 

"So, you're not coming home tonight even though you explicitly said you would," you here a feminine voice on the phone. 

"That's a negative," Clint says.

"This better be your last one for a while, I don't care what your boss says," you hear the woman respond. In the background, you could also hear two kids screaming, 'Is that dad? Can I talk to dad! Dad!'

"I answer to you," Clint responds almost dutifully. 

"...If you miss the birth of our child...I'll kill you..."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Barton," Steve interrupts, "We might have something."

"Gotta go," Clint says quickly before he hangs up and turns to face you all.

"Who was that?" Steve asks.

"Girlfriend," Clint's eyes travel to you and David because it was obvious he knew you had heard him.

Steve doesn't pay it any mind as he leads everyone back into the room. You and David lag behind because Clint is walking beside the two of you.

"Listen--"

"It's none of our business, Clint," you cut him off with a wave. "We didn't hear a thing."

Clint sighs and gives you a smile of thanks.

"Although, you should be more careful if you're trying to keep them a secret," David says as he tapped away on his tablet.

He then holds up his tablet to you and Clint, a photo dated two years ago of Clint and his family on a ride at Disneyland.

"This you?"

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You've known as a vampire, it's impossible to get headaches, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like you have one.

Everyone is getting ready to get out onto the Quinjet to take off to the next location to find Ulysses Klaue as you'll be likely to find Ultron and the twins there. 

There isn't much for you to ever prepare for, so you laze around in the kitchen before Natasha strolls in, the first to finish.

"Hey, you," she smiles, and you walk over to her.

"Hey, yourself," you smile as you inspect her suit. "Got everything?"

"Hopefully," Natasha shrugs.

You know you'll most likely meet Wanda soon, and something inside you tells you it'll bring chaos. 

Nothing ever truly feels like it's over, but you have Natasha. 

You look at her with slow eyes.

Sometimes it feels wrong to be this happy with Natasha, to allow yourself that kind of privilege. But there are no words you could use to describe what Natasha is to you and how you crave her. 

Natasha peers through her lashes, catching the look in your eyes. She walks backward, pulling you with her until she hits the counter before she hops herself up onto it. Pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, you end up between her legs, your hands automatically around her waist while hers are around your neck.

"When you have that look on your face, it makes me want to just...eat you," Natasha licks her lip, and you can't help but laugh lightly as she traces her thumb over your bottom lip. 

"You know how funny that sounds, right?" You smile.

Natasha merely smirks as she lowers her head to press her lips against yours in a soft kiss.

She tastes like remnants of peach candy, and you hum into her mouth. Licking her bottom lip, you hold her hips tighter.

Good.

She smells good.

Like vanilla and dry leaves. 

You bite her bottom lip gently, appreciating the way she moans lightly. It seems to excite her more as her heart pounds in her chest. You pull away, lowering your head as the tip of your nose drags against her side of her neck. 

You inhale as Natasha holds your neck a little tighter.

You could hear it, smell, the blood rushing through Natasha's veins.

It would be so easy.

Natasha would be delicious, you just know it. Her blood hits every part of your sensories, and she would feel so good.

Your teeth drag lightly where your tongue had been.

'You can't.'

The voice and words ring in your head loud and clear. 

Immediately, you pull away, almost panting as you do. 

Natasha calls your name, but you shake your head.

"I just need a moment," you tell her, taking in a deep breath.

You haven't felt this way in so long, you felt like a child experiencing bloodlust again. 

It had been so easy throughout the years to control it, knowing the consequences if you did it.

Yet, having Natasha tested every limit you had again. 

You never thought you would ever experiencing wanting to drink from someone again. 

"I'm sorry," Natasha says hesitantly. She had been so caught up in the moment, and you felt so good. 

For a moment...she...she wanted you to bite her.

You clear your throat as your head clears again.

"Don't apologize," you give her a tight smile, "I should have better control."

Natasha is about to say something else when you help her down from the counter.

"C'mon," you say as you pull her along, "we should head to the Quinjet."

And Natasha's words die on her tongue. 

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"Don't compare me with Stark! He's a sickness!"

You all come in time just as Ultron has sliced off Klaue's arm as he rants about Tony. 

"Ahh, junior," Tony appears with Thor and Steve behind him. "You're gonna break your old man's heart."

"If I have to," Ultron tilts his head.

"Daddy issues, am I right?" You lean over to David to say, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"He's not a villain without one," David says back.

You hear a laugh disguised as a cough from Pietro. He smirks at you, and you give him a slight quirk of your lip back. 

But then your eyes travel next to him.

It hits you in the gut. 

A million flashbacks happen to you, and you feel like someone just knocked all the air out of your body, and you're breathless. It's like you're going through a spiral of vertigo until you look her in the eyes.

She looks like her. 

You were prepared to see the similarities, but this was more than you had expected. 

But you knew it was not Tatyana.

You blinked, eyes focusing on Wanda. 

She was staring at you too, but she didn't seem sure of what to make of it.

"You two can still walk away from this," Steve's voice interrupts the two of you.

"Oh, we will," Wanda rips her gaze from you, tilting her head as she smirks sardonically at Steve.

"I know you've suffered," Steve acknowledges, and for a second, you see rage flash through Wanda's eyes because while Steve knows, he doesn't truly know what they've been through.

Ultron lets out a groan of disgust. "Captain America," he says with a certain tone to his voice. "God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war."

"I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but..." Ultron tilts his head, looking at Steve.

Thor tries to urge Ultron to keep the peace, but Ultron obviously declines.

"What's the vibranium for?" Tony asks.

Ultron looks as giddy as he can. "I'm glad you asked since I wanted to take this time to reveal my evil plan!"

Suddenly, Iron Legion Bots break through the glass and start attacking. 

You and David have split up, he's taken off after Pietro and you to find Wanda. 

Taking out Klaue's men along the way, you keep walking in the direction you could hear her in. 

Her footsteps were rather light, and she had a distinct smell of cinnamon and orange blossoms. 

"Thor! Status!" Steve yelled into the earpiece.

"The girl tried to warp my mind. Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay. Fortunately, I am mighty," Thor trailed off.

You knew immediately what was happening. 

"Nat," you called worriedly.

"I'm fine," she reassures you. 

"David?" You called next.

"Still good," he grumbles. "Fast little bastard."

"Wait," David calls. "She's got Natasha and Steve in a hallucination."

You're about to turn around immediately to go back to Natasha, but David stops you.

"Don't," he warns. "Nat's still okay, just caught up in whatever she's seeing. If you want to put an end to it, catch the girl."

You grit your teeth but huff in agreement. 

You stand along the empty hallway, breaking the wrist of a man who tries to charge at you. Flinging him over the railing, he lands on sacks of dirt and groans. 

It seems you don't have to go to Wanda because you hear those light footsteps behind you, creeping up.

She stands behind you, unknowing you can hear her heart beating as she raises her hand, tendrils forming at her fingers.

You turn around abruptly, grabbing her wrist. Faced with Wanda's shock widened eyes, you quirk your lip at her. 

"Cute," you tell her, "but it won't work on me."

"And why is that?" Wanda asks accent heavy in her voice that sounds so familiar to you.

"To control--compel, me to what you want, your will has to be stronger than mine," you tell her, pulling her closer by her wrist to show that even as close as she was, she couldn't use her mind control on you. "So? Do you still think you can play your little mind games on me?"

Maybe you had tugged too hard, but now Wanda was too close. Her eyes staring into yours as if she was searching for something. Lips slightly parted, you could feel her breath on you. 

"Why?" Wanda murmurs as she tilts her head slightly at you.

"Why what?" You return.

"Why do you stare at me like that?" Wanda gets closer.

You should pull away. Disarm her, and go secure Pietro to finish the mission. 

But it feels like there's an electric pulse in the air that seems to keep you rooted.

"Stare at you like what?" You husk.

Wanda licks her lips, drawings your eyes. "Stare at me like you want to save me."

"You're helping a homicidal robotic manic who wants to destroy the world," you quirk your brow at her. "I think that warrants needing to be saved or at least some sense beaten into you."

"He will save the world by putting an end of the Avengers," Wanda hisses. She draws forth the red wisps again in her other hand, holding it close to you. "Perhaps I can't 'play my little mind games' with you. But power is power."

Immediately, you feel Wanda's power surround your body before she uses it to force you through the window. You find yourself staring at the sky, blinking as you fall. 

You swiftly turn around, positioning yourself upright as you land on the ground, creating a good-sized crater. There's a momentary crack in your ankles from the pressure and height you fell from, but as quick as it happens, it heals. 

You look up, shards of glass falling around you, and you sigh.

It seems your suspicions were correct, that Wanda's powers were genuine. The feel of it was too raw and similar to Tatyana's.

And that made things complicated. 

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"Hey, hey, look at me," you coo as you hold Natasha's face in your hands, turning her to look at you. Her eyes are unfocused, and honestly, it's a little challenging to get her to actually look at you. 

You had arrived shortly back into the facility after hearing Clint saying they needed to move. Clint had been trying to shake Natasha out of it, but it wasn't working, and so you stepped in.

"I have no place in the world," Natasha mutters. 

You had a pretty good guess about what she was seeing, and so did Clint.

"How do we get her out? Do we just have to wait?" Clint asked you.

"No," you say, stroking Natasha's cheek, tilting her face up as you look down into her eyes. "We overpower it."

Your pupils explode into liquid pools, swirling as you forced Natasha's to do the same. It would take a little longer, with Natasha not even being lucid. 

"Look at me," you tell her softly. Natasha blinks. "Wherever you are, it's not real."

You start to see flickers of speckles in Natasha's eyes and lick your lips.

"Come back to me," you compel her softly but with a slight bite in your tone. "You have a place in the world. Here, as an Avengers, with Clint and everyone else." The fog is clearing from Natasha's mind, your eyes responding more to yours and your words. 

"With me," you faintly say.

"Come back."

Life comes back to Natasha, her eyes no longer dull as she comes face to face with you. She's got a massive headache and slight nausea.

Natasha swallows as you still hold her face in your hands. She wants to say something, but Tony interrupts. 

"Guys, I could really use some help. Maybe try the lullaby again?"

You look at Natasha, but she's in no shape to try to go against the Hulk.

"The rest of the team is down," Clint responds.

You look around to see David trying to get Steve out of his hallucination. 

"David will handle things here. Get everyone back onto the jet. The twins and Ultron are probably long gone by now. I'm going to help Tony."

You look once more at Natasha, who lifts the corner of her mouth.

"Be careful," she tells you.

"Aren't I always?" Giving her a wink, you take off in a blur.

"Coordinates, Stark," you say into your earpiece. 

"Getting my ass beat right now!" Tony groans.

"Coordinates, Stark, not status. I already know you're getting your ass beat," you smirk.

"Don't be a dick," he mutters, but you're unsure if that was to you or Banner. He tells you where to meet him, but it gets easier to figure out as you get closer, and you can hear glass and building being shattered, and Banner's roars along with civilian screams.

You pick up speed, reaching there as you stand a few feet away, and Tony spots you.

"What's the plan?" Tony asks.

"Get him away from the city. Damage's been done, but we should try to stop him from doing any more," you see Tony struggling to hold him down. His suit is bulked up, and you're sure he prepared this specifically for Banner.

"Where do we bring him?" Tony's punching Banner in the face, trying to get him to 'go to sleep.'

"Few miles from the Quinjet. There should be some open space."

"Alright," Tony says, having no other choice but to trust you.

He gets VERONICA to send in a new Hulkbuster arm, using it to suction in the Hulk's arm as they take to the skies. You start to run in the same direction they're going.

"Alright, what do we do after we get him in the area?" Tony's overworking the jets in his feet while the Hulk struggles to get the upper hand in the air.

"Can you trap him in his spot?"

"I have one extra set electric bars, but he dug a hole in the ground to escape it."

"Just set them in the ground, wide berth and electrodes on."

You enter into a clearing, and Tony drops Banner, breaking the ground as he lands. 

Immediately, giant plates dig into the earth, surrounding Banner as he gets electrified. He screams, arching his back before he turns and snarls at you.

"You gonna try this compulsion thing?" Tony asks through his mask.

"Try being a keyword," you mutter, "I have a feeling he's not going to be receptive towards it."

"Is anyone receptive towards compulsion, really?" Tony grumbles.

"Yeah," you smirk, "humans."

You walk around the perimeter of the plates, and the Hulk turns his body as his eyes follow you.

"You're angry," you acknowledge. "She made you angry."

The Hulk only roars and glares at you, the surrounding area of his eyes were red. 

You lock eyes, pupils expanding as you try to reel him in. 

"But look around you, think if there's anything right now to be angry about," you say to him. His head moves side to side, but you can tell the Hulk is fighting it. "Are you really angry, or did she just tell you you're angry? Who are you outraged at? The civilians who've done nothing to you? Tony? Me?"

You kept circling, keeping your eyes locked on his. 

"Yourself?" You asked, and when the Hulk lets out an enraged yowl, you know you've hit the spot.

"You need to calm down," you lick your lips. "Before you do something that will really make you angry with yourself."

The Hulk is huffing and puffing as he continues to stare at you, and you try to expand the compulsion stronger. 

For a second, you think it's working. The Hulk is shaking his head, stumbling backward.

But as quick as that happens, suddenly he punches himself in the face, knocking himself out of your control before he lets out another bellowing scream. 

He starts running even as the plates send out electric shocks, bombarding through one of them as it breaks. 

"He's too ravaged for me to even try to influence him to calm down," you tell Tony quickly as you take off towards the Hulk.

"I think I got that," Tony has to move out of the way before the Hulk steamrolls him. 

"New plan," you say, running towards Tony.

"What are you--" he starts to say, but you cut him off.

"Throw me onto his back!" You leap, forcing Tony to catch you as he spins around once before whipping you in the direction the Hulk took off in. 

The speed propelled you straight towards him, he didn't even see it coming as he was approaching the Quinjet. Everyone had come outside, hearing his thundering footsteps as he ran in their direction.

You latched onto his back, wrapping your tiny arms the best you could around his neck with crushing force, almost enough to snap his windpipe. 

He chokes, feet digging into the ground as he abruptly stopped. His hand comes up to your arm, and you only have a second before he forces you to release him via breaking your arm. 

You open your mouth, teeth sharp as venom pooled to them before you dug it into his neck. 

He was grumbling at you before, but he was definitely screaming at you now. 

The sound of agonizing wails leaves his mouth as he falls to his knees. You let go of his neck. 

Falling forward, the Hulk writhes in pain, and you could see the venom traveling in his veins as they turned a dark green on his skin. He was crawling as he groaned.

Soon, the venom overtook his system to the point Banner began to change back to a man. He lay there, moaning in pain as Tony came forward along with Clint, who threw a blanket over him.

"What did you do?" Tony asked, and David came out, blurring over to carry Bruce into the Quinjet.

"Forced him to change back," you mutter as you also got onto the Quinjet. 

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David put Banner on a makeshift bed while Clint flew the Quinjet out of the area. 

Bruce was thrusting off the table as he still writhed in pain while everyone else stood around.

"What's happening to him?" Steve asked. He was covered in dirt and grime, and he looked a little defeated.

"The venom is breaking his cells down," you say, eyes drifting to David, who nods, restraining Bruce down.

You could hear more questions being fired, but you didn't answer. You threw the blanket off of Bruce, and everyone could see his veins, dark and poisoned-looking.

Leaning over, you began to bite him various places until the discoloration in his veins began to disappear. The seizing slowed down in Bruce as he came to a restful stop, but beads of sweat ran down his forehead. He was still breathing heavily, and his eyes remained closed.

"He's going to have to sleep that off," you spitting out blood into a nearby bucket, and wiping your mouth. David hands you a bottle of water, which you use to rinse your mouth, spitting it out until your mouth was clear.

Natasha comes up to check on you, putting her hand on your back softly as you try to give her a smile that ends up being more of a grimace.

"What was that?" Tony asked as he inspected his friend.

"I told you," you say as Natasha gives you some gum. "Venom can be used in three ways. That was one of them."

"But what does it do," Tony emphasized.

The mint flavor spread throughout your mouth, and you were thankful for a change in taste. Lately, it's been getting harder to control your thirst.

"When venom is used to harm, it attacks the cells in your body. Specifically, it makes them explode. It's painful as it travels through your veins because it's basically shredding everything in its path as it moves. The more venom you inject, the faster the deterioration goes," you say. 

"Why did you bite him again?" Steve asks. 

"There's only one way to reverse it," you peer over to Bruce's sleeping form. "Only the venom of the vampire who inflicted it can undo it. I injected the healing venom to counteract it. He'll be fine, maybe just a couple scars, and feeling sore for a few days."

"We need to lay low while we can," David interrupts as he looks at his tablet.

"That's a great idea," you hear Maria chime in through the intercoms. "The new is loving you guys. No one else is. There's no official arrest warrant for Banner, but it's up in the air."

"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony asks.

"Already on scene. How's everyone?" She replies.

"We took a hit, they're shaking it off right now," you mutter.

"Well, stay in stealth mode for now, and don't come back here," Maria warned,  knowing it would be ugly.

"So, run and hide?" Tony seems displeased.

"Until we find Ultron, there are not many options on the table," Maria sighed, disconnecting after that. 

Tony goes over to Clint, slapping his hand on Clint's shoulder. "Need to switch out?"

Clint shakes his head, "Nah, I'm good. If you wanna get some kip, now would be the time, we're still a couple hours out."

You look over to Clint, noticing the dark bags under his eyes, and for the first time, you see how tired he must be.

"A couple hours from where?" Tony asks.

"A safe house," Clint answers, looking at you and David, and you know immediately where he's taking you.

You turn to Natasha, and it seems she knows as well.

Taking the time to sit near the back, you hold your girlfriend in your arms, stroking the side of her arms. Natasha's worn, you can tell by the paleness in her skin, and she's upset. 

You sit in silence for a good chunk of the time. As much as you hate it, the image of Wanda doesn't leave your mind. There was something that brewed deep within you, and you felt haunted. 

It isn't until Natasha decides to speak and breaks your thoughts.

"I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't gotten me out of that hallucination," Natasha says quietly to avoid drawing the attention of the others, but now used with David unintentionally being able to listen.

"I wish I could've been there sooner," you say at the same level of quietness, but Natasha shakes her head. 

"Sometimes," she starts, licking her dry lips, "it's so easy to live every day like that part of my life didn't happen. Even though it's my sole reason to do the things I do. I want to clear my ledger, but it's..."

"It's complicated," you finish for her when she drags.

It's silent for a few minutes as the two of you rest, you lean your head on top of Natasha's, breathing slowly as you try to comfort her.

"I had never thought about wanting kids," Natasha starts quietly again, and you hum softly in the back of your throat to tell her you're listening. 

"I'm not even really sure that I do or not, but then I get reminded that I can't either way."

You hold her bicep tighter, turning your head to press a kiss to her head.

"It's okay to mourn the loss of the choice," you murmur. 

Natasha nudges herself closer to you, inhaling your scent as it eases her. The images don't quite go away. They linger in her mind, a wretched memory of everything she's endured. 

"I suppose it's easier," Natasha mumbles. "It's one less thing to worry about, one less thing that would matter more than a mission. It makes everything easier, even killing."

"Don't do that," you admonish her gently. "While those things can be true, don't make yourself out to be a monster."

Natasha remains quiet, not the kind where she doesn't believe you, but the kind where she doesn't quite have the right words to say for once.

"You act like you don't already have things that would matter more than a mission, things that you don't worry about," you lift your other hand up, using your fingers to tilt her chin until she's facing you. 

Your lips are so close, the warmth vibrating between the two of you. 

"Because you already do, don't you?" You murmur. "Everyone on this ship is your family--I'm your family, just as you are mine."

PART X

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Nathalie’s Gift Part 1

She sat up in the middle of the night.

She took a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She knew it was late, likely an hour or two away from sunrise.

She examined her surroundings until she saw him. There he was, sleeping in the chair at the end of the room. Gabriel Agreste, her boss, her ally, and the one she had fallen for, was asleep in a chair several feet away.

Ever since the defeat of the guardian and the plan to use Chloé to get the miraculous, she had been far too weak to be as mobile as she was in the past. Gabriel had set her up in his quarters, despite the mansion having dozens of rooms. He had reasoned that Adrien would never walk into his room without permission, so that it would never become apparent how her condition was deteriorating.

His logic wasn't entirely unfounded. She was constantly teetering towards the brink. Overuse of the once broken peacock miraculous has left her bedridden most days. Despite the miraculous no longer having such a negative effect now, she knew the damage was already done. 

Yet he hasn't discarded her, was it out of loyalty that he felt the need to care for her despite being more of a burden? Did he perhaps start to feel something more for her as this whole debacle went on.

The later of which was unlikely, she knew better than anyone that Gabriel was far too loyal to his wife to entertain such a notion. So long as he believed there was a chance of bringing her back, he wont stop. She could never be Emilie Agreste, the love of his life and mother of Adrien. She was Nathalie Sancoeur, trusted assistant, and partner in crime. 

She forced herself out of bed. Moving quietly as to not awaken the sleeping mogul.

She snagged her tablet, and the peacock miraculous that was next to it.

She moved to the office and sat in the office chair. Perhaps she could get some work done while she was awake. And should she feel the need to speak to someone, the blue bird Kwami would be a fitting companion.

She started looking through work but her mind kept wandering to one thought

So long as Emilie could be brought back, he could never love me. I could never replace her.

She coughed.

“Not that it matters, I am on borrowed time as it is.” She commented to herself.

She stopped herself as she let her own comment sink in.

She was on borrowed time.

With how she was now, how much time did she have, a few months? A year? Maybe a decade if she really tried to take care of herself. But it wasn't like she was sick with a normal illness. But would Gabriel be able to get the miraculous? Even with everything they had, Ladybug and Chat noir always seemed to best them at every turn. At the rate things were going, she would likely end up in a glass coffin as well, and if Gabriel fails...

In that moment of worry. An idea that could fix everything slipped into her brain.

It was a long shot sure, there was a possibility that everything will backfire. But she needed to do it.

She exited out of her work and went into the security feed using her tablet. She disabled the secret camera hidden in the lair below.

She started making a few preparations.

_______________________________________________________________________

Gabriel awoke to his phone’s sudden vibrating.

He quickly shook himself and looked at his phone.

“The alarm was tripped. Someone damaged Emilie’s chamber!”

The fashion mogul rushed out of the room. His thoughts were firing through his brain a mile a minute.

Who found the lair? Was it one of the heroes? A spy? Who would dare desecrate my beloved wife’s container?

The fashion mogul made his way to the secret elevator.

A purple Kwami emerged from the pocket of the rushing fashion designer.

“Is something wrong master?”

“It appears there is an intruder in the secret sanctum.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Im going to show them the error of their ways. Nooru, Dark wings rise.”

Gabriel transformed into the villainous hawkmoth, His face covered by a silver mask, and is candy cane color scheme replaced with a purple suit. 

He was armed and ready to fight should. 

As the elevator reaches the bottom. Hawkmoth dashes out as soon as it opens.

He would strike quick, and take care of the intruder before they realized who they were facing.

As he approached, he stopped dead in his tracks. As he noticed someone standing infront of the Glass container.

“Hello?” The figure called out. Her voice having a familiar tone that caught the butterfly villain off guard.

As his rage diminished, he felt his vision clear and noticed the shattered glass on the floor, along with the glass container that was now broken.

“It... It can't be...” Hawkmoth’s words escaped as he realized who was standing in front of him.

“Can you tell me where I am? I woke up in this... thing over hear. Im not entirely sure what’s going on.”

“Emilie... is that you?” Hawkmoth questioned, unsure if this was a dream, or if by some miracle the love of his life was indeed back from the abyss.

“How do you know my name Mr. Masked man?”

“Nooru, dark wings fall.”

The blond woman watched as the costumed stranger revealed himself.

“Gabriel? Is that you?”

A tear spilled from his eyes as he rushed to her. 

“You're here. How is... How is this possible?”

“I... I dont...” She started to stumble as she walked towards him. Her vision was starting to fade and the world was spinning.  

Gabriel quickly moved to catch her as she suddenly fell.

He felt his heart panic, but he could hear her breathing. She was simply sleeping.

“Perhaps it would be best to take her out of her.”

Gabriel walked to the elevator, his wife in his arms, asleep yet very alive. 

His mind had 1000 questions, but in this moment, he didn't care. He was holding the woman he loved in his arms again, and thats all that mattered.

___________________________________________________________________

“Gabriel!” She cried out as she woke up.

Sunlight was beaming from the window, it was clear it had been bright out for sometime.

She felt sheets underneath her. What she expected was a hard floor in a weird sanctum but now she felt the comfort of a room that felt familiar.

She heard the door open and looked to see her husband carrying a tray.

“Oh good, you're awake.” He spoke with soft relief.

She looked at the tray.

“Are those.”

“Lemon tea cookies. Your favorite.”

She smiled at him as he brought the tray to her bedside. Allowing her to snag a bite of one of them.

“So good!” She said as she finished her first cookie. “I feel like I haven't eaten in years!”

Gabriel’s expression faltered. She could see the pained expression as she said that.

“Gabriel... how long was I gone?” Her question verbally stabbed him.

He took a moment to process the curious expression on his wife’s face as she continued eating the tray of treats.

He looked down at his hands.

“A year and 6 months.”

She gulped down her cookie hard at the revelation.

“Wow... I've been gone for so long... Adrien must be taller then... ADRIEN!”

Emilie grabbed her husband by the collar.

“Where is Adrien?!”

“He’s at school” Gabriel answered.

Emilie blinked.

“School? You mean he is no longer being homeschooled?”

“He still has some lessons, but he was insistent on trying to go to school like other children his age. It was more ideal for him to go out than for him to be stuck here most hours of the day.”

Emilie processed that information.

“I see, I am surprised you said yes. You always said you hated public schooling.”

“I still believe the school systems are... inferior, but Adrien’s grades haven't faltered according to Nathalie. So I don't bother intervening.”

“My boy has grown up so much since Ive been gone. Wait, is he dating yet? Please tell me I didn’t miss his first crush!”

“Emilie, I am sure that you didnt miss anything. You and Adrien can catch up once you are rested and he is back from school.”

Emilie took a deep breathe.

“Okay, You're right. It will be nice to hear everything from him.”

She looked around the room a bit and noticed the vase full of roses.

“Oh, fresh roses. Gabe-y you cheesy romantic.”

Gabriel felt his cheeks go pink.

“It was... the room needed some color in it.”

“Much like those red pants you insist on wearing.”

“They are fashionable.”

“If you were in charge of candyland perhaps.”

Emilie loved to tease him about is fashion calls.

“Who is the fashion designer here?” He said with a mock stern tone.

“Speaking of fashion, that costume that you were wearing. That didn’t look like the peacock miraculous.”

Gabriel’s tone shifted to genuinely serious. He figured the time would come to answer that question.

“It is the butterfly miraculous. After your...departure. Nathalie and I investigated the temple where you and I had found the peacock miraculous. We discovered a new miraculous, one that wasn't damaged.”

Gabriel felt a twinge mentioning Nathalie. When he had rushed to bring Emilie up here, he felt guilt and relief that his assistant wasn't in the bed. He would have quite a difficult time explaining that one, even if nothing happened.

“So with that miraculous you were trying to find a way to bring me back.”

“It was a means to an end.”

Emilie processed the information she was told.

“Gabriel, I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“No more miraculous. None.”

Gabriel blinked.

“But...”

“Those jewels are nothing but trouble. It has only caused our family suffering and pain.”

Gabriel was surprised by the claim, but he knew she was correct. The miraculous have been quite the curse on the family, despite the powers they gave.

“It will take time for me to stop using it outright, there is a... situation with how I’ve been using it. Your sudden appearance and the disappearance of Hawkmoth might be suspicious.”

Emilie looked at Gabriel intensely.

“Hawkmoth? Gabriel what did you do?”

“Well... in order to try an bring you back, the butterfly miraculous wasn't going to be able to accomplish that goal. So the only way I could bring you back with certainty was to attain the ladybug and Cat miraculous.”

The former actress listened as her husband explained how he became a super villain for the sake of getting the jewels.

“Unbelievable.”

“I admit, explaining it makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is. I planned to fix any damage caused once I got the jewels”

“And what if people found out your identity!? You would have been thrown in prison and left our son an Orphan!” Emilie pointed her finger in his chest.

“It was the only way I could think of to attain the miraculous. How else would I have been able to confirm the miraculous were in Paris?”

Emilie was ready to let him have it. But she felt herself calm down. She had to admit, in a weird way, it was quite romantic. Something out of a tragic romance novel.

“I should be angrier with you, but I know if the situation was reversed and I had a way of bringing you back, I would have likely tried the same thing, albeit in a smarter way.”

Gabriel felt a bit of relief seeing his wife not so cross with him.

“So we figure out how to orchestrate your ‘Defeat’ and then we say good bye to the miraculous for good.”

“We will plan it out when you are completely better. Though this does raise the question. How are you back?”

Emilie pauses, she tries to think back.

Protect the Agreste family... no matter what.

She heard that phrase echoing in her head. But she couldn't figure out why. Who said that to her. Why is everything so fuzzy?

“I don't know... I remember hearing glass shatter, and a flash of blue. But the next thing I remember was... seeing you.

Gabriel looks at her, he could tell from her eyes she was telling the truth.

“I will look into that later. In the meantime, you should rest. I will check on you in a few hours.”

He moves the empty tray from the bed.

“Wait.”

Gabriel stopped.

“Get Adrien here. I want to see him now.”

“Dear, he is in school. It will dismiss in a few hours. Besides you should rest.”

Emilie got up from the bed.

“Nonsense. Ive been resting long enough. I am sure Adrien can miss a few hours of school. I want to see my baby boy.”

Gabriel wanted to find some way to dismiss her request, but he knew he couldn't say no to her. She was far to headstrong and determined... and man did he miss her.

“Okay, I will have his driver go an pick him up.”

“You aren't going to pick him up yourself?”

“Emilie I have work to do. Besides that is why we have...”

“You can take some time off to bond with your son. Seriously, you need to stop putting up walls Gabe-y.”

Gabriel took a calming breath to compose himself.

“Very well. But do use this time to rest.”

She moves to kiss her husband.

“I promise.”

Gabriel’s expression turned into a soft smile.

“I will be back with our son shortly.”

Gabriel left the room to go pick up Adrien.

Emilie smiled as she moved to vase of roses. She picked on up and sniffed it.

The rose in her hand began wilting and shriveled up.

She looked in the mirror.

“Everything went perfectly.”

______________________________________________________________________

End of part one

(Should I continue? Let me know your thoughts)

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part I

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.9k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

A deafening blast jolted me out of my slumber. I snapped upright.

As a member of law enforcement, I was painfully familiar with the sound of a gunshot, and that was exactly what I’d just heard.

I strained my ears with bated breath, trying to hear over my own thundering heartbeat.

Loud, frantic footsteps raced down creaky, wooden stairs. Then a terrified scream filled the halls of my childhood home.

I tore away the sheets and rushed to where the scream seemed to have come from. When I reached the parlour was when I stumbled upon the scene. There, right at the foot of my mother’s memorial, was my godmother’s cold, lifeless corpse. Kneeling beside her was her granddaughter, Paya, weeping into her open palms in shock.

Only a minute or two had passed since I’d awoken at the sound of gunfire. “Wait here,” I ordered, then made a break for the front entrance, the nearest and most instinctual escape route.

But when I threw the doors open, there wasn’t a soul to be found.

I returned to the parlour with my tail between my legs. Then my toe hit something heavy and metallic that clacked underfoot. When I looked down and saw what it was, I froze. With caution, I ever so slowly stepped away from the weapon.

“Great...” I muttered, seeing as now it would have my toe prints on it. But the longer I looked at it, I realized I’d seen this revolver somewhere before.

Then it hit me. It hit me like a two-ton train car.

I quickly made sure Paya’s head was turned. Then with terribly trembling hands, I did what I had to do and carefully tucked it away in my nightgown.

I’d feared the precinct wouldn’t allow me to participate in the investigation seeing as I’d been on the scene at the time of the crime. However, it seemed they trusted me enough to even appoint me as the lead investigator. Granted, I had done a lot to earn their trust over the past three years, but this was unheard of.

Nevertheless, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The next morning, at seven o’clock sharp, I returned to the scene of the crime equipped with all the necessary tools of my trade.

I looked out the window of the cramped police buggy at our destination in utter astoundment. There were already droves of officers there, awaiting the arrival of me and my partner. The sight of the place I’d once called home being chained off and hidden from the public like this was jarring, to say the least. Of all the strange crime scenes I’d seen, this was the strangest. I never could’ve imagined I’d be returning here, not to eat Auntie Impa’s delicious pork buns or to hear Auntie Purah talk about her latest technological endeavours, but for work. How could I have?

“Zelda! Good—good morning!” greeted a rather skittish Paya when she opened the door for us.

“Good morning, Paya.”

She nearly lost her smile when she noticed Constable Fyori standing beside me. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside, and he and I entered into the low-ceilinged yet stately vestibule, removing our shoes and leaving them by the door. “Can I get either of you anything? Some tea, maybe?”

My assistant opened his mouth, but I raised a hand, silencing him. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have important business to take care of.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Silly me,” she chortled. “I’ll let you get to it, then.”

The first order of business was to examine the body. In most cases, a specialist would be needed to perform an autopsy, but unlike most inspectors, I had the forensic knowhow to take care of it myself. One might have said this was a side effect of my hobbies and my avid interest in all things related to science that I’d harboured since grade school. However, a full autopsy complete with the weighing of the body and the removal of the organs would come later. For now, it would suffice to determine two simple things: the time of death and the cause of death.

But before I could even get close to the body, I was stopped by my assistant, who grabbed me gently by the arm.

“You don’t have to do this,” he uttered in his typical, mousy tone. “I can call for someone else to come and take care of it for you.”

The look of real and profound concern seated deep in his aquamarine eyes pulled at my heartstrings. It had been a year, roughly, since he’d first begun working under me. He was always so worried for me, and I always felt terrible because of it. I unhooked his hand from my arm, putting on a warm smile. “I’ll be okay, Link.”

He looked at me as if to ask, “Are you sure?”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” I insisted. “Thank you, though.” This finally got him to return my smile, albeit only briefly.

I already had a decent estimate of the time of death. The period we were looking at was between half ten at night, when the last person awake (which had just so happened to be me) had gone to bed, and three in the morning, when the gunshot had given me that rude awakening. Really I should have examined the body as soon as I’d discovered it. In most other cases I worked on, I even wished I’d been the first on the scene, before the stiff had yet to even go stiff. Of course, the one time I happened to be one of the first to discover a murder, it had to be like this.

And yet, until I knew who was responsible for this atrocity, grieving could wait.

Right off the bat, I could tell that this had been a homicide. This may have seemed obvious to someone like Paya, but as a detective, I’d had to forcefully train myself to assume nothing and question everything. Based on the characteristics of the hole running straight through her neck, however, I determined that the gun had been shot from too far a distance for it to have been suicidal. Auntie Impa’s arms simply weren’t long enough.

But for a death caused by hemorrhage from a severed jugular vein, there was a shockingly small amount of blood. The rush-woven mat beneath her was nearly spotless, and I knew from experience how difficult it was to get stains out of these mats. Even when I checked underneath the mat, there was still nothing. No blood, and no bullet.

With a final nod, I stood up and signalled the other officers to take the body away.

“Now, let’s see here...” I said to myself, scanning the area immediately surrounding the corpse before approaching my mother’s altar. But when I laid eyes on the damage it had sustained, I stumbled back.

Though she hadn’t been a follower of the same faith held by the Sheikahs, my mother’s memory had been enshrined here because, like myself, they’d been like a second family to her.

With all due caution, I picked up what remained of her photograph. The glass was shattered, and a bullet had completely erased her face.

If this wasn’t a sign of the Yiga organization, I didn’t have a clue what was. Who else would’ve borne such ill will toward Hilda Hyrule, the town’s beloved last mayor who’d been dead ever since the tragic “accident” at City Hall eighteen years prior? That massacre had been what had ushered in their age of power, and with no one left to stand in their way, they’d been terrorizing the city ever since.

Before I’d even had the chance to begin my analysis, I heard Paya’s timid footsteps shuffling up to me. “Zelda?” she whispered, obnoxiously tapping her finger on my shoulder. “Excuse me...”

I turned my head and forced a grin. “What is it?”

“Umh, I didn’t know he’d be accompanying you today.” I didn’t even have to follow her gaze to know who she was eyeing.

I suppressed a sigh. “Constable Fyori is my partner,” I reminded her politely. “I take him with me on all of my investigations.”

“Yes, I know, but...” Now her gaze was nervously flitting back and forth between me and Link. “I-I wasn’t prepared to see him again after so long. What if—what if he says something to me?”

“He won’t,” I huffed. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she fretted. “I’ll get out of your hair.” I gave her a nod of the head in thanks, and she kindly stepped back and out of my space. But even after that, I could still feel her intense stare from across the room. I let out the sigh I’d been holding in. Sure, Paya was irritating, and I was going on maybe four or five hours of sleep at most, but there was no excuse for me to be irrational, especially since it would get me nowhere in my line of thinking. What I wouldn’t have done for a nice, hot cup of chamomile at that moment.

Based on the extreme angle of the bullet’s trajectory, one could tell at a glance where the shooter had to have been positioned. They’d have been standing above the altar with very little space between the two—definitely not enough for an entire person. Therefore the bullet that had taken the victim’s life had to have been a different one. This was backed up by the absence of any blood around the hole or anywhere else on the shrine. So why had I only heard one gunshot that night? And where in the world was the bullet responsible for Auntie Impa’s death if not on the scene of the crime?

After photographing the hole and scribbling my thoughts and observations down in my notebook, I began the procedure of extracting the bullet from the altar. This was a delicate task, one that I admittedly had a hard time trusting anyone else in the force with. Once I’d succeeded in retrieving the bullet, I determined it was of the same calibre as the one that had passed through the victim’s throat, meaning it was likely that it had been fired from the same gun. Unfortunately, all these facts corresponded with the weapon I’d found on the scene mere hours ago, two chambers of which were empty. There may have been no prints left on the trigger, but even so, I simply didn’t have it in me to run a striation comparison.

Standing up straight and taking a quick, deep breath, I turned to my assistant, who seemed to be investigating the mantelpiece. “Right, then, Fyori.” He turned his head as I approached him. “Anything to report?”

“No, madam,” he replied solemnly, avoiding my gaze and peering straight ahead over the top of my head.

“Is that so...?” I tapped the end of my pen against my chin habitually. “We seem to have a dreadfully diligent killer on our hands.” I gave the room another once-over from where I stood beside him. “You’ve been thorough in your search as always, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“And you found nothing? Not even a fingerprint?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Then let’s move on,” I sighed, turning toward the doorway leading out into one of the building’s many corridors. He followed, just a few paces behind me. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to check since we got here.”

“That’s strange...” muttered Auntie Purah as she jumped through the footage captured by the front entrance’s security camera. “Symin, did I miss something?”

The Sheikah estate’s security supervisor shook his head. “Not that I could see.”

“Let me check it again.”

But even when she rewound and skipped through it a second time, the only person to appear was still myself on my initial search for the killer. Link gave me a furtive glance. I smiled at him in reassurance.

“Perhaps the other cameras caught something,” I suggested. “It would make sense that the culprit wouldn’t want to simply waltz right in through the front door.”

Auntie Purah looked to Symin. “Well, there are three other cameras, but two of them are so far removed from the scene that I doubt they’d be of much help.”

“And the third?” I asked, reaching for my notebook and something to write with.

“That would be the courtyard camera.”

“Ah, perfect!” The courtyard was located at the very centre of the property and served as an intersection between the four main hallways. “That one’s bound to have caught something. Let’s see.”

But this, too, would turn out fruitless. Throughout the night, there wasn’t even the shadow of a clue as to the killer’s movements.

“This...” I gaped. “This is impossible.” I knew for a fact that this particular model of camera was designed for the very purpose of protecting its footage from being altered or obstructed. Could the killer have made themselves invisible somehow?

“I don’t believe it.” Auntie Purah shook her head creakily. “Our company takes great pride in the reliability of our security cameras!”

Enraged, the tiny, old lady tried to stand up from her seat. Then a loud crack resounded throughout the cramped surveillance office. She screamed.

“Miss Purah, please calm down,” urged the kindly Symin, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she seethed, adjusting her glasses. “Thank you.” I didn’t know the man as well as I did the rest of the family as he had become a part of it a few years after I’d left the nest. However, it seemed like he would make a fine successor to Auntie Impa’s role of keeping her elder sister’s enduring impulsivity in check.

“There’s no reason to worry, Auntie. This is no fault of yours or your company’s,” I said, hoping to ease her pain a little. She’d suffered a terrible loss, and it was taking a great toll on her. It was difficult to watch such a brilliant mind come undone because of something like this. But after hearing my words, she looked up at me with a wrinkly smile. “My partner and I will just have to do an even more thorough inspection of the property tomorrow.”

The ride back to the precinct wasn’t a pleasant one. By the end of the day, my own mind had deteriorated into a swirling whirlpool of confusion, resentment, and woe. The investigation so far had borne so little results, it was hard to imagine that tomorrow’s search would be that much more successful. Of course there was still so much more that needed to be looked into, but right now, I just couldn’t see this turning out well. I still hadn’t solved the mystery behind my mother’s death in eighteen long years. Why, in this case, would I prove to be any less of a failure?

I curled my fists against my legs, trying my hardest to forget about the empty feeling in my stomach. Despite this, I knew I didn’t have the energy to do much more rational thinking today, if any at all.

Then my colleague broke the silence. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?” he asked, but such a personal question was strangely out of character for him.

“Yes.” I smiled sorrowfully into my lap. “I never really thought of her as a mother figure,” I admitted, “but she did put a lot of time and effort into raising me, in my actual mother’s stead.”

“She must’ve been a wonderful person.”

This made me laugh, to both his and my surprise. “Well, she would often scold me and Paya with the strictest attitude you can imagine, but I suppose she always had our best interests at heart.”

The longer I thought about Auntie Impa, the more I mulled over who could possibly have wanted her dead. She had already been getting on in age. Had the perpetrator’s need to kill her really been that dire? The only time people ever went that far was when their victim’s life would’ve put them in danger somehow if they’d have allowed them to go on living. But then again, there was the Yiga organization. They went around committing murders a couple times every week for seemingly no reason other than to flaunt their power. Perhaps Auntie Impa really had been just another one of their prey. Even so, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to it than that.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

The constable cocked his head, but kept his eyes on the road.

But then I stopped myself. There was still no proof of the Yiga’s involvement, so there was no point in bringing it up now. “Well, all of it is quite strange, frankly,” I amended. “The lack of blood, the missing bullet...”

“Could the killer have moved the body from somewhere else, perhaps?” he tentatively suggested.

“Very good, Link. That’s exactly what I’ve been theorizing.” The tips of his ears flushed, and he seemed to shrink back into his seat a little. “Oh, but then...wouldn’t that make it more likely for the cameras to have caught something?”

“That is true,” he concurred. “And there’s still been no sign of the murder weapon?”

I swallowed hard. “No...” My eyes flickered down toward my briefcase. “None.”

[dclsbaby]

mykonos-crossed lovers (part ii) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part ii

prologue

part i

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angst angst and more angst

Author’s Note: part 2 is finally out! thank you so much for the continued love on MCL, i can't accurately put into words how much it means to me seeing all the positive responses! i hope i haven't upset you too much on last chapter’s cliffhanger, and if so, i hope this one makes up for it a little bit 🤍 please let me know what you think! xx

Gif:

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“It’s funny, I’ve flown out to this island to forget you, yet here you are. I can’t ever get away from you can I?” Dom asks, rather rhetorically. Shocked, you turn your head and see your ex standing in front of you, in Mykonos, of all places. You cringed at his honesty, but you can’t say you didn’t escape to the warmer climates for the same reason. “Hi, Dom,” you smile at him. “The boys are here?” you ignore his initial remark. “Yeah, Mase, Davo, and Ben are sat there,” he gestures to a table close by yours. “Luke’s flying out tomorrow”, he says. “So the full team,” you comment. “It seems you’re in for quite a holiday then,” you add.

He walks ahead to stand next to you, his toned arms resting on the white border, dangerously close to yours and he takes in the view you’ve been absorbing. Silence fills the space between you two. A little to quiet for both of your likings, you could’ve sworn you heard your heart beat out of your chest. You decide to break the silence.

“So, how’ve you been?” you asked, voice a little shaky, unsure if you even wanted to know. You looked up at Dom, and caught him sniggering at the question. “Never better,” he raises his eyebrows. “Got my call-up, ball finding the back of the net week in week out, all’s well. You?” he shifts his body to look at you. “Well,” you pause to face him. “I’m on a tropical island with my girls, away from work and grey British skies, so I’m enjoying it,” you replied.

“British Vogue is it?” he asks. You landed the job a couple of months after your breakup. It was the job you needed to make a life out of yourself, to have a career you loved. It was a job you left him for. So, to say that you were good at it was an understatement. If you had to endure the pain of a devastating heartbreak for your career, it had to mean everything to you. And it was. It had been your dream job for as long as you could remember, you have always loved fashion, and this love was complemented when you began dating your ex who has an eccentric fashion sense, always straying away from the mainstream mediocrity, which somehow, he always pulls off. It’s a gift.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”, you were curious. “Mum’s told me about it, she’s proud of you, by the way,” he stops to look at you. “Sounds like a big deal,” he says as he lets out a small smile. It’s the first time he’s ever shown some warmth since the conversation started. You smile back at him and nodded. “It’s been my dream since forever, if you remember,” you look up at him. “And that’s lovely from your mum, do let her know that I miss her,” your heart warms thought of his mum. “Of course you do, you two would gang up on me whenever she’s around,” Dom chuckles. “Only because we both know how obnoxious you could be,” you joke. “Obnoxious enough for you to break my heart I see,” he jokes as he smiles at you sadly. “I d-didn’t mean it like that,” you feel terrible. “I know, I was messing with you,” he lied. A part of him wants you to know that his heart is still broken.

Two people, former lovers, with so much shared memories, once each other’s worlds, reunite in unexpected circumstances.

“I miss you, you know,” Dom says. Your head turns to face him as you try to catch a look of his eyes that are looking down on his fingers. Standing at 6’2, you had to crane your neck to properly look at him. A painfully gorgeous man, his green-hazel eyes still shine so bright despite the evening sky, lips so full waiting to be touched, his curly locks tied up in a bun only to accentuate his perfectly sculpted jaws. He is so beautiful, the pain so visceral, so intense.

***flashback***

“It’s not fair,” your best friend said. “You two would make the most gorgeous babies,” you and Dom chuckled at her comment. “When they’ve got a mother with a face like this I’d imagine it to be difficult to not produce beautiful babies,” Dom says as he cups your face and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You did not just say ‘produce’!” you move away from him, jokingly made a disgusted face and laughed at his choice of words.

Later that night as you two were tucked in bed, you drift off into a daydream which caught Dom’s attention. “What are you thinking of in that little head of yours babe?” he asked. You softly smile at him. “You really think we’d have babies?” you asked as you look at him. “What do you mean?” he asks, shifting his body so it’s resting on his side, with his knuckles supporting his head up. “I mean, is this where we are headed?”, you clarified. Dom runs his fingers through your hair. “I absolutely wouldn’t mind having babies with you,” he pauses as he moves closer to you. “I want no one else more than you, to be the mother of my children, my partner through it all,” he looks at you with loving eyes. “You mean it?” you asked, a little surprised at his honesty. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says as he pulls your body closer to his.

***

Dreams of starting a family with who you thought was the love of your life quickly shatter as you realise where you were; stood in front of him, both with hearts that need mending.

“Don’t do this,” you quietly say as you stare into his eyes. “What? It’s true,” he shrugs. “I miss you and I thought you should know. You should know how much you’re hurting me by not being with me,” Dom confesses. The alcohol has definitely kicked in, Dom thought to himself. Liquid courage got him pouring out the subconscious thoughts he’d never unlock without a little help. “Dom, please. You don’t mean it, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you close your eyes for a second. “You’ve had a lot to drink, you should go be with the guys,” you say as you take your arms off the wall. “Come, I’ll take you back,” you say as you lightly push his elbow to lead the way.

“What more do I have to do to show you that I am still in love with you? Fuck’s sake,” he says as he mutters the last two words. He quickly turns around to face you, shocking you in the process as you drop your arm. “I don’t know, Dom, maybe not have tabloids put pictures of you and different girls on its covers I’d assume?” you sarcastically said, referencing to the covers you have seen of him from the week before.

Dom cringed at your comment and shakes his head. “You seriously can’t believe what those tabloids say-they blow things out of proportion!” he says as he flails his arm out of frustration. “And did you expect me not to see other people? What was I supposed to do, sit and mope around, waiting for you to come back to me? Please, do enlighten me!” he encourages. “Tell me how I can get over you because I am desperate to get you out of my fucking head,” he rants angrily, loud enough to get the attention of several guests.

He pauses to catch his breath. Before opening his mouth again to spill his suppressed thoughts.

“You were my heart, my soul, my whole fucking body—my entire life revolved around you!” he yelled, not as loud, but his frustration was emphasised as he stresses every syllable. Every bit of pride he held onto dissipates, showing his true feelings that still held onto you.

Offended, you retaliated. “You act as if I didn’t do the same for you! But I’m not stood here telling you how much I’ve missed you after I’ve fucked about with random guys!” you replied, matching his volume.

“I’ve never fucked anyone since you, so don’t ever fucking accuse me of that,” he says in disgust. “And you have no right to tell me how I should cope, when you left me! You were the one who left!”, he points at you repeatedly. “You left me with nothing,” he says nearly out of breath, and drops his arms to his sides.

“It surely didn’t seem like it when you go through girls like they’re some kind of pitstop!” you angrily responded. “I was fucking hurt! You fucking broke me! I was sad and desperate, give me a fucking break!” he says as he brings his hands to his forehead. “And don’t act so innocent,” he spits out. You give him a confused face, unsure as to what he meant. “I know you’ve been out with him,” he emphasises. “Yeah, our friends talk,” he states the obvious.

You knew who he was talking about. The friend he fell out with, another footballer friend. Things got too competitive, the words exchanged at the end of a match too harsh to redeem with a handshake. The same friend who could’ve sworn he chatted you up first, but you and Dom’s connection was too strong to deny. Of course, it was nothing like he insinuated. His friend, or, former friend, rather, had dipped his toes into the world of fashion, which caught the attention of your seniors. They assigned you to an interview with him, knowing your connections in the sporting industry and knowledge of it, as you dated a footballer after all. “Th-that was nothing,” you shake your head in disbelief, shocked at what you’re being accused of. “Bullshit,” he curses. He still remembers the day he saw you two on the news. Dominic Calvert-Lewin’s Ex Moves On with His England Teammate?, the headline says. Beneath it were pictures of his former friend sitting opposite you, as you two enjoy each other’s company at his favourite breakfast place in London. It is your favourite too. He recalls trying to ignore the jealousy, he tried to stop reading gossip sites that had the tendency to over-exaggerate, but he couldn’t. It made him angry, so angry, he threw his phone across the room and smashed it into a wall, its screen shattering. Sick and nauseous, he ran to the bathroom and dunk his head into a toilet bowl, dispensing the contents of that day’s breakfast. The effect you had on him was still potent and undying.

Your conversation was interrupted when you feel a hand wrap its fingers around the back of your arm, surprising you as you jump a little. “Hi, hun, everything okay?”, asked two of your friends, who spotted you as they were making their way to the bathroom. You nodded and gave them a smile, “I’m okay,” you whispered. They were beyond shocked to have seen Dom, but they knew better than to mention the obvious. “Give us a shout if you need anything,” your other friend says softly. You nodded. Your friends waved at Dom, then walked to where they were headed, which Dom did the same before you two returned to your conversation.

You take a deep breath before speaking. “You know I never meant to hurt you, Dom,” you look at him with sad eyes. “You know why I had to end things with you, I honestly thought you understood,” you say as you try your best to blink the tears away. “No, I never understood, and I still fucking don’t,” he says as his large hand grips the surface of the wall.

“None of this makes any sense to me! I understand that it is important for you to prioritise your career, be in control of your life or whatever it was you said,” he throws a hand up. “But I will never understand why you had to sacrifice me in the process, of all things,” he replies with absolute honesty. “So, what? You expect me to drop every possibility of starting a career instead, and invest all my time and energy in you?” you ask in disbelief. “That’s not fair, Dom!” you argue.

Dom throws his head back out of frustration as you cross your arms. “I would’ve fully supported you every step of the way, given you the space you needed, anything!” he responds. “But instead you left, and took my entire life with you,” he argues back, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “You didn’t have to leave,” he quietly says.

You two look at each other in silence, both feeling the pain the other endured. The pain heavy, overwhelming, a sinking feeling.

“I wasn’t trying to compromise you,” you say softly. “I had felt so detached from myself and made you the centre of my life and I was fucking terrified, Dom,” you try to justify yourself. “Had you left me at any point, I wouldn’t have survived it,” you sigh.

“Had I left you? How could you ever assume that? You think I am strong enough to be apart from you for even just a day? For fuck’s sake,” he curses as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

“I never said you would, I said if you did,” you clarify.

“So, you’re saying you left me purely due to a hypothetical scenario? Come fucking on. Don’t you fucking get it?,” he pauses. “You left me because you were afraid you couldn’t live without me, when that was never the case to begin with. If anything, it was the other way around,” he mutters the last sentence, just enough for you to hear.

“What?”, you asked, looking up at him.

“If one of us were to be too attached to the other person, it would be me. I’m not even fucking ashamed to admit that. I’m just pissed you assumed I could ever leave you. And that you broke my heart,” he reveals, a little too much for his liking but he didn’t care. You had to know.

“I-I never knew you were this upset,” you reply, still trying to process what he just said. “Clearly,” Dom says with sarcasm. “All you do is assume,” he comments. “That’s not fair,” you respond. “None of this is,” he quickly says. “I’m sorry I hurt you, I hope you know I would never intentionally do anything to make you feel that way,” you try to assure him. “Yeah okay,” he looks away.

Silence fills the room once again. What used to only be comfortable silence between you two turned into awkward, deafening silence. Silence between two people still in love with one another, both stubborn, both hotheaded, both their egos in the way.

You hated this. You wanted out. Your heart could no longer handle the different coexisting emotions, the sadness, anger, exasperation, confusion, equally intense, equally felt. It was all too much.

“I-I think I’m just going to go, it’s been lovely to see you, I'm sorry again Dom, truly. Have a great-“, “You’re fucking joking,” he cuts you off and shakes his head. You sigh, surprised at this interruption. “What now, Dom?” you asked, a little agitated.

“You’re leaving? After I’ve poured my heart out to you? Fucking pathetic that,” he said angrily. “What else was I supposed to say, Dom! I told you I was sorry, I told you I didn’t mean to hurt you! What more do you want?”, you responded with aggravation.

“YOU! I want you! How could you be so dense? Honestly, fuck this—you broke my fucking heart and I am not going to let you walk away from me again,” he gestures angrily. “This time I’m leaving you, have a great fucking night,” he says as he storms off, taking half of your heart with him.

At that moment, it felt as though every effort you had put into moving on, all your self-care nights, girls night outs, mental health days, music playlists of happy songs, immersing yourself in work, suddenly meant nothing. All your efforts were countered, destroyed after seeing him again for the first time in months. All you could do was stand there and watch him leave you standing alone, under the blue Mykonos sky with the most breathtaking view of the island, whilst heartbroken once again. The perfect irony.

You were left in shock. You could see Dom walking through the crowd where everybody was partying from your peripheral vision. It took him way too quickly for your liking to wrap his arms around a certain blonde-haired girl in a blue dress you recognised from tabloid pictures. You feel a sharp pain in your chest from a sight you never wanted to see. You knew you had no right to feel this way since you were the one who left, but it hurt you nonetheless.

Two things could’ve come out of this scenario. You could a) suck it up, take three straight tequila shots and party the night away with your girls, who are increasingly growing concerned about your whereabouts, or b) you could call it a night and figure your heart out.

After moments of deliberation, you chose the latter option. The intense conversation you had with Dom was too emotionally draining for you to continue on. Seeing your ex on the exact trip you booked with your girls to remedy your heartache, listening to him tell you how much you’ve broken his heart, how he wants you, but proceed to wrap his arms around another girl minutes after, all in one night... you could not bear it all. You quietly made a swift exit and made sure to text your girls’ group chat as you’re walking.

Babes, I’m heading back to the villa. Rough night. Details tomorrow. Will leave some paracetamol on the counter. Be safe and have a blast! Love you. X

You took the furthest route towards the exit door away from the party scene, not giving your friends a chance to even stop you. You wrap your arms around your body, holding yourself together as your heart crumbles. The only affection you could seek from is yourself. The pain of growth slowly paying off, as you manage to at least leave the scene in one piece.

However, despite extra efforts to not get noticed, Dom caught you slipping out of the club.

You stood outside the breezy Mykonos night and waited for your taxi to come. What just happened? You thought to yourself. You were a bit tipsy from the drinks, your tired body making you feel a little delirious. It seemed like it was all a dream, a nightmare perhaps, but it isn’t. That actually happened. You inhale the fresh air, and pace your breathing to calm your nerves. The background music spilling from the narrow gaps of the doors slowly fade as you close your eyes and focus on your peace.

Peaceful silence suddenly interrupted by a loud sound of doors bursting open.

What the fuck was that? you thought to yourself as you turn your head towards the loud noise. Your heart nearly stopped when you saw Dom clumsily stumble through the door. “What are you doing?” you asked, completely taken aback.  “I saw you walk out,” he says out of breath. “And I know you like to go on walks to clear your head. I was making sure you weren’t, this isn’t the place where you could do that safely,” he continued.  “I know, I’m waiting for a taxi,” you say quietly.  Dom nodded. “Okay,” he looks away. “Be safe,” he says as he looks at you one last time. You look at him with a sad smile and nod.

As Dom retreats back into the club, he had to hold his chest, clutching where his heart is to contain the pain of seeing you force a smile at him, it was too intense, he couldn’t bear it. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and tell you again how in love with you he is, but he knows his heart can’t take another heartache.

So Dom does what he does best, fake a smile, join his friends, and power through the night despite the building anxiety of being away from you. He feels sick to his stomach and would love nothing more than to call it a night. He goes on to reject every girl who threw themselves at him left and right, which Mason took notice of.

“Mate you okay? You don’t seem like yourself,” asks Mason. “(Y/N). She’s here. Well, she was,” Dom says. “Here? In Mykonos?”, Mason asks in disbelief. Dom nods his head. “Shit. What happened?” asked his concerned friend. “Told her she broke my heart. I lost my head. Told her I want her, then walked away,” muttered Dom as he looks down to play with his fingers. “Mate, I mean, do you still want her? Even after everything you went through?” Mason asks carefully, cautious to push any buttons.

Dom takes a deep breath.

“There is nothing in this life I want more than her,” he spills, looking at his friend dead in the eye.

“You know what you have to do, Dom.” Mason says.

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame IV

Author’s Note: Hope everyone had a safe and fun Halloween! Not much else to say here as we start to delve deeper into Ivar and the Nuns new relationship and the two different worlds they come from. Thanks as always for being so awesome!

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 2217

Warnings: Language, Master/Servant dynamic 

His brothers had kept a close eye on Ivar since acquiring his new thrall. He still played at the leader of their army, but he had refrained from shutting them out of power entirely. Any chance they had at lending a commanding voice they took. Hvitserk's strategy of giving their little brother a distraction was paying off.

The changes in Ivar's behavior were minuscule. Only Ubbe and Hvitserk took notice. It was the same when they were children when someone would give a new gift to Ivar. It would be a stretch to say he was happy, but his vengeance had quelled. For the moment it was enough, and they could focus on securing lands for their people while Ivar was preoccupied.

It was strange for a thrall not to be seen waiting over their master's every whim, but it seemed Ivar wouldn't permit you to leave his quarters. The other slaves they had acquired tended to him during meals, and when he walked the streets with his guards, you were always absent. Ubbe walked alongside Hvitserk contemplating this.

"What do you think he has her do for him?" Ubbe wondered aloud.

Hvitserk's brows puckered in thought. "Don't know. I can't imagine they have much to talk about, and I know the one thing they aren't doing."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, think about it," Hvitserk jested with a smirk. "I suppose that must make him a good fit for her. She'll remain a virgin after all."

Ubbe latched onto Hvitserk's arm, pulling him to a stop as he gave him a harsh look. "Those are dangerous words, brother. Remember Sigurd. I don't want to see another brother dead because of Ivar's fragile grasp of his anger. He has poor sensibilities when it comes to that matter. It's unfair, but it's not his fault."

Hvitserk shook off Ubbe's grasp and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck. "Right, that was stupid. I do pity him, though I don't think he'd want it. Who knows how he'll be when we start having families of our own."

Ubbe grunted. "He'll probably resent us, more than he does already. I think I understand why he keeps her away from everyone. Besides our mother, no one has ever taken to Ivar's company outside of obligation or familial bond. He's lonely."

"And it's not as if she can refuse," said Hvitserk. "But she's a Christian. That's got to account for some strife between them."

They continued on their way towards the center of the city. Food was beginning to run scarce, and it seemed the Saxons were holding steadfast on starving them out. While Ivar was willing to take their army to its limits to play Aethelwulf's game, Ubbe and Hvitserk were devising their own plan to negotiate land. They just needed a little more time. Many things rested in the hands of the nun, as unaware as you were.

"I just hope he hasn't harmed her," Ubbe said while they passed through the market.

Hvitserk looked grim, a heaviness settling on him that had replaced his usual cheer. "Ivar did always break toys. We have to hope that Christian isn't as weak as she looks."

ooOOoo 

You were growing accustomed to your new station. As a woman, it was your lot in life to suffer, and you took your new situation as a test from God. The heathen, Ivar, he had made no bid to harm you. That wasn't to say he was good company to keep. He had taken to trying to instruct you in a handful of words and phrases of his language. Some of the words were difficult to form with your accent, and when you mispronounced things, he would grow irritated and throw things at you. Uttering dark curses in his tongue, you were certain he had insulted you as well, but it was better than a flogging. 

At night you continued to pray, your back to your master, and the words spoken only in your head. You were sure they reached God, even without a rosary in your grasp or the piety to kneel. In your heart, you struggled to keep hope alive. If this test was to be your final judgment from God, its purpose remained clouded to you.

It was late when Ivar returned, and you had remained awake for his arrival. You now slept when he did, short and inconsistent hours of the night, only to be woken before the dawn. He did not rest well. Be it from his duties or pain you could not say, but he never faltered from exhaustion. This pattern must have been his usual routine, life at war.

Ivar's eyes sought you out the moment he came through the door, and you returned the stare. He had only just started walking in his new contraptions, a set of iron braces that he had created from pride. His determination to walk was admirable. You had never witnessed such a fighting spirit before, and you were certain it was a blessing from God.

"Something you wish to say?" Ivar interrupted your thought, a scowl on his face from your lingering gaze on his legs.

"It is a good thing," You said while rising from your corner of the floor. "I believe God has blessed you."

Ivar snorted, blue eyes rolling at your absurdity to insinuate such a thing. He took a slow seat on his pallet of furs and started to remove the braces. "Really, and why would that be?"

"You are not the first cripple I have met, but you are the most assiduous."

You could see him test out the word for himself, a lack of understanding passing over his face. "I'm not sure what that means, but I like how it sounds."

"You have an unrelenting heart. Strong-willed and resolute in your goals. I find you impressive."

He halted what he was doing, and took a long, considering look at you. "I've been this way for as long as I can remember. It is the way if I am to be seen as a true Viking to my people."

"So there are others like you?" You asked as you approached him with careful steps.

"There are not many cripples among my people, no. A child born with a deformity such as mine is left to die. I would have been if not for my mother. She was softhearted, and couldn't bear my loss."

You didn't want to have any strong sort of feelings towards your captor, but to learn that he had been left to die as a helpless babe engulfed you in sorrow. "It isn't wrong for a mother to feel pity for her child," You murmured, showing how distraught you were by such a story. "You don't sound grateful for her mercy."

Ivar's face hardened at your sentiment. "Mercy is for Christians. I would have done the same as my father. I loved my mother, but there are days I resent her for her choice. Her gifts failed to foretell the agony I would endure at the hands of compassion."

"What gifts?"

"She was a Vülva, a woman seeress of our people who has visions of the future."

You frowned at such a concept. "That sounds like sorcery to me."

"I forgot your people fear magic and witchcraft," Ivar said in a teasing tone. "My mother would have hated you. She was too steeped in the beliefs of our own people to have care about your sensitive notions of God. My father would have liked you though."

You blushed at the idea of such a great man holding you in favor. Though you didn't hail from Wessex you had heard the stories of the Viking King who fought for Mercia and befriended King Ecbert. "King Ragnar? Why do you think that?"

"He was often amused and curious about your God. Maybe you would have reminded him of Æthelstan, his Christian monk." Ivar resumed the task of taking off his braces, wincing in pain whenever a particular part pinched or pulled at his legs. "Here, come help me with this."

Startled by such a request, you moved with haste and uncertainty. Ivar showed you which parts to unclasp, and you would mimic his actions with a gentler touch, stopping entirely when he would let out any sound of discomfort. You were certainly slower at the task than if he completed it himself, but he seemed to enjoy watching you work over him, and you were grateful for the distraction. 

"What about your family? Where are your mother and father?" Ivar asked while leaning back on the strength of his arms.

"They're both dead," You said, pausing only a moment to collect yourself before continuing on his braces. "I was born in Rendlesham, in East Angles. My mother was a whore, and I never knew who my father was as a result of that. When she died, I was orphaned to the streets until the church took me in. Being of such low birth standing, I turned to the church as my ray of hope."

You could feel Ivar frowning at you, but you did not waver. "Did you not want to be something more than a nun?"

You breathed a laugh. "Such as what? Saxon women are not allowed to be warriors."

"Yes, but isn't there a way you could have improved your situation?"

"No," You said bluntly. "Blood is everything. Those who are of Royal standing will always be in power, and through marriage, their line continues. The best I could have hoped for was a marriage to a farmer, and he would have to have been a poor one. I would have raised his children, and likely died young from childbirth."

"I see now why you're a nun," said Ivar. When you chanced a look up at him, he appeared troubled by your story. "Those Saxons in power are greedy. They keep all for themselves and give nothing back. What chance is there of an honorable death for those forced to live a life of poverty?"

"If you die without sin, you go to Heaven. We have no need for honor."

"A life without sin," Ivar hummed. "As if any man is capable of such purity."

"A Priest is," You argued back. "It takes a nobleman to obtain such a pious position in the church."

"Is it noble for these men to keep silver and gold in their churches while children run through the streets, no better than dogs?" Ivar had sat forward, his eyes emboldened with the wrath of a demon. "I have seen your noblemen of the cloth, and they died screaming the same as any sinning heathen of mine."

You lost your balance, falling flat on your bottom as you gazed up at Ivar in terror. "What did you do to them?"

"The things I've done to your priests," Ivar paused, a calm washing over him. "It would make Loki grin."

The suffering of your people seemed to fall down on you like a star collapsing from the night sky. When he spoke, you could almost forget that Ivar was your enemy, but he had now made it clearer than ever where the line in the sand was drawn. You were just a slave, a Christian slave, and how soon would it be before he tired of you? You did not wish the same fate to befall you as it had for the priests, whatever it had been.

"I have not dismissed you," Ivar tutted when you began to walk away to your corner, unaware yourself that you had begun to do so. You craved distance from him, even if it was only a few feet away. 

At first, he tried to manage his composure, calling you back with his voice deliberately even. When it became clear that no amount of coaxing on his part would work, he started yelling in his language. That word came up again, 'Ólaug'. It had been peppered into a number of your one-sided conversations. If he had tried to brand you with a new name, you would refuse. He would not take who you were. 

Your fight ended with him throwing one of his crutches at you. It landed just before you, and you were able to contain your flinch. Ivar scoffed at your non-reaction and threw himself back onto the furs. He had finished disrobing and gave you the courtesy of his back, which appeared to be covered in a new etched design each time you saw him. Matched against your own untainted skin, it was a reminder of how different the worlds you came from were.

When you were sure Ivar had fallen asleep, you moved to get under your own thin pile of wool blankets. They were scratchy and held none of the warmth of the furs, but it was not the worst sleeping conditions you had ever weathered. That night you prayed for the lost Priests, and for God to take away your suffering. You didn't see a way out of your situation, but if God acted through you, you were certain to find your answer. Content to keep faith in your heart, Sister Mary Catharine slept, ignorant to the matter that Ivar was awake and watching you.

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[stevesharrlngtons]

pin prick and needle sticks.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: your solution for roman’s feeding problem is met with some resistance.

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ya im having so much fun writing again so hopefully there will be more! i hope you enjoy and if you do, pls give me some feedback (-: 

also this is a repost bc this wasn’t showing up in tags 

When you strode into Dr. Pryce’s office, he didn’t try to hide his surprise at your uncharacteristic appearance.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)! This is surely an unexpected visit.” Pryce pushed out of his desk chair to meet you in the middle of the large glass room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You say politely as Johann takes the coat that’s folded over your arm.

“No, not presently. I was just about to wrap up some paperwork and go to lunch.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I am hoping my question has a simple enough answer.” You say as you take a seat in one of the visitors chairs across from his desk.

“So, you are looking for my expertise on a matter?” Pryce asks, taking his own seat now.

“Yes, and maybe a small favor depending on your answer.” You smile, trying to seem as sweet as possible.

You knew Johann was asked for wild favors and cover ups where the Godfrey family was concerned constantly, almost on the daily. You wanted him to be receptive to your idea and not shoot you down before he heard your pitch.

Pryce was tolerant of your presence and occasionally even fond of your acquaintance when Roman needed him for something or another. You were very bright and amiable company.

He sighs deeply, already seeming resistant, “Is this a Roman related favor?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. It’s more like a gift I need your help in giving.”

Johann looked extremely perplexed as he placed his laced fingers on his desktop, “Now I am very intrigued. Please, proceed,”

“You are aware that Roman has been having some trouble sourcing food. Right?” You try to say everything as delicately as possible, even though you knew Pryce knew about Roman’s situation in full. Probably even more than you knew.

“Yes, I am. Unfortunately Olivia forbids me to speak with him on the matter before she does, and she refuses to do so until Roman goes to her for help.”

“Withholding access to food, sounds like an award winning mother if you ask me.”

Johann chuckles, “Yes, Olivia is nothing but selfless.”

“Selfless and maternal.”

Pryce laughs again before he asks you what is the nature of your visit in relation to Roman and his upirism.

“Like all things in Roman’s life that are broken, I have found the solution to fix them. In this case, I have decided that I will take my blood and give it to him. As much as I can give, so he will never have to worry about where to feed again.” You said this with a self assured expression, elated that you had come up with a way to help your love.

The true extent of Roman’s feeding problem had become apparent one night while you were making love.

Roman sat on his knees, your legs around his waist while he pressed his hips deliciously into yours. He had set a gentle rhythm of thrusts, ones that were illicting your mewls and calls of his name from your lips. While you were reveling in your pleasure, Roman was trembling. Desire filming his eyes as they transfixed on your jugular. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the faint thrum in your neck, your voice becoming hazy and distant as his mouth watered at the sight of your craned neck below him. It wasn’t until you grabbed his cheeks that he snapped from his thirsty stupor.

Roman tumbled off your naked form to the floor of the bedroom unceremoniously, skirting away from you until his back reached the wall, the farthest wall from the bed. You had sat up, not bothering to cover yourself as you stared at your crumpled boyfriend, who shook and stammered under his breath.

“I can’t, OK? We can’t! Not until I feed again. I don’t think I can control it- I can’t control myself.”

“Baby, it’s going to be fine. I know you would never hurt me,” You push away the remains of crumpled sheets and begin toward him, but Roman flinches aggressively.

“I can’t help it, no matter how much I don’t want too, I will. I would kill you just for a taste and I would hate myself forever.”

You wanted to offer yourself up on a silver platter then and there. Ask him to drink from you because even if he doubted his control, you knew he would stop feeding before you were in any semblance of danger. You just wanted to make him feel better, in any way you could. But, as Roman wove his hands into his hair and tugged ruthlessly at the roots, it was clear that this wasn’t going to become an argument, or even a conversation. Roman left the bedroom soon after, muttering something about the refrigerator and leeches, while you watched him leave with an ache in your chest.

You had been trying to figure out the best possible solution to Roman’s problem since. After contemplating many different avenues, you concluded that you weren’t a bank robber (even if it was just a blood bank) and hiring someone from Craigslist seemed too risky (and too weird). So, you had fallen back on your original idea from that night: Roman would drink from you.

“To be clear, you want to extract your own blood and stockpile it for Roman?”

“Exactly. I just need to know how to do it and how much I can give per week without dying of iron deficiency or something.” You nonchalantly reply.

“This is very noble of you to do, (Y/N).”

You wave a dismissive hand at his compliment, “I just want to help him in the best way I can. It’s what you do for the people you love.”

Pryce stares at you for a moment, and begins to wonder how Roman attracted you in the first place? He was sure it was the young man’s killer good looks and the charm he held with the opposite sex that first caught your attention, but you were a smart girl. You wouldn’t fall for him simply because he was a blueprint for a Greek statue or threw a few saccharine words your way. He wondered if Roman was warm and adoring? Sweet and loving and soft when he was only in your company? From what Pryce had seen first hand, Roman was kind and gentle when you were around, but only ever to you. The second Roman laid his eyes back on Pryce or anyone else for that matter, he was back to an angry frothing terror to anyone in his path.

“When giving blood for say, The Red Cross, they take about a liter of your blood which is around 15 fluid ounce. You shouldn’t give more than that a mouth, but I could give you a few supplements that could help replenish your red blood cells at a slightly quicker rate so you would be able to give blood once a week.

“You would likely need to take breaks, possibly a month on and a month off? To make sure that giving blood this frequently wouldn’t take any serious toll, or have any significant side effects on the body.” Pryce explains.

“And these supplements won’t do anything weird to me if I take them?” You trusted Pryce, but only minutely. While you felt cordial with him, you still knew to be weary of his experiments.

“No, of course not. They are all over the counter supplements and vitamins that you can buy on your own accord. I would just tell you how, when and the quantity to take.”    

You sighed at his answer and laughed lightly, “So it’s all good? We could do it?”

“I don’t see why not. I could send a tech to your home to administer the IV, and possibly if this method of feeding works out for Roman long term, you could learn to insert it yourself.”

“Am I going to have like, crazy puncture marks? Am I gonna look like a junkie?” You asked, the vanity of this whole thing only now coming to your mind.

“Unfortunately, there will be noticeable marks and possible bruises from repeated insertions. I could work on something to heal your puncture marks, as I said, if this becomes a main source of Roman’s feeding.”

You nod, mulling over the information for a moment.

“When could we start?”

Telling Roman about the whole thing never even crossed your mind. To you, this was a gift that you were going to give to him, and you loved the element of surprise. It was strange, sure, but to you, this idea of yours felt totally romantic. Some women gave their boyfriends watches, or flat screen TV’s, or let them put in their ass on their birthdays; but for your boyfriend? The man who had every material object he desired and every sexual need quenched? Your blood was a perfect way to show him you cared.

You didn’t want Roman to get just one bag for the first time you presented him with the blood, so you waited four long weeks to create your mini arsenal for him. You just took to wearing long sleeves around the house and silk robes right before bed to hide the little marks on your arms. Roman, still not at his most observant from his lack of feedings, didn’t even bat an eye at your clothing choices.

After your final session with one of Pryce’s tech’s in your home, you felt giddy. You had been keeping the blood in the outside fridge until you had the stockpile you desired, knowing Roman never checked it’s contents. Tonight was the night you were finally going to give them to him.

After Pryce’s man left, you placed your newest bag in the refrigerator and went back inside to change into something far more alluring than the sweatpants you adorned currently. This was going to be a special night for your man and you wanted to pull out all the stops. You had already directed Conway and Anna to make a four course feast for the two of you before you would bring out Roman’s surprise.

After changing into the tightly fitted black dress you had picked out a few weeks ago, along with Roman’s favorite silk lingerie set, you went back downstairs to continue to set the scene for Roman when he returned from work. You scattered candles around the room and played an old jazz record to soothe any worry or anxiety from your boyfriend once he entered your shared home. You wanted everything to be perfect, he deserved it.

As you finished and Anna and Conway were wrapping up the meal, you heard someone placing a key in the front door. You turned to see Roman’s tall silhouette through the frosted glass and you couldn’t keep the smile off your lips.

When he walked through the door, he looked exhausted. His eyes were haloed in shadows and he was gaunt, his pale skin pasty and dull. He looked about ready to collapse.

Until he saw you.

“Welcome home.” You said, a wide grin on your features.

“What’s all this?” Roman asked as you met him by the door.

“I know how stressed you’ve been and I wanted to set up a nice evening for the two of us.” You replied as you pushed his coat off his shoulders and held out for Conway to take.

Roman glanced over your shoulder to see the extent of the fuss you had made for him and his shoulders visibly relaxed, “You’re amazing.”

You took both his hands and started to walk back toward the table, “That I am, and I have a little surprise for you after dinner.”

Roman tugs you to him suddenly, causing you to stumble a bit in your heels, but that only accomplished to bring you flush to him.

“Is my surprise under this sexy little get up of yours?” Roman’s eyes twinkle with lust as he moves his hands down to grip your ass.

You hum with delight, “I guess you have two surprises coming, then.”

You lean up to place a lingering kiss to his lips and Roman groans a curse as you step away from his hold.

“But for now, let’s eat and unwind. How was your day?” You ask, pulling out Roman’s chair for him.

“Better now.” He grinned, one that was without smare or ulterior motive. Just a pure smile radiating happiness.

After you chatted about your days and Roman having bitched about work to his heart’s content, you both finished the delicious dinner that was prepared for you. You had moved across the table to sit on his lap while you both shared a chocolate mousse, the gentle ping of the silver spoon against the serving glass lulling you both into calm relaxation and sloth as you ate the rich dessert.

Roman’s temple was pressed against your exposed cleavage, practically purring with the bliss he felt.

“Thank you for tonight, baby. I needed it.” He sighed, turning his head just enough to let you kiss his lips.

“Of course, my love.” You responded, stroking your hand through his hair, “I’d pluck the stars from the sky if it’d make you happy.”

“Hey,” Roman smiles, poking your side, “That’s my line.”

You giggle as Roman prodes you, “Well, while I’m taking your lines, let me take another. I got you something and I need to go and get it.”

“You know I don’t need anything.” Roman says, squeezing you once more before you got off his lap.

“This present is something you need, trust me.” You say over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen and enter the garage to get the gift box you had prepared.

Was this all very dramatic? Yes. Over the top? Of course.

But you loved pampering Roman, so you threw all cares to the wind.

As you entered the kitchen with the rectangular black gift box held together with a silk ribbon, Roman looked at you confused.

“Jeez, what is that? Is my mother’s head in there?” He asked as he watched you place the box on the dining table.

“I wish.” You chuckled, dusting your hands off on your dress as you looked into Roman’s puzzled expression, “Open it.”

Unable to even guess what could be in the box, Roman stood up and walked toward you and where it lay.

“It’s not gonna be anything that’s gonna pop out at me, right?”

“Oh my God, stop being such a bitch and open it already!” You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder as you quaked with excitement.

Roman finally pulled on the black ribbon and slowly untied it, causing the sides of the box to fall apart and reveal it’s contents.

“Surprise!” You said, jumping slightly in place, barely able to keep your excitement to yourself as Roman took in the gift.

He just looked at the blood blankly, all placed in a row before him. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing.

“How did you get this?”

“Well, that’s the extra special part. It’s mine,” You gestured to the blood, “It’s all from me.”

Roman looked up at you, and the appreciation you’d thought you’d see written all over his face wasn’t there. Instead his face was red with anger.

“How could you do this? How could you be so reckless!” Roman raged.

Your heart sank with embarrassment and grief.

“I thought you’d like it.”  

“Like it? Baby, why would I like you taking your blood to give to me? Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you!” You cowered under his voice, lip quivering.

“I thought you would be happy, I thought I was helping. Now you don’t have to worry about feeding or hurting anyone. I can just give blood every now and then and give it to you.” You responded, trying desperately to mend the evening.

“How did you even do this? How did you figure this out?” Roman picked up one of the bags and furiously tossed it back down.

You furrowed your brows and took a step toward your boyfriend, “OK, so don’t get mad- well, don’t get more mad I guess… but I asked Pryce-”

“You asked Pryce?” Roman shrieked, his eyes bulging from his head.

“Yes! But it wasn’t his idea, it was mine. The whole thing was my idea and all he did was help me and make sure I was safe.” You said quickly as Roman paced the length of the table in front of you.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that stupid little prick and rip his cock off and shove it down his throat!” Roman bellowed.

“Ro, it’s not his fault,”

“It is! He let you do this! Indulged you! He fucking put a needle in your arm and touched you!” It was then that Roman finally zeroed in on the small circular band aid on the inner crook of your elbow and his face passed its red hue into bright crimson.

“Pryce never touched me! He had a lab tech help me.”

“Then I’m killing the tech, then Pryce, then everyone in that fucking nut house of a lab who knew this was happening and didn’t tell me!”

“Stop!” You shouted over Roman’s angry rant, “Enough! This wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own, apparently. I fucked up, I can see that now. But I honestly and truly thought you would love this. That you could be satiated from my blood and never worry about where the next source would come from. But hey? Guess I was wrong.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you turned on your heel to leave.

“(Y/N),” Roman called after you but you stuck up your hand to silence him.

“No, I just want to go to sleep. I’ll see you in bed.” And you walked up the stairs to leave your boyfriend stewing in his own ire.

Stripped from your dress and lingerie, you lay under the thick covers of the bed and mindlessly watch some old re-run of a sitcom. It had been well over an hour since you had left Roman in the kitchen and each second he stayed away was another second of heartbreak and humiliation. You still weren’t sure why Roman had blown up the way he did… sure it was risky, but nothing that you couldn’t handle. You were a grown fucking woman who knew her own limits. You had picked up the supplements Pryce had prescribed you and you had been feeling perfectly fine. If you ever started to feel any effects, you knew you would head straight to Pryce or your primary doctor.

As another commercial break washed over the screen, Roman opened the door to the bedroom and peeked his head inside.

“You OK?”

“No.”

Roman sighed as he came fully into the room and shut the door behind himself, leaning against it.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the scene down there…”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have asked you first if you would have been OK with me doing this for you.” You slumped your shoulder into the mattress.

Roman just watched you.

“I just… Roman, I really thought you would like it! I thought you might even be grateful. I really meant what I said downstairs, I would give you a star if that would make you happy, I really would. And I thought helping solve your feeding problem would make you happy, and it didn’t, so I’m sorry.”

Still Roman stayed silent, just studying you, wrapped in a coil of thick blankets. He soon walked toward the bed and sat on the corner, his back facing you. He hunched over and placed his head in his hands, gently shook it side to side.

“I was never really even that mad at you, baby. Just at Pryce, I guess. And scared…”

“Scared about what?”

“Seriously? You’re going to ask that?” Roman glowered.

You kicked your foot out to the edge he was sitting on to jostle him, “Don’t be an asshole.”

He grumbled something under his breath that you sure was unkind before he continued.

“I was obviously fucking scared because this could go wrong, alright? You could get sick or stop clotting or something! I don’t know. I don’t have to be rational when it comes to your safety and health.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment, “I thought I was being rational coming up with this idea, Roman. In my head, this would solve everything. No more leeches or starving or worrying that you’ll kill someone when it gets too much!”

Roman looked back at you, his eyes intense as your cheeks heated with your outburst.

“I just-! Fuck,” He turned back around, bouncing his knee, “I don’t want you to do this for me and something bad happening. That’s it, that’s all.”

You frown and whisper his name, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And because you went to Pryce and not me… and that no one at my own fucking company told me about this. Fucking traitors.”

You shuffled your way out from the blankets and crawled your way toward Roman, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder to gage his reaction before you moved to hug him.

“I’m not going to get hurt, I promise. Pryce told me where to buy some vitamins to keep me healthy and they have been working. I won’t continue if I start to feel sick. And if by some chance I do, you will be the first person I tell.”

Roman says nothing at first, but you knew he heard you. You placed a few simple kisses to his shoulder and wound your arms tighter around his waist, snuggling to him.

“I want to know the second you start to feel anything less than fantastic, OK? If you feel faint or nauseous or even if you have a fucking headache, alright? I’m not fucking around here.” He replied firmly.

A smile spread across your face and you pressed it to his skin, “Of course, baby. No more secrets ever again.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Roman trailed off with a sigh, but leaning into your touch.

“You know,” You started, moving around his neck to see his face, “I thought the idea of you drinking my blood was very romantic. Maybe even erotic.”

Roman moved to give you a quizzical look and you only grinned wider.

“Something about giving myself to you fully, running through your veins, letting you have all of me, you don’t think that’s romantic?”

Roman’s lips began to pull into his signature smirk, “I think I was little more taken by your erotic comment.”

You giggled and playfully bit his shoulder, “I don’t know, I think about watching you drink it… about you covered in it and knowing it’s from me,”

Roman was quick to grab you and manhandle you around him and into his lap.

“Yeah?” He asked, smirk persistent as his hands explored your body.

“Yeah… knowing you drink my blood, my cum, that you’re the only one who knows my taste… it got me all hot, baby.”

Roman groaned deep in his chest as he dug his fingers into your hips, twitching his hips up against you and making your eyes flutter.

“My baby, my girl,” He hummed, leaning forward to ghost his lips over your own, “You drive me absolutely wild.”

“All better now?”

Roman just chuckles, grinding you down onto him.

“And you’ll drink the blood?”

“Yeah, fine,” And he finally kisses you.

You knew that he was playing it off now like it was nothing, but the honesty you had shown him, and the utter devotion you had just pledged, meant something to him. It meant everything to him.

i really hope you enjoyed!!!! if you do, i’d love to hear your thoughts (:

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXIII

Parts I-XXII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

Part XXII

XXIII.

Alastair watched his sister play with her dolls on the rug in the sitting room from the second to last step on the landing. A safe distance away from the fire, her small voice filled the room with color that it sorely lacked. Since their father’s return from wherever it was he had been for the past year, their furniture (what furniture they had) started to disappear.

Cordelia, being only eight hardly noticed. Not when her father’s attention became more of a pressing matter, but Alastair being ten years old and having been the one to mind the estate after their staff stopped showing up and Sona fell into another one her deep depressions, he began to notice.

And he could only suspect one person responsible.

After being satisfied that Cordelia was out of ear range, Alastair turned and jogged up the stairs two at a time. He noted the sconces on the walls were missing along with the bulbs except for one left unprotected and obnoxiously bright without a cover. The rug that ran along the hallway was gone as well leaving the floor bare so that every footstep and noise could be heard. Alastair took a deep breath through his nose and steadied himself.

He’d secretly hoped that his mother would be the one to address the issue, but she hardly seemed to notice the missing things, or if she did, she didn’t feel the need to mention it. The house grew colder and colder by the minute despite his father's enormous presence to fill it.

A part of him chastised himself for not being more elated about his father’s return. The rest of his family members seemed to be, but because of his illusive absence for the past year with no explanation about where he’d gone and the stink of alcohol lingering on his vest, something deep in Alastair’s chest froze towards his father.

Others may be warmed by his false promises and elaborate stories, but he knew the truth. Call it a gift of his, he could see past the pretense his father shoveled in front of everyone to hide his sins.

When he reached the oak door at the end of the hall, with a shaking fist, he knocked.

At first no sound came, so he knocked again; louder this time.

A shuffle could be heard inside. Glass shattering against the floor followed by a string of cursing.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, father,” said Alastair. “I need to speak with you.”

“What’s this about?”

Alastair placed a hand on the handle. “May I come in?”

“Is this important?”

“It is,” said Alastair lifting his jaw.

“Very well,” said his father.

Alastair turned the knob and pushed his way inside. The bitter, sweet smell of freshly spilt whiskey hit him and burned his eyes. He resisted the urge to cover his nose with a handkerchief.

His father wobbled on his hands and knees attempting to clean up a spill with his pocket cloth, but moving as if he were on a very unsteady ship. Red rimmed eyes looked up at Alastair and a grin curved around his father’s face.

“What is it?” He slurred as he fell backwards against the wingback chair that happened to be the only piece of furniture in the room beside the beverage cart sitting beside the window. “Am I late for supper?”

“It’s nearly noon, father,” said Alastair. “I’m here because it appears that our household items have gone missing.”

“Missing?” Elias squinted up at his son.

“Yes.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As in gone.”

“Like what?”

“My writing desk, Cordelia’s doll house,” said Alastair. “Mum’s good China, the Tehran crafted weapons, the silver, and where’s the furniture that used to be in this room?”

“Alastair—“

“If you’re pawning our household items to support your drinking then—“ It wasn’t a question of if, nor was it an accusation. Alastair knew the truth, he knew even if he didn’t want to believe it.

“Then what?” asked Elias. “Go on, boy, finish your sentence.”

“You’ll not take one more thing from this house,” said Alastair.

Elias scoffed and attempted to push himself up from the floor when his hand landed on a piece of glass. Elias hissed and fell backwards again onto the floor. “Bloody hell!” He held his hand up, dripping now with fresh blood. “Don’t just stand there. Get me something to stench this with.”

Alastair sighed and walked across the room to the beverage cart. A towel hung from the silver handle, stained with spilt alcohol, Alastair grabbed it and brought it over to his father.

“Where is your steele?” asked Elias as he ripped the towel from Alastair’s hand.

“I don’t have one with me,” said the boy.

“What kind of Shadowhunter doesn’t carry around his steele?”

“I’m nearly ten, father,” reminded Alastair. “I’m hardly a Shadowhunter yet. I can go find yours if you’d like.”

Elias took the towel away from his hand and examined the wound in his palm. “No, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve clearly more pressing matters to attend to. Have you spoken to your mother about these missing items?”

“I haven’t wanted to trouble her—“

“Only me?” asked Elias. “I suppose I deserve that.” He got slowly and unsteadily to his feet. When he stepped backwards a few steps, Alastair had to stop himself from reaching out towards him. He looked like a toddler learning to walk for the first time.

The question dangled on Alastair’s tongue as he watched his father pitch forward and back like an aged ship on angry seas: why did he insist on drinking? When did he become a drunk? Alastair, honestly, couldn’t remember. There’d been a time when sobriety found him for a few months and then he’d be back on the streets again. Alastair was seven years old the first time he picked him up from the porch steps when he passed out before he’d made it inside. The first time, he’d thought it kind of comical, by the third time that week, he found it frightening. And now, he wanted to ask his father why. Why weren’t they enough for him? What was his father chasing that could be found or forgotten at the bottom of a bottle?

Alastair feared he might never know.

     _ _ _

The pocket watch ticked inside Alastair’s palm where he sat on the sofa in the drawing room waiting for Cordelia and Lucie to enter through the door. It was five past three; the time they were supposed to return. Questionably, James hadn’t returned either. Alastair knew he should have trusted his instincts over his sister’s word, but he’d allowed himself to feel marginally guilty about upsetting Cordelia.

How could she not understand he was simply trying to do what was best for her? She clearly wasn’t thinking straight— and to be honest she never had when it came to the Herondale boy. It would be over his dead body that he’d ever see James hand-in-hand with his sister.

No, not even then.

Alastair shoved his watch back into his pocket, stood from the chair retrieving his jacket from the arm, and marched towards the door.

“Oh,” said a voice behind him. “Are you leaving too?”

Alastair turned to find Thomas descending the stairs in his full fighting gear. His soft brown hair was combed back away from his face and curling slightly behind his ears. His scarred hands were adjusting the straps across his broad chest that just barely fit across him. Alastair swallowed and quickly averted his eyes to his shoes and then the front door.

With a strange pitch in his voice, Alastair said, “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“I came with my parents to meet the Herondales,” said Thomas tucking in the extra bit of leather left at the end of his strap. “I thought Christopher, Matthew, and James would be here, but it appears I am at a loss. Miss communication.”

“James is with Matthew on patrol,” said Alastair. “At least that’s what I was told.”

Thomas looked off to the side. “Then I’m sure that’s the truth of it. Where are you headed?”

“I’m supposed to meet my sister at the other Lightwood’s estate,” said Alastair. “She’s running a bit behind so I figured I’d spare her the trouble and catch her there.”

“I’m on my way there as well,” said Thomas. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

Surprised, all words evaporated from Alastair’s mind. When he managed to find them again, a bright color had emerged in his cheeks. “Are you quite sure. I don’t mind finding my own way there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Thomas reaching for the door knob. “We’re going in the same direction, not on an outing together, there’s no reason for us to take two separate carriages to the same destination.” Thomas opened the door and without waiting for Alastair to respond, he walked out onto the front steps.

Still slightly shocked, Alastair combed a hand through his hair, picked up his cane, and followed.

“What plans do you and Cordelia have today?” Thomas asked from atop the bench seat of his parent’s carriage.

Alastair, who’d chosen to remain quiet despite the kindness being extended to him, focused on the main road as he answered. “I’m not sure. She mentioned something about going to a park.” He was quite certain that was all that was going on between them. Perhaps his parents conjured him into being kind to the injured, isolated, and troubled Carstairs boy. Perhaps this was some sort of revenge and Thomas had alternative plans of dropping him into the Thames.

“It’s a lovely day for the park—“

“What are you doing?”

Thomas’s eyebrow jumped. “Excuse me?”

“This?” Alastair motioned between them. “This show of uncharacteristic kindness. I can tell it’s not genuine. Who put you up to this?”

Thomas sighed and straightened his shoulders. “I felt badly for the way I spoke to you the other day.”

Alastair had to fight to keep the shock from his face. “You felt bad? Thomas, you have nothing to feel badly about.”

“Perhaps,” said Thomas, “but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how unfair I was being towards you. Do not misunderstand me, this is not me granting you pardon for what you did, but rather an understanding.”

“Why?”

“Because when you created those lies about my father,” said Thomas, “I created lies for him, or what I thought were lies to help repair some of his reputation. My father, who is an upstanding citizen by most regards, and truly a wonderful father, and I was making up all kinds of lies to protect him even though I knew the rumors about him were lies— even though I believed him. I can’t imagine if the rumors were actually true.”

He didn’t have to say it. Alastair had long since learned to read between the lines of what someone was saying to him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” said Alastair shortly.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” said Thomas, never removing his eyes from the road, “and I don’t pity you. I’m merely saying that I understand. In a way, I understand.”

With the wind brushing against his face, Alastair felt a weight of sorts brush off of him.

“I am sorry for what I’ve done to your family and Matthew’s,” said Alastair. “I’ve been minding my father’s reputation since I was a boy.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Thomas. “I know why I fought for my father’s reputation, but yours was an actual alcoholic.”

Alastair bristled. “Alcoholic or not, he is still my father.”

“I’m sorry if I offended—“

“You didn’t offend,” said Alastair. “I suppose I fought so hard to protect him for so long that I simply forgot how to not to. I’d been able to keep up a pretense about my father that at the first sign of trouble, my instinct was to defend him, and the only way I knew how to do that was to put the spotlight onto someone else. If I’m being honest, it wasn’t him I was trying to protect.”

“Yourself?” asked Thomas, as he steered the horse down an empty brick paved street.

��Cordelia,” said Alastair. “I was trying to protect Cordelia. She grew up believing that our father was someone to be admired. She held him on the same pedestal that the Herondale children held their father. I made sure that she never knew about his… illness.”

“Does she know now?”

“She does,” said Alastair. “I couldn’t protect her forever.”

“No,” said Thomas, drawing the horse to a stop at the brick pathway leading to a white gated entrance to a garden. “I suppose you can’t.”

Alastair looked up at the beautiful ivy crested veranda and tried to remember what had caused him to go fetch Cordelia in such a hast. Surely, she was all right with Lucie and if she was in fact with James, perhaps it was high time that she started worrying about her own mistakes. And if she needed him, he would surely be there for her.

“Perhaps I’ll wait here,” said Alastair. “While you go fetch Christopher.”

From the ground now, Thomas looked up at Alastair as he tied the horse to a post. “Would you like me to get Cordelia for you?”

“No,” said Alastair, adjusting his coat. “I shouldn’t trouble her. She’ll return when—“

Before he could finish his sentence, a high pitched scream came from inside the house. Thomas and Alastair both looked in the direction of which it had come and then back at each other.

“Cordelia,” said Alastair as he swung himself down from the driver’s bench as Thomas drew a steele from the strap on his shoulder and whispered its name to it. It burst to light in his hand, accenting his face in a halo of light.

The two men stalked up to the open front door: Alastair at the front, with Thomas trailing closely behind him, both of them scanning their surroundings.

Upon entering the house, it didn’t appear that anything was out of place through the kitchen. There was no sign of a scuffle or demon activity. Even though he didn’t know him all that well, Alastair wouldn’t put it past the odd glasses wearing one to release a demon during one of his poorly executed experiments.

They inched through the kitchen into the short hallway that went through to the sitting room. Attached to the room was a staircase and from the second floor, they could hear an exchanging of voices.

Alastair broke for the stairs at a run with Thomas close behind him. He followed the direction the voices were coming from and turned to the left, stopping at a door that was partially opened. He was seconds from storming it, when Thomas grabbed him by the coat tail and wretched him back.

“Wait,” said Thomas and stepped in front of him, “listen.”

“I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and centuries of old lies. “Not unless you want me to start breaking bones in their bodies starting with the smallest.”

Thomas grabbed Alastair’s arm and mouthed a name. “Belial.”

Suddenly, the door slammed in front of Alastair and he heard the faint sound of the lock.

“We don’t have much time. I have a very short window back into my realm and we’ll need to be going now. That is if you want your friends to live.”

“Lucie,” said a male voice that Alastair could not recognize. “Don’t go with him. I’m not meant to be here. I’m not meant to be alive.”

“How rude,” said Belial. “Do you have any idea how hard your mother and sister worked to bring you back to life. The least you could do is be more grateful.”

“If I go with you.” The voice was clearly Lucie’s and if Lucie was in there then so would Cordelia. “If I agree to do what you ask, you’ll promise to leave them alone?”

“You have my word,” said a second voice laced with ill intention and century old lies.

Thomas glanced at Alastair and pointed at the medieval spear hanging on the wall in the hallway. Alastair reached up and pulled it carefully from it’s hooks as Thomas took several steps back, picked his foot up, and kicked their way through the lock with his heel in a single, impressive stomp. As Thomas reached for Lucie, pulling her away from the mysterious figure in the center of the room, Alastair threw the spear with every ounce of his might.

He watched it spiral through the air, quick as an arrow, and then stop mere inches from Belial’s chest. A wicked grin curled around the handsome face, as the spear evaporated and then reappeared faster then Alastair could blink.

It was warm, that was the first thing he thought about. Warmth spreading across his back and his chest. His eyes searched the room for Cordelia, but he couldn’t find her face amongst the ones he could not recognize. Everyone stared at him, the pale haired girl Grace and a dark haired boy sitting beside her looked on at him terrified. His eyes drifted to his left where Thomas held Lucie tightly in his arms both gaped at him horrified. He tried to say something, but his lungs had stopped expanding. When he looked down at his chest, he could see where the warmth had come from. The end of the spear protruded from his chest.

“Alastair!” Thomas yelled.

“Go,” he said, as rust flavored saliva dripped from between his lips. “Go now.”

“Release the girl,” said Belial, with his arms crossed and a rather bored expression on his face, “and the boy lives.”

Thomas’s grip on Lucie faltered just slightly.

“Don’t,” said Alastair. “He’s lying.”

“Let me go, Thomas,” said Lucie. “Let me go. He won’t let him die, he won’t if it means he can have me.”

“Listen to the girl, Thomas,” said Belial. “Save your friend and sacrifice the other or lose both.”

Alastair could see the turmoil in Thomas’s gritted teeth and reddened face, still his hands were white knuckled around Lucie. He wouldn’t let her go. Not unless—

Lucie brought her head forward and swung it back against Thomas’s sternum. With a quick maneuver of her feet, she twisted under his grip and shoved him off balance into the wall.

“Let them go,” said Lucie, her hair loose from it’s braid now and falling around her face giving her the appearance of a mad woman. “Let him live and I’ll go with you.”

Belial grinned and with a slight nod of his head, he and Lucie blinked from the room like a flash of lightning. Alastair was released from the spear in the wall and fell crumpled to the ground on his knees. His hands went to his chest to feel for the wound, but while the blood and hole in his shirt were still there, the wound and weapon were not.

A/N: Hope I redeemed myself just a little bit. Next update comes out 12/20

[wychive]

𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨

summary // you found your pile of ‘letters’ to hyunjin that contain thoughts that have never been said and decided to write to him one last time.

pairing(s) // hyunjin x gn!reader, hyunjin x oc, slight minho x reader

genre(s) // angst, letter fic 

warning(s) // mentions of food, themes of being forgotten, vulgar wording, humiliation, overthinking

word count // 2.0k

author's note // happy birthday @noya-sannnn​ !! im sorry this was so late hhh you know how i am irl,, but i hope you enjoy this! i love you so much, jane <3 i apologize for the many grammar mistakes gn. i recommend listening to iu’s ending scene while reading this! btw y/n/n means your nickname.

[10/01/14, 3:55am]

dear jinnie,

hi there! it's y/n <3 i hope you're doing okay - i mean of course you are pfft anyways, just writing this short letter (more like paragraph)  sort of as a venting mechanism? for things i cant tell you about lol  im not so sure how you would call it, since you're so much better at words than i am. basically were like:

hyunjin: ow a brain freeze!

me: haha brain go brrrr

anyways haha yea <3 it's 4am so like,, ill see you at school!

signed,

your loser,

y/n/n

[15/02/14, 12:34am]

yo heartthrob!

im back with this kinda stuff haha it's been a whole? week? since ive written one of these so like yes..hi! i just wanted to say thanks, for today. you really know how to cheer me up huh? you really outdid yourself by setting up that little picnic for us. congrats on making the strawberry cake so perfectly <3 this day will always stay as a core memory in the back of my brain. you're too caring sometimes,,, istg you'll pay for this [maybe hugs?] >:) 

signed,

your partner in crime,

y/n/n

[30/02/15, 01:29am]

jinnie-senpai~~

LMAO you hate me calling you that, doesn't change a thing though. hehe,, nways i hope you enjoyed your birthday present :) i got you that really cool skateboard that you wanted. i worked my ass off for that in my mother's garden so like,, you gotta thank me for that a thousand times :D nah jk, its a sincere gift, from me to you. i rarely do this for ANYONE so consider yourself lucky to have a best friend like me -3- also, seungmin is like….kinda the cutest person ever. introduce me to him pls, thank!

signed,

<your bestest friend3,

y/n

(p.s. you're kinda cute too,,,, ig,,, still stinkee tho)

[13/04/15, 9:04pm]

hey 'baby' (HAHAHA ihy for this)

i hope your day was okay! i didn't see much of you today (which was sort of a bummer but wtv) so like…. uh yea. you told me you were doing okay over text, which kinda surprised me because like?? we always video call lol this is kinda the first time,, but its okay, i trust you! (i really hope youre doing alright tho, i'll beat anyone up if they make you sad >:( ) you also called me 'sweetheart' today which was like…. omg wtf haha????????? that was so weird to me for some reason… a good kind of weird :D we haven't done those kinds of nicknames in a while so…. happy to know that they're back in session <3 i talked to the new girl today, she's really cool! like she knows the bean song on tiktok so like its a total win heh, ill introduce you to her tomorrow! you'll love her a lot

signed,

your 'lover',

y/n/n

[08/06/16, 10:23pm]

hey howl (hehe go back to that movie night we had)

this spring break sucks so much,, esp because youre not here (you still couldve brought me along :'[ ) but wtv i hope youre enjoying yourself. ive been hanging out with yeonnie lately and i found out she likes conan grey too like pls i love her sm. can we adopt her?? please???? she told me you guys have been video calling too and that makes me so happy!! you two are getting along so well aaa my precious babies </3 

what if you developed a crush on her? haha…..jk unless?? (no jk dont shes all mine, stay away >:) ) anyways, i hope the three of us hang out soon. maybe go to that ice cream parlour where they serve the best cookies and cream?  

signed,

your daisy,

y/n/n

[19/07/15, 01:23am]

peepee poopoo hello

heyheyhey!! (heh, haikyuu thingz) i hope youre doing okay! i mean sure you are, with everything going so well. also i feel like you're not telling me something. maybe it's just me? is it? i hope it is because you tell me everything,, we've been talking less these days but its okay! i know how busy you are, especially with your dad always bugging you,,

also, i think yeonbin likes you :0,, she keeps talking about you whenever we hang out. don't get me wrong, its not bad that she likes you but...something doesn't feel right. i feel like i'm being the third wheeler here and like ugh idk. haha laughs yea i think its just me.. im sorry, i didnt mean to do you like this,, anyways, ill see you soon + her too ofc- yall are inseparable lmao

signed,

your moonlight,

y/n/n

[23/07/15, 01:56am]

greetings, kind sir

lol more like mean sir but like aight KSKSK,, anyways,, how have you been? we haven't really talked in a while,, our convos are always so short with it being one-sided :/ i wish you were online more. yeonnie is ignoring me,, do you know why? i think you do,,, but when i asked you just said you didnt know. did i do something wrong? pls tell me.. 

she blocked my contact the other day and she won't even smile at me when i pass her in the hallways. its,, sad and stressful especially because she was the only one that would genuinely talk to me. i hate to say this,, but i miss you. us, hanging out like the best trio we are, yknow? but i dont think you miss me the same way. sorry, im getting out of hand. i know im just overreacting. im just gonna sleep ig,, good night! sweet dreams,,

signed,

your pink lemonade,

y/n/n

[25/07/15, 03:25am]

hi there

i heard you and her got together?? congrats, jinnie! im so proud of you,, especially because you never had even considered getting a girlfriend a few months earlier lmaO you really woo the ladies huh? anyways,, i hope you've been well since we last talked,, how many days has it been?? i would say nearly a week or so but honestly it feels like a hundred years,, considering you and i used to talk every day. but you have her now to keep you company.

keep this a secret but can you possibly tell me why it hurts when i see her? or when i mention her or even think of her?? is it because she's connected to you? but.. you're my best friend, so why? is it because i miss you? is it because im alone now? is it because you left me with a simple 'i have to go now,, bye y/n/n.'? im not sure either. im being silly, i apologize. ill figure it out sooner or later. sweet dreams, jinnie

signed,

your asswipe,

y/n

[25/07/15, 04:30am]

jinnie

it's because i love you. 

signed,

your butterfly,

y/n

[??/08/??, 05:??am]

you

i miss your lame jokes. i miss your smile. i miss your laughs. i miss your funny faces. i miss the way your eyes twinkle. i miss th way you would make me happy just by doing the bare minimum. i miss the disaster you made when cooking breakfast. i miss the night when you snuck me out just to go to that pretty lantern event. i miss when you would call out my name everytime we met. i miss when we would share earbuds in train rides. dont you get it, hyunjin? i miss you.

[??/??/15, ??:??am]

asshole.

please tell me that isn't true, please. you're too kind to do these kinds of things, right? + i was your best friend,, then, why, why did you hurt me like this. i didnt do anything wrong.. you couldve just told me you didnt like me,,, why did she have to tell me? out of all people. 

youre so pathetic for this,, i thought you were brave, bold - but youre just a fucking coward. i loved you, i really did. and i realised too late… im sorry. she,, i shouldn't have talked to her in the first place, right? i bet you knew she humiliated me, in front of everyone. of course you did, you were the only one that knew. you told her. fuck, i hate you so much (yet why do i long for you on a night like this?). you know how much that'll affect me and yet, there you are, laughing about it with her.

signed,

fuck off,

you know who i am.

[31/08/15, 03:41am]

ah, jinnie

please tell me this is just a nightmare. please, please. stop just reading my texts, please answer them. jinnie. i miss you so much. i dont care bout her, please just let me be in your arms. i dont care if you love me back, please just talk to me at least. tell me what i did wrong,, jinnie,, please,,, clear these tear stains on my cheek with kisses.

signed,

your fuck-up,

y/n

[15/09/15, 04:59am]

jinnie

why do i keep crying because of you? its been a few weeks since everything has happened. please, nothing has changed. i still love you the same even with all the hatred i have pent up in this stupid brain of mine. i wish i could just walk back in time, to where it all began.

when i first met you in third grade and you pushed me while playing soccer or maybe when we took those ridiculous prom pictures, remember those? i hope you still have them,, because i do too. i hope the pictures of us on your wall still hang there,, it'll remind you of the happy times. hm,, maybe you don't need them. 

you already have millions of pictures with you and her,, i bet you printed some and replaced those with ours right? sly dog. 

signed,

friend,

y/n/n

[04/02/16, 12:57am]

hey

i went to the park today and saw both of you being happy. it's nice to see your smile again. im sorry i didnt go up to you,, i just thought it would be awkward. when i heard that adorable laugh of yours, it made me realise that i lost something special. but it's okay isnt it? as your happiness matters more than mine. 

signed,

y/n

[06/01/20, 08:00pm]

dear hyunjin,

im doing fine here. how about you? gosh,, how long has it been? years? since we last talked to each other. i havent heard from you since. i would just like to say i still think of you sometimes, when watering the plants or dancing while making pancakes. sometimes i think you're here with me too, just being the pals we were. 

sometimes i'd see you out, just reading a book in the park or buying pasta sauce at the grocery store. it's nice to see you having a stable life. im not sure if you're still with her or not, but its good to know that you still have that large friend group. also! you're never gonna guess who im dating--

it's minho! do you remember him? the one that i used to hate,, uh yeah. he asked me out the other day- you may wonder how tf,,, i too do not know how tf but he gives the best hugs ever. he gave me the love i wanted from you. he stitched my heart back together after it broke,, i love him so much, jinnie..

it's snowing,, do you remember when we would skate on the frozen lake in front of your house? are your parents well? i wonder if your mother still has those earrings i bought for her birthday. i never told you this but your laugh and hers sound so similar. 

i would just like to say thank you, for everything. you were a big part of my life, up until now. when we see each other after this, we would just be strangers. maybe flash a little smile or give a little wave whenever we greet each other but nothing more. some memories of us would flow in every now and then but it'll just be a short teaser. well, i'll be going now. smile for me, okay?

signed,

the one that loved you the most,

y/n.

taglist // @/noya-sannnn, @crvgio​ , @neo-shitty​

reply to be in my gen taglist!

[ashistrashhh]

here are some fic recs!! including sakuatsu, bokuaka, kuroken and matsuhana bc i couldnt help myself

if you want, ask me about a certain ship and ill give you some recs!

-sakuatsu-

Marble and Sandstone by red_camellia

rating: G words: 12,937 chapters: 2/2 

author summary: Miya Atsumu only cares about volleyball and nothing else. That is, until he develops a strange obsession with the marble statue of a young man that seems vaguely familiar in his university's arts department. One day that statue comes alive as the very real Sakusa Kiyoomi, and they are left with the mystery of why Sakusa Kiyoomi was turned into a statue and only came back to life when Atsumu touched him. Their new-found connection and the strange mystery turns Atsumu's life upside down, not least because of his growing feelings for Sakusa.

my notes: this was a rlly cute fic!!! 11/10 would read again!!

let it go (paint my body gold) by lunarism

rating: T words: 3,272 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It becomes a routine for them. Sometimes they go grocery shopping and make dinner together, other times they end up talking until Sakusa feels like his own shower and bed is calling him. Every single time Sakusa gets home, shrugs his coat off, balls it up, and proceeds to scream profusely into the fabric for a few minutes.

my notes: pining!!! sakusa!!! also casual painter!atsumu!!! and they paint together!!!

craft a miracle with these hands, lips, (silence) by chrysanthe (sonderesque)

rating: T words: 4,252 chapters: 1/1

author summary: ‘Someone is here to ruin your night,’ his door tells him. ‘You should let them in.’ “I’M HOMELESS OMI-OMI. HOMELESS,” yells the one here to ruin his night. “LET ME IN.”

(What does Kiyoomi sell his sanctuary for?)

my notes: hnnn rlly fuckin cute,, and domestic,,,,

Clipped To You by littleboat

rating: T words: 8,174 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.

Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.

or Sakusa starts wearing hair clips and Atsumu is more than a little obsessed

my notes: minor kagehina, bokuaka // god these fics rlly make me simp for fictional characters even more than i should. but!! sakusa!!! in hairclips!!! and a pining atsumu!!!

learn how to lay me down in something other than danger, other than fury by rosevtea 

words: 34,211 chapters: 1/1

author summary: All of the ways fellow college TA Miya Atsumu reinvents Kiyoomi's definition of normal.

my notes: god i loved this. it’s a fake dating au and like,, even though they’re “dating” sakusa keeps letting his guard down little by little around atsumu and it surprises everyone. komori and akaashi just know  that they’re were genuinely pining for eachother

among probabilities and a thousand fates by aalphard

rating: T words: 15,675 chapters: 1/1

author summary: prompt fill for “in a world where the red string of fate exists, person a’s finger always twitches when person b, who can see the string, tugs on their string” | or sakusa thought he had a tic and atsumu liked to see his confused expression when it started to happen exclusively when he was around.

my notes: i! loved! it!! so basically atsumu and osamu have the rare gift of seeing the red string of fate, so they know its real but sakusa, like most other people dont believe it exists. so atsumu gives sakusa a (kinda) hard time. rlly cute!! i love soulmate aus!

-bokuaka- 

love in the time of wifi by dalyeau

rating: G words: 4,177 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Akaashi is coming to terms with the fact that he might be romantically interested in his volleyball captain. Hence, doing what any sixteen year old with a problem should do. He asks about it online.

my notes: really cute fic about akaashi asking what he should do about his crush on a site similar to reddit. its kinda a “i didnt know it was you” kind of fic and it made me happy

steam by orphan_account

rating: E words: 8,474 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

The coach blew the whistle for practice to begin, and Bokuto drummed his fingers against the bleachers, awaiting Kuroo’s reply. He was about to walk away, when his phone buzzed in his hand.kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

my notes: explicit!!! but really wholesome. kuroo is honestly the best wingman. i also think this is my favourite bokuaka smutfic?? 

just to miss the sun by rosevtea

rating: T words: 15,126 chapters:1/1

author summary: Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

my notes: akaashi is a booktuber and bokuto crashes one of his streams. fans begin to speculate. rlly fluffy and can u tell i like bokuaka

brain fish by iceblinks

rating: T words: 12,026 chapters: 6/6

author summary: Akaashi wakes up to a string of texts from an unknown number. 

my notes: i love text fics and i love wrong number aus so u can tell how much i loved this. really fluffy and i come back to it time to time

-kuroken-

us three by honey_s

rating: T words: 5,137 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo’s gaze flits over to the utensil. His eyes bulge out of his skull. “Wh—is that a meat hammer? Put it back!” Akaashi’s head recoils back in confusion. “I don’t understand the problem here.” “Why on Earth have you got a fucking meat hammer? We aren’t going to kill somebody!” “Well,” Akaashi begins, clearly taken aback, “I apologise for assuming. I had heard Kenma-san had been hurt in school and after getting a message from both of you to meet late at night, I merely filled in the blanks and assumed we were going to beat someone up, for lack of a better term.” “Not literally! I meant metaphorically, or figuratively, or something!” “Idiomically?” “That isn’t a word, Bokuto-san.” “Jesus Christ,” Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “We're going to jail."

my notes: bokuaka and kuroo are ready to beat someone up for kenma!! and we stan!! 

Cherry Pits and Cat Tattoos by strawberryriver

rating: G words: 6,141 chapters: 1/1

author summary: 

Kuroo has been in communication with his soulmate ever since they were kids. They've known each other for so long that he never really worried about when or how he would meet them. At least, not until he meets the roommate of Bokuto's soulmate.Soulmate AU in which things written on your skin show up on your soulmate. Companion piece/same AU as Serendipty

--------------------

Kuroo Tetsurou liked to write on his arms. Despite his mother's half-serious warnings about “ink poisoning” or staining his skin, he insisted on marking his arms and legs wherever he could. Not like his best-friend-since-always Bokuto Koutaro, who had to write on his arms or he’d forget to breathe, but artfully. He’d draw designs, animals, the occasional chemical compound. The whole idea behind soulmates fascinated him: how one person could mark their arm and someone potentially thousands of miles away, would have that same mark appear. The amount of articles, studies, and books he’d read about the topic, even at a young age, could put an undergrad researcher to shame.

my notes: again with the soulmate au bc i cannot help myself. but really cute!!! probably gonna read this again later!

Boom, Toasted by protostar (hearthope)

rated: T words: 6,782 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

 FROM: yuuji any bets on who hes texting??

FROM: eita He's smiling at his phone. Kuroo, probably

FROM: kentarou Kuroo

TO: fake family Have any of you ever once considered not prying

FROM: eita You deserve it

FROM: yuuji how can we not when ur in love!!

Kenma gets a text from an unknown number. He'd be lying if he said the guy behind it wasn't kind of endearing.

my notes: again, i love wrong number texts. it focuses more on kenma’s friendship, but kenma’s pov with texting kuroo is more than him realizing feelings and stuff. really cute, ive read it multiple times. 

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing

rating: T words: 3,631 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

my notes: i! love! social media! fics!!! really cute and basically people wondering who the mysterious kuroo is to applepi. 

MATSUHANA!!! the underrated gem

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic

rating: M words: 2,119 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Hanamaki breaks his No Texting In Class rule, and it's all downhill from there.

my notes: honestly more funny than it suggests, but its matsuhana, they’re meme lords.

rated m for by orphan_account

rated: T words: 10,692 chapters: 1/1

author summary: He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

Hanamaki stares at the title of the script he’d so gracefully neglected the night before.

FORBIDDEN PARADISE

“Excuse me,” Hanamaki starts, raising a pen in the air while staring blankly at the packet in his free hand. “Just to clarify, you want me to record a boy's love CD with Matsukawa?”

my notes: a very good voice actor au. there is some misunderstanding on hanamaki’s part bc he didnt finish listening to matsukawa, and this is really cute and i love matsuhana. 

In A Quiet Night, All Sounds Carry by levyovochka

rating: E words: 4,794 chapters: 1/1

authors summary: “Ah, ah, Too—!”

Hanamaki hates his university dorm.

“—ru, let me cum, please!”

Hold up. That’s a fucking understatement. Let him rephrase it: Hanamaki loathes his university dorm with passion. Detest the damned abomination, abhors it—

“—ru! Coming, coming—”

It has only been a month and Hanamaki already wants to die.

my notes: as u can guess minor iwaoi // rlly well written and bottom hanamaki rights and maybe my favourite matsuhana smutfic??? and hooh boy i simp for matsukawa

call me maybe by totooru

rating: T words: 33,689 chapters: 14/14

author summary: Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

my notes: minor iwaoi, daisuga, bokuaka // god i think this is my favourite matsuhana fic overall, maybe in general, but my god is it great. this is probably a common rec, but its understandable as to why it is. basically au where makki texts matsun (who goes to karasuno) instead of oikawa for tips to beat iwaizumi at an arm wrestling match. but they keep messaging. and holy shit i love their conversations. please read this, it is 256/10

there we go!! i might go a part two with more ships (kagehina, tsukkiyama and iwaoi) but this took up way to much time lol. i have an essay due in a couple hours. but hope u like these fics as much as i do!!

[impala1967dwinchester]

Baby Fever IV

*Not my gif*

Word Count: 1k

Mention of All befriended people of the Winchester boys 

Masterlist

Christmas had gone wonderful the tree sitting bright everyday. Hunts were tolerable nothing too dramatic or bizarre. The new year was stupendous the boys hadn’t made any foolish choices just yet. Sam and Dean had ended up treasuring their gifts. Dean had gotten a few things for his brother and a few things for me.

Recap:

“I’m so sorry Y/n. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.” Sam said going to sit down at the now-empty table. “Sam, it’s fine. I kinda liked it.” I said the blush rising in my face.

I went over to Sam kissing his forehead, and said “good night Sam,”

I went into my room putting together the boy’s baskets, full of things that I assumed that the boys would like.

Some things were crazy, some were more sentimental. Sam on the other hand had thought about his gifts, clothes for Dean since he had a problem with washing his clothes after a rather gruesome hunt. Sam had also gotten Dean a few magazines, along with a new pair of boots. He also gave Dean a card inside of which held a gift card for the new year of pies. Something that Dean stood and hugged his brother for.

For me, Sam had gotten a few of the same things, new boots, new clothing. The different things were such as a heart necklace, the stone was blue with diamonds that crested the outline of the heart. And a new pair of jammies.

His brother went to tease him. “Oh look at you giving special gifts to Y/n” “Dean shut up, Or I’ll take your gift-card back,” Sam said with raised eyebrows. Dean pouted and then apologized.

“Do you like it?” Sam asked me. I giggled, looking up at him. “Can you help me put it on?” I asked. I heard a snort come from Dean as he looked up from his phone. “Of course Y/n” I pulled my hair to the side letting Sam drape the necklace over my chest. “All done.” I heard Sam say I let my hair go and turning.

He looking tracing the silver chain down to the crevice of my chest. “It looks good.” He smiled and winked at me. The new year was amazing the boys had gathered a few friends, a small party. Sam had decorated the map room and library. A mistletoe sitting above the entire way of the library. Something that I assume Dean or Sam forgot to take down. Food and drinks lining the table. A few poppers and glow sticks alongside the drinks.

Dean had invited Charlie, Jody, Donna, Rowena, Kevin, Garth, his wife, and his kids, Castiel, and of course Claire with her girlfriend Kaia. Like I had said before it was a rather small party. Dean had dragged his TV out of his room placing it at the end of the table in the library and looked for a news channel.

“So what’s up with the mistletoe?” Jody asked. Dean turned around “Shit, I forgot that. Whatever.” Jody chuckled

Finally, after drinking and dancing, it was closer to the end of the year. We immediately started to pair up with people sitting together and just being happy. I hadn’t been paying attention when I felt a large hand grab my hand. When I looked up it was Sam I sighed in contentment.

At that moment I think he had kind of made a whole life with me in his head. His bright smile only becomes brighter whenever he talked to me. His broad chest and ridged shoulders dropping when I grabbed his wrapped my arms around his neck.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see, Rowena smiling and watching the television. She winked at me. She had become a motherly figure to Sam and was always there on her own to protect him. That wink and smile had given me a sort of approval. For what I didn’t know yet.

“Yo, Lovebirds The count down is about to start,” Dean said. I rolled my eyes. “Dean If there weren’t so many people here right now, I come over there and punch you.” I slapped Sams chest “Stop and just enjoy the new year.” I said with a small chuckle.

In unison, we counted for the new year.

“10″

“9″

“8″

“7″

“6″

“5″

“4″

“3″

“2″

“1″

“Happy new year,” We all said, and Sam kissed me. I kissed him back. The kiss was deep, meaningful. Like Sam had waited his entire life to do kiss me. He left my lips, and instead of going to cup my cheeks.

Everything after that seemed like a dream. Sam was touchy. Which didn’t bother me at all. Not wanting to let me go for too long. He’d kiss my forehead and cheek. After a while of more drinking and dancing, the Winchesters friends started leaving. Leaving just Dean, Cass, Sam, and I.  

Having someone that is touchy with me is new. Before coming to the bunker, and being around the boys, I hadn’t been around the best of men. My father was abusive to my mother, which caused any other relationship that I was in to be abusive. It was like I attracted crazy, I attracted the abusive.

It started when I was in high school every boyfriend was horrible. I was either psychical beat or mentally abused. Nothing was off the table for the men that I attracted.

My first boyfriend Clyde was great at the beginning of our relationship everything was sparkles and rainbows. But after awhile Clyde started to mentally fuck with me. he’d accuse me of cheating when in reality I was only with my sisters. He’d come up to me in school and grab me harshly. Pushing and pulling me into a closet or teacher's bathroom.

For day afterward I’d have marks around my neck, and wrists. He left marks on me, and he hated when I would cover them. My scarfs and bracelets would be ripped from my person.

That was only my freshman year. In my sophomore year of high school, I was dating a much worse. I was thinking of sitting down in the library. “Y/n are you okay?” Sam asked me. I thought for a minute. He had kissed me twice under his own wanting. He wasn’t abusive to me. He was the kindest, emotional, caring person I had ever met. Maybe I should tell him about my past, just so he knows, maybe it will be okay.

“No Sam. I’m not okay.” I said playing with the hem of my jacket. He turned his head. “Is it something that I did?... I knew I should have asked if you wanted to kiss me!” He said. He sat down next to me. “Sam, would you stop overthinking everything,” I said.

He shook his head and wrapped his hand around mine. “I was thinking about my past relationships. You kissed me and I can’t stop thinking that I might fuck this up by bringing my past into everything.” I said “ I tried dating all of my high school years, all of which ended in me broken-hearted and more broken than I was before.

“Some people only come into your life to show you what love is not,” Sam said. Wow, I don’t think I had ever thought of it that way. “Sam? Can I just tell you about my past relationships so you understand where I’m coming from?” I asked.

He smiled squeezing my hand. “Of course, Y/n”. “My first boyfriend was harsh and emotionally abusive to me. Clyde was my freshman crush and my boyfriend for a short while. I spend the rest of my freshman year thinking that love was meant to be abusive and hurt each other.”

He hummed letting me know that he was still listening to me.

“My second boyfriend Otis was my sophomore crush. He was again nice at the start, but it turned quickly into me being a “bitch” and a “whore” who was only after his friends. He was so mentally abusing that I actually ended up breaking up with him.”

“I’m glad that you were able to get out of it. Be the strong you.” Sam said.

“My third boyfriend had actually been so nice, ya see Sebastian was so cute he’d bring me flowers, and get me coffee in the morning. My junior year was set seeing as my third boyfriend was not just thinking about himself. It ended when he just cut me off. The niceness stopped and instead of telling me why he just left me on the end of a hook.”

“Seems like a dick,” Sam said I giggled and rolled my eyes.

“You see my fourth boyfriend was that guy that ended up dying from the Djinn. Tobias was a wishy-washy guy. One day he’d hit me and the next he’d bring flowers home, praising me until I saw it was okay. Just when I thought he was a good guy he’d go and fuck it up. He’d never actually go to the bar and drink. he’d go to the bar and go find another girl to fuck.”

“Y/n? Why didn’t you say the truth when we asked you?” Sam asked. I think Sam thought I wasn’t going to tell him seeing as I was quiet. “I mean you don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary.” Sam said a small expression of sadness falling over his face.

“You know, you’re too nice to be with me. Where’d you get it from?” I asked a chuckle coming from within me. “Y/n it didn’t get anywhere. I’m just a nice guy with a heart. I promise that I won’t treat you like that ever.”

“You promise?” I asked my voice definitely starting to crack. I hadn’t talked to anyone about the boys I had dated, nobody knew about the shit they had done to me.

“Y/n. I promise that I’ll be better than they were. I can’t say that I don’t have my issues and things I need to work on, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want this to not work. We both have to put in the effort for this to work.” Sam said.

“I  know that this is early and that you’re still hurting, but I want to be with you. I want this to work for you. We can go slow, we can go fast. Anything you are comfortable with. I just want to be in your corner Y/n.” Sam said.

Completed 01/17/2021