#not fully capable of capturing a truly 'oh fuck' moment but

[whitherwanderer]

Incident report: I observed an antelope herd in the Upper Paths exhibiting erratic behavior. Usually they're quite skittish, but the herd I came across on my way to Quarrymill were highly aggressive. A doe charged at me. Usually only the bucks are so brazen, and only during the rut. Otherwise, they're wont to run at the slightest hint of a man or another predator. I scared a few of the aggravated does off with some loud curses and clapping, but that apparently attracted a protective buck. The buck came running to defend the herd and, as I stared at it, I couldn't help but notice it seemed... off. Its fur was mangy, eyes deadened and hollow. Its gait wasn't the delicate trot one might associate with cervines. It was heavy, forced. Like it was something larger bending itself into the shape of a antelope.

So, I shouldn't have been surprised when it stood up on two legs and began to swipe at me. I ran, of course, but the blasted thing was fast. It followed me deeper into the wood where I was able to lose it with some careful avoidance and remaining perfectly still. It eventually lost interest, dropping back onto its forelegs and galloping off, presumably to rejoin its herd. I don't think it can see well. It reacted to sound more than aught else. I kept that in mind when I returned to observe it again, but I didn't find that same, aggressive herd. Just the usual skittish sort. I have to wonder if the buck was the only false antelope in the herd, or if I met a whole family of them. Investigator's note: I'm not fully convinced its a malevolent creature so much as it is a predator, albeit an unnatural one. Either way, I've made the Wailers at Quarrymill aware of the incident, as well as the Adventurers posted at the Druthers. I was advised to lay off the ale. Twice.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts 

Part 22:

You closed your phone, rolling your eyes at his words. 

You were a floor down from Bakugou’s hospital room, currently stood in front of the vending machine. After your collective screaming match, you’d quickly realized just how hungry you were. Apparently, arguing and yelling so much works up one hell of an appetite- who knew? So now here you were, standing in front of the machine, holding a wad of horribly crinkled money Bakugou had insistently and unwaveringly shoved at you on your way out.

Originally, you had fully intended to pay for your own snacks. You’d even sneakily tried to grab your wallet as you left, but apparently that didn’t work. He saw you, because of course he did. So, waffling over it for just barely another second, you put your own money away. You knew Bakugou wasn’t bluffing- or probably wasn’t. It wouldn’t surprise you at all if he truly did know how expensive the vending machine was, down to the very last cent of each item. He was weird like that.

You shrugged, if he wanted you to use his money so badly than you weren’t gonna pick at fight over it. You selected a bag of chips for yourself, and the gross-looking health bar Bakugou had requested- because apparently, even while already uncomfortable and injured, Bakugou didn’t have an easy time giving himself a break. 

When you walked back, entering the hospital room once more, Bakugou wasn’t alone. You couldn’t tell what surprised you more- the three police officers crowding his bed, or the man standing off to the side. A man with hair so obviously fake and stop-sign red that it nearly nauseated you.

You weren’t sure how to proceed, whether or not you were even supposed to be hearing this conversation, but you didn’t have to flounder for long. The red-haired man saw you almost immediately and began making his way over. 

“Hey! How’s it going? I’m so sorry, but Dynamite’s actually not taking visitors right now!” He says, says brightly. Then he’s spinning you around and pushing at your shoulders lightly to get you moving out the door. “My name’s Kirishima though, and I can totally, totally, help you back downstairs to wait with the other civilians!”

“No, but I-” You start, your feet barely able to move as fast as Kirishima is dragging you along. “I have to-”

“Yeah, I get it! And that’s so totally nice of you to want to thank him, super, super nice,” Kirishima interrupts you, leading you down the hallway. “But he’s real busy talking to the police right now so-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m his soulmate!” You pull your wrist out of his light grip, halting. “My name’s Y/n L/n.”

“Wait-” Kirishima stops in his tracks, suddenly spinning around to face you. “How do you know that name?”

“Oh my god-” You huff in frustration, shaking Kirishima’s hands off you. “You sound just like Bakugou. It’s- that’s my name- like, my actual name, okay! How else would I know it if it wasn’t me?” 

A beat of silence as you watch his eyes widen.

“So you’re really her?” He says in disbelief.

“Yes! Obviously,” You pinch the bridge of your nose, breathing through your irritation. “Now would you knock it off and let me go back to his room? I get it- you’re like, security, or whatever, but I’m not a civilian and I-”

“He’s gonna kill me.” Kirishima pales in front of you, suddenly grabbing your wrist again and pulling you fast in the direction of Bakugou’s room. “Oh god, he’s gonna kill me.” 

“W-what? Why?” You stumble, nearly falling into his back. “Hey! Slow down!” 

“Because I totally manhandled you out the door- god, that was so not manly of me!” He breathes out quickly, but he listens and drops your wrist, slowing down to a pace you could keep up with. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I thought you were a civilian, you know? They’ve been crawling all over the waiting room since I got here, sneakin’ up and trying to thank him, and I thought you were one of ‘em.”

“Thank him? For what?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Um- no?”

It’s hits you then that you didn’t really know why Bakugou was in the hospital in the first place. Only that he was ‘held up’ and then hurt and had been absent for the last two weeks. You wanted to smack yourself in the face. You’d spent the entire afternoon yelling and arguing with him and absolutely not asking the important questions. Well- you did ask some questions, but not enough. Apparently.

“Wow, figures. You know, that’s just like our guy Bakugou! Always talkin’ so much but still never bragging about all the actual cool shit he pulls off.” Kirishima rubs the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment. “C’mon, lets hurry back. I really don’t think he’d be too happy if I was the one who told ya everything.” 

You have a million and one questions sitting on your tongue but quickly decide you’d much rather ask Bakugou than the man standing in front of you. You pick up your pace, finally once again in front of Room 427. When you enter, the police are leaving, all three of them walking past you on their way out. 

“Hey! Shitty Hair!” Bakugou seems to ignore you, instead choosing to yell, loudly, at Kirishima. “Who the fuck gave you permission to go around draggin’ her like that? I fuckin’ saw you, you imbecile!”

“Hey!” The red-head whines, hands out and placating. “How was I supposed to know? You didn’t say anything, man! I didn’t know, okay?”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter, you dumbass, I’m not gonna let you just fuckin-” Bakugou starts, but then he whips his head around toward you, eyes catching yours. “Oi- Idiot. What the hell are you standin’ around in the doorway like that for, hah? Look stupid as shit.” 

“Bakugou!” Kirishima seems appalled, grabbing at his chest dramatically. “You can’t talk to her like that! She’s-”

“Perfectly fucking capable of defending herself, thank you very much.” You snark, walking towards Bakugou and tossing the health bar at him lightly. He doesn’t expect it and you watch as it hits him squarely in the chest. You smile. “Real nice catch, angry man.” 

“Woulda fuckin’ caught it if I was in top shape.” He grumbles, but then he’s smirking and opening the snack just the same. “Anyways- yeah, that’s Shitty Hair. Sorry he fuckin’ sucks.” 

You clasp a hand over your as a laugh escapes. Kirishima doesn’t seem to think it’s nearly as funny as you do, and you watch as his face seizes.

“Hey, man! What the hell!” 

“You deserve it, bitch! Shouldn’t a fuckin’ grabbed her like that and dragged her wherever the fuck.” Bakugou shrugs. “If you don’t wanna be told you suck, then don’t fuckin’ suck! It’s easy as shit- even for a clown like you.”

Kirishima just groans, hands beginning to wave emphatically. “Do you even know how many people I stopped from walking in here? I did it for you, man!” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Bakugou barks, taking a bite of the health bar. He chews for all of a second, before talking through a mouthful of food. “You should fuckin’ leave.” 

“What? Why do I-” Kirishima pauses a second, blinks, looks at you, and then a smirk begins to tug at his lips. “Oh, I get it! Totally manly, Bakugou! It’s because of h-”

“No!” Bakugou defends, his cheeks reddening slightly. “It’s- fuckin’ police, shitty hair! Told ‘em to wait outside. They wanna talk to your dumbass- They have more idiotic fuckin’ questions about after I passed out.” 

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Kirishima nods, moving towards the door. “You want me to come back later?”

“No.” Bakugou growls.

That, you notice, strangely doesn’t seem to make Kirishima upset? He instead smiles brightly at Bakugou, giving him a thumbs up, and leaves, pulling the door shut behind him.

It’s suddenly quiet in the room, but you don’t let it last long. You’ve got answers to pry out of your soulmate.

“So- heard you passed out, angry man.” You state simply, dropping once again in the chair next to his bedside. “When’d that happen?”

“Few days ago. Been here since then.”

You roll your eyes at his short answer. Leave it up to Bakugou to tell you only what you literally asked for and absolutely nothing else.

“Okay. But how? Where?” You ask. “What about before then?”

Bakugou huffs at all your questions, but then he’d nodding and answering all the same.

“Had to fuckin’ save this man from hittin’ the ground real hard so I took all the impact. Hit my head or something, when I hit the ground, and I broke a bunch of shitty bones. Guess I was out a few days, and then I woke up here. Then I fuckin’ called you or whatever.”

“You- you took a fall? That knocked you out? For days?” You gasped. “How goddamn far was the fall? Jesus!” 

“Four stories.” Bakugou says, and the uneffected, factual way he says it makes your blood go cold. “My fault. Shoulda been faster but I was already fuckin’ weak from bein’ captured.” 

  “Captured?”

“Yeah. Went undercover and tried to infiltrate this villian lair, and the fuckin’ stupid group of villians lumped me in with a bunch of other hostages.” He grunted. “I tried to blow ‘em all the fuck up, once I realized, but they had this absolute bitch, with a stupid fuckin’ siren quirk! Sang a bunch of shitty, annoying, fuckin’ songs that paralyzed me. Couldn’t do a damn thing! For over a week!”

“O-okay.” You nodded shakily. “Then what happened? How’d you get out?”

“Fuckin’ didnt. Just sat there, stuck on my ass, kept barely alive by that stupid bitch and her henchman!” Bakugou barked, hands clenching into fists. “Then shitty hair and a few other fuckers came and knocked her out- they stayed to fight the rest of the other villians or whatever but I was still too fuckin’ weak to fight so I rounded up the other hostages.”

“So you fell saving one of them?”

“Yeah. Stupid kid stayed to watch the fight, like a complete fuckin’ idiot, and got blasted by a villian out the window.” Bakugou flushes, averting his eyes. “I jumped out after him. To save him or whatever.”

You nod, very minutely smiling as you looked at his flushing face.

You were proud of him.

He might’ve been bad- had done bad in the past, but it seemed like that wasn’t all Bakugou was. He had good in him. A lot of good. He nearly finished himself off saving an innocent after all- that had to a least make him some sort of a hero.

“Well- okay....That all- that all sounds fucking horrifying, but I get it. It’s your job, right?” You sigh. “I’m just glad you made it out alive. I was really scared, you know?”

“Hah? Scared? Now why the fuck would ya go and do something stupid like that?”

“Because you weren’t answering me!”

“I told you I’d be gone!” Bakugou defends, before pulling out his phone. “Look! Fuckin’ sent ya the texts and everything!”

“You said a few days! Not 2 fucking we-“ You paused. “Wait. Why did you say a few days in the first place?”

“Knew it was gonna be fuckin’ dangerous when I left, so, you know,” He averted his eyes, voice coming out low and guilty. “Was supposed to be incase I got hurt. And was fuckin’ out or something. So you wouldn’t wor-“

“Worry?” You groaned, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “It didn’t- I was worried! I thought something happened! Or worse I thought that-“

“Worse? Fuck you mean, shitty woman? What the fuck stupid conclusion did you come to that’s worse than dyin’?”

“Bakugou,” You huffed, your shoulders sagging. “I thought maybe, that maybe you wouldn’t tell me anything because you were a bad guy- a bad villian.”

Bakugou’s face crumples. His angry eyebrows fall and his puffed out cheeks deflate, and his mouth closes tip-lipped and tense over sharp teeth. He looks devastated. “It- I didn’t-“ He struggles and you’ve never heard his voice sound so small before. “Y-you don’t think that, right? Now?”

“No!” You try to recover, hands out and assuring. “It’s- after the video, maybe? I did, b-but not now! Not now.”

He doesn’t say anything- won’t meet your eyes.

“Look, Bakugou,” You clear your throat. “I only know you as you are now, not who you were before. And I think- I think that maybe, now you’re almost a different person than before. So that’s why it was a shock. To see you like that. To see you so hateful.”

You duck your head, just barely catching his eyes before he averts them again.

“But that’s not you anymore? Right? You’re not that guy. So it’s okay. We’re okay.” You sigh. “Will you look at me? Please?”

He doesn’t, just continues fiddling with the thin blankets trapped between his shaking fingers.

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” You ask, tone pleading. “I feel like, maybe, if I didn’t have to find out like tha-“

“Woulda been the same. ‘S always the same.” He interrupts, voice barely there. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t- because it would’ve- there would’ve- you fuckin’ wouldn’t-“

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and sitting still for a few moments.

“You wouldn’ta kept fuckin’ talking to me.” He admits. He looks so small in that moment that it nearly breaks you. “Didn’t wanna- I didn’t wanna wait all my life, have this fuckin’ tattoo for so long and still have nothing because I was stupid.”

You pause, the breath knocked out of your chest.

“What- I- how long have you had your tattoo?”

Bakugou lifts his head, finally looking at you. He looks bewildered. Scared, even.

“My whole fuckin’ life- didn’t you?”

“No!” You cried desperately. “I told you, remember? Over text, the first time I talked to you! The day my tattoo appeared!”

“You were serious about that shit?” His voice is utter disbelief, eyebrows creasing together. “I thought- I thought-“

“What?”

“It’s- it’s not the first time somebody has gotten my number and told me they’re my fuckin’ soulmate. So I didn’t think it was real- thought you were jokin’ or somethi-“

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not- don’t,” He stutters, blushing just a bit. “Being a pro-hero, people always say weird shit to me for fame. So I’ve gotten that before- a fuckin’ random text saying they’re my soulmate.”

“What?” You ask, voice offended. “Who- why- I don’t get it-“

“Every hero gets ‘em- even one’s that don’t even have a fuckin’ soulmate.” Bakugou says. “I guess maybe they just text everybody or some shit- I don’t know? Didn’t matter to me I always jus’ blocked ‘em.”

You could hardly believe your ears, feeling winded as you brought a hand to your chest.

Bakugou had a tattoo- your name for his entire life.

He’d know about you his entire life.

Had been waiting on you for his entire life.

“Why- why’d you believe me?” You ask quietly. “If you didn’t believe the others, why me?”

“Ya told me your name.” He pulls aside his hospital gown, exposing the writing on his ribcage. “It’s- if ya didn’t, I wouldn’ta believed you.”

On his side, just under the last rib, is your name. It’s a simple tattoo- small, but it’s there, and in your handwriting.

“That’s my name.” You say dumbly.

“Obviously, sunshine.” He sort of laughs, something a little sad but a little happy too. “Only been waitin’ my entire life for your dumb ass.”

“Why didn’t you look for me?” You can’t help but ask, pressing your against against your suddenly stinging eyes. “If you knew- why?”

Bakugou goes quiet again, dropping his hospital gown back down. His tattoo is covered, but that doesn’t matter to you, you couldn’t forget the look of it if you tried.

It’s a long few moments before Bakugou speaks again.

“It wouldn’t- I wasn’t ready-“ His voice is low, quiet, the most vulnerable you’ve ever heard it be. “Before now- I wouldn’t have been good. For you.”

He sighs, shifting uncomfortably in the hospital bed.

“Think- I think maybe that’s why yours didn’t come in ‘till now. Wouldn’t of fuckin’ worked before.”

When you pull your palms away from your eyes, it’s like you’re seeing him again for the very first time.

It’s strange- the way your heart seems to be breaking entirely and rebuilding itself completely all at the same time. It’s a wave crashing against your ribs- pushing and pulling and tumbling and pushing and pulling and turning and twisting and- calming when you look at his face. When you look at the way his hair sits and the way his jaw slopes and the way his eyes meet yours. It’s death and completetion and rebirth and red, red wildfire.

It’s your old life scorching and curling and burning up. And it’s your new, better, warmer life rising from the ashes.

“God, I’m so fucking glad I said my name.” You gasp, tears freely falling from your eyes.

Bakugou smiles, so soft and warm and fond. “I know idiot.”

You just laugh at the name, choking on tears and snot and emotion, but you’re smiling. You’re smiling and smiling and it feels like you’re never gonna stop smiling. Will never have to again.

Because he’s him and you’re you and finally- finally, you’re together.

It takes a long while for you to calm down, for your tears to stop falling. But when you finally do, when you finally feel okay, Bakugou’s already looking at you.

So how long are ya plannin’ to fuckin’ stay, idiot?”

“Huh?” You shook your head, tears still drying on your cheeks. “I literally- but- but no- I- D-do you want me to leave?”

“No!” Bakugou groans in frustration. “That’s not- can’t ya just listen to the words I say without fuckin’ readin’ into them all the time?”

“Yes?” You say unsurely, but then your shoulders drop and you sigh. “Actually no. Probably not, sorry I-”

“I told you not to fuckin’ apologize, remember?”

“Yeah,” You say sadly. “But it’s not exactly that easy.”

The room is quiet again, and Bakugou is smoothing out his hospital gown, fidgeting with the tie on the side. He looks nervous, his cheeks red, and his voice comes out quiet and strained when he speaks.

“If- if I gotta work on me not screamin’ and bein’ angry all the time then you gotta stop apologizin’ and worryin’ so goddamn much.” He takes a deep breath, finally turning to look at you but only to just barely make eye contact. “It-we can fuckin’ do it together or whatever. Idiot.” 

You blink, almost shaking your head in disbelief. Bakugou was sitting in front of you, blushing and grimacing and had just said something borderline sweet? Out loud? To you? You huff half a laugh when you look at him once more, at his intense eyebrows and his red cheeks and his pinched expression. He looked constipated. Like saying the words physically pained him.

You soulmate was an utter drama queen, a certifiable child- and you just found it adorable.

“Okay,” You wiped your final tears away, leaned forward on your elbows. Your chest hits the side of his hospital bed, and, extending your hand, you meet his eyes. “Pinky swear on it, then?”

“What? No! You makin’ fun of me? That’s- that’s-” Bakugou growls, but then he sees the hopeful look in your eyes. You watch as his irritated expression melts away and he grumbles as he extends his own hand. “Fine. Whatever.”

When you loop your pinky around his, pulling his arm until it lies flush against yours, you think it feels right. To be that close to him. To be touching him at all, really. You wonder if it’ll always feel like that- if the completeness you feel will ever fade.

 You hope it doesn’t. 

You think Bakugou must feel it too, his eyes focused on the way your skin meets. Something guarded in his gaze softens, almost minutely, but you don’t miss it. 

“Happy?” He suddenly says. He waves your connected hands in the air, but makes no move to shake free from your grip. “Feel all fuckin’ better now, idiot?”

“Much.” You smile something small and tender. “Thanks, Katsuki.”

Pop.

You yank your hand back in surprise, jumping slightly at the tiny zap you’d just felt on your pinky. It didn’t hurt, didn’t feel like much really- If you had to compare it, it was very similar to tiny, electro-static shocks you’d felt before when touching carpet.

“Did- did you?”

“No!” He yells, hand still left in the air. “I didn’t so fuckin’ shut up about it- it was nothing! You didn’t feel anything! Nothing happened! It didn’t happen! I-”

Mid way through his rant, Bakugou grabs at you hand, awkwardly jabbing his fingers into your palm before he finally just laces then through yours. He continues like he didn’t, though, not taking a single breath between his words.

“-And even if I did- which I didn’t- it’s your fuckin fault! So just- so just shut up about it already!” He huffs, absolutely red in the face as he averts his eyes. He grumbles. “Idiot.”

You just smile, giving his hand a squeeze. 

Bakugou won’t look at you, his eyes trained on quite literally anything else, but you think you seem him smile too. Something small, and unsure, and barely there- just the tiniest hint of his lip curling up. 

He squeezes back. 

--//--

hope u all enjoy,, luv u!!

[effei-s]

anderson and his paradox:

about the duality of a man.

(aka see me rambling in this 1500-words long essay about how much i love him)

the first half of his paradox: he’s more than capable of love. i would even dare to say that love is a driving force behind 99% of his actions.

let’s look at examples:

adam’s mom (aurora):

i’ve said it before, i’ll say it again: he worshiped the ground she walked on. it’s a fact. it’s what adam said about him in unravel me: i know he loved my mom. it was always her, everything was about her.

her death was probably the worst thing that happened to him, the loss that made him truly suffer, hence him constantly talking about how he wants to shield warner from it. that whole thing with lena is not about control itself, it’s about warner not making his own mistakes. there’s a genuine desire to protect there.

evie:

considering how little information is given about them it’s honestly amazing how much there lies between the lines (can mafi write everything the way she’s written them, please?).

they’re the perfect example of my favourite type of soulmates. he’s actually second worst person on this planet, because first place is already taken by her. there’s no one who knows him better then her (she knew about adam = she knew about aurora). there’s no one who understands him better than her (them being two vital parts of the RE from the very beginning). it doesn’t matter how much they fight, he trusts her with his life no questions asked: he comes to her before ignite me and asks her to make him immortal. considering evie’s words in defy me about how she was ready to kill him for trying to kill juliette in unravel me it was very risky of him (because if there’s one person that could slit open his throat and kill him for good, because he let his guard down, it would be evie). he trusts her to do her job and has no doubts about her capability to succeed. his first reaction to her death is ‘what? it can’t be real!’ because evie for him is almost untouchable entity ‘if they couldn’t hurt me, they sure as hell won’t be able to hurt her’. when he realizes that it’s true he’s terrified.

and anderson doesn’t do terrified.

/i really don’t know what can scream LOVE louder than this/

warner:

we can’t not talk about warner here.

warner betrays him and he still saves warner life. you need to remember that the only reason why warner is still alive in defy me, after he committed treason, is because anderson protects him.

by that time in restore me/defy me anderson, who technically lost his position as a supreme, still managed to save warner’s life /because he’s cool like that/.

“I had to call in a number of favors to have you transported here unharmed. The council was going to vote to have you executed for treason, and I was able to convince them otherwise.”

even evie doesn’t dare to fuck with warner because she knows anderson will come at them with the wrath of god.

“If Aaron were anyone else’s son,” she says, “I would’ve had him executed. I’d have him executed right now, if I could. Unfortunately, I alone do not have the authority.”

anyone else’s son.

so yeah the problem here is not that warner is one of the heirs of the RE. the problem here is that he’s anderson’s son.

plus his entire conflict with juliette is rooted in the fact that she

a) tried to hurt warner

unravel me:

I cannot allow him to protect a person who has attempted to kill him.

restore me:

The monster we’ve bred has tried to kill my own son.

b) tried to take warner from him.

restore me:

Worse, she’s become a distraction for Aaron. He’s become—in a toxic turn of events—impossibly drawn to her, with no apparent regard for his own safety. I have no idea what she’s done to his mind.

and then in imagine me he declines warner’s offer.

“You would be willing to sacrifice yourself—your youth and your health and your entire life—to let that damaged, deranged girl continue to walk the earth? Do you even understand what you’re saying? You have every opportunity—all the potential—and you’d be willing to throw it all away? In exchange for what?Do you even know the kind of life to which you’d be sentencing yourself ?”

/i dare you to tell me he didn’t love warner, i dare you/

juliette:

as a cherry on top, there’s juliette, of course.

when we’re talking about hate we’re talking about juliette, no questions asked. i truly believe that his hatred for her was stronger than his love for aurora and evie combined. and still what brings him down for good is not hate for her but adoration of her (oh irony, my irony).

after 12 years of hatred, after 12 years of her being ‘the bane of his existence’, he still ended up spending his dying breath to make sure she will be safe.

“I ordered you to remain silent,” he says, glancing back at her. “And I am now ordering you to remain safe, at all costs. Do you hear me, Juliette? Do y—”

“Kill them,” Anderson gasps, blood staining the edges of his lips. “Kill them all. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”

just like defy-me warner, imagine-me juliette survives ONLY because of anderson.

he even apologized to her at one point.

“You know, I realize now that I’ve been too hard on you. I’ve put you through too much. Tested your loyalty perhaps too much. But you and I have a long history, Juliette. And it’s not easy for me to forgive. I certainly don’t forget.”

anderson??? admitting??? that??? what??? he??? did??? was??? wrong???

and not because he needs to get off the hook, but because he actually feels like it was too much???

ALERT THE MASSES, THE WORLD NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!

btw, do my eyes deceive me, or did this ‘not easy to forgive’ mean that he actually already FORGAVE her for trying to kill him?

anyhow if that wasn’t enough look at this:

“What could possibly go wrong?” Anderson asks. “She’s more powerful than any of them, and completely obedient to me. To us. To the movement. You all know as well as I do that she’s proven her loyalty again and again. She’d be able to capture them in a matter of minutes.”

do you see it?

it’s the same thing that happened with evie: no one here is strong enough to hurt her (oh, i can see some PROJECTIONS here happening).

it’s funny how the way Anderson acts is EXACTLY what I expected from Warner. he isn't just talking about how she can do anything, when moment comes he ACTS.

Anderson is guarding Juliette. The same Anderson who’s spent so much of his energy trying to murder her—is now standing in front of her with his arms out, guarding her with his life.

i’d still prefer for her or him to kill ibrahim but even without it... he says you can burn this place to the ground, I don’t care as long as you’re safe, he chooses her over not only the RE, he chooses her over WARNER.

/and you expect me not to ship this??? sure, jen, i’m not gonna/

conclusion number 1: yes, my beautiful people, everything Anderson does in one way or another tied to love.

the second half of his paradox: love doesn’t make him a better person, it doesn’t even make him fully human. you’d think that if person capable of such strong feelings there’s supposed to be something worth saving, just like castle’s said:

“Of course he’s a regular person, son. That’s exactly the point. We’re all just regular people, when you strip us down. There’s nothing to be afraid of when you look at Anderson; he’s just as human as you or me. Just as terrified. And I’m sure if he could go back and do his life over again, he’d make very different decisions.”

(castle is a fucking idiot, never listen to people like him or you’re gonna end up neck-deep in shit)

but at the end of the day anderson remains a fucking monster.

his love for aurora doesn’t stop him from marrying another woman and having a child with her because it’s the easiest way to social climb.

his love and devotion to evie and re (mostly evie, because evie is the reestablishment) doesn’t stop him from playing games with juliette and putting everything and everyone at risk just because he’s bored.

i won’t even start commenting on warner’s situation, because otherwise we’re gonna sit here for days and i’ll end up with 100k words essay about them.

and even his enamourment with juliette doesn’t actually protect her from his violent nature. even this perfect, absolutely perfect juliette still has to prove herself (cut off her finger to show her loyalty). it still very easy for him to hurt her.

conclusion number 2: him being in love, him caring about someone, him trusting someone doesn’t change his fundamental nature. he still remains a destructive force put into a human body.

he’s a fucking satan.

and that’s exactly why i love him.

[beetlebitchywitch]

Just fuck me up, Kat

So ok, she gave me an actual longer request via Discord, but enjoy some quality time with Gio 😏

Summary: Gio asks you to model for him. That’s it, that’s the post. 

(NSFW WARNING ⚠️)

   It was a gorgeous Spring morning the day that Scarafaggio finally tracked you down within the estate, bedecked handsomely in a red velvet robe with a mug of tea clasped gently in one hand.

   “Do you have a moment, bambi?” he asked, his voice still gruff from sleep. You grinned softly at him from your place by the day window and nodded, gazing out over the ample gardens where Bajo was already hard at work tending to his flowers. You enjoyed your little morning routine- each day, you’d wake up in a different bed, roll out of the arms of one of the men you adored more than life itself, and pad silently to the kitchen, where you’d pour yourself a mug of already brewed coffee (thank God that Bee liked to wake up so early) and curl up in the window seat of the breakfast nook, providing you the perfect view of the estate grounds dotted with the now-blooming flowers that Bajo worked so hard to cultivate. It was a beautiful sight, especially in the midmorning sun, but it seemed even better now that Gio seemed to be joining you. He slid onto the seat next to you, unable to stop himself from pressing an adoring kiss to your cheek.

   “It would seem you have the day to yourself, hmm?” he asked, watching along with you as Bajo tenderly pruned his most prized rose bush, roses he bred to bloom into the most gorgeous royal purple you’d ever seen. He even named them after you, the hopeless romantic.

   “I do,” you replied, sipping gratefully at your coffee. “The others are so busy, even though it’s Saturday. You think century-old demons would’ve learned how to manage their time by now.” You sent him a playful wink, which received a gruff chuckle in return. “Why? Did you have something in mind?”

   “As a matter of fact, I do,” he replied, though a tad more seriously than expected, which piqued your interest. What could he possibly have planned that required that kind of tone? He shifted to face you more directly, so you turned your attention away from Bajo and his roses and focused it on him. “I’ve been meaning to take advantage of the lovely early afternoon light that hits the smoking room for a bit of photography, and I wondered if you might be interested in modeling for me.”

   Well, that seems easy enough, you thought, taking another long sip of your coffee as you took him in over the rim of the mug. It was very unlike Gio to seem so...unsure of himself.

   “Of course, marito,” you said, hoping the pet name would reassure him. “Since when is modeling such a tall order?”

   He cleared his throat nervously, running his fingers through his already slicked back hair.

   “Well...the light would look gorgeous on your skin, bambi,” he explained, quirking an eyebrow questioningly. “I wondered if you might be willing to...reveal a bit more of it?”

   Ah. So that’s why he seemed so off. You couldn’t help but smirk, your gaze turning mischievous as you set your coffee aside, taking his hand in yours and rubbing the pad of your thumb across the back of it.

   “Scarafaggio,” you began, your voice hushed with faux offense. “Are you asking me to pose nude? The scandal!” He smacked affrontedly at your shoulder, pulling a delighted laugh from your lips. “Honestly, darling, you’d think you were asking me to help you kill a man.”

   “Well, it can be a great deal to ask of someone!” he retorted, and you suspected that he’d be blushing if he were capable of it. “How easy would it be for you to ask me to pose nude?”

   “I pegged you last night, my love,” you replied slyly, throwing a wink in for good measure. “You’ll find that my shyness when it comes to you has markedly declined since when we first met.”

   Oh, now you know he’d be blushing. You grinned excitedly as he rubbed his hand across the back of his neck with embarrassment flitting across his face before being replaced with faux stoicism.

   “You have one hour to prepare yourself for me,” he said, obviously trying not to let your mischievous glee get to him. “Wear that lingerie set I like, yes? The pink one.”

   And with that, he slid off the window seat, retreating back down the hall and leaving nothing but the amusing sound of grumpy Italian muttering in his wake. Never a dull day with Gio around, it seemed. You quickly downed the rest of your rapidly cooling coffee before tossing the mug in the dishwasher and retreating back to your room. You only had an hour to get ready, after all.

   When the time came, you walked confidently to the smoking room, wrapped luxuriously in a long silk robe to hide your nearly nude body from prying eyes. With your hair pulled back in a loose braid and your makeup applied flawlessly, you simply couldn’t help but feel as sublime as you knew Gio’s camera would make you look. You rapped gently on the large wooden door before pressing inside, shocked by how bright the room could get with the heavy velvet curtains pulled back to let the sunlight in. He was right, the lighting was simply spectacular with the sun where it was in the sky, especially in the corner where the chaise lounge, now expertly framed to be photographed, laid. Gio’s head turned to you, a proud smile playing on his lips as he took you in. He held his hands out to you and you rushed to him, placing yours in his as he spun you, watching the robe flutter out gorgeously behind you.

   “My darling, you have outdone yourself,” he praised, clearly delighted by your beauty even with the robe still on. He let one hand come up to cradle your cheek, his eyes trained adoringly on your face. “Never in my life have I been blessed with such a spectacular model. Come, come…” He ushered you into frame, your skin already starting to warm under the light of the sun as he pushed at your shoulders until you sank, sprawling out on the chaise lounge. He was a flurry of hands as he positioned you for the first shot, with one leg up on the lounge and the other stretched the floor, your robe spilling over the edge of the seat like a curtain of inky blackness. In the light of the early afternoon sun, you were simply stunning, and Gio couldn’t help but feel pride well up in his chest at the sight of you framed so beautifully in his viewfinder, your body a masterpiece he just happened to be lucky enough to depict. A few more photos of you in the robe and he was satisfied- while he adored the sight of you dripping in fine Italian silk, he had to admit, no mere fabric could ever compare to your bare skin, no matter how luxurious its craftsmanship.

   “Stand up for me, piccola,” Gio commanded softly. You obeyed, gazing out the window towards the garden again as he adjusted the camera’s height, saddened by Bajo’s absence from the colorful scene, his work in the garden likely finished for the day. You truly did enjoy watching him work, but you couldn’t let yourself get distracted from the task at hand. Once the camera was at the correct height, Gio turned his attention back to you, anticipation burning like hot coals in his eyes. “I want you to untie the robe for me, my dear. Slowly now, there you go…”

   He encouraged you softly, gently, as your fingers gingerly gripped the sash holding the robe together. He murmured sweetly in Italian as you slowly, slowly undid the knot, shivering at the sound of the shutter clicking with every photo he took. Your fingers slid just barely along your skin as you let the robe fall open, revealing the baby pink lingerie set Gio adored so much, the fine lace cradling your breasts gorgeously and framing the swell of your ass more perfectly than any other set you owned. So much of your body was still hidden, and yet you suddenly felt more exposed than ever, Gio’s eyes wide and adoring as he watched you intently.

   “That’s it, there’s a good girl,” he encouraged softly, his whisper quiet voice still managing to bounce through the rest of the room. “Now, I want you to slowly, very slowly, start to slide it off. Let it slide just off your shoulders, let your fingers only barely kiss your skin. You’re doing wonderfully, così splendida, la mia ragazza perfetta…”

   You couldn’t help but obey, your hands almost moving on their own just from the sound of his velvety voice caressing your ear. You felt nearly enveloped by the sweet crooning of Italian as the robe slid from your shoulders, the barely-there caress of your fingers along with Gio’s gentle murmurs raising goosebumps across your newly exposed skin, despite the warmth of the sunlight now kissing your shoulders. God… You could feel the pleasant weight of Gio’s attention, could almost imagine the way his eyes trailed over each tantalizing inch of skin you revealed as he encouraged you in words you didn’t understand, didn’t need to understand. With every second, the robe dropped lower and lower, held up only by your forearms as it pooled beautifully around your hips, exposing your breasts fully to the focus of the camera. Oh God, you could picture it, your body glowing in a halo of radiant sunlight, the moment in time captured forever, and it made you shiver as the silk continued to slip off of your body. Your mind wandered, imagining all the ways Gio would pose you, reveal you, expose you...you fell so deep into the fantasy that you didn’t even hear the door when it opened.

   “Scarafaggio, mi amigo, you would not believe the luck I am having,” Bajo exclaimed, striding seemingly unknowingly into the room, a large bouquet of assorted blooms in his hand. “Take a look at these newest blossoms, see how gorgeous they...h-how gorgeous they...oh…” His gaze had finally fallen on you, fully enraptured as the robe finally slipped off your body and onto the floor, a puddle of black silk pooled at your feet. You felt the urge to cover up as his hungry eyes dragged up your body, devouring every inch of you with his gaze, but you held firm despite the blush creeping up your neck to stain your cheeks.

   “She is sublime, is she not, Escarabajo?” Gio crooned, taking a moment to step away from the camera and let his eyes travel their own journey across your exposed body. You shied under their dual gazes, feeling yourself shamefully growing wet under their attention.

   “Indeed,” Bajo sighed, not daring to look away as he set his freshly cut flowers on the nearest armchair. “My flowers cannot compare to you at this moment, gatita. To what occasion do I owe the honor of getting to see this lovely display?” Ah, there it was, his signature ferality, his words drawled out through a hungry grin as he began to circle you, his footsteps landing heavy on the hardwood floor.

   “I’ve asked her to model for me, mio amico,” Gio explained. Suddenly, he perked up, as if a lightbulb had just gone on above his head. In an instant, he wore a matching grin to Bajo’s, sending a shiver down your spine as they both looked you over the way hungry sharks look at their next meal. “Perhaps you’d like to be of assistance?”

   Oh. Bajo stopped just behind you, and you froze as you could feel his breath dancing over your shoulder. It was silent, his presence so obvious despite not a single part of him touching you as you waited, waited for his answer. You trembled slightly, your breath coming out in soft pants, when a single finger traced its way down your spine, Christ, just barely grazing your skin, and he chuckled as you were wracked by a full body shiver.

   “It would be my pleasure,” he murmured, suddenly so close to your ear and you were gasping, fighting the urge to fall back into his arms. Gio clapped his hands together excitedly, breaking you from your reverie.

   “Excellent!” he exclaimed, quickly reaching into his pocket and pulling out...oh. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind putting this on her for me, then?”

   Oh God.

In his hand laid a baby pink collar, clearly crafted from fine leather with a small silver heart dangling from the center.

Oh God.

From here, you could tell it was engraved, and you bit your lip around a tiny whimper- you suspected it was your name. You didn’t need to see Bajo’s face to know that he was grinning like a madman.

   “‘Not minding’ is an understatement,” he chuckled striding over to take the collar from Gio’s hand before turning to you, a feral glint in his eye. “Well, querida, you heard the man. Kneel.”

   In an instant, your knees gave out, your body sinking to the floor with a painful sounding crack. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care, because Bajo was moving to stand behind you, Gio already poised and ready at the camera. You gasped as he ran his hand down your braid, a briefly comforting touch that preceded him slowly positioning the collar around your neck, the edges of his fingers tantalizingly grazing your sensitive skin as he fastened it, while all the while Gio was snapping photo after photo. When he pulled his hands away and the collar remained, you turned your head back and forth, testing out the feeling of the firmness around your neck. You could hear Gio’s gentle sigh from across the room and lifted your gaze to see him watching you adoringly.

   “You look...marvelous, piccola,” he murmured, snapping another photo of your ever-present blush. “The collar suits you. After all, it should- I am the one who made it.”

   ...That. Something about that did things to you. This wasn’t just a collar, it was his collar. He created it, just for you, to have you, to own you. You couldn’t help but whimper at the thought, your mind feeling like it was slowly filling up with wool as the weight of their dominance fully settled over you. You weren’t necessarily expecting this, but far be it from you to complain. You heard Bajo chuckle faintly, his hand landing comfortingly on your shoulder.

   “You like that, do you, querida?” he asked, letting his thumb stroke gently over your skin. You nodded, remaining silent and fighting not to hang your head you slid comfortably into your submission. “Such a good girl. What will you have her do next, Scarafaggio?”

    “Well, I’ll need her standing,” Gio commented, and in an instant you felt two pairs of hands under your arms, lifting you back onto your feet. You await his direction, fully ready to do whatever he asks of you. “Escarabajo...undo her braid for me, won’t you?”

   You gasped, watching as Gio positioned himself behind the camera again. You fought the urge to let your head loll backwards onto Bajo’s shoulder as he stood closer to you, his chest nearly pressed up against the smooth expanse of your back. He smirked, letting his fingers drag from your hips all the way up to your neck, chuckling softly as you shivered from the gentle touch. He got to work, slowly undoing your braid and letting your tresses fall back to your shoulders. Your eyes slid shut at the feeling of his fingers every so often grazing the nape of your neck- he undid your hair as if he were engaging in an act of worship, treating each strand as if it were a sacred artifact to be handled with care. Each time his fingers grazed your skin, you gasped, bucking up onto your tiptoes for a moment as the sensation shot through you like electricity. Your entire body was pulled taut, each little touch feeling like too much and not enough all at once. You longed for rough gropes, pawing hands, and biting lips, but what you got was the barest of touches to your skin as the last of your hair fell from the braid, cascading down your back as Bajo began to press reverent little kisses to your shoulder. You shuddered listening to the click of Gio’s camera capturing the intimate moment with Bajo’s arms wrapped around you, his hands splayed out across your stomach as his kisses grew more insistent.

  “Calm yourself, mio amico,” Gio chuckled, snapping yet another photo. “I haven’t even told you to remove her bra yet.”

   “Well, I believe you should remedy that, shouldn’t you?” Bajo retorted, his breath puffing out warmly against your sensitive skin. Gio chuckled, not hiding his obvious arousal from the situation as he let his eyes rove over your exposed skin. Not exposed enough, it seemed.

   “Yes, I believe you’re right. Unhook her bra and slide it off, but nice and slow, understand? I want as many shots of this as I can manage,” he instructed. Bajo nodded and let his hands wander from your stomach to your back, gentle fingers playing with the delicate hooks holding your bra in place. Your back arched from the near tickle of a touch, your head finally lolling back to rest against his shoulder as he achingly slowly undid one, two, all three hooks. Suddenly, your bra was slowly sliding from your shoulders, revealing your hardened nipples to the cool air as the camera shutter clicked away, capturing the moment in all of its glory. You sighed softly as the bra hit the floor and Bajo slid it out of the way with his foot, unable to stop himself from letting his hands travel up your body to knead at your breasts. Gio chuckled at your sharp gasps, immediately starting to take several photos in succession of the scene before him. Bajo’s hands were large and cool, the metal of one of his rings tracing teasingly across a nipple- he reveled in your immediate shiver from the touch and let the tips of his fingers gently roll the hardened buds, pinching and squeezing them until you were panting before the camera’s unyielding lens, shot after shot being captured of your growing need. The very thought of the pictures it was taking, you at Bajo’s mercy with your nipples being teased, made your knees wobble where you stood, so you leaned back against him harder, not wanting the pleasure to overwhelm you to the point that you actually fell. He held you up gladly, the soft material of his shirt sliding over the smooth expanse of your back as he continued playing with you, teasing you as he leaned up to whisper in your ear.

   “You like this, don’t you, gatita?” he murmured, his breath puffing hotly over your ear and sending a warm shiver down your spine. “You like knowing he’s capturing this moment and how desperate you look for us in that gorgeous little collar, hmm? Imagine each image, how perfectly it shows off your beauty as I take you apart. Would you like to see them when we’re done, querida? Would you like to see how delicious you look?”

   Christ. You nodded, arching up into his touch as he practically tortured your nipples, each agonizing moment captured on film by Gio, who was clearly delighting in the little display, though certainly not enough to not want to change things up.

   “Move her back to the chaise, if you would, mio amico,” Gio instructed, already readjusting the camera. Bajo obliged, thankfully guiding you into a seated position that took the stress off of your trembling legs. Gio looked you over contemplatively and you could see the gears turning in his mind as he thought up the next few photos he’d like to take. “...Spread her legs for me.”

   You couldn’t even describe the ferality of Bajo’s grin as he happily obliged, grabbing each of your knees and spreading them apart until your legs were as wide as they could comfortably be, a thin scrap of pink lace the only thing keeping your pussy hidden from the camera. Still, Gio seemed unhappy- something was missing. He contemplated it for a moment, when suddenly, he perked up, his eyes darting over to the nearest armchair.

   “You wouldn’t happen to be willing to spare a few flowers, would you? I believe our piccola principessa would look simply sublime with a few petals strewn across her body, si?”

   “I couldn’t agree more, mi amigo,” Bajo replied, quickly striding over to his freshly cut flowers and picking out a few gorgeous peonies, their soft pink almost matching the color of your panties. He began plucking petals from the stem as he approached you, his feet falling heavy on the hardwood floor with every step. When he reached you, he had a full handful of delicate pink petals.

   “Lay back now, mariposa,” he instructed softly, notedly gently despite the hunger in his eyes. You obliged, leaning back on your elbows as he began sprinkling the peonies across your body, the baby pink petals laying delicately across your flushed skin. One even landed directly on one of your nipples, a featherlight touch that still made you gasp. When he was finished, you were heavily adorned with the blossoms, feeling like Persephone herself before Gio’s camera as he once again began snapping photos of you. You could feel your thighs trembling from how wide they were spread, the petals strewn their shaking like leaves as the two men watched on in delight.

   “I was right to have asked you to model for me,” Gio sighed reverently, zooming in for his next shot. “You are exquisite, bambi, the crown jewel of all our treasure, a goddess we are not fit to worship.” You whimpered at his poetic words, head lolling back as Gio took by far his favorite picture yet: you, your head thrown back with your lower lip worried between your teeth, body adorned gorgeously in flower petals and spread thighs trembling, just begging to be bitten. He suspected Bajo was thinking the same thing, given the way he licked his lips at the sight of you. “Bajo... I think she’s a bit overdressed. Don’t you?”

   Oh God. Your head flew forward, watching wide eyed as the two dons shared similarly mischievous, hungry grins as Bajo nodded. Having gotten more than enough photos of you with the flower petals, Gio moved from behind the camera to approach you, letting his hand swipe away the delicate blossoms before crouching in front of you, eyeing you intently. Bajo quickly took his place behind the camera, ready for whatever was to follow. Without breaking eye contact for a second, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and slowly, painfully slowly, pulled them down your legs, the camera shutter echoing throughout the room as Bajo photographed you each time your panties slid down so much as an inch. You’d gotten used to being without your bra, but without your panties, you suddenly felt incredibly exposed, each click of the camera shutter sending warm heat to pool in the pit of your stomach as it captured you in your most vulnerable state. When the panties were finally at your ankles, Gio pulled them off and tossed them aside. With a triumphant little smirk, he dragged both hands from your knees up to your inner thighs before spreading your legs once more, baring you to the camera’s invading eye and reveling in your immediate shudder. You fought the urge to close your legs again, especially with the way the two dons were staring you down so hungrily. It was all so much- you could practically feel their gazes on your skin, featherlight and gentle like their fingers, and it raised goosebumps across your entire body. The first click of the camera with your pussy so exposed to it was like a bolt of electricity traveling down your spine and you bucked up, unwittingly exposing yourself even more to their obvious delight.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Gio cooed, letting one finger tease along the edge of your pussy, tugging one lip aside for Bajo to photograph and pulling a choked off gasp from your lips. “Do you have any idea how difficult it's been to watch you, to photograph you, without being able to touch you? You look...you’re divine, la mia piccola dea.” His voice was hushed, awed, like he was daring to touch a precious masterpiece as he let one finger drag up between your folds, collecting your wetness on his fingertips and just barely tracing over your clit. His barely-there touch was just enough to tantalize you, your body pulled as taut as a bowstring and ready to snap. You needed him, his touch, his words, his adoration, you simply needed it all and you were willing to beg to get it.

“P-please,” you stammered, eyes scrunching shut as you dug your fingers into your own thigh. “Marito, please, I...it’s so much, I need you, please…”

“Well, how could we refuse when you beg so sweetly?”

Your eyes flew open. You knew that voice. You whipped your heads towards the door, and standing there were the rest of the dons, arms folded across their chests and matching grins plastered on their faces. It was Zhuk who took a few steps forward, eyeing you up and down with a predatory glint in his eyes. “Well now, tsarina, don’t stop on our account.”

“Ah, welcome,” Gio greeted them, rubbing one hand comfortingly along your inner thigh. “We were simply having a little photoshoot with our darling girl. Tell me, gentlemen...you wouldn’t want to join us, would you?”

Oh God.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to impose, but…”

Oh God.

“If you insist on it, mo chara…”

Fuck.

“She does look mighty pretty, doesn’t she…”

You watched the men approach you as if in slow motion, rolling up their sleeves and licking their lips as if preparing for a meal. This was it. You were done for.

...And what a lovely way to go.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

The Witcher Boys have been taken hostage, so Reader Platonically ~Girl Power~s it up with Yen to go kick some bad guy butt and show off for the guys as a rescue team? 😜

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Platonic!Yennefer x Reader Word Count: 1,832 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me​ @mycat-is-mylove a/n: Thank you for clarifying platonic because you all know if I get a whiff of a chance to romance that mage I am all over it. But I also love friendship! I hope this is a good girl power night out for you. xo

As luck would have it, you and Yennefer were both together when the message came. You’d been playing Gwent as you did once a month, trying to find a common interest to continue growing the bond you’d developed while training to become mages. It had fallen mostly into small talk which made both of you a little sad but you were an advisor so you couldn’t speak of work and she had her own secrets that you understood she must keep. You were just sharing a thoroughly boring anecdote about a sourdough recipe you tried to make recently when a falcon came bearing a message, alighting on Yennefer’s hand which rose for it to perch on seemingly of its own accord.

“Duty calls?” you asked. Yennefer’s brow furrowed and her violet eyes scanned the brief contents quickly before sighing heavily and looking back up at you.

“Yes. For both of us. It seems we have mutual friends who have gotten themselves in a spot of trouble.”

“Oh gods what have Geralt and Jaskier done now?” you asked. She smiled fondly at the exasperation in your voice, an emotion she knew very well.

“Fancy a trip to Kaer Morhen?” she asked.

“Kaer Morhen? I wouldn’t even know how to get there. Oh, but you would, of course… Why? What have they gotten into there that Geralt can’t get them out of?” you asked incredulously.

“It seems it has been taken by members of the Brotherhood,” she said. Your eyes darkened slightly. It was no secret that your relationship about the Brotherhood was… complicated at best.

“That’s not theirs to touch,” you said, anger clear in your voice.

“I know. But they’ve touched it. And now we have to get them out,” Yennefer said, “If you’re game.”

“Of course I’m game. I’m much better at rescuing people than I am at Gwent,” you replied, already rising.

“I hope so otherwise they’re doomed,” Yennefer said dryly, a smirk playing about her lips. You stuck your tongue out at her and she laughed, the pair of you slightly giddy as you sought out to do something that may not only be worthwhile and fun but also be excellent bonding time.

-----

Yennefer was able to portal the both of you to the outer reaches of Kaer Morhen and you were awestruck by the structure, imagining how it may have looked in its prime.

“They haven’t warded the grounds which is good,” she whispered to you.

“Alright, what’s our play?” you asked, crouching down by her as you both peered over a bush.

“I have an idea but I need you to trust me,” she said.

“Of course,” you replied instantly. She smiled and you smiled back until you felt a tether wrap around your wrists. “Um. Yennefer?”

“Trust me,” she emphasized.

-----

Geralt and Jaskier sat at the table, arms bound behind their backs. Geralt wondered if the message would get to Yennefer in time and if so, whether she would come. Things had been frosty the last time they spoke but he’d hoped she may still come through. Jaskier was angry and Geralt had to keep shooting him warning looks every time one of the wizards who held them hostage came to check on them which became more and more infrequent. Their arrogance would be their downfall, Geralt would see to that. Just as he’d had that thought the front door opened and both men and the two wizards there startled at the sound. Yennefer walked through the doors, pushed wide open through magic. A bit behind her she pulled you with her.

“Y/N?” Jaskier asked. Yennefer’s violet eyes were cold and steely as the wizards approached her.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg, what brings you here?” they asked.

“The witcher sent word for help and as everyone knows, Y/N is an anti-Brotherhood rebel with ties to the bard. It made sense that she would try and come help them. You’ve been sloppy and you are lucky that I was there to clean up your mess because it got out of hand,” she bit out the words and you saw a startled, abashed look come over their faces.

“You have ties to this witcher as well,” one of the men said, “How do we know you aren’t here to help them?”

She gave him a silent, haughty stare, allowing the minutes to tick by without a single word. Her silence was oppressive and biting and you felt a chill run through you, bewildered that this man was able to withstand the full force of her look though he finally backed down.

“Tell me what your plan is now,” she demanded, thrusting you roughly into a seat across from Jaskier who looked at you with eyes full of confusion and concern. You wanted to signal to him that all would be well but there was no way to do it without letting the plan away so you just glanced over to Geralt, hoping he understood what was happening. His face remained impassive but you saw how he watched Yennefer, not a glimmer of suspicion in his eyes.

“I don’t think that’s any of your-”

“No you don’t think, do you? That’s why I’m here,” she snapped. Her fist slapped on the table and her other hand made an unseen gesture. You felt your tether snap but you kept your hands still, not betraying that you were free.

“Come talk with us over here at least away from the hostages,” one of the wizards said, trying to make his voice sound firm though you could hear the pleading. She sighed heavily and turned to sweep her gaze coldly over the three of you, cocking her eyebrow at you in a way that could have read as smug but you understood as playful. She was having fun and you wanted nothing more than to smile back but instead you scowled.

“Fuck you,” you bit out. You saw her bite her cheek to keep back from laughing and she rose magnanimously and followed the wizards out of the room. As soon as she was out you cast a silencing spell around the perimeter.

“Stay quiet,” you hissed as you moved around to Geralt, untying him swiftly. “I’ve silenced the area but we need to still be cautious.”

“Oh thank the gods, Y/N, I was worried for a moment that you’d truly been captured,” Jaskier whispered to you as you broke him free. Geralt immediately bolted out of the room before you could call for him to come back and right on cue you heard the wizards’ voices grow closer. There was likely a more elegant, magical solution to this problem but you were trying to think on your feet and you pulled Jaskier down with you, rolling under the table just before the wizards walked into the room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me you didn’t put a paralysis charm on them,” Yennefer snapped, her voice low and dangerous. You made a note to tell her that if being a mage didn’t work out she could give Jaskier a run for his money as a performer. You gestured to the bard to be silent and slowly made your way towards the end of the table, closer to the wizard who stood by it, looking around dumbfoundedly as they began to try and come up with excuses. You knew that it would ultimately be up to you to incapacitate them. If the Brotherhood was directly attacked by Yennefer she could be in danger but you, on the other hand, were a free agent. You were still cross with Geralt for running out but Yennefer, sensing where you were, ordered them to sit at the table.

“Now you are going to tell me exactly what about this ruin was so worthwhile that you’re willing to stake your careers and lives and certainly your professional reputations by angering and then losing a fucking witcher,” she ordered. Before they could speak you closed your eyes, pointing at each wizard, and focused. You didn’t usually try to incapacitate two targets at a time but what better time to try than in the middle of a dangerous hostage crisis involving all of your closest friends?

“Your aim is true and your will is strong,” Jaskier whispered into your ear like an incantation and you felt your resolve strengthen, though you would remind him later that “be quiet” meant “don’t talk – not even to give a pep talk.” Your connected with the weave and focused, clearing your mind of everything but the spell you cast, and you did not stop until you heard two bodies slump over onto the wooden table. Mere seconds later you heard Geralt run into the room. You rolled your eyes and when Jaskier pulled you to your feet you and Yennefer both gave the witcher pointed looks. He had the good sense to look slightly abashed as he re-sheathed the sword he had apparently gone to retrieve.

“Are they…?” Jaskier asked, pointing to the men’s limp bodies.

“No,” Yennefer answered for you, “Just a very well cast, powerful sleeping spell.”

You beamed at her praise and Jaskier nodded in understanding.

“Right,” he said, “Well, lovely to see you all, but I think I’m rather done visiting.”

“You’re welcome,” you said sarcastically.

“Ah of course, Y/N, thank you for being so swift and brilliant in your rescue. I am truly honored to know such a loyal and capable friend,” he said, raising your hand to his lips for a kiss. He looked over at Yennefer and she gave him a look that suggested if he even thought about touching her hand she’d decapitate him.

“You’re an excellent turncoat, Yennefer,” he said dryly. She smiled at him sarcastically but you saw a glimmer of mutual respect in the bickering pair’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Geralt said, eyes focused on Yennefer though he gave you a nod as well.

“Are you all good here or do we need to get them fully out of your hair?” you asked.

“Oh I think I have it from here,” Geralt said with a low growl.

“Do not kill them,” Yennefer ordered.

“Very well,” he muttered begrudgingly.

“Alright, well in that case, Yennefer and I have an evening to get back to. Jaskier, want to catch a portal with us? We can drop you somewhere,” you offered.

“Ah… no thank you. I will help Geralt and we will continue on our hunt together,” he said.

“Have fun!” you called, turning to face Yennefer and giving her a nod, signaling her to summon the portal.

“You too!” he called after you as you and Yennefer took hands and walked through. The rest of your night was spent over wine, laughing over the idiocy of men who thought every problem required as word and power hungry spellcasters who suffered from their own arrogance. Most of all it was spent rekindling your friendship with plans to continue on similar adventures in the future.  

[bouquetwrites]

Hime-Hajime (🔞🔞🔞)

Alfonse and Kiran celebrate the new year in their own way.

HEADS UP Y’ALL: THERE IS NSFVV CONTENT AHEAD. PLEASE ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18 OR OLDER.

Out with the old, in with the new. Such a cliche expression, yet one that would ring true in just minutes. Many heroes gathered near to watch the clock as it inched closer to saying midnight, not just for the new day, but for the new year. Anticipation for the fresh start was all around, and the excitement proved to be rather contagious amongst those celebrating within the Order of Heroes.

Well, most of them were present for this occasion at the moment.

“Oh, where are they?!” The impatient princess of Askr grumbled. “They’re going to miss it!”

“If they do, that’s their own fault. Not yours, Sharena.” Her commander and partner replied when approaching her.

She was right, and Sharena knew this. However, it did little to quell her frustration with the fact that her brother and the summoner had suddenly disappeared right before the new year was set to arrive. She had hoped to have them both there with her when the time came, and it was starting to seem unlikely that it would be the case.

“Will some of my mochi make you feel better?” Anna offered, holding out the concoction to her.

The princess accepted the treat, but only took small bites of it. After all, she would have hated to still be chewing on a piece of it when she received her kiss from Anna at midnight. But the sweet taste did seem to put her in a better mood, so it served its purpose. Still, even if it wasn’t stressing her out as much, she was still curious as to what their whereabouts were precisely.

“Do you think they’ll make it back in time?” The princess asked her girlfriend.

“If they don’t, then it won’t be the end of the world.” The redhead assured her, wrapping her into an embrace from behind and resting her chin on the top of her head. “After all, it's possible that they could be celebrating in their own way.”

~~~~~

Elsewhere, the prince and his summoner in question seemed to have no intention of appearing in public any time soon. The couple exchanged heated kisses, warm hands traveling all over each other’s bodies as swollen lips and wet tongues collided together. Alfonse had Kiran pinned against the wall behind her, and she had little intention of taking her hands off of him. However, she broke the kiss briefly in order to catch her breath... and attempt to entice him.

“Hey babe…” She panted. “You know what I like about these kimonos?”

“Hm? What would that be?” Alfonse asked her in response.

The smirk on her flushed face that followed was one that he was all too familiar with. She had something up her sleeve, and he was eager to find out what that was. After all, one of his favorite things about her was her ability to constantly keep him on his toes. He watched intently as she fumbled with the front of her robes, his eyes widening as she revealed her answer to him.

“With how loose they are, you can wear nothing underneath and get away with it.”

The prince stared in awe at the sight before him. His beloved opened the multiple parts of her kimono to show that she, in fact, was fully naked under them. He could feel the hot blood rushing up towards his face, as well as down towards his cock, which was now straining against his own robes. To engage in something so lascivious would be very risky for the couple, given that the festival was occurring just outside of where they were. What would happen if someone were to walk by and see them in a way that they were only meant to see each other?

However, these factors served to make it feel more thrilling, which only heightened both of their arousal.

“We have to be quick.” Alfonse told her. “It’s almost midnight.”

“That makes it all the more fun.” She salaciously replied.

Kiran reached for her boyfriend’s garments, swiftly pulling them open to expose his front. Those abs he gained through all of his work with training made her ache with desire for him, as well as seeing how hard he was for her upon freeing his thick erection. The two opted to have their robes opened but kept on for this, as it would be easier for them to cover themselves should someone walk by.

Alfonse quickly went to kiss her neck, his soft lips and hot tongue on her skin making her gasp. He always started off so careful with her when it came to intimacy, and she loved how considerate he was of her and her pleasure. His hands found her large breasts, kneading at the soft flesh and running his thumbs over her rosy nipples. This drew out more lustful noises from the summoner as she clung to him, her hand grabbing a fistful of his dark blue hair.

She hummed in delight as he slid one hand down her body, his fingers grazing her wet folds as he slipped two of them inside her. The prince curled the tips of his digits to reach for the spots that left her a mess before him as he worked them in and out of her. In the midst of her euphoric haze, she wrapped her warm hand around his throbbing length, gathering some pre-cum from the tip with her palm. Alfonse was left just as breathless as her with every slow stroke, moving his free hand onto the wall in order to steady himself, with Kiran doing the same by grabbing his shoulder.

“Fuck… ah, fuck, yes…!” Kiran choked out. “You’re always so amazing, babe…”

“As are… as are you, m… my love…” Her prince panted in response.

The violet-tipped brunette trembled as Alfonse thrusted his fingers at a quicker pace, his palm occasionally brushing against her nub. The sensations running through her made her tighten her grip on his now slick cock as her fervent pumps picked up in speed as well. Certainly the couple would have no trouble sleeping upon returning to their quarters; assuming they had the intention of doing so.

“I think I’m ready…” The summoner breathed.

With those words, she retracted her hand from him as he pulled his fingers out of her. She lifted her leg in order to give him enough room, and he moved a hand to keep it in place. Alfonse positioned himself so his tip brushed her dripping lower lips, the teasing nature of it making them both shiver before they even went any further. He gently pressed his forehead against hers, smiling as she brought her hands up to rest on his face, her soft thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“I love you… more than anything in not just this world… but any world.” He whispered tenderly.

“Alfonse… I love you, too.” Kiran warmly replied.

The two shared a gentle yet passionate kiss, which soon turned into them moaning into each other’s mouths as the prince’s throbbing member slipped into her slick heat. With little time to waste, Alfonse’s thrusts were quick and strong, his hands tightening around her body. Kiran threw her arms over his shoulders, clinging to him and repeatedly calling out his name as though it was the only word she knew. His hot breath on her neck served to make her even more wet as her walls clamped around his length, the couple becoming dizzy from the pleasure.

What sounded like cheers could be heard from outside. They weren’t entirely sure how much time they had until it was midnight, or if it had already passed, and at this point, they cared little for it. All that mattered to them was each other. All they needed was each other. To spend the last few moments of the old year, as well as the first few of the new one, intertwined together was truly something special to the both of them.

“Kiran… love…” The blue haired prince moaned into his girlfriend’s ear, sending chills down her spine.

Before she could respond, she felt him brush against a particular spot in her that made her quiver from the intense gratification. She tightened her arms around him as her voice grew louder in ecstasy.

“Alfonse, there…!” She gasped.

He quickly obliged, pinning both her legs against the wall behind her and slamming into her with a fervor he forgot he even had. His body clung to hers as his lips crashed against her own, the delectable sounds they both made being muffled by the kiss. There was so much overwhelming pleasure coming from many sources, that they could both feel themselves inching closer towards their rapturous peaks.

Kiran soon wrapped her trembling legs around Alfonse’s waist, allowing him to slide a hand down between the two of them. She tightened around him when she felt his thumb press against her throbbing clit, her fingers digging into the fabric of his robe as he rubbed it at a pace matching his thrusts. He could feel her hot core twitching against his cock, and her breathless whines tickled his ear. The pressure built up in her veins and and left her desperate for her release. Once it came to her, her mind went blank as she cried out her love’s name, the hot electricity coursing through her body and making her shake in ways only he was capable of making her do so.

The prince was not too far behind, continuing to slam into her with vigor. Kiran moved to plant a soft kiss at his jaw, sliding a warm hand down his chest. From there, it was all over for him. A sharp gasp shot from his lips as his length twitched against her core and his hot seed spilled into her. He knew she was taking herbs and that she would get spells from the healers as an extra precaution, so he wasn’t worried about anything coming of this.

As soon as he pulled out of her, he wrapped his arms around her shaking torso. She rested her head on his shoulder as she returned his embrace, stroking his back with her thumb. More cheers erupted from outside, catching their attention as they stared at the wall between them and the festival.

“We missed the transition into the new year, didn’t we?” Alfonse quietly chuckled.

“Who gives a shit?” Kiran asked him.

She picked her head up, staring into his ocean blue eyes before closing her brown ones. She stood on her toes to reach up and capture his lips with her own. This kiss was a much more gentle one, as they were both rather spent from everything just moments before. Upon pulling away, Kiran sank back into her boyfriend’s arms.

“We celebrated with each other. That’s all I could ask for.” She gushed with a smile on her face.

“Agreed.” Alfonse replied. “We will go back out and join everyone else when we’re ready. For now, let’s just enjoy this time together.”

[drjackandmissjo]

firewhisky on ice, sunset and vine

you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Chapter 8— previous chapter — next chapter

Harry Potter fics Masterlist

The situation couldn’t be worse.

Draco was in the infirmary, recovering after Saint Potter had almost killed him in a bathroom for Salazar knows why. His entire house was basically rioting, the other ones were suspicious and scared, especially since The Dark Lord was on and about it again. It was a mess. And Blaise had a headache.

It had been about three months since he had had last one of the awful brain splitting migraines. And he wasn’t clueless about the cure to his inconvenience: Neville let him rant and destress in ways his friends couldn’t, he comforted him and challenged him and made him feel so light and warm. Their entire situation was marvellous and wonderful and too dreamy to him to be true: they would sometimes sneak up to the astronomy tower with a bottle of pumpkin juice or with muggle drinks that were smuggled into Hogwarts, stargazing under a thick blanket or telling each other stories about their childhoods and their houses; they would meet in empty corridors, or empty classrooms, or empty rows in the back of the library, or any available space that would leave them alone, to spend moments alone and in privacy, to just be with each other and enjoy their time together, whether to snog or just talk without being judged about everything and nothing at all.

Their friends were also rather helpful. Female Weasley and Loony Lovegood created diversions whenever they needed and they also delivered messages, since Lovegood was a Ravenclaw and therefore it wouldn’t be shameful to be seen around her. She was also a Pureblood, so no foul at all. Pansy was, for once in her life, useful and not that annoying as usual. She covered for him whenever someone looked for him while he was busy and she would lie all the time effortlessly. The only downside was that she was incredibly noisy and demanded all the details. Probably Blaise’s most horrific memory will forever be the one time she gave him her version of the Talk, where she held him against his will and shared her wisdom into a very specific area of dating. Blaise could’ve easily lived without that experience, yet it was insightful and rather helpful in his next encounter with Neville in an empty classroom next to the DADA hall.

He had no idea whatsoever what Saint Potter was doing to help them in their escapade, but Neville assured him that he made sure they were left alone, either by causing a distraction or sending someone to cause a distraction, or by alerting Neville whenever someone was in 5 minutes away from spotting them. Apparently, he knew the position of everyone at Hogwarts and Blaise didn’t need to know more. “He doesn’t really trust snakes” was the only explanation he had received from a very sheepishly looking Neville, which was fair.

Those had been probably the best three months in Blaise’s entire academic career.

But now the spell was broken.

He had sent a flying piece of paper in his direction at dinner, and Neville had immediately caught on, despite Blaise’s cold demeanour. Lately, whenever they were in the Great Hall, their eyes would meet and he would wink at the boy, just to see the colour rush into his cheeks and to see the absurdly adorable face he’d make, but this time he just let the spell do its magic, completely impassive and detached. Their meeting would be in the Herbology hall, easily disguisable as Blaise leaving or going to the library and Neville just being himself around plants. The entire school knew that he was the person Professor Sprout trusted most and that he spent the majority of his time next to the greenhouses, tending them and all.

“Rule number six: punctual is tardy and early is punctual.” So he never was late, always ten minutes prior to everything unless it was a fashion statement, the tardiness.

Neville Longbottom, as he had proven on various occasions, was the total opposite. Which was something that both infuriated and amused Blaise endlessly. But not tonight.

He had already walked the length of the corridor twice, lost in his head and in the situation and in the mess created. No one truly knew the reason behind their duel yet, but the tension was at its highest between the houses since the events in their second year. Rumours had spread and already there were four different versions of the story, which had to still be confirmed by Professors and either party: some said it was Draco that started the fight, either by words or with a curse, while others gave all the blame to Saint Potter. Someone at dinner said that they had been Imperioed, but Blaise had kept his mouth shut, just like everyone else in his small group of friends.

Something like that was inevitable. Draco had become more and more suspicious and alert, and even more neurotic than usual: he would disappear for hours and hours, or wake up in the middle of the night yelling. But he also refused to share his burdens with his friends, kept all his secrets to himself. And Saint Potter had been on his tail since their first year, it was a matter of time before either one of those two idiots would snap.

Unfortunately, that time had come and now they had to deal with the aftermath.

Blaise was startled out of his mind by a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Neville asked, a worried expression on his face as he scrunched his eyebrows together. The customary reply came before Blaise could stop it, out of habit and muscle memory alone: “Yes, you?” Neville caught it for the lie it was, he knew him too well by now not to truly see if something was actually bothering him. “Listen, I know what this is about…”

“Oh, really?” Blaise asked, unsure himself of why they were there in the first place. Sure, he had called their meeting, but it was mostly because he was upset and terrified and knew that some alone time with the plant head would’ve helped him. He was reluctant to call him something other than that, even in his internal thoughts, afraid that something might’ve happened. Ironically, something happened anyway, outside of his control.

“Rule number twenty: use terms of endearment either sarcastically or when you actually know you mean it. Don’t waste them” and so he didn’t, not even to acknowledge their blossomed relationship. Neville rose a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his neck as he did whenever he was nervous. ‘What does he have to be nervous about?’ his mind fired, already imagining the possible scenario ever, to add to the ever growing amount of tragedy that had been created that day.

The next words that came out of Neville’s mouth shocked, surprised and angered him, in that specific order.

“Yeah, because of the Transfiguration assignment. I totally screwed it up, despite you telling me how to do that spell ten times” he admitted, sighing and moving to lean his back against the wall, head hung low in shame. “You think I’m mad at you over Transfiguration?” The disbelief in Blaise’s tone could be heard from the owlery. “You clearly look mad, so I just assumed that…” “No, no, no, no! This isn’t your fault, Nev” he said, gentler than he expected, and he also assumed a similar position, moving a hand to rest on the Gryffindor’s arm, brushing it lightly. “Then what happened? You were really off at dinner.” “In case you haven’t noticed my best friend has been cursed and is in the infirmary because of that moron roommate of yours!” Neville then tensed, facing fully Blaise as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Harry only used the spell to defend himself!” “And you believe him?” “Of course I do! Harry’s a good person, he would never do something like that, unless to defend himself” he said, loudly and proudly, as if it was a matter of fact.

“Why? Because he is a saintly Gryffindor and Draco is the big evil Slytherin?” Blaise asked, venom lacing each and every syllable. He couldn’t believe the situation, how blind was Neville to ignore the truth? “You know I didn’t mean it like that, don’t you dare twisting my words, B.” “NO!” he yelled, leaving his resting position and pointing an accusatory finger at Neville, “You don’t get to defend that asshole. If he really was trying to protect himself he could’ve just disarmed Draco, considering that’s the only spell he’s capable of performing.” Then, as if in afterthought, he muttered quietly, “He’s almost as bad as you are.” The words were out before he had even registered, yet he remained stoic as the boy in front of him turned red in shame and anger.

“Okay, that’s about enough. I know you’re scared or upset or whatever, but that’s not an excuse to insult me.” Blaise ran a hand over his face, to smooth out his expression that was slowly getting twisted into one of misery and agony at the entire world, “You don’t get it! Draco…” But Neville didn’t let him finish, interrupting and erupting into a poignant: “Shut up! I think I get it very well, as I also had to see Harry and Ron and even myself in danger because of your stupid roommates!”

“What are you talking about?” Surely, the rivalry between their two houses was very strongly felt, but he didn’t remember any actual harm happening in their year, unless one counted the Weasley-Granger-Potter trio and Draco himself. Those four paid at least one visit to the infirmary each year, with and without each other’s help. Neville scoffed him, probably not believing him, “Don’t pretend you don’t know that I was Crabble’s and Goyle’s favourite target” he said in a sing-song voice, taunting him, “And don’t forget that because of that stunt you lot pulled with Umbridge, we all risked more than an expulsion. She was about to use the… fucking torture on Harry!” He had stuttered in the last part, perhaps as his temper rose.

He hadn’t forgotten all that happened, couldn’t forget the amount of trouble Umbridge had caused. Blaise was not there, when they ‘captured’ the Gryffindors and Loony Lovegood before they went into the Ministry, but Draco had told him that it had been a rather exciting event, before ‘shit went down’. And while he had never really paid attention to Neville before their encounter in the Transfiguration classroom, he was aware of his roommates' pathetic tricks and violent behaviours towards him and those easy to prick like him. He had reprimanded them, back then, mainly because they were making Slytherin lose points, yet ignored the situation almost completely. “That’s got nothing to do with…” he began, trying to defend himself, failing miserably. “So you can be on your high horse all the time, looking down at us lowly Gryffindors, but the second I tell you that I have my reasons not to trust Slytherins and ‘That’s got nothing to do with you’. Great, thanks for the information” Neville said, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“We promised at the beginning of the year not to generalize each other.” “That’s not what I’m doing. But you can’t accuse me of not getting it.” “Okay” he conceded. Neville had a point, after all, and Blaise wanted a fair debate. “Still, this doesn’t change the fact that you’re defending Potter!” he accused once more. “HE’S MY FRIEND! And Malfoy was about to use an unforgivable curse on him. Would you rather that happening?”

“You have no proof!”

“Yes, I do” he added calmly, which surprised Blaise: nobody talked about student witnesses, there was only Snape around and he had been secretive about the entire ordeal. “Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape checked their wands, and guess who started the fight? Plus, Moaning Myrtle was there and told everything to Dumbledore.” “He must’ve had his reasons…” He was searching for an answer in the puzzle that had become his best friend. None of that was a typical Draco behaviour, which linked with whichever task he had been burdened with. But Draco remained, first and foremost, his best friend and, despite his awful behaviour and his sometimes backwards thinking, he would’ve always defended him. “You were the one who told me that Draco has been off the entire year!” “And? Is really Potter so Great and Almighty that he couldn’t have startled or instigated Draco?”

Neville looked tired now. “I’m no one to judge” he admitted softly, shaking his head. “Good, cause you’re terrible at it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Simply that you should’ve been in Hufflepuff, the way to blindly trust someone” replied smugly Blaise, finally feeling like he had made the Gryffindor come around the topic. He couldn’t believe Neville to be so blind about it, just because he was friends with Saint Potter, that didn’t mean that the boy didn’t have flaws and wasn’t capable of doing it.

“You mean, the same way I trusted you?”

That was a low blow, one that hit home, yet Blaise maintained his appearance unbothered, “Please, agreeing to let me tutor you was the best thing that ever happened to you” he claimed, looking away to make sure Neville didn’t see it for the lie that it was. He was too proud to admit that that probably was the best thing in Blaise’s life, and not just because of the academic reward: Neville was a ray of sunshine, an amazing person and perfect for him.

“I seem to remember that you asked for my help first.” “Semantics” he replied curtly, waving a dismissal hand.

For a few moments they remained silent, both staying their grounds and not conceding an inch. Then Neville sighed, moving back to lean his back and his head against the wall. “Blaise, what are we doing?” he asked in a quiet tone, his voice wavering and thick with emotion. “What do you mean?” he fired back, copying his position and resting on the opposite wall, facing him with a challenging look on his face. But Neville had clearly had enough of their talk, when he said: “I mean, it’s clear that something’s bothering you. Please, just tell me what it is instead of just baiting me.”

‘How come he missed the entire point?’ his mind asked, getting angrier by the second at the other boy’s cluelessness. “Baiting you? I’m just trying to defend my friend who has been reduced bloody unconscious by your idiotic Saviour and you ask me what the hell is bothering me? Well, let me tell you, Longbottom. I really don’t know why I am bothering with you, considering it’s pretty useless to even reach the point with you. You were right at the beginning, I should’ve been upset about the Transfiguration assignment, considering I’ve explained it to you so much even I got sick of it. You’re so stuck up into your little plants that you can’t see the real world outside the greenhouses and honestly I am very much over the idea of having to spend one more second having to listen to you rambling about leaves. So please, go the fuck away and be with your Gryffindor friends, I’m pretty sure they’re all celebrating the vile act of violence against Draco. All that great talk about Courage and Bravery and in the end you’re all a bunch of apes with no brains, wasting our precious time.”

“You don’t really mean that” muttered quietly Neville, giving him an unreadable look and scrutinizing his face, looking for something in Blaise’s face. But he didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that, in fact, none of his words were true. “I do, actually” he simply claimed, maintaining his mask in place.

Neville then ran a hand over his face, smudging his lips in the motion and then pursing them in. He looked like he was holding back a storm, which in turn infuriated even more Blaise, on the verge of yelling already. “I know you’re great at lying and you know I’m not as stupid as I look, so do me a favour and stop with this bullshit. You’re upset and I get it, I’m here for whatever you need, always” he moved towards him, placing a hand on his arm, “but don’t you dare treat me like shit only for saying what’s true. Believe me, no one is celebrating shit and Harry’s much to blame as Draco. All I’m saying is that Harry defended himself, and that’s not an opinion, but a fact. What started it I honestly can’t fathom, but don’t go and make this about us.”

Blaise shifted abruptly, letting his arms cross over and effectively removing Neville’s comforting hand. “Us? There is no us, Longbottom, you’re a bloody Gryffindor and I should’ve understood it from the beginning instead of wasting my time and energy around someone like you” he said coldly, not knowing if he truly meant his words. Sure, it had been Paradise with Neville, yet there was truth beyond all of that, right?

Then, not wanting to let the topic drop without winning, he added: “And why are you still defending Potter?"

Neville was taken away from his mind abruptly, then, because he took a few moments to reply. He swallowed and shut his eyes tightly, before saying: "Well, at least he didn't try to reindeer someone insane."

"That's definitely not what happens after a curse, no wonder you suck at spells" Blaise joked, aware that the boy wasn’t useless but rather that his talents laid somewhere else. They had talked excessively about that on various occasions, and he knew that Neville knew he must’ve been joking, right?

"Yeah right, that's only the fucking side effect."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

With his hands fisted on his side, Neville shut his eyes once more, shaking his head, before saying: "You know what, Zabini? Fuck you and fuck off. Our arrangement is over and leave me the fuck alone" voice tense and eyes wet. He then proceeded to turn around and hastily leave, disappearing into the empty corridor until Blaise couldn’t see him anymore.

‘Pathetic’ his mind said, but he couldn’t understand who was supposed to be pathetic. He fell to the ground, seated with his back against the wall as words swirled into his mind and the headache became stronger. He had almost forgotten how painful those could be, too happy with Neville to understand truly what the other boy’s presence meant.

Suddenly, the realization came: Neville had left, properly left, because he had hurt him. He had almost seen the Gryffindor he was in love with cry.

‘Wait. What?’ his mind asked, wrapping around the idea and sending him into a spiral of panic.

No, it wasn’t possible, they were not there yet, and even if they were, Blaise would’ve never admitted it first. He was too prideful and too scared to do that. But he also been incredibly comfortable and happy with Neville, so much that it almost felt like he was up in the air, carefree and happy. And now that he was alone, he had crashed down on the hard ground.

Blaise’s blindness and concerns for Draco had clouded his judgment, letting him run his mouth with lies that Neville didn’t deserve. And in doing so had ruined instantly the best thing that had happened to him in a long time.

“Lastly, Rule number fifty: If you ever feel the words ‘I love you’ or the sentiment rise up, don’t keep it in.”

Yet, Blaise couldn’t exactly admit it now, could he? He had no idea what to do anymore, so he simply leaned his head back and closed his eyes, refusing to let the tears escape as the world finally collapsed on him.

[letstalkaboutsebbaby]

Anything Else Is Outside - Chapter 9

She wasn’t trying to get his attention. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. That’s what happens when there are no games to be played.

Summary: She wasn’t trying to get his attention. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. That’s what happens when there’s no games to be played.

Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC (Harper Followill)

Warnings: sex, drug abuse and violence (just mentions)

-- This is for the adult clientele, if you’re under 18, stay away, please. --

Harper didn’t remember going to bed, but there’s where she wakes, alone. She goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before venturing through the house looking for Chris. She found him in the kitchen, talking on the phone. Chris was distracted by the conversation and doesn’t hear her walking up to him until she hugs his waist from behind.

“Yeah mom, I have to go, ok? I’ll talk to you later.” He takes Harper’s hand in his a bring it to his lips, kissing it while his mother says something else. “I will, but I can’t promise anything. I’ll let you know. Love you.” He finishes the call, drop the phone at the counter and let go of her arms, turning around to look at her. “Good morning, gorgeous, did you sleep ok?” he kisses her lips quickly and softly.

“Yes. Although I don’t remember going to sleep..”

“You fell asleep while I was singing to you, so I put you to bed. I slept in the guest bedroom”

“You should have woken me up and I would have gone to the guest bedroom”

“I didn’t want anyone to be in the guest bedroom, but you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you up to ask if it was okay to sleep together.”

“Well, for the record, it is. But I hope I’m not gonna fall asleep on you again. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, you were tired. I made us breakfast, are you hungry?” He turns back to the stove and moves the frying pan to the table, motioning with his head for her to sit.

“Yes, what do we have?” Harper sits and is impressed to see the table was set beautifully and there’s a white rose on her plate.

“Eggs, bacon and this oat bread that my sister made”

She sniffs the flower and smiles at him. “Thank you”

“You’re welcome. In this jar, we have orange juice but there’s a coffee machine if you prefer”

“Juice is great. You know, I was thinking about the trip to Utah...I probably won’t be able to buy a ticket on your flight, but I have to buy soon anyway so we can plan everything, or I’ll be homeless after you leave”

“First of all, I wouldn’t leave you alone if it was the case, but we’ll be going in a private jet. As I said, some friends are coming along and it would be less problematic to go this way.”

“Oh. Ok.”

“It’s not something I do often...” Chris tries to explain, but she interrupts him “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not judging at all. I just forgot you’re you for a moment. I know how hard it can be, Chris, I see it every day”

“I forgot you’re used to this things…”

“Yep. There’s nothing wrong on using the perks of fame. Especially when no one cares about the times you feel used.”

Chris wanted to jump in her lap and kiss her, cause he knows she’s not devaluing his feelings as rich people drama. She lives in this environment, she deals with her cousin’s wins and problems and is capable of understanding some of his conflicts from a different point of view. Usually, his girlfriends stand at the same position as him, with their own clashes with fame and expectations. Harper is the bystander, the confidant.

“Why are you so silent?” she asks looking intently to his eyes. She has such an outspoken behavior, sweet and honest he feels compelled to give her the same courtesy, and this interaction is so natural that he doesn’t even think about his answers.

“As sexually and romantically attracted to you I may be, this right here is what makes this different. When you say something I know is exactly what crossed your mind and not some attempt to entice or fish for the right answer. And my reply is so unstrained that it gets to my lips before I have the chance to analyze myself. And believe me, I’m tired of analyzing myself.”

“I’m glad you feel like that, Chris. I’m truly comfortable with you. But I have to say this sound like friend zone talk” he stands and goes to her side, holding her hands and getting her on her feet “No no no. I just said I’m sexually and romantically attracted to you! No friend zone at all, you’re hot as hell”.

She laughs “I’m kidding, you meatball! Just fishing for the right answer” Harper hugs him, her arms sliding over his neck, and he pretends to be outraged with her jest but ends up laughing and hugging her back. “How was your night, handsome?” he kisses her “It took some time to fall asleep...it was both nice and miserable to know you were so close”.

After eating for some minutes, she asks “What are your plans for today?”

“I need to finish packing and make some arrangements with my friends about tomorrow. But other than that I just want to be with you.” He kisses her and she leaps in his body, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Be with me then, take me to bed” he kisses her and goes to the bedroom, dropping Harper at his bed.

“Go get some condoms, Chris.”

“Oh, babe, there’s a long time until we need them...stay still and let me take care of you” he lay beside her and starts to kiss her neck. While Chris’ hands trail over the outside of her legs, Harper’s ran through his hair, one of them sliding till it reaches his chest. The feel of his muscles and the thud of his heartbeat stimulating her passion.

Chris' hands travel lower to cup her ass and he grunts against her lips “So delicious” he starts to move down towards her waist, lifting her shirt to kiss her navel. “You’re so smooth…can I take this off?” he says holding her shirt, to what she nods. He lifts it out of her body and resumes kissing her stomach.

Harper tilts her head back and deeper into the pillows when she feels him kissing his way to her breasts. She knows he’s trying to learn her body reactions and finds it adoring. “Take everything off, Chris” he does exactly that, starting from her bra and moving to her jeans and panties. “Fuck, this is perfect...you look perfect”.

He takes his time to worship her body, kissing her skin and licking, sucking...he wants to devour her. The sounds she makes are a great incentive and he touches her all over till she can’t take any more “Please, stop teasing, I want you so much, Chris”.

“You’re so wet” he feels her nod and moan when he capture a nipple between his lips. Harper pulls him closer by the neck and kisses him “So fucking sexy, babe. Will you come for me?” she whines and feels her body clenching when he slides his finger inside her, moving her hips trying to get him deeper, to make him rub against her more. “You’re so flushed, so hot...god, touch my dick, feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want to fuck you” he grasps her hand and brings it to his dick, still inside his sweatpants.

To touch him makes her even hornier. Chris is hard and thick, making her imagine how it would feel when he’s inside her. “Please, please” she begs, gently squeezing it. He bites her lips and sped up the pumping of his fingers on her pussy. “Do you like it? Hm? Do you want it? Want it inside of you? Cum for me and I’ll fuck you babe” and she does, spasming around his fingers. “That’s it babe, so fucking pretty…” He kisses her deeply and smiles at the satisfied noises she makes.

“Why I’m naked while you’re fully clothed, Chris?” he giggles and kisses her again.

“What do you say we take that shower for two you wanted yesterday?”

@jamierdr @symonlyjen5

[amoristt]

Sunday Keepsakes | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

Anonymous asked:   Hi could you write a fluffy NSFW nathan x reader but they're married?

i loved writing this sooo much... i tried to age him mentally as much as i could, hopefully its not too ooc! enjoy <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language

Rain was the soft sound you’d woken up to. It pattered against the windows that were still covered by pulled down curtains, and when you rolled over you found the other side of the bed empty. You groaned disappointedly and brought yourself to sit up. Tired and hazy from your slumber, the blankets wrapped around your waist as you tried to crawl off the mattress, and you barely registered clumsily picking them off the floor before venturing out the door.

The hallway floors were cold against your feet even in early spring, and you shivered thanks to the exposure of only being dressed in a baggy t shirt.

“Nathan?” You yawned, fingers running along the wall as you peeked quietly into your child’s room. It was empty save for the the crib, and you smiled at the silence. Your baby was still sleeping soundly, and you realized this had been the first night in weeks that you’d had a full night's sleep.

You called out for your husband again and shifted your fingers through your hair, then you turned into the living room and leaned against the wall at the sight before you.

Nathan was wrapped up in looking into a binder, his hair a mess, his clothes loose and unfitted. Short flashbacks ran through you, dating all the way back to when you’d first him. He looked like he did now, sitting while leaning forward, staring into a binder almost secretively. However unlike when you’d first met him, when you cleared your throat he didn’t yell at you to go away. Upon seeing you watching him, Nathan instead set the binder on his legs and leaned back.

“It’s about time.”

You smiled, pushing off the wall and finding your way next to him on the couch after urging him to scooch over. Like you’d done countless times before you leaned and placed a kiss on his lips, one that he returned happily. All was well.

“Morning.” You replied softly. The binder on his lap gained your attention and when you looked at the photos you felt your heart flutter. It was the family album you and him had put together throughout the years, stock full of a mixed variety of photos.

Some were aesthetically pleasing, ones that he had taken of you in front of the sky or sitting among flowers. His style had drastically changed throughout his years, going from monochrome and haunting to something more focused on a bright side of life. In some way it felt witnessing a caterpillar, afraid and young, morphing into a butterfly.

Other photos were professional shots of important dates in you and Nathan’s history, and your eyes lingered over a particular one. “Remember that?” you asked fondly, placing an index finger on the thin plastic cover. He took one look at the image and sighed into a smile. It wasn’t a great photo so to say, the angle was mostly wrong and if you were being honest it made you look like a goblin, but the memory is what mattered.

Your 5 year anniversary. It was a serene celebration, one where you got to pick the location. You chose the area where you and him would often sneak to when you skipped class- an empty field beside a long river that ran into the wide ocean. A blanket was set out, a basket in the middle and drinking glasses on either side. The date was incredibly well put together compared to the other casual ones you had, but the both of you enjoyed it. Your friend snapped a quick candid photo before parting ways and leaving you and Nathan, and the photo consisted of you two looking up in confusion. You looked ugly, unsuspecting, but comfortable.

It was nostalgic seeing the both of you so young. It hadn’t been too long since that anniversary but you both did look different now. Nathan’s hair had grown darker, he stopped slicking it back and instead would usually just let it do whatever it wanted. Your hair ended up growing out much longer than it had when you were young, and thanks to the sun had lightened a few hues. That field was the site of a canoeing business now. The river had a ‘do not swim’ sign nailed to a post.

Nathan turned the page and stopped to tilt his head at one of the photos, then he laughed.

“Bailey.” He mumbled. You followed his line of sight and then you too, let out a breath of laughter.

This picture was one that you had taken. It was a gorgeous day at the beach, the sky golden with the late afternoon, and Nathan was knee deep in the waters while you were out sitting on the sand. He was older, 23. In front of him was a white and brown pitbull, a thick stick in it’s mouth that Nathan was trying to retrieve.

Bailey was an amazing dog. She was sweet and well trained, and she never once showed a fang to you or your husband. Before Bailey, Nathan swore up and down he could never get a dog because they were too messy, too much work, but when you were volunteering for a shelter trying to gain some more college credits he’d seen her. She was curled up in the corner of her cage with a caution sticker, but she was nothing but kind. Nathan adopted her that day and you had no complaints.

She was the perfect companion, but she was old when you’d adopted her. It took Nathan a while to get over her, as did it for you, but looking back at the image made you feel happy in a melancholy kind of way.

Before a lump could form in your throat you flipped the page again.

“Oh,” you grinned, pointing at a photo of him standing in front of Cedar Point’s gates. “Remember this?”

Nathan rolled his eyes and groaned, placing a hand on his forehead. “How could I not? You dragged me on every single coaster.”

You gently nudged at his shoulder. “Don’t act like you didn’t have fun.”

He glared at you, unamused. “I threw up like 3 fucking times.”

“Yeah, afterwards.” You flipped the page again, then almost did once more before he stopped you.

“Wait,” His features softened at one particular photo that was larger than the rest. You leaned your head to the side, a fresh and content smile forming on your lips. Your wedding day.

“It was nice seeing you in a suit and tie.” You remarked teasingly, but softly. Lovingly. “Even if you didn’t tie it yourself.”

“You can’t tie a tie either.” Nathan’s eyes never left the image, tracing over every edge and pixel. It was an amazing photo, one of your best.

Though the official picture with you standing beside each other was a favorite, it didn’t compare to the candid one Victoria had captured. You and Nathan dancing together, a loving grin adorned on both of your faces. The dress was white and pooled over the floor like a waterfall, the color a crisp contrast to Nathan’s black, fitted tux. Of course you’d seen Nathan smile before, you’d seem almost every expression there was to know, but on that night when you looked up at him you were taken aback by how peaceful, how happy he was. There was nothing weighing him down.

“I almost tripped walking up the aisle.” you breathed, wanting to cover your face at the embarrassing memory. He laughed beside you, flipping the page.

“I would have lost my shit.”

“I think everyone would have.”

There were a few more images here and there of your friends and family- Nathan’s father void of all of them. The day you left Blackwell was the best of your life, and you knew your husband felt the same way. Although you two were obviously not married at that point you both knew that you would be soulmates, and so you two disappeared together. Adults and fully capable of making it, you and him settled down in ome urban area you didn’t even know existed. It was peaceful, the neighbors were friendly. It was just what the two of you needed.

At first you were afraid that he wouldn’t do well in the new environment. He’d been working on his anger and outbursts for quite some time but this was a drastic change in lifestyle- what if he couldn’t handle it? However, Nathan certainly did surprise you.

Much like you, a kinder and less dramatic city was what he needed. He no longer felt like he was the freak of a town, and something about knowing he could have a fresh start made him want to be better than before. He waved to neighbors, he thanked the mailman.

He had his moments of weakness but you were there to help him, and before you knew it he was truly turning into the man he always wanted, and could have, been. When you were younger you’d never have imagined settling down with him. You’d never even had imaged him being willing to settle down.

Without the overshadow of his father and the pressure of working beneath him he started searching for new options, and eventually settled down for being a designer and part-time wedding photographer. For a time before that he tried to take a place in building but it ended up not working out, as he discovered that he was a horrendous builder.

But, luckily, he had directions for assembling a crib.

Your baby was unplanned but it was a blessing, and you were taken aback by how mature Nathan was during the whole ordeal. When you told him the news he was oddly silent for a time, and you were terrified that this wasn’t what he wanted. You and him had never really discussed children- you always assumed thanks to his father he wouldn’t want to raise a child, but then he told you he was happy. He told you this was good for the both of you.  He told you that you’d make great parents.

Nathan, behind this, was afraid however. You could see it in his eyes as the months went on. He was nervous that he would end up like his father, cold, uncaring, and distant. Try as you might to push those thoughts out of his head he still had his doubts but that was to be expected- you had them too, but they were gone on the night ___ was born.

She was so tiny in your arms, and she was so beautiful. Nathan held her so gently and a smile broke over his features, and it lit you up.  Now, here she was, nearly a year old and you two were doing great. Some days were harder than others but you were content.

You and him had a house together, away from Arcadia Bay, away from his father and away from his reputation. Of course Victoria was still around here and there- and she was a story just as much as he was. She still had so much fire in her but her edges weren’t nearly as sharp as they were when you’d first met. She was kinder now, and she had a loving husband with a baby of her own on the way. Nathan also still had ties with his mother and sister, though they only showed up for the greater holidays. His sister was kind, she loved you. His mother was sweet too but you could see something behind her eyes, and you wondered if she thought you stole Nathan from his family.

You flip the page, looking at more memories, and Nathan goes rather silent in thought for a few long seconds but they aren’t tense. The rain never let up even after pouring down all night and evening, but it calms you in some sort of way. Leaning your head on Nathan’s shoulder, you smile when he lets out a deep breath.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” You asked without looking up at him.

“Fuck no,” He answered with a sharp laugh. “I didn’t think I’d make it to 22.”

“Are you glad you did?” This time you do move to look up at him, reaching to flatten down some of his hair. He doesn’t move under your touch like he used to years ago.

Nathan’s eyes soften down at you, and you remember how much leaving Arcadia Bay has affected him. It had been a slow and gradual process, and it had been anything but easy, but he’d come so far from the angry, bitter, teenage boy who lived like it was him against the world. He wasn’t nearly as angry anymore. He had his moments where the child he once was would part through, but he’d learned to catch him, take a moment to remember how he was different now. He was better now. He smoked but he wasn’t much of a drinker anymore, and he’d kicked drugs years ago. It was an incredible feat, and you and him both knew it.

Part of you expected him to say something sarcastic, but he leaned down and placed a brief kiss on your lips. “You know I am.”

You smiled, looking back down at the photos. There were just so many, some artistic, some candid, and some horrendous that didn’t compliment your face at all. But you kept them, remembered every single moment and every single story each one held. When you were a small child you imaged an easy life, one where you and your soulmate would click the moment you laid eyes upon each other. It would be smooth sailing and everyone would envy your relationship, wonder why they couldn’t find someone who loved you as much as your ‘prince charming’ did. But Nathan was not a prince charming. When you’d met him he was insufferable, and you were scared of him. Little did you know that he would end up being the person you’d devote yourself to, the person you’d give everything to. You never once stopped to think you could be the one he changes for.

Thunder sounded from outside but it was distant, echoing. Nathan leaned back against the cushion of the couch and you followed him, setting the binder on the coffee table and lifting your feet up so you could cuddle against his side. He faced up at the ceiling and closed his eyes.

“What do you want for breakfast?” He asked flatly, voice tired. You shrugged. “If you don’t pick something I’m gonna skip it all together.”

“Fine, fine, waffles.” You giggled, shutting your eyes. Breakfast sounded appealing but neither of you make an effort to get up, Nathan’s arm snaking around your body and resting at your hip. You could’ve fallen asleep right there if you wanted, but it was already 11 am, you should be getting up and getting ready for the day. Another roll of thunder sounded and you yawned, reluctantly pulling away from his comfortable hold and patting his chest. “Alright, time to start the day.”

Nathan groaned and grabbed a throw pillow from the end of the couch, wrapping his arms around it and shoving his face into the plushness.

You grabbed at the edges of it and half-assedly tried to pry it from him. “Come on Nathan we gotta’ start doing things.”

“Why can’t we start our shit at noon.”

“Because you hate being rushed, and I know if I let you you’ll sit here the whole day.”

“I don’t have anything to do today.”

“Yet,” you pulled it from his arms and sighed at his mildly annoyed expression. “You always find things to do on sundays.”

Reaching out in front of him, Nathan interlocked his fingers and stretched, yawning and then rolling his neck. He stopped to linger for a moment, staring down at the photo album still open on the table, before he reached down and then folded it shut. You stood and he did so as well, tucking the binder under his arm and yawning again. The collar of his t shirt, much too big for his form, bared his shoulders almost artistically.

He followed you into the kitchen, only stopping for a minute to put the album back into the hallway closet. As you opened the cupboards to start retrieving the items you needed Nathan felt no shame in coming up behind you, moving your hair from your neck and kissing along the newly exposed skin. You shivered in delight and grinned, tiling your head to the side and giving him more room which he took complete advantage of.

“I thought you wanted breakfast.” You remarked, eyes slipping shut. He wrapped his arms around you and hummed against your skin.

“By all means, go ahead.” He nipped at your skin and you could feel his lips curl when you jumped at his teeth.

Once again you reluctantly broke away from his hold but this time you were joined right back with him, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck. He took the invite gladly, one hand resting on the countertop to trap you in front of him and the other keeping it’s place at your hip.

“Very funny,” you breathed, pulling him in for a kiss. He started getting antsy against you, fingers starting to slide under your shirt and you by no means wanted him to stop. You leaned your head back when he paused the kiss to run his lips along your jawline, then down your neck. The counter was hard against the small of your back but it barely registered to you, too caught up in running your fingers through his already messy hair.

“This isn’t very productive.” Nathan joked against your skin, and you laughed.

“You started this,” You tugged at his hair and bit your lip when his hand lifted up the hem of your shirt. “You wanted breakfast, now you want this. Can’t you make up your mind.”

Though you teased him, goosebumps still ran along your skin as he brushed the pads of his fingers along your stomach and abdomen. You cursed softly, eyes unfixed but staring at the ceiling as he felt you. He finally hooked his fingers beneath the wireline of your bra when suddenly a sound rang through the previously silent house.

Down the hall, door on the left. A baby was crying in it’s room.

You sighed in defeat, eyes slipping shut. “Damn it.”

Nathan’s fingers pulled away from you as the baby continued to wail a few rooms down, and you both knew your session had come to an end.

“Do you want to get it or?”

“You stay here,” He breathed, rubbing at his cheeks. He was no longer half lidded, fully aware of his surroundings and definitely awake. “I got it.”

He shuffled away from you with his head hung low, and you giggled at the sight. Defeated by an infant. When you turned, resting your hand atop the cold counter, you looked over the items you'd previously taken out. One by one you put together everything you needed, starting the waffle maker as you hummed to yourself.

Outside it still rained, and occasionally thunder grumbled miles away. It was a serene sunday morning, but the sounds of nature wasn’t what made you grin from ear to ear. It was the sound of Nathan in the baby’s room, voice soft as he cooed good morning at your now pacified child.

[pespy]

I just realized smth, The reason why I get uncomfortable or anxious or panicky when I watch Tangled. Like holy shit, Tangled Triggers me. WTF!? WHYYY?? ILOVE THAT MOVIE! I LOVE THE ANIMATION, THE STORYLINE, AND MOST OF THE CHARACTERS. BUT THE MOMENT MOTHER GOTHEL INTERACTS WITH REPUNZEL, I CANT WATCH IT. I NEVER KNEW WHY UNTIL THAT DISNEY MOTHERS POST!!!! (But fuck it, I’m still gonna watch it cause it’s quality shit!) Ok you can ignore me now LOVE YOU CW MUAH

(Heyyyyy, so this got really out of hand, so imma put a read more.

Warning: Talk of abuse, and as I’m not a professional in the matter—just a tiny bit of research and a lot of questioning—it wont be as accurate as I would have liked.)

Yeah, no, Mother Gothel sucks. Grade A trash.

But I think Disney did a fabulous job of showing how incredibly abusive, manipulative relationships can be and why they’re so difficult to get out of. But what I ADORE most about it, is that they showed that it’s completely possible to get out of it. They were willing to put a spin on a classic fairytale and reach out to abuse victims and let them know, “Yeah, the situation you’re in sucks, and you might not even realize how bad it is because of how—unfortunately—normal this has become, but if you’re willing to find help or help yourself, you can get out of this.”

And even better are the characters that bring it all to life and further reinforce that idea!

Rapunzel is blatantly the victim (V) in all of this. She’s stuck in an environment that she’s been drowning in since she was a baby, so she knows nothing else. She knows something isn’t quite right, but she’s been taught to follow directions or her abuser will lash out (hence why she’s so nervous asking Mother Gothel to go out to see the lights and why she panics so deeply when she disobeys her orders even when there is no one to show backlash quite yet). Thankfully, Rapunzel finds a way to escape the abuse, even if only for a little while, and she begins to fully process how wrong everything is. She still doesn’t know exactly how it’s wrong, but she knows something is. So she fights back, but only after going back, because “mother” (read as: abuser) knows best. “Mother” was right all along, and I can’t face any of this without “Mother”. So she goes back, but after even just a taste of what it’s like without the constant abuse, she knows something isn’t right. She knows that what she’s going through isn’t what is right, and so she fights back. She fights and she comes to realize that she deserves more than what she is being given because she doesn’t have to know how every thing works, because she is willing to sacrifice what she must if it means being able to realize her full potential, which is something Mother Gothel has never done for her or allowed her to do on her own.

Pascal is great because in this sense, he is the person that stays by V’s side, even when he can’t do anything to effectively get V out of this situation. The Vs of the world need supporters like Pascal because even if they can’t swoop in and save V from the abuse, they can always stay by V’s side and let them know that they will always be there, through the bad and the worse because V is worth sticking around for. Not every person is going to be capable of doing what needs to be done to save someone in an abusive situation, but staying by their side to keep them from falling into a hole of despair and self doubt and so many other possibilities is more than enough to keep them afloat as they wait for someone who can help them or learn to help themselves.

Another thing about abuse is that there will always be people that speculate and are too focused on their own thoughts to see the abuse. Maximus is that person. Throughout the movie, we see Max chasing after Flynn Ryder, and he becomes so engulfed in the capturing of or keeping an eye out for Flynn that he completely overlooks what’s happening with Rapunzel. Of course, that isn’t to say that it’s the speculator’s fault—things can be harder to pick up on to for some people—but that doesn’t change the fact that in a lot of cases, the signs or the cries for help would be more clear if they were willing to look past what they’ve decided was true on their own. Rapunzel speaks on many occasions on what is happening in her home life, but because Max is focused on solely Flynn, it doesn’t occur to him that something might truly be wrong until Flynn brings attention to it for him.

Oh, Flynn. Flynn Ryder, without a doubt, is my favorite character in this movie. He’s flawed and admits it and doesn’t let the way others view him change his compassion for them, even if it takes a little time for him to. Anyway, Flynn is the person V can rely on to make them realize just how important and capable they are. Flynn is the person that acts like V’s personal glasses and makes it clear that they are more than deserving of a place without abuse being a constant. Flynn is the person that saves V from their situation or makes V realize that they are strong enough to get out of the situation without relying on others to get them out. Flynn is a person or object or idea or outcome that makes V feel like they can be brave enough to get out of a crappy situation or can rely on someone they trust to help them escape it. Flynn’s character is all about making V come to the conclusion that the predicament that they are facing is one that they need to get out of, but to also realize that they don’t have to face it on their own because he’s there to make that transition as painless as possible if they can help it.

And then there’s Mother Gothel…. If you couldn’t tell, Mother Gothel is the abuser, but what I think that needs to be noted here, is that she isn’t physically violent. At least, not until the very end when Rapunzel finally stands her ground against everything Gothel puts her through. No, up until then, the only attacking she has ever done is to Rapunzel’s mind. For example:

-“Mother knows best”

-“Stop, no more, you’ll just upset me”

-“Me, I’m just your mother, what do I know?I only bathed, and changed, and nursed you”

-“I’m just saying ‘cause I love you”

And this is all in a single song. Now, I get that these probably don’t sound terrible, but with a little context, it all makes sense. Gothel only ever says “Mother knows best” when Rapunzel wants to do something she doesn’t approve of. You want to go outside? Sorry, it’s dangerous. You want to go on your own? Can’t let you do that. You want to leave me forever? Most definitely not because “Mother knows best.”

In the second and third of the lines listed above, Gothel is using emotional manipulation. If she makes Rapunzel focus on not making her “upset,” Rapunzel won’t have enough time to realize that the only one really hurt is herself. Plus, using the argument of having raised her uses the fact that she’s taken care of her her whole life as a ruse for dictating everything for her own gains. She’s making Rapunzel feel bad for wanting to do anything on her own by giving examples of instances in where she had no choice but to rely on Gothel, so she has nothing else to compare it to.

In the lines right before the final quote, Gothel was insulting Rapunzel. “You’re too chubby, you’re a ditz, you’re too gullible.” Nonetheless, Gothel tries to appease it all with an “I love you!” It’s almost along the lines of her telling Rapunzel, “Hey, you’ll never be good at this because of x, y, and z, but I love you so much, and isn’t that enough to let me do everything you can’t? Rely on me!”

Along those lines, another thing I noticed is how we, as an audience, are constantly being force fed that she is called “Mother Gothel,” not because she’s Rapunzel’s real mother but because she has to make that appearance seem real. A lot of times with abusers, they force others to see them in a certain light—whether to hide that they’re abusing or some other secret—and by doing so, it becomes hard for people to see them in the shadows that they really wallow in. That’s why it takes Rapunzel so long to realize that Gothel is treating her the way she is; she’s been living with the idea of Gothel being her mother, her caretaker, her rock for so long that it becomes even harder to see her as someone who has been manipulating her emotions and mentality since she was little.

I don’t know, that Disney mothers post has been making me think as well, so this was nice to let out. It’s honestly trash, and probably not as thought out as it could be, but these are just my thoughts. I was going to delete it, but it took almost 30 minutes to get all of this down, so I thought I’d just keep it.

Also, Tangled is one of my FAVORITE Disney movies! The characters and detail and music all come together in such a beautiful way and it makes me so happy to watch, and I love all of it!!!!! So much!!!!!

I’m glad you realized the root of that anxiety, Birdie. It tends to help. At least, it’s a big step towards learning how you as a person need to cope with that situation. And you’re incredible, so you will find a way! Mwah! ❤️👌

[gameofthrawns]

Miracle Island

A/N: I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date. A late submission for tarched’s HTTYDArtAugust, Prompt 5: Hunted. This one was a freaking monster to write compared to my usual stuff, at over 3.5k words—So now I know for sure that I will never write a novel. So I’m using that as my excuse. I also found it just...kinda hard to write. 

If you read my story for the “Campfire” prompt, you’ll probably remember these random Dragon Hunter OCs. Probably gonna post this along with that one in my “Viking War Tales” one-shots collection. Just as a warning, this story gets a bit violent. And a bit long. And a bit dark. So yeah.

“Did you ever learn where she’s from?”

Hans smiled at Ivar’s question. “Who?”

Ivar’s mustache twitched in annoyance. “Don’t play dumb, boy. Sigrid.”

Hans glanced back at the woman marching with Rolf a few yards behind them. Her skin was pale like the moon, with cheeks touched by pink. Her hair was tied in a golden plait that shimmered like the Sun. Her eyes were blue, like ice, or the sea, or the sky on a clear summer day.

What had Hans learned of Sigrid these past few months? He had learned that she was from some Viking village called Raglif; like many other Viking islands, it was a rather sad land, constantly plagued by freezing winters, dragon raids, and just general misery. Much worse than his own village back in Polder, actually.

He had, through the course of multiple nights, learned of her many, many scars, tracing them with his fingers as they explored each other’s bodies in the darkness.

He had learned that her favorite colors were green—especially the shade of green his eyes were, or so she claimed—and purple, which was the color of her favorite flower, wolfsbane. She didn’t like any nuts because she had been allergic to some of them when she was a child, even though she wasn’t now. She had an insatiable sweet tooth, which was really a shame because Hans remembered there being plenty of sweets to go around back in Polder...just not for him. But if he returned now, with Sigrid at his side...

He had learned that she was actually, while not by much, probably the worst fighter in the squad. She made up for it with her cleverness and her deft hands and fingers, capable of building and weaving even seemingly worthless scraps into something useful.

He had learned, much to his horror, that with those same hands and fingers she could deliver excruciating pain upon unwilling victims. It was something her father, the madman, had forced her to learn, so as to better torment her own little brother. The Grimborn brothers themselves had sometimes personally called upon her to break the mind, body, and spirit of prisoners. Hans had only seen her doing such grim work once, and only briefly, for the brutality and cold-bloodedness of the affair made his stomach turn.

It wasn’t much surprise, actually, that a woman so well-versed in the art of inflicting pain could also excel at providing pleasure. That, too, was apparently something her father had forced her to learn. That little fact about Sigrid’s past had always made Hans particularly uncomfortable, in a strange way he’d never felt toward another person before. He wondered if he was taking advantage of her in some way, a thought that had never occurred to him about sex ever since his first experience at the ripe old age of fourteen.

He had learned that Sigrid was actually quite the romantic, or at least, she tried to be. Just last night night, she had told him that they were a “match made in Hell”: two bad people who’d done many bad things, teaching each other to be good, to love. It was an interesting idea, certainly.

“And why do you think she would tell me that?” he finally replied. No doubt, he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t care.

“We’re not blind,” Ivar said. “Well, maybe Rolf...”

“Heard that!” Rolf shouted from a few paces behind Hans.

“...but there’s a reason we split you two up for this little hunt.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, ‘Oh’. Do you now how many times we’ve counted so far?”

“Counting what?”

“Times you’ve disappeared.”

“You and Snorre have been—”

“Three times!” Ivar narrowed his eyes at a particular tree. “That’s just when we’re paying attention. I can’t imagine—well, actually, I can...”

That made Hans frown. “Um, do you think Snorre minds?”

Ivar’s mustache twitched again. “The boss thinks you two are cute together. And efficient.”

“And you?”

“A little fucking never hurt anyone, I guess.” The older man shrugged. “Just be careful about...you know. We’re on Miracle Island, and the last thing you want right now is a little miracle popping out of—”

“Ah yes, Miracle Island, truly a blessed place!” Rolf suddenly appeared to Hans’ left, excitedly waving his hunting knife. Hans wisely shifted closer to Ivar. “The world can be so cruel and uncaring, but here...this is where heroes are born, where good always triumphs evil.”

“Sneaky bastard,” Ivar muttered. How a man like Rolf, filled to the brim with energy and cheer, could move so silently was a mystery only he and He were privy too.

“To be able to down the Dragon Boy and his Night Fury with a single bolt? In the dead of night? It was destiny, I tell you.”

“A single bolt dipped in dragon root,” Ivar countered.

“Truly miraculous.”

“Indeed. You’re the worst shot out of all of us.”

“Indeed, indeed. Say what you want, my ever-envious friend.” He tapped his head with the edge of his knife. “And envy, as Hans would say, is...”

Hans rolled his eyes. “A sin.”

“I concur, and so I say, to Hel with you, Ivar!” He laughed, and even Hans chuckled until he noticed Ivar glaring at him. “And I’ll have both of you know that once we capture this downed beast, I will be forever known as the man who brought down the greatest enemy the Dragon Hunters have ever known.”

Ivar just shook his head and muttered under his breath.

“Tell me, friend, how do you think we’ll find the Dragon Boy?”

Hans didn’t really give a damn, at this point. “Um, dead, hopefully?”

“Now there’s no fun in that. I hope he’ll be injured, but still able to run.”

“I really would prefer if he was just dead.”

“He’d be scurrying off like prey.” Rolf did a goofy little jog in place. “ And I’d like you, Hans, to have the honor of delivering the killing blow.”

“Why me?”

“Because Rolf would miss.”

“Oh do shut up, Ivar.”

“Dammit, Rolf, get back in formation!” Snorre bellowed from just up ahead. “I don’t mind a little chatter, but at least follow my orders! Let’s look good when we meet up with Olav’s squad, eh?”

Rolf jogged back to his position by Sigrid. “Right, right, my apologies, sir.”

A calm silence fell over the five hunters as they marched through the ever-thickening forest. Hans snuck another glance back at Sigrid. Apparently she had the same idea, and she gave him a small smile. it was enough to make his heart flutter.

Still keeping his eyes scanning his sector, he leaned a bit closer to Ivar and whispered, “I think I’m in love.”

Ivar scoffed. “Are any of us normal enough to really know what that word even means?”

That made Hans think. “What do you mean?”

“We’re all damaged goods here. No Dragon Hunter’s fully right in the head, or he wouldn’t have chosen hunting fucking dragons as a job.”

“Yes.”

“You agree, for once?”

“I mean that...Yes, I do know what love is.” Hans turned to Ivar; the man’s mustache twitched like mad, but he was still dutifully watching the trees. “I want to...I am going to marry her, Ivar.”

Ivar whistled. “This been going on for that long?”

“Just three months. But she is...special.

“No one gets married in this line of work,” he said grimly. “At least, not happily. Or permanently. Heart shatters one way or another. So you better get out of this mess while you can.”

“I am not joking,” Hans said quickly, trying not to sound defensive. “I love her. Really. She is special.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Ivar finally turned to look at Hans, looking quite serious. “I mean getting out of dragon hunting, before it gets you killed. You and Sigrid. Just do what you usually do.”

“Disappear?”

“Yes, disappear, and then just don’t come back.”

Hans’ eyes slightly widened. “Really?”

For a moment, he could’ve sworn Ivar smiled. “I don’t know why you want my approval so badly, anyways. Snorre’s the boss, so just...make sure he knows. He won’t like it, but he’ll understand. I think.”

“Thank you,” Hans whispered.

As if on cue, Snorre suddenly barked, “Crossbows, spread five!”

Guided by instinct, Hans and Ivar parted from each other as quickly as the , pulling out their crossbows and scanning the surroundings for movement. Only now did Hans realize just how dense the vegetation had gotten, his vision blocked by a maze of vines and trees that seemed to reach the sky.

Rolf had shot down the Night Fury last night; that was certain. It had been a full moon, and all five of them had clearly seen it and its rider fall. The dragon was at best poisoned and severely injured; the Dragon Boy himself was most likely dead.

Unless...nothing. There was no other way it could have happened. So why did it feel like they were walking straight into a trap?

“Problem, Snorre?” Sigrid asked from somewhere all too far away. Hans resisted the urge to glance back at her, for fear that the mere sight of her would cause him to break formation.

“A hundred yards ahead,” Snorre called out. “Two bodies in front, probably Olav’s men. Anybody else?”

“Clear,” Hans said.

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

“Clear.”

“You think it’s the Night Fury, boss?”

The wind whistled strangely—ominously, almost—in reply.

“I...I don’t know. It’s messy. Ripped their guts out and just...left it all there.”

“But I hit it.” Rolf sounded almost hurt by the possibility that he hadn’t actually downed the Night Fury.

“Maybe Night Furies are immune to dragon root?” Sigrid suggested.

“We all saw it go down. It went down! I’m telling you, it went down...”

“Then...the Dragon Boy?”

“No,” Snorre said. “No, they’re all mangled. A dragon’s work, for sure.”

A pause. The wind began howling. “You think we should check the cave?” Ivar asked.

“It’s our only way in, right?”

It was then that Hans realized that he wasn’t just imagining that the wind had suddenly started shrieking. It wasn’t wind at all. He exchanged a look at Rolf, who seemed to come to the same, dreadful conclusion.

By the time the other man screeched “DOWN!”, Hans was already diving for the dirt. The ground shook just before he landed, and he felt heat wash over him.

In the span of seconds, he was already back on his feet, crossbow at the ready, scanning his surroundings, searching for the Night Fury among the treetops.

“Call out!” Snorre ordered. “One check!”

“Two check!” he shouted. “I’m here!”

“Three check!” Ivar followed. “No wounds. That fucking Night Fury!”

But Rolf said nothing.

Sigrid said nothing.

“That shot came from above,” Ivar warned. “Where did he go? Where did that little shit go?”

“Spread three!” Snorre hissed. “Eyes up! Eyes—Hans, what are you doing?”

Hans sprinted towards Sigrid’s crumpled form, ignoring Snorre’s orders, ignoring Ivar’s shouting, ignoring the fact that all that remained of Rolf was scattered, burnt chunks of flesh.

Sigrid was a grotesque swirl of colors: white, beige, and shimmering gold, all now marred with dark reds and ashen black. But she was crying; she was breathing.

He didn’t dare look back at Snorre, but for a brief moment, he locked eyes with Ivar, who was staring at him with an inscrutable expression. Then the older man’s mouth moved.

Disappear.

Scooping Sigrid into his arms, Hans ran as fast as he could.

Like prey.

Hans had imagined the Dragon Boy to be a bit...thicker. More intimidating.

The fact that the “greatest enemy the Dragon Hunters have ever faced” was leaning unconscious against a cave wall, half a left leg missing, a foot-long crossbow bolt stuck in his chest, made him look almost pathetic. So Rolf had struck the rider, not the dragon. Why the Night Fury fell from the sky because of it, Hans did not know, but that was what must have happened.

What a strange coincidence that Hans would so quickly find himself switch from the position of predator to prey and then predator again so quickly, all in one day. It’d be easy, Hans decided, to end the boy’s life right here. In any other situation, he would, without hesitation. But he had something else to focus on right now, something that completely drained him of his desire to do anything else.

Sigrid whimpered as he put her down by the small fire. Her face was, even now—twisted in pain, streaked with tears, slightly burnt and bloodied—made his heart stir with that familiar feeling of love. He wiped at some blackened hair dipping down near her eyes. It was hard and brittle, and it crumbled at his touch.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Sigrid whined, looking down at herself. “Hurts.”

Hans didn’t dare follow her wild gaze, didn’t dare confirm what he felt. There was so much blood. His hands were drowning in it. She was falling apart, and he didn’t know what to do.

“I know it hurts, little treasure, I know,” he heard himself say. “I will fix you. Just look at me, Sigrid. Look at me, please.”

“I can’t!” she cried. Try as they might, her eyes couldn’t focus on him, or anything else. They darted wildly to and fro, searching desperately for something to save them.

Such a thing, Hans’ mind knew, did not exist. But in what felt like the first time in his life, his heart did not agree. His heart held on to hope. His eyes searched for something to stop the bleeding. But he...he honestly couldn’t remember how. Rolf always dealt with wounds, and now Rolf was dead.

“We leave,” he said, his voice breaking. Liar, liar, liar, his own mutinous mind chanted. “We leave, and then I can fix you, okay?”

“It hurts too much,” she whispered, each breath shorter than the last. “I don’t...die.”

“You will not die, Sigrid. You cannot die.”

“No, I don’t...want...”

“I can fix you. Please, God, can I...I can fix you.”

“Hans...”

“And then I am going to marry you, okay?��� he cried. “Okay? Okay, Sigrid?”

He was praying, silently, praying to He who died for all mankind’s sins for a miracle. Just one miracle, on Miracle fucking Island, of all places. Was that too much to ask?

Sigrid opened her mouth, but instead of words, she replied with only a soft gurgle, a bit of blood. Was that a yes or a no?

“I love you, Sigrid,” he said between sobs. “Don’t go away.”

Her blue eyes stopped searching, her body slacked. Her answer died on her lips, and then swiftly whisked away by a long, final sigh.

“Please, God,” he pleaded. “Oh please, Sigrid, don’t go away.”

Something growled.

In his grief, Hans had failed to notice the Night Fury that had slipped by him and positioned itself between him and its rider, the pupils at the center of its green eyes narrow and vengeful. A pair of distinctly human dangled from its mouth, threads caught along two rows of bloodied daggers. It dropped Snorre and Rolf’s heads and gently kicked them into the dim light, confirming what Hans’ guilty heart already suspected: Snorre and Ivar were dead.

Surrender, it seemed to hiss. You are alone.

He shook Sigrid gently. “Wake up,” he whispered.

She couldn’t. He couldn’t either, still staring between her and the heads. The nightmare continued.

The Night Fury shook its head in pity and made a deep, rumbling noise. You. Are. Alone.

Only then did his heart let go of hope. It did so with great reluctance, but it could not deny reality anymore. The dragon was right; he was alone. The body in his arms was still warm, but the wonderful, singular life that once inhabited it had moved on. And so his heart fell.

And fell.

And fell.

And shattered.

Hans screamed in a way that matched how he had loved Sigrid, still loved Sigrid: with an intensity and ferocity he had never felt before. It was as much fueled by love as it was by hatred, for the two, in this case, were one and the same. He hated everything: earth and sky and sea, birth and life and death, past and present and future. He hated the parents he never knew, his uncle and all the other people who had wronged him in life, the people who had helped him in life, the people who never knew him, the people he never would know. He hated Him, in particular, the Savior who was supposedly all-powerful and all-good yet had let his friends die so cruelly and pointlessly. He hated his friends, and himself, and even Sigrid, because if love and hope couldn’t bring her back, perhaps hate could.

And above all, he hated the Night Fury.

He didn’t recall grabbing his long axe and charging towards the dragon, but he suddenly found himself, still screaming, within arm’s reach of exacting his vengeance, staring into demonic eyes and devilish teeth, close enough to smell its vile breath and feel his bones tremble as it roared.

“Catch!” a distinctly female voice shouted from behind him.

He spun around, just in time to catch a glimpse of something deadly flying towards him. It sank deep into his right shoulder, and searing pain stripped him of what remained of his reason and senses, pulling him to the ground.

The Night Fury’s head loomed over Hans; its pupils were no longer slits, but wide black bulbs, both taunting and pitying him. He raged against it; in his mind, he was already up off the ground, long axe carving cleanly through the neck of Sigrid’s killer. But his body couldn’t obey, and the realization of this fact only made him scream harder.

He wanted to kill the Night Fury. He wanted to kill this Dragon Boy. He wanted to honor Sigrid’s name with their screams, killing them as she probably could have done: slowly, painfully. But he had only just begun to lift his head up when a heavy boot stomped it back down, crushing his screams down into muffled whimpers.

She was a Viking girl, probably even younger than him. Her skin was pale like the moon, with cheeks touched by pink. Her hair was tied in a golden plait that shimmered like the Sun. Her eyes were blue, like ice, or the sea, or the sky on a clear summer day...

“Sigrid,” he tried to say.

“Hiccup?” she replied, though she wasn’t looking at him.

She put more of her weight on to his face as she ripped her axe out of his shoulder, sending another lightning bolt of pain ripping through his entire body, leaving him howling. He felt how quickly the blood from the open wound was spilling out of him, soaking his arm and the earth below.

It was over.

The world around him grew more distant, yet also clearer and brighter, with each passing moment, and he now knew for certain that that girl was Sigrid. He let his head roll to the left and watched Sigrid kneel beside a wounded boy that looked oddly familiar. What was his name?

“Hiccup,” Sigrid said, shaking the boy’s shoulder. “Hiccup, wake up.”

The Night Fury slowly approached the boy, whining like a worried pup.

A “huh” escaped from the lips of someone nearby. His own, perhaps, trying to pronounce that boy’s name. Yet, that couldn’t possibly be his own voice. Hans didn’t know why just yet, but it wouldn’t make any sense.

With a groan, the boy’s eyes slowly fluttered open. The boy had green eyes, Hans noted, much like...

Himself. There he was.

Sigrid crushed Hans with a loving embrace, much to his confusion. “As-Astrid?”

“Hi, babe,” she said softly, her voice cracking just a bit.

Hans was grinning like an idiot. “Hey, As,” he croaked. “Hey, As. Hey. You’re here. Hi.”

“Of course, silly.” Sigrid pulled out a strand of parchment from her pack. “Toothless, lick this.”

The Night Fury did so.

“This arrow could’ve hit your heart, you know?” She began placing the parchment over the arrow wound. “If you tried to take it out yourself...Thank the gods you didn’t.”

Hans shook his head. “Good guys don’t die”

Sigrid tilted her head “Oh, and you’re a good guy?”

“Definitely...I think.” He giggled. “You’re...you’re so much beautiful, lady. My lady.”

Sigrid touched his forehead with the back of her fingers. “Damn it,” she said, sighing. “Let’s get this home quickly, Toothless.”

“Mmm, nah.”

“What’s wrong, babe? The arrow?”

Hans smiled weakly. “Mmm, tired. And the arrow, yeah.”

“Babe, I promise you, if we try pulling the arrow out here, it’ll hurt. A lot. So let’s get back to—”

“And...you’re pretty. Toooo pretty.” He puckered his lips and started kissing the air.

“Yeah, all right. Let’s go.” Sigrid strapped her bloodied axe to her back and gently picked Hans up off the ground. The Night Fury nudged at Hans’ dangling legs, whimpering.

“It’s fine, Toothless,” she said. “I’ve got him. I guess I’ll be riding you back, and Stormfly can carry—Wait, Stormfly? Stormfly? Where’d my girl run off to...”

“Marry me?” Hans suddenly asked.

The Night Fury made a noise of confusion. Sigrid froze. “What?”

“Like not today.” Hans’ arms flopped around lazily. “But later, you know. Tonight...no, tomorrow. Let’s...not rush.”

That made her giggle. “Sure, Hiccup,” she said.”

“Yeees?” Hans slurred.

“If you actually remember any of this? Yes.”

Hans could only stare as Sigrid and the Night Fury carried him away, out of this dreary cave and into the warm, blinding light that was quickly consuming everything. Into the next life. Hell, probably. Such a fate would’ve been enough to make even Rolf frown.

But she said “Yes”, and that made Hans smile.

Second A/N: Yes, I planned to pair and then kill Hans and Sigurd from the very beginning. I don’t expect tears, but I hope this story hurt at least a little bit. The part I was stuck on was just exactly how to best fit all the moments I wanted to have into a (kinda?) cohesive timeline.

In hindsight, I should’ve divided this better as a three-part thing, with a middle story as part of the “Hunters” prompt. But whatever.

[xylianna]

Awakenings - Chapter 30

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12806301/chapters/29674980

In the twisted tower a world away from Kohlingen, the self-styled God of Magic was pissed.

Those fucking Returners! Why couldn’t they just die already?!

Kefka raged around the chamber at the pinnacle of his tower, throwing books and magicite around with equal ferocity, kicking at the furniture and tearing down the draperies.

“Hate them,” he spat out angrily. “Hate them so much. Hate. Hate. HATE!”

Doomgaze had been his eye in the sky. A simple minded, if powerful, beast, Kefka had been able to use his superior arcane skills to control the monster, seeing what it would see, directing it where to fly, who to attack, who to destroy…

Ahh… destroy… destroy, destroy, destroy… what a lovely word!

Kekfa giggled happily, scampering to the center of the room where the Statues of the Warring Triad held court amidst a sea of magicite. In his insanity, Kefka had been working on grafting the magicite to the statues directly, but he hadn’t succeeded yet.

He caressed the stone monuments almost lovingly, cooing, “What should we incinerate today, hmm?” He chortled. “Looked like those pests were heading towards Kohlingen. I hope they didn’t have anything important waiting for them there, uwee-hee!” Capering around the room in a deranged jig, Kefka drew on the statues power, shooting powerful beams of light that spanned continents. “Destroy! Kill! BURN!” he chanted merrily, waving his hands around like the conductor of the Jidoorian Opera House, arcs of arcane energy crackling between himself, the statues, and the pile of magicite.

The scattered green gems began to float in the air, glowing with an otherworldly light that refracted off the faceted stones, bathing Kefka’s bizarrely painted face in an icy blue light. As Kefka drew more and more power from the magicite, they began to orbit around the man and the statues at a rapidly increasing pace. Ahh, yes, the power…

If only he could see the inferno through Doomgaze’s eyes.

Those fucking Returners!

The angry thought made him lose his concentration, and the magicite fell the to floor with a clatter.

Kefka figured he had fired off enough Bolts of Judgement to raze Kohlingen to the ground, maybe leaving a pretty crater behind where it once had stood. The thought made him giggle again. “Oooooh, won’t they be upset! How delightful!” Kefka threw his head back, laughing uproariously as he pictured all their sad, pathetic little faces.

“I wonder if they’ll cry?” He wondered aloud mirthfully, starting to dance again. Oh, he was still cross about losing his pet monster, but this day was shaping up better than he could have possibly imagined!

Kefka watched the moon set and the sun begin to rise. Ugh. How bright! Even with his best efforts to rip up the sky, he hadn’t been able to tear down the dratted sun. Yet. Time for him to go to bed. He walked with a spring in his step over to his personal chamber, a small room hung with thick drapes to block out every scrap of that damnable light. Throwing himself fully dressed atop the thick covers, he slept the sleep of the magically exhausted. While his body replenished it’s arcane energy, however, his mind was free to wander into dreams…

Kefka Palazzo had worked hard for this day.

He was a rising star in the Imperial Army, the one the higher-ups had marked as a man to watch. Kefka spent his days in rigorously disciplined training. He studied strategy under the most decorated Generals. Learned to fence from the Vector’s finest swordmasters.

Now, today… he would attain a skill-set no one in the entire Empire had- except perhaps that mewling half-Esper brat, but that remained to be seen.

A year ago, Emperor Gestahl had led a successful raid on the Land of the Espers, bringing back with him a baby, just a few months old, who was said to be the daughter of a human woman and an Esper male. Along with the babe, the soldiers had captured as many Espers as they could, the magical beasts now locked away in Professor Cid’s laboratory. The scientist was tasked with unlocking the secrets of magic, so that the Magitek Empire could truly use magic. They already had better technology than the world had dreamt of in their Magitek Armor, giant mechs piloted by highly trained individuals, the armaments capable of using attacks similar to magic, but not exactly the same.

Kefka had worked with unwavering discipline his entire life for this moment. His friend Leo counseled caution, as he generally did - he was ever the more conservative of the two soldiers, preferring peaceful outcomes to battle, and trying to preserve the lives of as many of their ranks as possible out on the field.

Kekfa wanted more.

He wanted power.

Today… he would finally get it.

The man ran a hand over his bright golden hair, making sure it was still contained in the tight ponytail he wore for training. While too vain to cut off his glorious mane, he wasn’t so stupid as to let it flow free when it could put him at a disadvantage. He didn’t know what to expect to happen at Cid’s lab, so he had prepared himself as if going into battle . Kefka wore his best armor, and had his sword sheathed at his side. His feet had carried him to the lab with military precision. He had marched proudly through Vector, standing tall, filled near to bursting with dreams of the wonders he would perform for the Empire once this Magitek infusion had taken place.

No longer would he be Kefka Palazzo, Imperial Soldier.

He would be Kefka Palazzo, the first Imperial Magitek Knight.

Entering the laboratory, he paid little heed to Cid’s chatter, the scientist all aflutter with nerves as he prepared to inject the blood of an Esepr into Kefka’s veins. Which Esper, the man didn’t know, and he frankly didn’t care. He knew he’d come out of this with magic, and that was all that mattered. He trusted in the Emperor to have chosen a powerful Esper.

Kefka frowned when Cid directed him to a table lined with restraints, but ever the obedient soldier, he obeyed. After he stretched himself out on the table, Cid’s assistants moved in and fastened cuffs around his wrists and ankles. They were made of some sort of metal alloy that was theoretically supposed to dampen his newfound magical powers, in case he was initially unable to control the new abilities.

Whatever. Kefka wished they’d just get on with it, already.

Then he hissed out a sharp breath as a line of fire seemed to be snaking up his arm. Glancing at the painfully throbbing arm, his eyes widened when he saw the needle pulled away from his limb. The blood was in him. It was in him. In him, in him, in him, inhiminhiminhim…

Kefka heard himself laugh, the sound loud and disjointed, as he writhed in agony on the table. His spine spasmed and arched, and his arms and legs were thrown against the restraints so hard he would certainly bruise. Ohhh, but this feeling!

No. He took one steady breath, than another. Cid had warned him that the influx of magic could make him feel… euphoric. It was his duty to fight it, to overcome it.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he heard someone giggling incessantly. After a long moment… he realized it was himself.

And that made him laugh even harder than before.

“I’m so sorry,” Cid stammered, wringing his hands nervously. “I’m not sure what happened, My Liege, but Kefka did not come through the process… intact.”

“What does that mean?” Emperor Gestahl demanded, eyes narrowing. This was to have been the first step towards the new world order he planned to impose on the masses. It can’t have failed.

“The infusion worked,” Cid whispered. “Kefka can use magic, oh yes.” The scientist paused, removing his glasses and busying himself with cleaning the lenses. “It’s just, um, his mind. Well, you see…” Cid cleared his throat, replacing his glasses on his face. “I’m afraid the process drove him quite insane.”

Gestahl stared at the Professor.

“Um, yes, he’s sedated now,” Cid babbled, pacing the room. “It’s the only way we could stop…”

The Emperor lost his patience. “Stop what?”

“The laughing”, Cid whispered, a frightened tremor coursing through his stocky frame.

Gestahl frowned, considering. Maybe he could still work with this. Maybe all was not lost.

“Test him. Carefully,” he ordered. “And continue your research. It is absolutely vital we get the Magitek Knight program up and running.”

From the neighboring room, Kefka carefully masked his cackle of delight. His ears seemed to work far better than before, he’d heard every word the Emperor and the Professor had spoken. Insane? Him? Pfft. Cid was just jealous, Kefka decided. He’d show him. He’d show them all.

He wasn’t able to muffle his laughter any longer, and after a lab assistant rushed to his side to jab a needle into his arm, Kefka’s world faded to black.

The next morning Kefka awoke with no recollection of his memory-laden dreams of the night before. He felt amazing! Ooh, he could feel the tingle of power radiating from the Statues and all of his pretty, pretty magicite!

He wandered through his tower chuckling to himself as he wondered how many people his rampage at Kohlingen had killed. That, of course, caused him to remember Doomgaze had been killed, and….

Kefka threw back his head and let out a bloodcurdling scream of anger. It echoed in the large stone chamber. Kefka hoped that it echoed so loudly those nasty Returners could hear it, could feel it skittering along the marrow of their bones.

He’d have to think up something even more special than Kohlingen’s destruction for them, yes, he would!

With that thought, all was right in his world again, and he began to waltz around the Warring Triad with an invisible partner, laughing so hard he cried.