#please keep your head up high. this is certainly not the end for you. you’ll get something bigger and better

[iintotheunkncwn]

The level of anger I have right now toward WB and James motherfucking Gunn… I can’t even put into words right now how angry I am.

How do you fucking do that to someone? Have them announce he’s Superman PRIOR TO HIRE…then HIRE HIM…only to then say NAH WE ARE GIVING THE ROLE TO SOMEONE ELSE THANKS FOR YOUR TIME DONT LET THE DOOR HIT YOU ON THE WAY OUT!!! And THEN POST ABOUT IT AND SAY ‘…but we’re big fans of his and we talked about a number of future possibilities!’ Get the fuck out of here with that shit, trying to smooth your biggest fucking mistake out. We don’t want it.

Like you have to have some fucking balls to really rip the rug out from someone like that. And that someone was so ready to get back into that suit and rebuild Superman and the universe he would be in… only to just let him down so fucking hard.

And not just Henry.. we, the fans! The ones who wanted him back in the first place, and the ones who were excited or at least somewhat hopeful about this whole rebuilding of the DCU! You go and do us AND him dirty like that? Fuck you, man. Honestly, go fuck a cactus.

This really takes the fucking cake, WB. Wow.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Great Expectations 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Professor Holmes’ class is your most difficult, but he’s about to make it even more challenging.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (modern AU)

Note: monday

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Friday arrives too quickly for your likely. Amid the usual cluster of readings, lectures, and assignments, you have Professor’s Holmes’ additional task to add to the pile. It feels unfair that he would point out your own efforts only to force more upon you. His praise hardly seems like that in retrospect. 

That you did the readings likely made your experience simpler, though the vague instructions leave you uncertain. No rubric, no objectives, no outline. Your format in the usual style and triple-check the word count before you resign yourself to fate or fortune, whichever favours you. 

As usual, Professor Holmes prefers a physical copy, neglecting the digital workspace designed by the campus for ease of access. He doesn’t seem to be the type for the easy way out, does he? You try not to malinger on your gripes and head off, promising to reward yourself with a double whip frap for your work. It’s certainly more than you’ll receive from your professor, even if you do manage to gleam your first A+ from the man. 

The softness of autumn mingles with the crispness of early winter. You mourn the orange and yellow leaves as they start to curl at the edges and brown, blowing across the pavement and catching on pantlegs and tree roots. Midterm season is almost over but it won’t be long before finals rise to haunt you. 

You come up the Herringbone building and look up at the romanticist arches and columns. The esteemed architecture has you feeling even smaller. Surely, the professor will only add to that. 

Inside, the air is dry from the heat blowing from the high vents and curved staircases crest the foyer. You follow the left one up and continue along to the small set of steps that lead up to a hallway with only three office doors. Holmes is at the very end. You went there once before when you needed to be signed into the course; he was certain to make you wait then threatened not to sign the form at all. 

You stop and stare at the frosted glass with his pedigree emblazoned on it. You contemplate just shoving the paper through his slot but the light is on. You raise your fist and gently tap on the wood. You bounce on your feet as you wait, tugging at the itchy collar of the blue sweater dotted with little clouds. In the warmth of the stuffy building and under your wool jacket, it’s stifling. 

You hear movement from within and ready yourself for the encounter. You don’t think you’ve ever talked to Professor Holmes without some degree of awkwardness. On your end, of course. He can’t be bothered to care what others think of him. 

The door opens and you try to smile but it feels like chewing rocks. He looks back at you without an ounce of emotion. You gulp. 

“Um, Professor, I have my paper--” 

He’s already walking away as you stand dumbly in the doorway. You blanch as he circles back to his desk and sits heavily in his seat. He leans forward and dips his head, bending over an open leather folio with a lined pad within. A curl falls onto his forehead and he reaches without looking for the pipe propped up on a mahogany tray. 

“Come in,” he says before he puts the pipe to his lips and bites down. He teethes on it as he snatches up a pen with his other hand. You warily obey and cross the threshold. 

“So, um, here you go,” you near the desk and lay down the stapled paper. He doesn’t look up. “Erm, thanks, professor. I hate to disturb, so I’ll just leave it here--” 

He sighs and sits up, flicking back the curl as he replaces the pipe on the tray, “they won’t let me light that, even with the window open.” 

You glance over at the drawn curtains and nod, “oh.” 

“You’re the first,” he interjects before you can summon any sort of response. 

“Ah, oh--” 

“You are rather quick, aren’t you?” He challenges as he rolls the pen between his fingers, his shoulders spreading wide against the puckered leather chair, “fleet of foot, as some Victorian ponce might say. Quiet.” 

You blink and purse your lips, giving a shrug. 

“You didn’t say hello,” he intones, “it is courteous when you see an acquaintance to greet them, though I suppose etiquette does continue to change.” 

“Um, I didn’t want to... impose?” You murmur. 

His expression remains cryptic. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused or something else. 

“So you didn’t,” he shrugs, his vest bracing on his chest. 

“Sorry, er, sir. But um, there’s my paper, I’ll... let you be. I’m sure you’re busy enough--” 

“Terribly busy,” he confirms dryly. “Since I’ll have a new batch of papers to mark, I’ll be kept well in hand.” 

You clasp your hands together and sway, “right, uh--” 

“And you’ll be off like the rest of those dull girls, paying no mind to the real purpose of study, but rather the wordly pleasures of the modern campus. All that pumpkin spice and such.” He reprimands. 

“Oh, uh, professor...” you know better than to argue. He is set in his ideas of his students and what should make you any different than the rest. 

“Right then,” he reaches for your paper and barely glances at the title page. He flips to the short essay and his eyes skim. He reaches for the antique pen and marks up the page as he goes. He hums as he scratches with the nib. “Good point but clunky prose. No, redudant.” He scribbles his comments in the margins. He turns to the second page and sighs. He closes it and holds it out. “You show comprehension but you need refinement.” 

“Um, thanks, er...” you take it hesitantly and back up again. He watches you with his bold blue eyes, not showing a single crack in his veneer. 

“Go off and enjoy your weekend, don’t fret over the fault of others. Certainly, you show more promise than most who haunt my lectures,” he says. His tone is flat but his words are praising. The contradiction has you off-foot. 

“Thank you, Professor, have a good weekend too.” 

He doesn’t respond as he puts his attention back to another stack of papers. You turn on your heel slowly and scurry to the door. He clears his throat and you stop. 

“Perhaps I mightn’t have such a tedious weekend.” 

You glance back but he still has his head down. You nod and leave him be with a sharp inhale. You hold your breath in until you close the door from the other side. 

Only a few more weeks and you’ll be through this class. Hopefully, you won’t ever have to face the heart palpitations that come with each encounter after that. For now, you will focus on the last paper and the eventual exam. Those are hurdles that look higher the closer you get. 

📕

There’s a cafe off campus you prefer. The library kiosk and the franchised booth in the Student Rec Centre are always overcrowded. This place isn’t so bad. A local mom and pop with a single barista. Maude, the retiree turned businesswoman, works slowly but efficiently. Traffic matches her pace but is enough to keep her thriving. 

“I’ll bring it to you, dearie,” she smiles as she hands you a plate with a crumbly scone on it. You thank her and go to find a seat. 

The place is homey. The seating is mismatched. There are armchairs around a low coffee table, some long tables with thrift store dining chairs, and square table in the corner with two benches and some stools. The rug that stands center to the sitting space is faded but its patterns still visible. 

You claim one of the armchairs near the bookcases and sit. Despite the tense submission, you’re glad not be stressing over another mark. Another A- to add to the rota in Holmes’ class. You could do a lot worse given what you’ve overheard from your classmates. 

The door opens and closes, letting in a chilly. You keep your coat on as you balance the scone on the coffee table. You’ll wait until you have your mocha and savour them together. It’s a rare treat but the dropping temperature coaxed you into it. 

A familiar baritone pricks your ears. You glance over before you can bury your nose in your phone and flinch. What luck. You almost doubt it’s a coincidence. Twice in a row you’ve managed to stumble upon the Professor outside of class. 

Your shoulders sink as you turn back and plant your elbow on the armrest, shielding your face behind your hand. What do you do? Your mind races. Despite what he said in his office he does not radiate welcoming energy. You can’t just flee and leave your order behind; it isn’t fair to Maude and you wouldn’t want to waste the money. 

Professor Holmes’ voice carries. He orders a black coffee and two shortbread biscuits; the Saturday special. The elder barista takes his order and as usual, bids him to sit down so she can bring it to him. You chew your lip as time ticks on. Make up your mind. 

Too late.  

“Pardon, oh,” Holmes approaches and gives pause as you look up at him. “You aren’t reserving these for your friends?” 

He gestures to the other arm chairs. You shake your head and clasp your phone tight in your hands. He dips his chin and sidles around the coffee chair. He removes his jacket and hangs it on the rack between the bookshelves. He lingers there as he browses the titles on the spines. 

Maude appears with your mocha in a large mug on a matching saucer. You thank her as she sets it by your scone. She calls over to Holmes, “I’ll have your coffee and biscuits in just a moment, dearie.” 

He turns his head and nods but says nothing else. She shuffles off and you lean forward to take your mug. Somehow your chocolatey treat doesn’t seem so sweet any more. He backs up and lowers himself across from you. You shyly return his gaze over the brim of your cup. 

“You come here often?” He asks. 

The question has you off-guard as much as his presence. You slurp noisily before you pull the cup away and put it down. You take the napkin by your scone and wipe your lips. 

“Sometimes. Once in a while. Er, I... I make my coffee at home. Tea, more often.” You clamp your lip shut before you can ramble on. 

“Mm, yes, I prefer tea as well. I was suggested the dark roast here by a colleague however.” 

You don’t know what to say. You’re entirely unprepared for the conversation. You’ve never thought much of what he might speak of outside his lectures. His interests, you assume, would align with his expertise. 

“You are enjoying your time? You haven’t any schoolwork?” He asks. 

You slant your lips one way then the other. You look down at the bag by your feet and back at him. He wears a wool sweater with elbow patches; not quite casual but casual for him. 

“I was going to do my readings...” you say. 

“Ah,” he sits back in the chair as Maude brings his coffee and biscuits. He thanks her tersely. 

You bend over and reach for your bag. You slide out your notebook and open it to the printed articles stashed between the pages. You hope it’s enough of an excuse not to talk as much. 

“My class?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, er, Professor,” you answer. 

“Those are available digitally, as I understand.” 

“I know, but I, er, prefer print.” 

“Mm, yes, it does permeate more effectively, doesn’t it?” He intones. 

You agree with a silent nod and try to focus. You’re too shy to check if he’s watching you but it feels like he is. He sighs and sips from his cup. 

“What were you on the hunt for then?” He asks abruptly before you can read the introduction for the fifth time. You look up, perplexed. “At the craft store?” 

You open your mouth then pause. Finally, you summon the answer, “thread.” 

“Thread?” 

“Yes, I... make little things. Sometimes. It wasn’t urgent. I don’t have my sewing machine in my dorm and... no time.” You shrug and let the papers lay flat on your notebook. 

He considers you as his cheek dimples and he leans his chin on his knuckles. He looks down at the cup he holds over one leg. He sucks his teeth. 

“Rather flat,” he dislodges his elbow and leans forward. “And what did you get? It smells intriguing.” 

“Mocha with peppermint,” you answer. 

“Mm, with whip?” He peeks at your cup and the melting glut of cream. 

“Yes, Professor,” you reply. 

“I think I might trade mine for the same,” he stands with his cup in hand. 

You watch him, confused and uneasy. So much for getting some studying done. You doubt you’ll be able to concentrate with him looming on the other side of the table. 

[koishiro]

# - “𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒”

☆◦ 。 3 : 45pm

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : megumi finds it hard to muster up the courage to sit next to you on the train let alone talk to you to which Yuji unintentionally helps

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : megumi x fem!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 : fluff

masterlist | jjk masterlist | anon masterlist

Megumi’s routine had become a habit.

Every evening, he would trudge out of Jujutsu High with his hands buried in his pockets and catch a train from Kyoto to Umeda. It wasn’t far, maybe 30 minutes at most but it was his escape from the constant chatter and boisterous energy of his classmates.

Megumi wasn’t one to smile, and his cold expressions and closed-off demeanor made people hesitant to approach him. He preferred it that way, but unfortunately for him that didn’t keep everyone away.

Which led him to where he was now, Kyoto Station.

As he settled into his usual seat on the train, he noticed someone he hadn’t before - diagonally from him sat you, wearing a navy cable knit jumper with straight grey button up pants complimented by your white converse. You sat near the doors, your bag tucked to your chest as you chatted away with the person sat next to you. Megumi found that you had this aura surrounding you, drawing people to you, including himself despite his usual attitude of keeping people at arm's length.

Megumi found you intriguing, why are you so happy? And while talking to a stranger? Someone you don’t know? Maybe you do know them, he wouldn’t know and you’re certainly acting as if you do.

For some reason, unbeknownst to Megumi, he wanted to be on other end of your conversation, your attention. How was he so easily drawn to you?

To any other bystander he probably came off as a creep with his eyes locked onto you adorned with his usual grimace on his face. but could you blame him? He found it hard to rip his eyes away from you.

Even as you turned your pretty head towards his direction, confusion clearly expressed towards him which didn’t last long as you quickly sent a smile his way.

The gloomy looking boy, now caught, shot his head in the opposite direction of where you sat, eyes wide and a blush creeping up to his cheeks. How could he be so stupid? Of course you’d be able to feel his stare burning holes into the side of your head.

But then he realised. You smiled. At him. A complete stranger whom you’ve never spoken to before. His heart felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest and explode in… happiness? No, why on earth would it be happiness? It must be embarrassment, surely.

During Megumi’s internal panic he failed to realise you stood next to his seat, waiting for the train’s doors to open as the internal speaker announced the next stop,

- The next stop is Umeda, platform 2. Please change here for the Nozomi line, the Hikari line, and the Kodama line. This train is bound for Asakusa.

A light brush against Megumi’s fingers, hooked onto the train’s railing, broke his state of conflict. Snapping his neck up towards the person who apparently has no self-awareness of personal space, he found your big doe eyes staring back in an apologetic stare and weak smile.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention” even your voice was alluring. Megumi’s eyes softened as they met yours, his mouth gaping like a fish. How does he respond without sounding like a complete jerk?

- Arriving at Umeda, platform 2. The doors will open on the left side.-

“It’s fine.” It’s fine? It’s fine? That’s all he could come up with? What a lame response! Now you’ll definitely think he’s a jerk. What he didn’t expect though was for you to flash him another small smile before the doors of the train opened, letting you step out and away from his curious eyes leaving Megumi to his thoughts once again.

Weeks went by and the continuous cycle of now sitting opposite you, in order to get a better view without making it too obvious of course, continued on. Megumi had been content just watching you with a mix of curiosity and confusion, what made him so interested in you? Was it the way you spoke to people with such ease? How you were always so happy? Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t shy away from anyone, instead sharing smiles to passer-by’s or people with staring problems like himself.

It was as if the sun was hidden away inside of you, shining through every possible crevice. He couldn’t get enough, he wanted more. Gazing at you, staring at you, watching you wasn’t enough anymore.

Even during practice, training and lunch Megumi often found himself staring off into the distance, thinking of the next time he’d see you. Like now, as Megumi played with the food on his plate, he wondered if tomorrow you’d talk to the person next to you like you usually do? Of course you would, you always do. But when was it his turn? When would it be his turn to talk to you? What would you talk about? How would he even start a conversation with you?

This internal battle of his didn’t go unnoticed by a certain pink haired boy sat across from him. In fact, it piqued Yuji’s interest more than anything as he took note of his friend’s far away expression. What could be making Megumi space out so much? His furrowed eyebrows made it clear that he was frustrated with or at something, but what?

“You okay? You look frustrated, either that or you’re seriously constipated” Yuji said with a smile apparent in his voice. Megumi always found it hard to believe he was younger than this idiot at times, a few months, but still.

“Shut up, you’re not funny.” He replied flatly, back to his normal snarky self having been interrupted from his thoughts. Yuji, taking no offence replied, “well going off that you haven’t touched your food since we sat down and the way you keep glaring at the poor wall behind me, could you blame me for jumping to that conclusion?”

He had to give it to Yuji for being so perceptive for once, an unusual occurrence. He debated whether to tell Itadori about this ‘problem’ of his and if he did what could he possibly do to help?

“It’s nothing.” Megumi couldn’t see any point in telling Yuji about this so called ‘problem’, he really hit rock bottom if he was going to get advice from Itadori of all people. “Doesn’t seem like nothing” Yuji pestered on.

Wanting to shut his friend up, Megumi chose to tell Yuji, maybe then he’d be left to sink back into his thoughts. “There’s this person, on the train I usually go on. I-“ cutting himself off, Megumi debated whether telling Yuji this was a good idea or not, “I don’t know how to talk to her.” He continued, deciding this couldn’t get any worse.

“Her? So it’s a girl?” He was clearly wrong, it could get worse. “Do you like her or somethin’?” His friend said as he stuffed two rice balls into his mouth.

“Of course not” Megumi replied all too quickly to be truthful, “I just-I don’t know, I just wanna talk to her I guess but she’s so pretty, it makes me nervous”, he struggled to express already embarrassed to explain this to Yuji of all people as he averted his gaze towards the fork he held, tracing along his untouched food. “Sure sounds like you do, why don’t you just sit next her?” Now this piqued Megumi’s interest.

Yuji had a point, a really good one at that. He noticed that you’d always speak to the person next to you, no matter who they were, you always found something to talk about. Maybe he didn’t need to start a conversation, maybe you would. All he had to do was sit next to you right? That would be easy enough, right?

While Megumi was sent into yet another internal battle, Yuji leaned over the table with his chopsticks in one hand, “you gonna finish that?”

The next day turned into next week as Megumi tried to pluck up enough courage to sit next to you, and when that opportunity did arise it was quickly taken away again when someone got to the seat before him.

But not this time, not today. Today was the day Megumi Fushiguro would officially sit next to you and wait for you to start a conversation with him. Now that he thinks about it, it doesn’t sound all that great. He could just about muster up enough courage to sit next to you but was too much of a coward to talk to you? This isn’t going to work out after all, maybe staring is enough, who was he to-

“Would you like to sit down?” Just like every other time he would start to sink down into the dark depths of his thoughts, he was just as quickly broken out of it.

Shifting his eyes away from what looked to be a staring contest between him and the floor of the train as he stood near the door, he met your big, kind ones that seemed to hold a certain warmth just like the first time he set his eyes on them. All he could do was stare at you, as if slowly losing himself in your eyes.

“Would you like to sit down?” You repeated after not receiving any verbal or physical reply. Snapping back into reality, Megumi gave a short nod as he nervously walked the short distance towards the seat next to yours. Wiping the palm of his hands on his trousers before eventually taking a seat, he waited patiently.

How long does he have to wait? He expected you to have started a conversation by this point. Did you not want to talk to him? Maybe he should grow some balls and start a conversation with you. But about what? He knows nothing about you, so what exactly is he meant to say?

Scanning over your outfit, Megumi noticed your shoes. They were different from the pair you usually wore and he could tell they were new by how clean they were considering you were on a subway.

“I like you shoes.” He said without much thought. I like your shoes? Why would he say that?! What kind of conversation starter was that?!

His internal screaming match was cut short when he heard your enthusiastic reply, “Thanks! I really like them too! I was originally going to get a different pair but they didn’t have my size but then I saw these and plus they were more affordable than the others so I had to get them! I’m actually heading back to that store now! What about you, where are you heading?”

Now this was something Megumi hadn’t expected. What he had expected was for you to stare at him as if he was hopped up on drugs but this was a much better outcome than he could’ve hoped for, this was his chance.

“I’m heading into Umeda, my friend’s birthday is coming up and I still don’t know what to buy her since she’s a girl so I thought I’d have a look around” The calmness and stoic expression his face held hid the nervousness he truly felt, the way his heart wanted to rip out of chest and admit all the feelings he held in that moment. For Megumi, this couldn’t get any better.

“I’m headed to Umeda too! Maybe I could help since y’know, I’m a girl!” But of course, Megumi stood corrected, but this time he wasn’t complaining. In fact and even though he didn’t physically show it, he was ecstatic! Not only did he gather enough courage to sit next to you and not only did he start a conversation with you but you also asked if you could hang out with him! How should he reply without sounding too enthusiastic and needy?

A nervous expression adorned your face as a silence lingered between you two whilst, unbeknownst to you, Megumi once again internally freaked out whilst keeping his usual stoic expression on his face, so you quickly added, “If that’s okay with you of course!” Of course it was! How could it not be? “Actually that would be really helpful, thank you”

He made a mental note to thank Yuji when he gets back.

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋 : well this ended up being longer than I originally planned－

— 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘹𝘰

[pristine-rose]

✧ CLOSE UP, CLICK ME !

⊹ characters : kaveh, baizhu, ayato, childe, kaeya ( separate )

⊹ synopsis : he loves taking good pictures of you [ drabbles ]

⊹ warnings : [ex]plicit, public, photography, slight obsession, modern au ( all )

⊹ female reader (afab, she/ her usage), no y/n usage, not beta read, you can blame my friend for this one

⊹ KAVEH

he’s such a nice guy. so nice, so sweet, everyone thinks so.

no, not that shirt— yes! that color looks so good on you! — well, everyone also think’s he’s such a fashionista. and as your “good friend,” or so he claims, he always loves to see your outfits. send a pic, please! — he’ll keep begging and begging. seemed normal enough, honestly. he’ll just rate your outfits for concerts, for parties, for coffee outings, you name it. and he gave good advice, too. sweet guy, took you shopping many times and hyped you up in the dressing rooms.

would it be cute to wear skimpy clothing? he’ll ask you that a lot because apparently, he certainly thinks so. every time you head to the dressing room at a store he’ll call wait! and add something akin to an incredibly revealing shirt or bottom wear. you’ll try it on — everyone trusts his fashion advice after all. he insists to come in the dressing room with you. ah — to help button zipper up your dresses, of course! and to not waste any time. he laughs these answers off like you’re silly for even asking.

it’s one time when you’re texting him about a concert outfit you’re planning. the tight pink sheer top, he tells you, would be so perfect. you tried it on at the store one time with him but never bought it — you forgot what it looks like. perhaps he had a picture? he says he’ll send it. until he sends… he stumbles in text. ah, he didn’t mean to send that image of you still changing in your undergarments — that was in the store dressing room. um, yeah, he took that by accident, here’s the real picture of the pink top. no, no, he totally doesn’t save all those photos of you.

☁️ —

⊹ BAIZHU

this operating table was so cold, you think to yourself.

hm, i’ve never seen a condition like this before — that was what he said. there’s a curious sting in his voice, but it’s not like you can ever tell. a sharp breath hits your shoulder, and you wince. his aura feels ghostly as you stare up at the doctor’s room ceiling; you’re only in undergarments for this examination. he doesn’t say any more, not even offering up procedures or an explanation. he simply removes his gloves, and he touches you.

his hands pushing down the dips of your collarbone to “check your muscles”; his fingers curving down your waist to “feel for discomfort”; his digits pressing at your thighs to “document skin condition” — you were almost too fearful to move even a centimeter. it’s so silent. you hear him open his mouth again.

allow me to document this for future reference — what? click! and a flash — he quickly apologizes with shaky breaths, apparently he forgot to turn off flash, sorry if that startled you! the camera appears right below your nose to capture your neck, and you feel his fingers grip your chin to tilt it up. click! just one more picture, he promises. the doctor is anything but decent when his hand grips at your thigh and pulls it to the side, and you can practically feel it shaking when he — click! — grins with his camera between your legs.

☁️ —

⊹ AYATO KAMISATO

high end fashion modeling opportunity, you just had to take it.

the ceo is a young man, who would’ve thought. he looks so professional, so modest with his suit to resemble nothing below a gentleman. his smile is simple when he greets you, but they’re tried and almost dead, and you almost can’t see the color in them. he markets for a business-casual clothing vision, and he tells you he “hates small talk,” as he rambles on and on about the most random things while the tailors get you dressed up.

oh, would you like some water? — ah, that color is nice, no, no, the shorter one— what was i saying? he changes topics so fast. it feels weird when he stands back the whole time to scan your body up and down, though maybe this was how it worked…? he doesn’t even hide his eyes landing in certain areas, and he isn’t shy to pick the tighter or shorter option. pencil skirt, strapless high heels, sheer stockings, parted top.

he pulls out his phone to take pictures for, um… his manufacturing team, right, right! he grins so awkwardly when he tells you this. he gets real close to take a picture of the end of your skirt — he quickly says for the material of the stockings and the thickness of the skirt, of course, of course! he takes another picture of the parting slit in your blouse — for length, he laughs it off. he runs a hand across his forehead, he’s sweating. he’s nervously tapping his foot and licking his chapped lips until he excuses himself rather awkwardly, fleeing the room.

☁️ —

⊹ TARTAGLIA

he loves his motorbike so much; calls it his baby. he’s so cringe about it, too. he’s got an instagram account for it.

people like pictures of hot girls with a bike next to them, right? — he laughs it off so loud and casual. dorky, biggest grin on his face, a forever smile even when he picks you up under your arms so easily to put you on the seat of the bike. he just uses his phone to take the pictures. but he’s so so attentive with his bike — kneeling just for good shots and angles. but he’s so loud. calling to arch your back a certain way, to sit with your legs spread on the seat — oh, oh, put your hands at the center to cover yourself!

he wants it flashy, he wants it fun looking. he’s so touchy when he needs a certain shot that he will walk up just to move your body himself. so loud, so handsy — he’ll grab your thighs with his large hands — he’ll say to spread them justttt like that, baby. and immediately afterwards, he’ll compliment you in ways that make you freeze. so so so so touchy, he’ll compliment your hips on the photo and will move just to pat them. he’ll say your back curved so nicely with the bike as he runs his finger down your spine. what a nice guy, is all you think, even when he reaches to press a thumb to your lips when he compliments the color.

when you’re all done, he’s giddy posting it to his instagram. like the pics, like the pics! — his excitement has so much pride. when you scroll through they’re exactly what you expected. all tame, all fun looking, he’s hyping up his bike. he’s grinning wildly in his seat next to you, even when he slides to the left to add a temporary story to promote his new post. and, oh, he quickly excuses himself to use the restroom. maybe it isn’t right, but curiosity kills you to peer over his phone when the instagram options look like wayyy more photos than you actually took. spam pictures — zoom-ins you didn’t even realize he did. photos of the middle of your tight shorts rubbed right against his leather seats. quick snaps of your bra peeking from atop your shirt, your thighs on his bike; you pretend not to look when he comes back all flustered.

☁️ —

⊹ KAEYA ALBERICH

newly hired photographer today. a rookie, they say.

he’s a cool guy. really chill, incredibly relaxed even in a high-end photoshoot like this. he’s not even bothered by the chaos of models running around nude. the brand is known for selling underwear after all, he says every time to just shrug it off. but this is a big celebrity collab — you and the company. apparently he’s a “huge fan” of your modeling.

his shots look stunning, and he’s so cool and confident during the shoot. he keeps saying he’s a really really reallyyyy big fan of yours, and you just have to keep nodding it off. you may no mind when he touches you. moving your arm, pulling out your hips, lifting your chin, parting your thighs — it’s all for the sake of the picture. click! but sometimes, he lingers. sometimes, maybe, he didn’t need to put his hand on your breasts to push them up, or he didn’t need to pull at the bottom hem of your underwear.

when the shoot is done, he rushes out. he’s only seen later with his phone close to his face, eyes glued down to the screen, hand scratching at his stomach. he fumbles when you go up to thank him. oh, oh, he’s just a fan — and he’s so honored to be able to have this opportunity — and he loves your professionalism oh so much! when you reach out your hand to shake his, he drops his phone and it’s the most awkward you’ve ever seen him; especially when the screen is dozens upon dozens of imported photos of you — closeups you didn’t even think he would take of your body during the shoot. he quickly apologizes when he goes to pick it up, shaking your hand though he’s trembling when he even looks at you now.

blame KAIRI for this my no.1 enemy who i hate

[gyuutahoe]

The Pen and Sword - Part 4

Summary: Newly recruited to the Demon Slayer Corps, you finally meet your designated swordsmith. He may be as much of a misanthrope as others had warned, but you were nothing if not determined to bring him out of his shell.

Warnings: None

a/n: female reader, eventual smut, penpals with the feral misanthrope, both reader and Haganezuka are seventeen at the start of the story, established backstory for reader.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

The Swordsmith Village was far more scenic than you ever thought it could be. Hidden high up in the mountains of an unknown location, the endless expanse of rolling hills and towering evergreens awaited your scrutiny once you could take your blindfold off. The scent of pine had been strong throughout your journey. It was a wonderful distraction from the fact that you were being carried by a man. Kakushi or no, you were certain your mother was rolling in her grave.

Nevertheless, as soon as you were allowed to rest on your own two feet and removed the blindfold, you eagerly rubbed at your bleary eyes and took in the scenery. The village was so beautiful. The towering buildings were truly a testament to the craftsmen living here.

“If this impresses you,” the kakushi said, “Then be sure to visit our hot springs later. The entrance is on the other end of the village. You’ll see the path leading up the hill.”

A smile crept onto your weary face. All too suddenly did you feel muscle aches and pain from training and fighting, from walking endlessly through the countryside, and sleeping wherever your luck led you. No breathing technique could rival the cure of warm water and idle rest.

But you needed to meet the village chief first. The kakushi warned you of this proper etiquette before any mention of living quarters were spoken of. You listened to his reverent explanation of the legendary Tecchikawahara Tecchin, a master swordsmith of unparalleled talent who forged swords for many Pillars. A man of such caliber must certainly be an intimidating and powerful individual. Perhaps even stronger and more disciplined than the Pillars themselves.

You spent the rest of the walk imagining what this fierce swordsmith might look like, eyeing the many masked faces of the villagers and wondering if their elder wore an even more extravagant mask. Certainly it must be more impressive than Haganezuka-san’s ridiculous façade.

The narrow streets opened onto a courtyard, and beyond that stood a marvelous estate shrouded by towering trees and stone. Vagabond though you may be, an aristocrat’s etiquette proved difficult to beat out of you. Shoulders squared and chin raised high, you proceeded through the gates with as much dignity as a demon slayer was permitted to express.

The kakushi ushered you into a chamber where an old man sat between two guards. A very small, frail old man, with a mask that bore long puckered lips.

You sucked in a sharp breath, held it deep in your lungs for a moment, and swiftly exhaled as you dropped to your knees and bowed.

To think that such a tiny person carried the most respected honor of forging swords for the Pillars! It was astounding and deserved nothing short of reverence.

The mask was hilarious, though.

“I humbly thank you for allowing my stay,” you told him, keeping your head lowered as you listened to the kakushi leave.

The chief uttered a sound of approval. “A respectful young woman. Please, rise and let me get a good look at you.” You did as told, smiling politely to hide your amusement over his comically long mouthpiece. “You may call me Tecchin-sama. What brings you to my village?”

“To visit Haganezuka Hotaru.” You ignored the noticeable head tilts from the assistants. “I wanted him to examine the condition of my sword.”

“Hotaru, eh … “ Tecchin nodded slowly. “Yes, I did assign him to a recruit. You have endured quite an excessive journey for this visit, young lady.”

“As do many other Pillars who come here for the hot spring,” you retort with a tight smile. “Compared to that, I would say my reason was worth the effort.”

“Not many people would say Haganezuka-san is worth much of anything,” one of the assistants remarked, earning what you would assume to be a wry look from Tecchin as his companion huffed a laugh.

The disrespectful jibe nearly rendered you speechless. Your hand settled over the handle at your side. “This sword saved my life ten times over. I owe him everything,” you evenly replied, and your steely gaze told them that your words rung true.

Tecchin hummed. He seemed to want to say something, but was shortly interrupted by a brusque entrance behind you, with quite the commotion between the kakushi and a familiar voice.

“Ah, speak of the devil.”

You turned to look behind you. Haganezuka twisted in the kakushi’s grasp with colorful language as you eyed the debacle.

“You cannot enter without permission - “

“Eat my fucking SHIT - “

“Boys, enough!” Tecchin called out, and waved the kakushi away. With a reluctant bow and a fierce glare at Haganezuka, he returned to his post. You snickered at Haganezuka’s reproachful hand gesture.

“Hello, Haganezuka-san,” you politely greeted the agitated swordsmith.

He grunted in reply. “If you’re here, then that can only mean one thing, and trust me when I say I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl - “

“There is no need for that kind of talk,” Tecchin interrupted. “Her sword is well and sheathed beside her. Come, sit.”

Haganezuka remained standing, ignoring Tecchin’s firm command. You could feel his eyes borrowing through you, and it made you shift in embarrassment. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Well,” you started, willing the heat on your face to dissipate. “I thought perhaps, since I had the opportunity, I could bring my sword to you for an assessment, as a … pre-emptive measure, in a way … to keep it in good shape.”

He brusquely held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

You quickly pulled out the sword, sheath and all, and passed it over. It felt so … intimidating, being fully seated while Haganezuka stood over you. No problem facing demons, but the ire of this man was truly something.

Haganezuka carefully looked over the sheath itself, pulled the sword out, and deftly examined it. “The sword is fine. Are you always going to show up for maintenance?”

“Well, I could if - “

“Don’t. My time is precious.”

“Hotaru.”

The voice of Tecchin demanded absolutely no argument. The air in the room shifted, and suddenly you were all too aware of how this small, frail old man was still in charge.

”Sit.”

You expected Haganezuka to throw another fit, but to your surprise, he immediately sat beside you in cowed obedience. The rapid change in his demeanor shocked you. Had he met his match?

“Pass me the sword,” Tecchin commanded.

One of the men retrieved your sheathed blade for Tecchin. There was nothing inherently intense or stressful about having your sword examined by someone. But with your weapon in the hands of a master, you somehow felt as though you forged this sword, and scrutiny was falling upon you. Did you take care of it properly? Haganezuka seemed to think so.

You peeked a glance at him. Despite his obstinate attitude, you could feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves.

After a minute of silence, Tecchin concluded his inspection. “Not too terrible. Much to improve upon, though.” Haganezuka tensed beside you. “Especially the symmetry of the tsuka. We will discuss this later.”

Tecchin passed the blade back to his guard, and soon it was in your hands again. You returned it to its rightful place by your side, feeling a little sorry for Haganezuka, and wondered what you should say next. Thankfully, Tecchin did not let the awkward silence continue for long.

“This is your guest,” he said to Haganezuka as he nodded towards you. “You will proceed with whatever business she has with you, and then you will escort her to the guest quarters. Then you will return to me.”

“But I’m busy -”

The fearsome aura around Tecchin swelled and choked whatever complaints Haganezuka had. “You will do it.”

“...” Haganezuka rose with what petulance he could muster. “Fine.” He looked at you. “Let’s go.”

“A-ah!” You bowed low to Tecchin and stammered out as graciously as you could, “Thank you once again, Tecchin-sama. I am in your debt.”

The old man noticeably brightened, chipper demeanor restored once more. “Of course, dear! Enjoy your stay.”

You quickly followed Haganezuka before he could leave you in the dust.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Hello hello! I'm here with a request for a Brienne/female Reader fic if it tickles your fancy.

Brienne is Reader's personal guard, and is tasked to escort her to her future husband for her marriage. Problem being, Brienne is in love with her, but being the honorable soul she is, she would never let it show.

Luckily, Reader has a crush on her as well, and the time they spend together while travelling makes her fall even harder.

Angst! Jealousy! Drama! Happy ending!

Hopefully they end up running away together to a faraway land.

Love and War Part 1

Brienne x fem!reader

Warnings: Arranged marriage, light angst

A/N: Ofc it tickles my fancy! I'm combining this ask with another one that will be used in the second part:) I hope you like it<3

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair.

Slamming the door to your bedroom, you rush to your bed, sobbing. You knew you were betrothed since birth, but it never settled upon you until this year. You had only just met him months ago, and now you’re being forced to marry him for…advantage? Whose advantage? Certainly not yours.

“It’s for the good of the kingdoms!” 

Your father’s voice rang in your head. What else was there to do? You couldn’t run away, a search party would be sent out before you could get a mile away. You thought about all of your options and the biggest sacrifice you’d have to make came to your mind: Brienne.

Such confusing feelings lied with her. How your chest fills with butterflies when you simply think of her, but refusing to accept it as a feeling of love. But the way she stood by you, vowing to protect you and keep you safe from all harm–her loyalty, her honor, her empathy–all swayed you from feeling like this was an innocent friendship. But how would she be able to protect you from this? From a man ten years older than you whose only job is to create an heir to his throne.

A knock on your door drew your attention away from the window. The door opened and a woman entered. Brienne stood in the doorway, her hands fidgeting in front of her. “Your Highness? The carriage is ready.”

You turned around and smiled softly at her. “Thank you, Brienne. I’ll be down shortly.”

With a curt nod, she left the room and closed the door. You stared out the window at your reflection and took a deep breath. Within the past month, you had been fit for a wedding dress, forced to help plan this occasion, and now, in the coming days, you’d be tying it all together. Writing it in ink. Etching it into your headstone.

The carriage ride to the sea port was quiet. When the horses stopped, Brienne exited immediately, assisting you as you got out. You always liked how her hand felt in yours. 

In your cabin, you sat up in bed, reading in the light of a candle. Your shoulders were tense and your chest was filled with anxiety for the coming days, but when Brienne entered, the both of you having agreed to stay in the same room, your demeanor changed. Your heart rate seemed to slow, your breathing evening out, and every problem on your mind seemed to vanish. 

“I spoke to the captain,” she said as she began to unlace her armor. “We should be docking in two days.”

You found it hard to not stare at her–those perfect curves, the long legs, and–

“Your Highness?” 

You were brought out of your trace, “Sorry…Erm…alright. Thank you.” You turned your attention back to your book but looked up once again. “Oh, and, Brienne…please, call me Y/N.”

Watching as the ship sailed on the open ocean, Brienne looked to her right. There you were, doing the exact same thing. Watching. Waiting. Only your waiting was for a future you never wanted. 

Guilt raked her mind. How could she have feelings for a woman–a princess–that she swore to protect? And how could she protect this woman when she was being shipped off to marry a man she had only just met? The honorable side of her, the one that valued her status as a patron and abettor, the one that was all work and no play, told her not to do it. 

Don’t tell her. You’ll only regret it.

But the other side, the one that was carefree, the one that wanted to seize the moment in the grasp of her hand, the one that wanted to hold this woman tight in her arms at night, told her the opposite.

When you get off this ship, it’s over. She’ll be ushered off to another palace. You’ll never be able to voice your feelings.

It tore Brienne apart.

In the cabin below deck, you ate dinner in the quiet company of each other–nothing felt more right than this moment.

“It’s true,” Brienne laughed. “My father was so butt-hurt after it.”

You took a sip of wine, trying not to spill it from laughing at Brienne’s stories. “His poor self was beaten by his thirteen-year-old daughter in a sword fight. Any man of high ranking would be hurt over that.”

Brienne smiled softly as she cleaned up both of your plates. “He was definitely peeved, but he told me he was proud.”

An hour more of conversation passed before it fell silent. Brienne looked at you, her eyes giving away that she was deciding between something. Moments later, she decided. “Your Highness, I hope…I hope you don’t think me imprudent, but…”

Your hand reached across the table to take hers, smiling fondly. “Brienne, how many times will I have to ask you to not call me ‘Your Highness’? We’ve become too close for those formalities now.”

A light blush formed on Brienne’s cheeks and she hoped desperately that you wouldn’t be able to notice. “Erm…Your–” She paused. “–Y/N…You don’t want to get married, do you?” You stared blankly at her before your face changed–sorrow, dread? Brienne couldn’t tell. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this–it’s not my place. But, like you said, we’ve become close. I don’t think you should marry the prince. I only want you to be happy, and I don’t think you’ll b–”

“No,” you said. Your voice was low, and something in you flipped. “Of course I won’t be happy. I’m being forced to marry a man I don’t love, Brienne.” You stood from your chair and looked down at her, growing angry at the whole situation. “And it’s not like I can just run away! You tell me I won’t be happy? Of course I won’t be! I’d give everything to run away from this!” Tears were now choking your words and you didn’t even think before saying the next ones. “I would give everything to run away with you!” 

“What?” She was stunned. Had you truly just said that? 

“I’m–I’m sorry,” you muttered, hands clasped over your mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Brienne stood slowly, never breaking eye contact with you. She rounded the table and took your hands from your mouth. “No,” she whispered. “I’m glad you said it.” Her thumbs wiped away your tears and she smiled before kissing you lightly on the lips. “But now, it’s made everything more painful, my darling.”

You stood in your bedchamber, the room bustling with maids preparing for the wedding ceremony. That was it. You’d never see Brienne again. She was down in the village, staying at a boarding house and waiting to hear the wedding bells ring. 

With one last check from the maids, you were escorted to the sept. You waited behind closed doors, your heart pounding in your chest. You could do it. You could leave. But before you could make up your mind, the music in the hall was starting, and the doors were opening. 

You walked down the aisle, making sure the bouquet hid your trembling hands. The man you were to marry stood beside the Septon, his hands folded in front of him and his lips in a straight line. Guests stood in the pews, most of them having never met you before. If only Brienne were here. No. Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn’t here. It saved her the suffering of having to watch you be married off to a practical stranger.

Climbing the stairs, the man grabbed your hand to assist you–it felt nothing like Brienne’s. You flashed him a smile, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to him. The pair of you stood side-by-side, hand-in-hand, and the Septon began. 

As he spoke, your mind drifted elsewhere–to the night on the ship, to Brienne’s lips on yours, to her hands holding your body flush against hers in bed, to her fingers touching every part of you, to the words of ardor that you both spoke in the heated hours of the night. You couldn’t live without this woman.

You were drawn back into the moment by your name. “And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take this man to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love, obey, and worship him? For richer, for poorer? In sickness and in health?”

Your mouth opened, but no words escaped. Brienne. Her arms holding you close. Her light kisses across your bare skin. Her kindness. Her empathy. Her loyalty. Her capacity for love despite experiencing everything that she had. All you could think about was Brienne.

Your mouth opens again and you look between the Septon and the man who held your hand. “I��I…don’t.” Gasps could be heard around the room. “I’m sorry…I can’t..I…”

Not knowing what to say but knowing that, after this, nothing will be pretty, you dropped the bouquet of flowers, turned, and ran. Down the aisle, out of the Sept, running through the crowd that stood waiting outside, you didn’t stop. Your dress skirt was bunched up in your fists and onlookers watched in shock as you flew past in search of Brienne.

You finally made it to the boarding house she had told you she was staying in. 

“Morning, day, or night, I’ll be here for you.”

Bursting through the door, you go up to the counter, asking for her room number, and when he gives it to you, the keeper gives you a funny look as you hurry up the stairs. Without hesitation, you knock on the door, hoping and praying that she wasn’t out. When the door opened, you threw yourself around her neck, pressing your lips to hers.

Brienne pulled you in and shut the door. Between kisses, you sobbed out, “I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t leave you! I couldn’t!”

She kisses you hard and holds you in her arms, hand cradling your head. “I know…Everything will be okay. We’ll leave. We’ll go far away where they can’t get you. We’ll live, and we’ll be happy.”

Happy.

Nothing would be the same now. But, at the thought of being with Brienne for the rest of your days, any war would be worth fighting.

[mothgodofchaos]

Seaweed

Y’all can blame @kalcifers-blog for giving me inspiration for this. Also, apologies for those with thalassophobia, but as someone who has it myself, I can promise that I do not go into much detail. Only enough for context. There is no personal perspective of it happening or elaboration into the anxieties about it. Just a little The Little Mermaid moment.

Mermaid!Marvin the Magnificent x GN!Reader, TW: near drowning, heights, thalassophobia Words: 665

The water beneath you sparkles, looking out over the cliffs lining the cove. A cliff diving expedition seemed appealing on the tour pamphlet, but you’re certainly having second guesses now. It’s quite a high jump, and despite the reassurances of your tour group and instructor, the most appealing place to stand right now is on the bus that took you here.

You ultimately decide that you’ll pass this time around, removing your life vest. However, some asshole thinks it’s funny to push you and you end up going over the edge, down into the ocean below. You’re barely able to scream before you’re plunged into the icy water, sinking deep below the surface.

Marvin usually stays within his small cave, but a quick glance out the mouth of it makes his heart start racing. Your unconscious body sinking slowly in the deep water, not a life jacket in sight. He darts out of the entrance to the cave, reaching you as fast as he can, hooking his hands under your arms. It takes all of his strength to carry someone with him, but he brings you back to the surface, in a private alcove. You’re not breathing, and he panics. He sets his hands on your chest, muttering something between a prayer and a healing spell, only opening his eyes when the last word leaves his lips. All he can do is stare and wait, hearing the panicking of your group somewhere in the distance.

When you start coughing up sea water, Marvin retreats back into the water. He hides amongst the seaweed, his long dark green hair allowing him to disguise himself well. You cough up the water onto the nearby sand, your throat and nostrils stinging from the salt. When you sit up, Marvin perks up, watching you curiously.

“Wh- how did I get here…?”

You clutch your head, trying to remember what happened. Marvin forces himself to watch, not knowing the kind of reaction you may have. You look around, trying to see if anyone is nearby that could have brought you here. Noticing the large track and handprints in the sand around you, it makes you ask more questions than it answers.

“If you can hear me, thank you…”

Your eyes follow around the alcove, making eye contact with the sea witch before he dives below the surface again.

“Wait-!”

Marvin stops, slowly surfacing again, only his eyes and the top of his head being visible. His hair swirls around him, making you almost mesmerized if you weren’t so fixated on his beautifully bright sea green eyes.

“Woah…”

You stumble to your feet, holding your chest as you move back to the edge of the water. He instantly gets worried, moving to the edge as well to keep you from coming in any further.

“Stop, please. Ye were drownin’, I just pulled ye out…”

“You… saved my life?”

“Ye human folk shouldn’t’ve been t’at deep…”

He blushes blue, inspiring the silvery ring in his eyes to shine even brighter. He’s incredibly pretty to look at, making you wonder if sirens from folklore even had to try that much to lure in their prey. You take his hands, cold and webbed. Where ears should be on a human lies a pair of fins, gills starting behind them to all the way down his neck and ribs.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous…”

“Uhh… t’anks?”

You kiss his cheek, making the blue on his cheeks an even more vibrant hue.

“Oh-“

“You’ll be back here tonight, right? I think I’ll be able to sneak away. I’m sure they’re looking for me. I wouldn’t want you to get caught.”

“Oh, uh, ye! I’ll be here. Don’t, uh, die?”

“How could I when I have a gorgeous ocean spirit looking over me?”

You wink, leaving him to cool his burning face in the cold water surrounding him. The last thing he was expecting when saving a human was for said human to give him a crush. Oh fuck.

[kyojurismo]

— I’LL SEE YOU AGAIN

# kyojuro rengoku

synopsis : you arrive just in time for a final goodbye.

tags : gn!reader, angst, light canon divergence, kyojuro’s death, shit ton of crying & blood.

a/n : of course i recently rewatched the mugen train arc and i ended up sobbing desperately as always, but i also imagined something like this. that’s why we’re here, basically. my best friend read it & convinced me to post it ngl, i hope you’ll enjoy it… if possible, lol *innocently looks away* (what a cool way to try and get to write, right?)

you were usually sent on missions with kyojuro, and since you two were dating it helped spending more time together. but this time was different.

you were walking side by side with uzui, who was trying to organise a plan to finish the mission quickly, since you both wanted to be home soon and reunite with your lovers. when suddenly, both your crows appeared and interrupted him.

“the flame hashira requires urgent assistance!“

the crows added something else but you stopped hearing after that. you felt a lump forming in your throat and your heart skipped a beat. you had a terrible feeling and without even alerting tengen you started running in the direction where the mugen train had derailed, your crow guiding you.

needless to say, uzui followed you in an instant.

the world stopped completely for you. you couldn’t hear anything, aside from your heart beating faster and faster against your ribs.

please, kyojuro…

─────────────────────

you saw him. you noticed he was still breathing and it was certainly a good sign… right? it had to.

you ran up to him and fell on your knees in front of him, his left eye was completely closed and there was blood on his face. you noticed with terror something stuck into his mid region, it was passing through his stomach.

“i’m so happy to see you,” his voice was lower than usual and it caused the tears in your eyes to start streaming down your face. “d-don’t strain yourself,” you pleaded him, believing that he just needed to stay still until the kakushi got there.

uzui appeared behind you right after checking the young slayers previously sent to support kyojuro on the mission. they were alive and their injuries weren’t too bad.

“i wanna have one last chat with you… it truly is a bless to have you here, you know?” his lips curved in a smile, making your heart clench. you were shaking as tears kept streaming down your cheeks. “you’ll be alright, use your breathing instead of talking, please!” you moved closer but refrained from touching him, too scared of hurting him. “i have something to tell you.”

you shook your head, hiccups causing your body to shake even more. “you can’t die now! you promised to come back, to me and senjuro!” the desperation in your voice showed how shocked and scared you were, it clearly clouded your judgment. “y/n,” uzui put a hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down. kyojuro glanced at him tiredly, grateful that he was here too. for you.

“meeting you was one of the many blessings in my life. i’m glad i was able to see you smile, share your joy over small things… see the love in your eyes whenever you looked at me,” his voice was gentle, but hearing his words felt like getting stabbed repeatedly in your heart.

“i know you’ll keep blooming and growing, because there’s still more you have to discover about yourself. my only regret is that i won’t be there to hold your hand in the process.”

oh, rengoku…

your vision was completely clouded by tears but you could still see that whatever was stuck in his body was now turning into dust, as the sun was rising high in the sky. blood gushed from the hole in his stomach, his uniform quickly turning red as the blood started to pool around his figure. that was it.

“don’t leave me!” you pleaded as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing in such a violent manner that your whole body ached, you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. “i c-can’t– i can’t live with-without you!” as you held him close his blood was quick to stain your uniform, but it didn’t matter.

“please.. kiss me,” he whispered, hearing the urgency in his voice made you pull back slightly. you were quick to cup his cheeks and kiss him gently, your lips trembling against his. you got blood on your hands and chin, and kyojuro felt bad for staining your beautiful skin. your soft and warm skin. as you pulled back, kyojuro smile widened. “i love you.”

you felt your heart cracking completely and you watched the life leaving his body as he closed his eyes and kept smiling contently. kyojuro was gone and the rational side of you knew it, but you weren’t ready to accept it. you hugged his lifeless body tightly and cried against his chest, as you screamed till your throat hurt.

tengen let you hug kyojuro’s body for a couple of minutes before trying to pull you back, knowing that it would just make things more difficult for you.

“let me go! i can’t leave him!” you screamed at him, trying to push him away without letting kyojuro go. tengen grabbed you more firmly and finally pulled you away, lifting you off the ground.

as the kakushi arrived, you started blaming them. you screamed at every single one of them who walked close to kyojuro and at that, tengen had to walk away with you, to let them do their job.

you saw them moving him and you tried to run to him again but uzui gripped your arms and held you in front of him, he made sure to shield you from what was going on behind him as he noticed your status.

“y/n, listen. y/n!” he wrapped his arms around you to stop you from squirming in his grasp and run away. “h-he promised to c-come back!” your face was all wet and hot from the crying, as tengen tried to wipe away your tears. he cupped your face and tried his best to comfort you. “i know… but that’s not gonna happen,” he muttered, seeing your eyes completely empty.

you felt like throwing up as your head started spinning. you were covered in kyojuro’s blood and the stark realisation that kyojuro, the love of your life, just died in front of you started hitting you.

“k-kyo is…” you looked up at tengen, ready to start crying again, before he hugged you and held you close to his body, feeling you heavily shaking in his arms. tengen caressed your back slowly and stared into the distance.

i didn’t told him that i love him too. he didn’t hear it for the last time. i just watched him die in front of my eyes. he didn’t deserve it!

reblogs & comments are super appreciated! thank you for taking your time reading it, i hope you enjoyed it. have a good day / night <3

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

Peace of Mind - Ch.1

Pairing: Bestfriend!Eddie x Reader x Steve

Warnings: Slow burn, follows script of the show with some offshoots, 18+ Minors DNI, eventual smut, eventual angst

Summary: Reader is Eddie’s best friend and only meets Steve when your other best friend, Robin, starts working at Scoops Ahoy. What happens when you’re torn between two boys? :)

It was the summer, finally. After a long year of high school it was finally time to relax. That also meant a summer job. You worked at Family Video if you could even call it a job. The new Starcourt mall was pulling everyone over to it. You had worked at Family Video for over a year now and barely saw anyone. It was fairly easy and the owner of the place, a big movie buff, appreciated any youngins who had a taste for movies themselves to go and work for him. Before the school year ended, Robin had complained about needing a job. Instead of coming to work with you, she applied for jobs at the Starcourt mall since it was a shoe in as she said since it just opened and needed bodies.

Only it wasn’t what it cracked up to be when she asked you to come over one day to see her uniform. You sat on her bed, flipping through a magazine as she changed. “It can’t be that bad!” You called out to her.

“Oh, just wait!” Robin yelled back from her bathroom. At the sound of a door opening, you looked up. Your eyes widened and Robin pointed a finger at you. “Don’t.” She warned sternly.

You pressed your lips together. “Robin.” You whispered.

Robin sighed, placing her hands on her hips. “Fine.” She waved her hand, “Laugh.”

Immediately, a fit of giggles erupted out of you. “A-A sailor uniform?!” You squeaked and she whined.

“It’s called Scoops Ahoy! I thought, maybe like, it would be something a little less embarrassing than this!” She whined, motioning to her outfit as a whole. 

“Can I-”

“No!”

“Please! Eddie would get a kick out of this!”

“Absolutely not. You and your deranged best friend are not going to have a fit of giggles and inside jokes at my expense. Certainly not with photographic evidence.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Okay…but can I tell him?” You asked with a grin.

She sighs. “I guess I can’t stop you from that. If he ever came in he’d see it anyway.” She mumbled, “And I have a coworker. You’ll never guess who.”

“Tom Cruise?”

“What? No!” She took the cap off of her head and threw it in your direction. “Steve. Harrington.”

You raised a brow at her. “Excuse me? Steve Harrington? As in Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. As in Steve ‘former king of Hawkins High’ Harrington? Mr. Bagel-crumbs-all-over-Ms.Click’s-class Harrington?” You asked her as she nodded slowly to your words. You almost couldn’t believe it. Steve came from money after all, that much you knew from sneaking into a party of his once. Why would he need a job?

“The one and the same.” She confirmed.

“What are the odds…” You murmured and she sighed, sitting down heavily on her bed beside you.

“Now, I get to be tormented by the guy who had all the attention of the biggest crush of my high school days.” Robin whined.

You smiled softly at your friend. You had learned about Robin’s sexuality by accident almost a year and a half ago. You both had been looking through a magazine when she mentioned how cute Molly Ringwald was. From then, you were the only one who knew. She told you all about Tammy Thompson and how she wished the girl would notice her instead of Steve. “Well, maybe it’ll be different. He changed after all after Nancy Wheeler.” You pointed it out to her.

“You’re right.” Robin sighed softly.

----------------------------------------------

It took Robin working there all of a week for her to realize Steve was not like he used to be. She told you all about how he tried to hit on girls all the time and completely bombed. At this point, she was keeping track of how many times Steve asked a girl out and was rejected. The second you told Eddie about Robin’s uniform and that she worked with Steve, he perked up from his seat. He hopped off of his bed and grabbed his reeboks.

“What are you doing?” You asked him as he shoved his shoes on. He grinned as he adjusted his Iron Maiden t-shirt he cut into a deep muscle tee, exposing his sides.

“Wanna go get ice cream?” He grinned at you.

You smirked and pushed off of his floor. “I’m down!” You grabbed your shoes and shoved them on.

“I’ll buy, sweetheart.” He laughed as he grabbed his keys.

It was a fairly short ride to the Starcourt mall. The large building covered in neon coloring and neon lights was packed with people since it was summertime. Eddie parked the van and you both started towards the building. As soon as you got into the crowded space, Eddie’s hand found yours to not lose track of you. He laced your fingers together, gently leading you through the throngs of people towards Scoops Ahoy. Walking inside, the store itself was frigid. Which made sense since it was an ice cream shop. A gaggle of small kids with their moms were at the counter, choosing their ice cream and respective toppings. Steve was at the helm scooping ice cream into small cups or onto cones. 

“No fucking way.” Eddie breathed seeing Steve in his uniform.

You pressed your lips together. If you thought Robin’s uniform had been bad… Steve, oh poor baby boy Steve. His was definitely worse. Eddie was shaking as he snickered beside you at the sight of Steve in his uniform. Never before had you seen Steve in such an embarrassing state. As soon as the group of kids and their mothers left, Eddie practically dragged you to the counter. 

“Steve Harrington,” He drawled, placing his free hand on the counter.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “Munson.” He murmured and glanced at you, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Steve.” You answered back.

Steve glanced down at your joined hands. “Robin!” He called, “Y/N and her little boyfriend are here!” He moved over to a small window behind the counter, sliding it aside.

“Boyfriend?” Eddie mumbled and looked down at your hands. “Oh, oops.” He laughed and dramatically swung your arms. “Not my girlfriend, Harrington. But, don’t even think about it. My best friend is too good for you.” Eddie playfully threatened and you rolled your eyes. Eddie was always protective of you when it came to boys. You’d had very few boyfriends in your time either because they had a problem with Eddie and you refused to leave Eddie for a boyfriend or the relationship had just been plain bad. 

“I agree!” Robin cheerfully answered as she walked out of a swinging door. “How can I help you two?” She asked, nudging Steve out of the way.

“I’ll take chocolate with hot fudge in a cup, Robin. Sweetheart?” Eddie looked down at you.

You hummed, “Strawberry with fudge.” You answered.

“You got it.” Robin laughed and started to scoop your ice cream into the little paper cups. After Eddie paid, she sat with you both for her break. Eddie was barely able to resist teasing Steve over his uniform, enduring a few nudges from you to keep some of it at bay.

That was how it was for almost a month. You and Eddie would occasionally go to Scoops Ahoy to keep Robin company and bother Steve while Robin over time started to dislike Steve more and more. She claimed the only satisfaction she got was teasing him every time a girl didn’t take him up on his flirting. Now she just felt a sort of happiness that he was as miserable as some of the people he made fun of in the past. For once, Eddie was busy so you decided to go and bother Robin at work since you had an off day. As soon as you walked into Scoops Ahoy you spotted Robin behind the ice cream counter, handing a tiny spoon of ice cream to Erica Sinclair.

“Thank god you’re here.” Robin breathed when you walked over. She jabbed a thumb towards the swinging door. “Can you please go in there and get Dingus for me?” She grumbled.

“Okay, okay.” You laughed and shook your head. You had never been invited into the back before. You pushed the door open and paused. There stood Steve Harrington, shoving a banana into his mouth and a younger kid playing something on his recorder. “Uh…” The kid grabbed at the recorder and shut it off, offering a toothy smile when he heard your confused tone at finding them both.

“Y/N!...Hey!” Steve pointed at the silver recorder, “Do you know Russian?”

“Steve!” The kid screeched, staring at the older boy.

“What?!”

“Uhm, Russian?” You raised a brow, “Is that what that was?” You pointed to the recorder and walked further inside, letting the red door swing shut behind you.

The kid sighed and rewound the tape before pressing play again. Words flowed out of the device along with a song. You furrowed your brow and frowned. Once it was done, the kid shut the recorder off again. “So what do you think?” The kid asked you both, looking between you and Steve.

Steve tore off a piece of banana and shoved it into his mouth. “Sounded familiar.” He answered and you slowly turned to look at him.

“What?” The kid asked before you could.

“The music.” Steve clarified, “The music right there at the end.”

“Why are you listening to the music, Steve? Listen to the Russian. We’re translating Russian!”

“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s musi-”

“Alright!” Robin exclaimed as she pushed into the room. “Babysitting time is over, you need to get in there. And I sent you to get him!” Robin yelled at you before noticing the white board. She had unceremoniously taken that board to keep track of the times Steve had failed to hit on a girl. “Hey! My board! That was important data, shitbirds.”

“I guarantee you what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” The kid argued as Steve disposed of his banana peel onto the table and looked smugly at Robin.

“Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?” Robin asked them.

“You knew about the Russians?” You murmured to her.

“How does she know about the Russians?” The kid whispered to Steve.

“I dunno!” Steve answered through a mouthful of banana.

“You told her about the Russians?” 

“It wasn’t me!”

“Hello, we can hear you.” Robin interrupted. “Actually, I can hear everything. You’re both extremely loud.” Robin clued them in. “You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country on tape and you’re trying to translate but you haven’t figured out a single word because you didn’t realize the Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do. Sound about right?” Robin guessed, looking between the two.

“Sounds about right to me.” You shrugged.

Robin dove for the tape but Steve was quick to snatch it up before she could grab it. “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing!?” He asked and she shrugged.

“I wanna hear it.” She answered.

“Why?”

“Cause maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages you know.”

“Russian?” The kid asked her.

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.” Robin answered in Pig Latin.

Steve exclaimed excitedly thinking she was speaking Russian. “Holy shit!” The kid grinned at her.

“That was Pig Latin, dingus.” Robin informed them. Steve slapped the kid with his banana peel and called him an idiot. “But I can speak Spanish, French and Italian and I’ve been in band for twelve years.” She pulled a chair from the table and sat down. “My ears are little geniuses, trust me.” She smiled. Steve hesitated. “C’mon, it’s your turn to sling ice cream. My turn to translate.” She held her hand out for the recorder. “I don’t even want credit, I'm just bored.”

Steve sighed, taking the scoop from Robin’s hands and handing off the recorder. 

You found yourself not in the back with Robin. Instead you found yourself up front helping Steve. Well, helping was a loose word. You weren't useful when it came to translating. The only language you know is English so you were better off elsewhere. Steve scooped the ice cream while you stocked up any dwindling frozen treats and toppings for him. 

“Thanks for the help. I appreciate it.” Steve spoke when the throng of children slowed and dropped off.

You shrugged. “No problem. I’m not a language genius like Robin and I had nothing better to do.”

“Eddie?” 

“Busy. Band stuff and then D&D.” You answered. Try as he did, you never got into playing the game. You sat in on Hellfire but you never actually played it.

The mini sliding window opened and Robin poked her head out as Steve scooped some more ice cream. “We have our first sentence!” She proclaimed to us.

“Oh really? And what is it?” You asked, grabbing a large jar of maraschino cherries.

“The week is long.” Robin answered in a fake Russian accent.

“Well that’s thrilling.” Steve answered sarcastically.

“No, but it’s progress.” She shrugged and shut the window once again.

Steve shook his head and turned to give ice cream to the two pre-teens in front of the counter. “Wait a second…are you even allowed to be here?” He asked the one with a short bob haircut. Both girls giggled and ran out of the store. “Uh… okay.” Steve murmured.

“Who was that?” You asked as you scooped the bright red cherries into the container in the toppings cooler for Steve.

“Oh, uh. This girl I babysat before. Her dad is strict about her going out so I was just surprised to see her.” He quickly explained as he fiddled with the tasting spoons.

You eyed him for a second. “Okeeey.” You shrugged, screwing the lid back onto the cherries and moving to put them back into the fridge.

—------------------------------------------

It was after hours now. All the other stores had closed in the mall at this point except for Scoops Ahoy. It took all the rest of the day but Robin and Dustin, the child, had managed to translate all the rest of the Russian.

“The week is long. The silver cat feeds. When blue meets yellow in the west.” You all read aloud.

“I don’t get it.” Steve announced. 

“It has to be a code.” You answered with a shake of your head. “There’s no reason to talk like this unless it’s a code.”

You all gathered our things, walking out of the ice cream parlor. Steve pulled the grate down on the storefront before snapping the lock into place. “I mean it just doesn’t make sense. It can’t be right.” He argued.

“It’s right.” Robin argued back. 

“Honestly, I think it’s great news.” Dustin answered.

“How is this great news?” Steve asked, “So much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. It’s obviously a code, like Y/N said.” Dustin pointed out to him.

“What do you guys mean a code?” Steve asked us. 

“Like a super secret spy code.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“I don’t know, is it?” Robin asked, glancing back at you and Steve. 

“Oh, you’re buying into this?”

“I mean, it makes sense. Why would they just outright say their plans over a transmission.” You pointed out, “That would make it too easy to catch them.” 

“Exactly!” Dustin agreed. 

“I know for sure my translation is correct. ‘The silver cat feeds’. There’s no reason to talk like that unless you’re trying to conceal the true meaning of your message.” Robin explained. As Dustin and Robin spoke further about the fact that there were, indeed, evil Russins somewhere plotting something big and evil; you noticed the lack of a taller male standing beside you.

You turned your head to find Steve crouched beside one of the little automatic pony rides that ran on a quarter. “Steve?” You called out to him. He was rooting in his pockets, coins falling out onto the ground.

“A quarter. Do you have a quarter?” He called back to you.

You shoved your hands into your pockets, trying to find the quarter you shoved in there after taking the bus. “You sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin teased as Steve yelled for a quarter. You found yours, tossing it over to Steve. He caught it mid air and knelt down, shoving the quarter into the machine. As it whirred to life, the pony began rocking forward and back mimicking the gallop of a horse as it played music. Your eyes widened.

“The music.” You breathed, looking down at Steve. 

“Need help getting up, little Stevie?” Robin asked him but Steve shushed her.

“Would you two just shut up and listen?” Steve asked.

“Steve, you’re a genius.” You murmured.

“Did you hit your head?” Robin asked, reaching out to touch your head. You swatted her hand away. 

“That’s the music on the tape!” You pointed at the horse, “That’s the music Steve said was familiar on the tape. The one you’ve been listening to for hours!”

Dustin pulled his bag off of his shoulder, quickly digging out the recorder. He pressed the button to play the tape. The music on the tape began to match the music playing in front of us from the Indiana Flyer. 

“Maybe they have the same exact horses in Russia?” Robin offered.

“Indiana Flyer? I don’t… I don’t think so.” Steve disagreed. “This code, it didn't come from Russia. It came from here.”

—------------------------------------

The next day, you found yourself crouched behind a potted plant with Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson. Robin was manning Scoops Ahoy while you looked out for Russians. Steve had binoculars, looking around the main hub of Starcourt.

“See anything?” Dustin asked him.

You couldn’t see anything like a silver cat or… anything really.

“I don’t know what I’m totally looking for.” Steve admitted as he looked around. 

“Evil Russians.”

“Yeah, exactly. I don’t know what an evil Russian looks like.”

“Tall, blonde, not smiling. Also look for ear pieces, duffle bags, that sorta thing.”

“Right, ok. Duffle bags.” Steve murmured. “Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Steve whispered. 

“What? What is it?!”

“Anna Jacob’s talking to that meathead Mark Lewinsky! Oh, Jesus Christ. Whatever happened to standards?! I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench.” Steve complained and you rolled your eyes. 

“Really, Steve? That’s what you’re worried about?” You scoffed at him. Okay, maybe King Steve wasn’t totally dead.

“You are the worst spy ever. Give me the binoculars.” Dustin told him, reaching for the eyewear. 

“Hey, stop! Hey.” Steve pouted as Dustin pulled the binoculars from him, sliding the strap off of his neck before Dustin could strangle him.

“Besides, I don’t get why you’re looking at girls. You’ve got the perfect one right in front of you.” Dustin argued.

“Seriously, if you say Robin again-”

“Robin.” Dustin answered. 

Your eyes widened and suddenly the dirt in the potted plant became very interesting as you tried to pretend you weren’t around to hear this conversation. “No, don’t. No.” Steve complained.

“Robin, Robin, Robin.” Dustin repeated. 

It became a flurry of Dustin saying Robin’s name while Steve vehemently said no over and over again. “No, man, she’s not my type.” Steve argued, “She’s not even… in the ballpark of my type.” Steve began listing the reasons why Robin wasn’t his type. You turned your body towards his, brow raised as he ragged on your friend for being in high school still like you were too and that she had done drama as well as band.

“Now that you’re out of high school, which means you’re technically an adult, don’t you think it’s time you moved on from primitive constructs like popularity?” Dustin asked him.

“Oh, primitive constructs? That something you learn at Camp…know nothing?” Steve asked him.

“Camp Know Where, actually. And no, it’s shit I learned from life. Like not insulting someone's friend right in front of them.” Dustin grinned at him.

Steve slowly turned to look at you, a guilty look on his face. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “So what’s wrong with drama and band, Harrington?” You snapped, “Are you really that shallow?”

“Look, it’s not that!” Steve fully turned towards you.

“Oh, it isn’t?!” You snapped at him. He was literally contradicting himself.

“...Okay, maybe it is.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at him. “I’m going back to Scoops.” You grumbled.

“There, why not ask Y/N on a date?” Dustin suddenly suggested.

“What?!” You and Steve both snapped at the same time.

“You both were semi friendly… you know before Steve insulted Robin.”

“And now that I learned that Harrington hasn’t changed, I’ll be on my way before he calls me a freak.” You rolled your eyes and pushed yourself to your feet. You walked around the boys and headed towards Scoops.

“Y/N! Wait!” Steve called after you.

You turned, flipping him off as you walked backwards before turning back around and stomping into Scoops. As soon as Robin saw you, she started grilling you about what happened and why you were mad. You didn’t tell her. Not that she wouldn’t have been surprised anyway. You simply said Steve and she didn’t push further. You sat down on the back counter as Robin went back to get a delivery a few minutes later. She came back about a minute later but as she did she ran past you. “Robin?” You called after her. She pushed past Steve and Dustin who looked at you confused when she breezed past them both. You shoved off of the counter and walked around the counter, running after Robin. You glanced around until you spotted her blue and white sailor suit. She was standing in the center of Starcourt, looking around wildly. “Robin?” You called.

She looked down at you with wide eyes. “I cracked it.” She announced.

“Cracked what?” Steve asked from behind you. 

Robin hopped down in front of you all with a wide smile. 

“I cracked the code.”

—---------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure you can’t stay and check out the loading dock with us?” Robin asked as you grabbed your backpack.

“Sorry, but nope. I got plans.” You answered her.

She smirked. “Plans with Eddie?”

“Who else do I hang out with besides you and Eddie, occasionally the Hellfire guys?” You laughed and she shrugged.

“I guess Steve and Dustin now.” She answered, “Eddie picking you up?”

“Yeah, he should be here.” You answered, “Back to Russians tomorrow?”

“You bet!” She laughed and pulled me into a hug.

You gently squeezed her. “See ya tomorrow, kid.” You flicked the brim of Dustin’s hat.

“Bye, Y/N!” Dustin called, “We’ll fill you in on our findings tomorrow!”

You walked out of Scoops Ahoy, heading towards the parking lot. “Y/N! Wait!” You sighed in exasperation. You turned around and frowned at the approaching navy blue figure. Steve was jogging after you. “Look, can I just say something?”

“Depends. Are you gonna insult me?” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest defensively and continuing to walk towards the doors.

“Look, I know I sounded like an asshole-” 

“A total asshole.”

“A total asshole, but look I just… I know I can be shallow, ok? And you know Robin and I don’t get along. I’m just trying to get Dustin off my back.” Steve explained as he walked alongside you, reaching out to push the door open for you. You walked outside first, aware he was still following.

“Oh yeah, and what would you have said about me if I wasn’t right there and you weren’t in trouble already?” You asked, stopping to face him.

“What?” Steve stopped too.

“Dustin suggested you ask me out on a date. So what would you have said as your reasons not to date me if I hadn’t been there and been pissed at you already?” You challenged him.

“I…that isn’t even fair cause that isn’t an option anyway.”

“What isn’t?”

“You.”

“What?” You laughed in disbelief.

Steve motioned out to the parking lot. You looked over, spotting Eddie’s van easily. You could see him watching you from inside the van. “Dude’s totally in love with you.” Steve said matter-of-factly and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Not you too.” You groaned.

“Oh? Me too? So I’m not the first one to tell you this?” Steve laughed and you shot him a look.

“Eddie’s my best friend. Has been for years. It isn’t like that.”

“Suuuure it isn’t.” Steve sang, “So, go on a date with me then.”

“What?” Your head snapped towards Steve, eyes wide. Did he really just do that?

“I said, go on a date with me then if it isn’t like that.” Steve shrugged, “C’mon, we can catch a movie after tracking down evil Russians tomorrow.” Steve got this smile on his face. Going from being his annoying self to suddenly giving me a small, charming smile.

You blinked at him. “I… Okay,” You murmured.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, yes. We can do that.” You corrected yourself.

Steve’s smile widened. “Tomorrow night. We can see that Back To The Future movie?” He offered and you nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.” You answered, slowly inching towards Eddie’s van. As you got a few feet from the van, you sprinted it. You pulled the passenger door open and quickly hopped into the van.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asked, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“Yeah, great.” You lied.

—---------------------------------------

“Steve Harrington?!”

You winced from your seat on the couch. “Eddie,” You whined, reaching for the back of his shirt. He was currently pacing the length of his living room, clearly annoyed. 

“You agreed to go on a date… with Steve Harrington?” He asked, stopping short when you finally got a handful of the back of his shirt.

“Kinda…sorta.” You murmured.

“I told him you were off limits!” Eddie turned, finger pointed at your face and lips turned down in a frown at me. He looked… upset? Angry? Both? You weren't so sure.

“It’s just a movie, Eds. It’ll probably be awful.”

“If he tries to kiss you, punch him.”

“Eddie!” You whined, slumping back on the couch and running your hands over your face.

“If he tries to grope your boobs, kick him in the nuts.”

“Oh, my god.” You dropped your hands and stared at your best friend.

“If he even THINKS about trying to fu-”

“Eddie!” You screeched, glaring at him. 

Eddie stopped, looking down at you. He frowned and heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just… Steve? Really? We know how he uses girls…” He grumbled, finally moving to sit beside you again.

“It wasn’t like it came about normally. Dustin, this kid that I think you’d like cause he’s nerdy, he was encouraging Steve to go for Robin. I know she’d never go for him, but Steve started saying that because of her social status he wouldn’t date her. Like, he doesn’t even know how amazing she is!” You pouted, relaxing as Eddie’s hand rested on your knee as it usually did when you sat beside one another.

“Yeah, cause he’s an asshole.” Eddie mumbled, “What does that have to do with you?”

You sighed softly. “Dustin mentioned Steve should ask me out and I got mad. Mostly cause I was waiting for Steve to basically say the same about me, ya know?”

“All of which, he’d be stupid not to want to ask you out just cause of status. Continue.”

“Basically I just called him shallow. I think him asking me out is more of a way for him to show me he isn’t still King Steve.” You rolled your eyes. 

“So… you’re gonna go still?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Make Steve Harrington buy me some popcorn and soda.”

Eddie offered a smirk. “The biggest ones you can get.”

[in-my-feels-probably]

We’re Burned For Better - Chapter Ten

Chapter 10

(Warnings: the bedding ceremony, which is not graphic in description, but unpleasant for all involved. if you think any part of this subject will make you uncomfortable or trigger you, please skip that part once you get to it. if i missed any warnings, please let me know, and i will add them here)

—

The wedding came just hours later.

Handmaidens whisked Aelora away, and she was shoved into a hot bath, and then into a wedding dress fit for a Princess. It ran all the way to the floor, with lace wrapping down her arms to stop just at the top of her hands. Her hair was pinned back with intricate little braids all throughout, and a tiara was placed on her head, followed by a veil. She was forced to hold still as rouge and powders were applied to her face, making her scrunch her nose when the brushes would tickle her.

She looked beautiful.

And yet, she was absolutely miserable. She was fighting tears the entire time her handmaidens got her ready. She was fighting tears in the carriage on the way to the Sept, keeping her face away from the family. She was fighting tears as she passed the masses.

She could no longer fight her tears when she reached the end of the carpeted aisle, and Aegon was waiting for her with his Kingsguard in front and behind him.

“Your Grace,” she mumbled, no longer making an effort to wipe her tears.

He pulled a handkerchief from within his coat, handing it to her. “I expected this. You’ll want to hide your tears, Aelora. Don’t want to spook the common people, do we?”

Aelora shook her head, ignoring the handkerchief.

“I am my Mother’s child. I will hold my head up high. Tears are of no consequence.”

Aegon pushed the handkerchief into her hands. “They are if the masses can see them. Cry if you must, but do it quietly. Save those tears for your chambers tonight. They don’t belong on the steps of the Sept.”

Aelora stifled a sob, wiping away at her tears. When she was done, Aegon slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket, smiling at her.

“There. Beautiful as ever. Come on, then. Your betrothed awaits.”

A horn was blown, and the people came to stop along the guards posted down the stretch of the carpeted aisle.

Aelora could hear the Septon’s words before she began to walk. “We stand here today in thanks and praise to join two souls as one. Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.”

Aegon held out his arm, and Aelora linked hers with his. As promised, she kept her head high the entire walk down the aisle. But she could not hide her tears. She kept quiet, though, never uttering a sound as walked past the common people who were screaming for her and the King’s attention.

She could not bring herself to look at the people who had accepted a usurper as their King.

At the end of the aisle, Alicent, Helaena, Otto, Ser Criston, and the High Septon awaited her. They stood on the far side of the steps, with the Septon in the middle. On the side closest to Aelora, where her family should have been, it was empty. And in the middle of the second to last top step, there he stood.

Aemond Targaryen.

Aelora’s husband to be. His face was hard, his body rigid. When she made it to the top of the step, and Aegon left her to stand next to Helaena, Aelora could see his face clearly for the first time.

He bristled at the sight of her tears.

His eyepatch was back on, as she expected it to be. His hair was completely down again, only neater this time. He was dressed nicer than she had ever seen him, certainly nicer than he had looked in the weeks since her return. And yet, when she looked hard enough, Aelora swore she could see a tear slip out of the eye set with a sapphire. She was distracted before she could get a good look.

Otto stepped to the edge of the steps, speaking loudly to the masses.

“We are here today to witness the betrothal between Prince Aemond Targaryen, son of Viserys Targaryen, and Princess Aelora Velaryon, daughter of Ser Laenor Velaryon!”

Aelora seethed at his words. Not even a mention of her Mother, or the men she truly considered to be her Father. Just the dead one she hadn’t seen in years.

“With their marriage, they will unite House Targaryen once again! House Targaryen is strong, as they are strong.”

Otto glanced over his shoulder long enough to meet Aelora’s gaze. Was that a joke he expected her to laugh at? As if the masses would dare to. If looks could kill, he’d be rolling down the steps with his severed head in his hands.

“Aelora has returned home. It is she who is uniting us! Our Princess will become a Targaryen, this very hour. The House of the Dragon stands tall, and burns bright! It is a joyous occasion. A royal marriage!”

The crowd cheered, clapping and waving their hands.

Otto stepped back, and the High Septon took his place. He stood in front of Aemond and Aelora, turning the two together.

“You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection.”

Aemond removed his cloak, and Aelora turned around. She let out a light gasp as she felt his hands on her shoulders, securing it with a pin. His hands lingered for a moment, before he turned back to the Septon. Aelora turned back around as well.

“Hands, please,” the Septon mumbled, taking their hands, binding them with a ribbon and tying it into a knot, before turning back to the masses.

“Let it be known that Aemond Targaryen of the House Targaryen and Aelora Velaryon of the House Velaryon are one heart, one flesh, one soul! Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

The Septon removed the knot, turning them to each other. “Hear now their vows!”

Aelora took a breath, meeting Aemond’s gaze. He nodded ever so slightly, and they began to speak at the same time.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger...I am hers…I am his, and she is mine…and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

The Septon smiled, nodding at Aemond. “You may kiss your bride.”

It was her turn to nod at him when he looked at her, face full of uncertainty. It was near imperceptible, but he noticed it anyway.

As Aemond glanced over Aelora’s shoulder, he noticed how empty it was behind her. As he cast his gaze back over his own, he saw his own Mother, smiling at him. He turned back to Aelora, his face full of pity.

“Forgive me,” he said, so quiet nobody but her could hear.

And then his lips were on hers.

Despite how long the two had known each other, they had never kissed before. Not even once. It was nothing like Aelora had expected it to be. She thought it would be coarse and without tact.

She was wrong.

He was soft, and gentle. She felt his hand come up to cup her jaw, holding her delicately. It was nothing like she had prepared herself for.

She couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.

He pulled away when he felt tears slip between his fingers. She made a sound of surprise when he backed away, swiping his thumb across her cheek. She couldn’t bring herself to take her eyes off his, until a loud cheer broke out in the crowd.

Otto stepped forward, holding his hand out to show off the new couple. “Aemond and Aelora Targaryen! Our newlyweds, the Prince and Princess of House Targaryen!”

The crowd cheered louder, and Aelora could hear the claps behind her coming from her family. She turned to them, plastering a fake smile on her face.

She linked her arms with Aemond’s, making no move to look at him.

Saving her from her misery, Aegon moved to clap his brother on the shoulder. “To the feast, then. Come along, brother. Bring your new wife.”

The guards led Aegon down the path, followed by Helaena, Otto, and Alicent. Arm linked in Aemond’s, she walked with him down the steps, through the crowd, and all the way back to the Keep.

A wedding banquet was set up in the Great Hall, with all the neighboring Lords and Ladies who had come to court attending. The occasion was much smaller than any of the royal or noble weddings Aelora had been to. She figured the expense was probably allocated towards the war effort instead of her wedding day.

She was a prisoner, after all. Money is not wasted on prisoners.

When they came through the doors, the crowd cheered, voicing their congratulations. Aemond and Aelora were led to the end of the hall, where a table was set up on a platform.

As they sat down, music filled the hall, along with boisterous chatter and laughter. People moved to the floor, dancing and entertaining each other.

Jason Lannister approached the table, a small chest in hand. “A gift for our Prince and Princess.”

Aelora slipped her mask into place, grinning back at him. “Thank you, My Lord. Enjoy the party.”

He set the chest on a nearby table, bowing before backing up and returning to the dance. Lords and Ladies came and went, and Aelora greeted each of them with a smile. It was nearly an hour of small talk and pleasantries, before she finally caught a break.

“You’re doing better than I expected you to,” Aemond mumbled.

She glared, turning to him. “What did you expect me to do, husband?”

He nearly laughed at the word. “I expected you to take my head and then be put to the sword.”

Aelora turned her whole body to him, grabbing his arm to swing him so he was facing her as well. She was not amused.

“What?”

“You wouldn’t risk killing Helaena or her children by burning down the Keep. There’s plenty of servants here you have no qualms with. Cruelty is not your way.”

She could tell by his face that he was not joking at all. “What is my way?”

“It’s not cruelty,” he scoffed. “It might be fire, but you’re not an idiot. You’d never do anything as easy as burning us alive. But you’re angry. I’ve never liked to see you angry. It’s unsettling. It’s dangerous.”

“Only when my anger is pointed at you,” Aelora snarled.

“And it is. I half expected you to kill me the second you arrived, and take whatever punishment was dealt to you. But I see, now. You wouldn’t do that, either. No…you’ll do your duty to your Mother, whatever you’ve decided that is. You won’t risk getting yourself killed simply because you’re angry at me—

“I’m not angry at you,” she immediately said.

Aemond raised a brow. “No?”

“No,” she confirmed. “I was, but not anymore. I just hate you now. There’s a difference.”

Before he could say anything else, Aelora stood, leaving him at the table. She walked all the way across the room, where Helaena was sitting at another table.

“Your Grace,” she curtsied.

Helaena smiled, nodding. “Sister. Are you enjoying yourself, Aelora?”

Aelora nodded, though it was a lie. “I am. You look very pretty tonight.”

“Thank you,” Helaena smiled. “I am afraid I cannot stay long. The children need to be put to bed. But I wanted to see you before I left. I do hope your wedding night is…easy.”

Aelora grimaced at the thought. “You don’t need to warn me, Your Grace. I am well aware of my duties. I’ll be fine, I assure you.”

Helaena stood, reaching for Aelora’s hand. She let her take it.

“He won’t hurt you, my brother. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

That was true enough. What more could he possibly do to hurt me that he hasn’t done already? Let him try, she thought.

Aelora ignored her thoughts, squeezing Helaena’s hand. “I know he won’t. Go, My Queen. Your children need you.”

Helaena smiled and nodded, letting her guards lead her away.

Aelora sighed, looking around the room. There had to be a Lord or Lady to talk to that didn’t make her want to pluck her own eyes out. Although, that seemed preferable to returning to her table. Just as she decided on a Lady she thought she recognized from one of the lesser known Northern houses, she felt a hand on her back.

“I wasn’t lying earlier,” Aegon said quietly, taking her arm to lead her around the edge of the room. “You do look beautiful.”

Aelora couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or not. She would have been flattered, if Aegon hadn’t been known to look at any woman who passed him by. Still, she took the comment as a compliment, one she assumed was supposed to comfort her.

“Thank you, Your Grace. You look rather handsome, as well. Did you do something different? Wash your hair, perhaps?”

Aemond chuckled, taking a sip of wine from the cup he had been carrying around all night. “Don’t make me laugh. Someone will hear us and try to talk to us. That will spoil all the fun, won’t it?”

“Yes,” Aelora mused. “Because I am having so much fun.”

Aegon didn’t speak, continuing to lead her around. Aelora caught a glimpse of Aemond across the room, who had taken to talking to his Mother and some Lord whose name she could not remember.

“Why are you with me, Aegon? I’m sure there are plenty of Lords who would love to kiss your ass tonight.”

“They’ll get their chance,” he laughed. “But I did have a matter to discuss with you. I assumed you wanted it private, so we’re all the way over here, far from any Lord who may want to kiss my ass.”

Aelora nodded. “Enlighten me, Your Grace.”

“The bedding ceremony.”

Aelora stopped in her tracks, turning to him. She tried to keep her face passive, not wanting anyone to see her vulnerable.

“What about it?”

“You won’t be getting out of it, if that’s what you were thinking. The Small Council has advised that we hold one. I’m afraid you cannot refuse it. Our House is unstable enough, and an unconsummated marriage would prove to be illegitimate. I can't allow that. Every Lord backing my reign has traveled to be here tonight. We can’t let a single one of them leave tomorrow, filling the realm with whispers of weakness.”

Aelora felt tears well in her eyes, and willed them not to fall. Her jaw was clenched as she spoke. “I am to let every Lord in here watch? You’d really have me do that?”

“No,” Aegon said, shaking his head. “Neither would Aemond. Apparently, he threatened enough of the council last night that they came to an agreement. The Hand of the King and the Maester will attend. The Maester is trusted well enough to confirm the consummation, and the Hand will corroborate his claim. I’m afraid the council doesn’t trust you enough to tell the truth of the matter.

“Your Grandsire doesn’t trust me,” Aelora spat. “You don’t have to lie to me, you can say it. The Hand hates me. This is punishment, and nothing more.”

“I expect the marriage will be punishment enough to you,” Aegon agreed. “But this is not a punishment. Not mine, at least. It’s simply an unpleasant duty that has fallen on you.”

Aelora seethed. “You’re the King. Surely your influence could have swayed their minds.”

“It very well could have, but I won’t use it. I happen to agree with their decision. It’s nothing personal, Aelora. We all have our duties. This one is yours.”

Aegon released her arm, turning to stand in the middle of the room.

“People of the court! Our guests of honor have to leave us. It is time for the bedding ceremony! We’re not invited, I’m afraid. We’ll continue the festivities in their absence. Not even a King can deny a man’s wishes on his wedding day. Bid our Prince and Princess goodnight, they have other matters to attend to!”

Aegon grinned, and the people of the court split down the center so Aemond and Aelora could pass through the hall.

Aemond reluctantly came to her side, holding his arm out for her to take. Aelora accepted, letting Aemond guide her. She did her duty, smiling and waving as she left the hall. She could hear the steps of Otto and the Maester following as they left.

Each thundering step felt like a knife to the heart.

As they walked through the halls, Aelora realized they were headed for her chambers. She squeezed Aemond’s arm getting his attention.

“Take me anywhere else but my chambers. I’m begging you. Please?” She asked, keeping her voice quiet enough that only he could hear.

Aemond only nodded, changing directions without a word as they walked.

Eventually, they reached his chamber door. Aelora felt her heart pounding in her chest as he opened it, desperately trying to pull air into her lungs.

Silently, he guided her in.

Otto closed the door behind him, taking his place next to the Maester on the far side of the room. They made small talk as Aemond reached for the pitcher of wine on the table, pouring himself and Aelora a glass. He chugged his before she could even bring her cup to her lips, pouring himself another immediately after.

“Just as unhappy with this as I am?” She asked, already aware of the answer.

Aemond sighed, frowning. “I’m sure nobody is more unhappy about it than you.”

She nodded in agreement. “Yes…let’s get it over and done with, then.”

She began taking off her clothes, reaching for the ties along her gown. Her hands shook as she undid the ties. As she began to pull at them, Aemond stopped her, setting his hands on hers.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured. “We don’t have to.”

She smiled sadly, pulling her hands from his. “But we do, husband. It’s our duty.”

Aemond shook his head, stopping her once more from undoing any more ties and buttons along her dress. She gave him a look of confusion, waiting for him to make a move.

“Really, you don’t have to. You don’t need to strip off all your clothes for this to happen. You can leave whatever you want on. All of it, if you wish.”

Aelora sighed, removing the cloak he had set on her shoulders just hours before. She pulled the first layer of her dress off, bending down to remove her shoes. She stopped once she was left in her corset, stockings, and shift, leaving it all on.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I’m ready now.”

She slid herself onto the bed, settling herself up against the pillows. She stared at the canopies above her, looking at their pattern as she listened to Aemond undress. She was surprised when she looked down to see that all he had removed was his shoes, coat, vest, and belt, leaving himself still clothed in a billowy white shirt and trousers.

He uneasily climbed up into the bed, crawling until he was hovering over her. With a whimper, Aelora opened her legs, letting Aemond place himself in between them. Aelora rolled her head to the side, her eyes landing on Otto and the Maester, silently watching in the corner.

She couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she looked into Otto’s eyes, finding a cruel blank expression staring back at her.

Aemond gently cupped her jaw, turning her eyes to his.

“Don’t look at them…look at me.”

Aelora nodded quickly, fighting to dry her tears as they continued to fall.

It wasn’t nearly as painful as people had warned. Maybe she had Aemond to thank for that. Every move he made was slow, and cautious. The shame hurt far worse than the pain of the act did. Aelora tried her hardest to turn her mind from what was happening to her, but the thoughts wouldn’t budge.

She eventually moved to hide her face in Aemond’s neck, bringing her arms up to cling to his shoulders.

She shut her eyes tight and held on to him, not letting go until she heard the sound of Otto and the Maester’s feet retreating from the room.

The second they were gone, Aemond pulled himself from her frame, scrambling for the end of the bed. Aelora pulled the sheets up to her chin, covering her body as she brought her knees up to her chest.

She glanced down to see Aemond at the foot of the bed, his head in his hands.

She tore her eyes from his frame, rolling over to face the wall with the covers tucked up around her chin. Aemond pulled his coat on, sinking to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Neither said a word to each other for the rest of the night, nor did they sleep a single second.

When birds could be heard chirping in the courtyard, only then did Aemond pull himself up from the floor, silently walking out and leaving Aelora alone in his chambers.

—

A/N - This chapter was a bit heavy for me to write. I don’t take subjects like this lightly, and I hope I handled it well. The next few won’t be as grim or graphic, but they won’t be all that happy either.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the story, please let me know your thoughts so far. Feel free to comment anything you want. More of Aemond and Aelora to come soon.

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Mortal Kombat: In the End: Interrogations and Answers.

Summary: One clan receives information, another tries to find some.

Chapter list.

Chapter list part two.

Taylor’s return to the Red Dragon stronghold was not as satisfying as he hoped. He trudged through the halls, coming face to face with Mavado on his way to meet with Daegon.

“Back already?” Mavado asked with a hint of sarcasm. Mavado rarely spoke unless required, but his tongue was almost as sharp as his blade. And twice as frustrating.

“Just let me through, Mavado.”

Mavado huffed before opening the door to the lower chambers that Daegon regularly spent his time.

“Give him my regards,” he requested as he left to parts unknown. Taylor moved on as he travelled down the steps.

Commander Taylor wasn’t nervous. His mission was to observe and report, it was his soldier’s fault for jumping the gun and fighting. Daegon would understand.

“Grandmaster Daegon. I’m here to deliver my report.”

Daegon looked to his soldier calmly.

“You need not ask permission, just speak.”

“Taven has been confirmed alive. We found him in Argus’ temple. We were going to try and incapacitate him, but one of my soldiers jumped the gun and alerted him to our position,” Mason relayed while keeping his voice stoic.

Daegon’s face was stern, his emotions often kept tightly locked away. It was one of the things Taylor respected about him.

“That is disappointing. I thought you had a firmer command over your solders.”

“It will not happen again, I swear it,” Taylor promised with a fist to the upper left of his chest.

“Let us hope so. Keep yourself prepared for any sightings or intruders, dismissed.”

Taylor bowed and left to the barracks, giving Daegon some time alone.

“Brother, our meeting is coming closer.”

Taven had always won their contests, winning their father’s approval while Daegon was left with half-baked sympathy from his mother.

No more. Soon, Daegon would prove that he was the better brother and claim the ultimate prize.

It was his destiny.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Jax’s life had become far more adventurous since he learned about Outworld. He’d sailed on ships to hidden portals, fought in tournaments to protect his home, and seen all matter of creatures.

However, being held captive on a warship that was property of a cyborg ninja who led a clan of cyborgs was certainly high on the list of strange situations. His arms were outfitted with unique restraints that powered them down, and his neck was outfitted with a powerful shock collar.

Cliché much?

Instead of simply killing him, Sektor had taken him for information on the Special Forces while attempting to persuade him to turn to the Tekunin. Unfortunately, Jax wasn’t a turncoat.

“Are you ready to talk?” Sektor asked from outside the bars. Was he enjoying this? Hard to tell.

“You’ll have to say please,” Jax muttered, head pounding from the shock. The longer he stalled, the better chance he could find a way to escape. Sektor opened a panel on his wrist and pressed on a button that controlled the restraints. Another shock travelled up Jax’s body, mercifully stopping.

“I state again. Cooperate, and the pain ends.”

Jax wanted to roll his eyes.

“You know, I just remembered something. Could you come a little closer? The last shock made my voice a little hoarse.”

Sektor stepped closer to the captive soldier, leaning his helmet in close.

“Tell me.”

Jax looked into the emotionless visor of Sektor. A machine without pity or remorse, yet having the cruelty that only a human could wield. Summoning his strength, Jax spat blood in his face. The crimson dripped down Sektor’s helmet, and he didn’t make any sound until his hand wrapped around Jax’s neck.

“You only prolong your suffering by refusing to cooperate.”

‘It’s called not being a sell-out.”

Sektor reeled his fist back, ready to deliver a powered punch. But before he could, one of his tekunin members marched outside the bars.

“Grandmaster, the prisoner is awake.”

“Excellent. Guard Jackson Briggs until I return. If he attempts any escape, increase the intensity of the shock by five.”

“Understood.”

Sektor left the holding cells via teleportation and Jax spat some blood on the ground. Sektor was getting angry, and getting angry made for sloppy mistakes.

He just had to be patient. He’d get out of here, one way or another.

[midnightunderground-hq]

Event 003: It’s Vegas, Baby!

A TALE TOLD....

There are very few things more exciting to the fellows of the Midnight Underground than a wedding. Such a wonderous day where two people become joined in Unholy Matrimony, combining customs, beliefs, and culture in a way that is just so bizarre and delightful. Oracles come together with Hunters. Wizards marry Vampires. Wolves bind with....faeries? Oh, my I’d never heard that one before until now. I suppose even I am surprised sometimes.

Regardless of my confusement, Connor Talbot and Esmeray Sonmez are tying the knot. Whether they would have done this themselves is anyone’s to speculate, but the process has surely been accelerated by the law of the High Court’s ruling. Queen Cerese’s, as part of Esme’s parole this time around, had decreed it to be so. If they are not married tonight, it will be off with both of their heads.

With help from friends and Connor’s Talbot money, they’ve managed to create a scene fit for a fairy herself. The couple says they will be jumping the broom at 6 PM sharp. To leave room for the inevitability that it won’t happen until 8 at the earliest. As long as they say the Fae Binding Words before midnight, it doesn’t matter when the festivities start.

Surely nothing will try to stop such a blessed union.

They have decided to keep the affair small, more out of necessity than anything else. Should the other members of the Underground become privy to this forced commitment there may be hell to pay. Especially if the wolves in his pack catch wind of it. So unless you’d enjoy a repeat of Moira’s funeral, I suggest we don’t tell Clifford. But if you do what to see such a sigh feel free to let me know. I would need to be present for such action!

Love is beautiful. However it can be eternally exploited. It isn’t uncommon for marriages between creatures of the night to be knowledge of no more than a few intimate friends, lest you annoy someone too much and they go after your most cherished of treasures.

Regardless of the anxieties that plague both our bride and groom tonight, you have been invited to celebrate! Should you choose to attend is entirely up to you, but it certainly would be curious if any faces were missing from the crowd.

IMPLICATIONS FOR THE GAME....

Connor and Esmeray are getting married. Should anything prevent them from doing so before midnight, they will be held in contempt of the court and likely be beheaded.

Hollis Fiala will be in attendance tonight, glowing with excitement over their victory and to relay back to their mother that the deed has been done and the terms of their agreement fulfilled.

You are never required to attend these events and threads may take place outside of this event as well as outside of the venue.

If your muse wishes to make a speech, we will have an open mike. Please inform an admin if you’ll be stumbling up there for the evening.

Fae wine will be provided and, by order of our most beloved tainted, Evie, you will be asked to bring a gift from the registry.

I do love a fairytale wedding. Though I fear this one may end more like a Grimm’s tale than a Disney one.

Sincerely,

[lgcsian]

kato arisa◞ ⟡   — ft. korean 101

arisa was very much bilingual, having spent most of her life switching back and forth comfortably between japanese and english, depending on the scenario. and one would think that with her natural proficiency of these languages, that adding a third one to the equation would be an easy enough feat. and that too was what arisa had lead herself to believe when she had made the impulse decision to follow her best friend halfway across the world as a fresh high school graduate, with no dreams or life experience. or korean, for that matter. it was probably for the best that legacy entertainment cast arisa when they did, beause who knows what she would of done without them.

supposedly immersion was the best way to learn a language. that's what all the online how to learn a language guides said. that's what everyone had told arisa. and she had tried to immerse herself, as recommended by everyone under the sun. but arisa was a creature of comfort and where she could default back to her native japanese or english, she most certainly would.

training at legacy was enough of a wake up call for arisa to begin improving her korean stat if she wanted any semblance of a future in south korea's entertainment industry. everyone spoke korean here, even the most successful foreign entertainers. and while arisa still wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do with herself, she saw her imminent future here, in seoul, surrounded by the people she cared about. so whatever it may be that she ended up doing, it seemed like now was the time to start taking korean more seriously.

but even amidst her seriousness, and setting a goal to improve; there are inevitable roadblocks and hurdles. there are days when she thinks she has everything memorized and other days where all language and knowledge seems to evade her. arisa always dreads hearing feedback from her designated language instructor on quizzes and tests. he never fails to remind arisa of her stagnancy. until today, surprisingly.

she leaves legacy's designated 'classroom' one afternoon, hoping to slip out without the instructor noticing her. if he never catches sight of arisa, then how can he pass on her failures? "arisa—" he calls out from behind his desk, head down, filing through papers on his desk. arisa stalls, already halfway out the door at this point. she sighs, turning on her heels. "i failed the quiz again, right?" she says, folding her arms across her chest, bracing herself for the imminent yes, you did. "actually no." he says calmly, glancing up at her. arisa raises her brows, surprised. she doesn't get a chance to respond. "well, it wasn't with flying colours. and you still got... quite a few things wrong... but a lot of your mistakes were pretty easy to make. ones that i'm sure you'll be able to pick up on next time." he smiles.

arisa stares back at him before glancing away. "you've made great progress from where you started, arisa. please keep up the good work." he hands her back the quiz sheet she had handed in— it's now graded and while there is ample crosses and corrections, it really seems like the correct answers outweigh those that are wrong. maybe she was beginning to do something right. maybe it was all beginning to click with her.

it was about time.

[angelamajiki]

my shadows knew me faithful, til i heard your living voice

pairings: ryomen sukuna x reader

cw: noncon, chikan, exhibitionism, sex awn da train, yandere/obsessed sukuna, kissing, cunninglingus, fingering, sukuna manifests mouths on his hands and gets to WORK, implied abduction, mentions of stalking, mentions of violence/death, whipped sukuna

wc: 1.7k

an: finally posted my first fic since may!! v excited to have it be my noncon collab fic with my dearly beloved sukuna <3 please head the warnings and enjoy ! find the noncon night collab masterlist here

If there was one thing you were certain of in this lifetime, it was that there wasn’t anyone or anything that was more annoying, more infuriating than Gojo Satoru. His playful teasing for you and overall underestimation of your cursed technique left you feeling more scorned by the day and, quite honestly, ashamed that you were tossed aside for his training in favor of those high school brats.

“Silly little sorcerer, your teaching skills may be up to par, but you’ll never promote past a grade three.”

It wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with each other, in fact, you both joined teaching the next generation of sorcerers together, but it was clear Satoru never took your abilities seriously and, in turn, made your students doubt you too. At this point, you were confident that his assumption of you would leave you fated to be forever simmering on the back burner rather than allowing you to leave a fiery trail in your wake in the fight to reset the jujutsu world.

Leave it to a late-night train ride to let your thoughts seep deeply into your bones, settling so naturally that one would think they had any speck of truth to them. You had half a mind to challenge the asshole yourself, wanting to prove yourself in even the most minuscule way even though a fight with him already had a predetermined outcome, only a pipe dream would end in your favor. But, then again, did you really have to prove anything to him at all?

The option of leaving always floated about in the back of your mind, it never seemed to be able to dissipate completely. The little trio had just graduated, and, frankly, nothing seemed to keep you tied to teaching anymore, certainly not Satoru. Maybe it was time to move on from the desperation for approval of other sorcerers, it certainly wasn’t a question of whether or not you require a partner or two in the field. You were just fine on your own; no protection needed, thank you very much.

But even as you were trying to let go of the past, here it was right before you. Or rather, standing behind you on the train after the previous stop. Strange, as close as the crowded train pushed you together, Itadori was never one to shy away from a friendly hello.

“Evening, Itadori. I didn’t know you took the train this late.”

Even stranger, there was no response but a slight chuckle.

“What, are you too good to say ‘hello’ to your own teacher now that you’ve graduated? I thought you were better than that,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and leaning your head over your shoulder to give him a cold glare. Kids these days...

“Maybe it’s because I’m not the brat, but I’m sure you don’t need an introduction to know who I am.”

It always gave you an odd feeling to see how the boy’s body language and presence would alter anytime Sukuna took consciousness in his vessel, but seeing so close for the first time was nearly paralyzing.

“You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure out what’s going to happen to this train car if you start to make a fuss.”

Damn, he was right; even giving him the idea that retaliation was on your mind would quickly end in either your death or the deaths of all the innocent civilians on the train. His intentions were obviously unclear, so avoiding him outright was the only possible outcome you deducted that he’d want from you.

“Aw, giving me the cold shoulder, already? And yet you were so eager to speak to me a second ago. Relax, sweet thing, I just want to talk to you.”

Muscled arms snaked around your waist and pulled you taut against his chest, throwing you slightly off balance and leaned against him. (The jolting of the train car certainly didn’t help your case either.)

“I don’t know what impression I could have given you that would make you want to talk to me. I have nothing to offer you,” you snarled back, going frigid in his hold as his hands began to wander in opposite directions across your body.

His amused hum rumbled even more across the back of your chest, almost as if his voice was commanding the shivers in your body, “I suppose you’re about half-right, all you need to do is look pretty and listen closely then. You and I both know that you have much more to offer than what Gojo Satoru thinks you are worth.”

His right hand secures itself over your mouth, his left rested on your thigh, stroking up and down while his nails gently raked over your skin, “In a skirt this short? If I had known you were such a naughty girl when you weren’t six feet up that shaman’s ass, I wouldn’t have waited so long to come to you.”

Even his lighthearted tone had you ready to melt into the shadows and never come back out into the light of day.

A mouth manifested itself on the palm covering your mouth, swiping its long against your trembling lips. “Don’t be shy, I don’t bite. Well, unless you ask me to.” His warm breath tickled the back of your neck every time he hissed praise into your ear, practically feeling his lips ghost along your nape and shoulder. Tears fell down your cheeks, staining his hand as the mouth began to kiss and nibble at your thinly pursed lips.

“But, it's not entirely your fault. That shaman could sense that I recognized your power and tried to shame you into leaving in some pathetic attempt to stop me from reaching you. How disgusting, making you think that you were worthless when it's truly quite the opposite.”

His left hand began moving up under your skirt, easily tearing your thin shorts and panties with one swipe of his sharpened nail. Another mouth manifested itself on his left palm, cupping itself over your clit and lips. The mouth on your lips swallowed your gasp with a kiss as it pushed the tattooed tongue against yours.

“But that’s all right, pretty thing. You weren’t meant to be a sorcerer; you were meant to be mine.”

Your cries and small whines stuck in the back of your throat did nothing to dissuade Sukuna as he continued his one-sided conversation and assaults against you. “Someone as strong as you deserves to stand at the side of someone like me, someone who can appreciate and develop your techniques in their own right. Your shaman could never be any of those things for you, could he?”

That sinful mouth began to nurse on your clit as a single finger slipped into your hole, slicked thanks to his own tongue.

“But I can be everything for you. Isn’t it nice that you’re being treated like you’re worth something for the first time in your life? I always take great care of what belongs to me.”

There was a momentary lapse in silence as he allowed his hands to do his bidding; kissing, sucking, and nibbling every inch of skin that they could reach. Another finger made its way inside of you, curling deep while his cursed tongue continued to lap at your now throbbing clit.

“Doing so well for me, my little love. You’re taking this much better than I thought you would, or maybe you’ve already become akin to the notion that submission will work in your favor.”

Sukuna relished in the whines and moans, albeit unwilling, that became muffled from his own greedy lips. It was almost too tempting to release your lips and let your beautiful symphony of pleasure fill the four walls of the train cart. But he was a king; it’s in his nature to be selfish and hoard his treasure with care. Besides, what made any of these weak, insufferable humans worthy of even being in either of your presences? Let alone view such an intimate, vulnerable side of you. Such a sight should be reserved only for him, considering he was the one putting you in such a state.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to get revenge on those pitiful sorcerers? Show them the true strength of your technique and allies by smudging their pathetic existences off the face of this Earth? They don’t deserve to live in the world we’ll create together.”

Even with his brutish words, you could feel your orgasm approaching under his hands as your legs began to shake.

“Oh? So you would like that? Trust me, my little butterfly, I’ll make sure to break you out of your cocoon with that technique of yours, far more so than that shaman could have ever done for you. Next to me, you’ll be the strongest being in our world.”

You could hardly contain yourself at this point, going near limp in his arms as you came to the brink of unconsciousness. “There we go, good girl. I’ve got you.” Legs and hips convulsing, your orgasm hit you harder than you had ever felt in your life and left you gasping for air against his insatiable kisses and nips at your swollen lips.

Sukuna was more than happy to take your weight on, sighing in a near mocking manner in your ear as he rode out your orgasm with his tongues, “That was just a little sample of my affections for you, but I must say I adore the way yours tastes.”

“Y-You’re a madman if you think I’ll ever align myself with you,” much weaker than you had hoped to sound, you attempted to stand your ground against him after being violated so publicly and dug your nails into his forearms as hard as you could.

“Hm, I had suspected as much. That’s alright. I could see the fire burning in your eyes since the day the brat was under your teachings, I’m relieved to see that the bastard didn’t completely snuff it out of you.”

Opening his domain expansion, Sukuna left your soul there on his throne to rest, “Don’t worry, we’ll have all the time in the world to get to know each other here. I’ll be sure to keep your physical body safe with me.”

His large hand tucked itself under your chin gently and rubbed a soothing thumb over your cheek with a smirk, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get rid of all of the witnesses to our little encounter. I’ll see you when I’m finished, my little butterfly.”

taglist: @saintdabi + @natsuonii + @adminbryantsaki + @hornime + @bakubros-boo-thang + @p3achs0da

[weirdkpopgirl]

Irresistible | Haechan Fic #1

Title: Irresistible

Genre: High School Romance; Enemies to Lovers

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2481k

Author’s Note: This is an imagine that was requested by another anon. This one is kinda long, so I’m sorry. I really don’t think this was that great, so I apologize for that too. Thanks for reading anyway 😅

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚

Lee Donghyuck had a nice life. He was handsome, he was smart, and he could charm any teacher. Everyone liked him, except for one person. 

To label Lee Donghyuck and Choi (Y/n) as enemies wasn’t quite right. But they certainly didn’t like each other very much. 

Most likely because he and (Y/n) were polar opposites. In their homeroom, (Y/n) was the quiet girl in the back of their class who got the best scores on exams. She wasn’t in any particular group, but she did have one or two friends who hung around her during breaks. Unlike Donghyuck, being a social butterfly, was nearly always surrounded by people (mostly girls).

In his mind, it was so easy to get a girl to swoon for him. He had broken plenty of hearts but they still loved him. However, the only girl he wasn’t able to crack was (Y/n) and it annoyed him to no end. That was how the endless teasing from him started. He’d purposely bump into her in the lunch line, make jokes about her “plain”appearance, and bug her for answers to the homework.

No matter how much the boy agitated her, (Y/n) tried her best not to give in. The more he pestered her, the more her dislike for him grew. All she saw was an egotistical playboy who clearly couldn’t understand the word “stop.”

“Donghyuck, please leave me alone!” She said to the boy sitting at the desk in front of you. 

He smirked, “You don’t have to pretend (Y/n)-ah. I know deep down you can’t resist me.”

“In your dreams,” (Y/n) rolled your eyes. Luckily, the teacher Ms. Kwon, came in before Donghyuck could bother you anymore.

“Alright students,” Ms. Kwon called everyone’s attention. “I’m going to announce your research project.”

The class groaned when they heard this. No one liked school projects. They took up so much time, and they took a big portion of their grades.

Ms. Kwon sighed, “Stop complaining and listen! You’ll be able to do this in the groups I have already assigned to you.”

This additional news did little to lift the kid’s spirits. Meanwhile, (Y/n) sat in her seat nervous to hear what the assigned groups were. She already hated the idea of having to talk to people and meet them outside of school. They’d probably make her do all the work anyway.

“You will research and analyze a musician that you as a group choose,” Ms. Kwon explained as she brought a paper out. 

(Y/n) waited nervously as she waited for the teacher to call her name. 

“Group 3 will be Lee Jeno, Ko Suyoung, Na Jaemin, Choi (Y/n), and Lee Donghyuck.”

She nearly stood up from her desk because of this outrage. She was familiar with most of those classmates listed, but Lee Donghyuck? Why did it have to be him of all people?

She wanted to hit her head against her desk, especially when the boy turned around with a teasing smile. This was seriously going to be the worst.

~ ~ ~

At least (Y/n) had one friend in the group to keep her sane, Suyoung. After school, Jaemin suggested going to the library nearby to discuss things for the project. Once they found an empty table, they started to work.

(Y/n) told herself that no matter how much she was against Donghyuck, she wouldn’t let him ruin her grade. But a few minutes in, he was already being annoying. He was barely staying on task. He kept making jokes and changing the conversation.

“Can you please focus?” She said through gritted teeth.

Haechan leaned back in his chair haughtily. “Come on (Y/n)-ah, don’t be such a killjoy. Part of being in a group means we need to bond, don’t we?”

“By bonding, you mean bragging about the latest version of some stupid video game you just bought?” She scowled at him. “We haven’t even picked the person we’re going to research yet, because of you!”

The boy clucked his tongue, ready with another comeback. But he was stopped by Suyoung slamming her book on the table, calling both of your attention.

“Stop it guys,” She spoke firmly, looking at them both. “We’re not going to get anything done if you keep arguing.”

(Y/n) looked around the table with frowns, realizing how easily distracted she had gotten. For the sake of the project, she had to pull herself together.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” She lowered her head in embarrassment, refusing to make eye contact with Donghyuck again.

Jeno gave you an understanding smile, “It’s okay, (Y/n)-ah. Donghyuck can get on all of our nerves sometimes.”

“I can hear you, ya know.” Donghyuck sent him a look.

(Y/n) chose to ignore Donghyuck to the best of her ability for the rest of the meeting. Thankfully, everyone was able to pick a person and divide up roles on who would be in charge of what. 

Throughout the rest of the week, the group met up at the same place to work. As a group, they were able to agree on mostly everything and were pretty productive. Surprisingly, Donghyuck didn’t bother (Y/n) too much after the first time.

It was already the middle of the week, and everything seemed to be flowing smoothly. It had been raining earlier, and it didn’t seem to stop by the time they were done. Tugging on her bookbag, (Y/n) glanced out the glass doors warily. Almost everyone had left already, she had stayed back to get some extra work done.

(Y/n) pushed through the doors and stepped out where she was still safe under the external roof of the library. She hesitated slightly, putting her hand out to feel the droplets land in the palm of her hand. Just as she braced herself to get wet, the presence of another stopped her from taking another step forward. 

“Pabo-yah, you’re going to catch a cold,”  Donghyuck scolded, “Did you forget to check the weather today?”

She stared at him bewildered, as he placed a gray umbrella in her hands.

“I can’t take this. Then you’ll be the one who catches a cold,” (Y/n) frowned.

The boy shrugged, “I’ll be fine, my house isn’t too far away from here.”

“Are you sure—” 

“See you at school tomorrow!” He cut her off and ran out, leaving (Y/n) in utter confusion.

Did Lee Donghuck just do something nice for her?

~ ~ ~

(Y/n) still didn’t believe what Donghyuck had done the other day. His expression seemed so calm, compared to the mischievous smile he always wore around her. The next morning in class, Donghyuck came looking unwell. She shook her head in disapproval when he sat at his desk with his head down.

“And he scolded me about not getting sick,” She muttered to herself.

Honestly, (Y/n) couldn’t ignore the guilt in her throughout the rest of the school day. Donghyuck barely talked to anyone and kept dozing off during class. 

“Dude, you look awful,” Jaemin said when they were back at the library in the afternoon. They weren’t there because of the project, but to study for their upcoming math test.

The boy shot his friend a glare. “Thanks, Jaemin-ah, I had no idea.”

“Hey, isn’t that (Y/n)?” Jeno who sat across from them pointed out. “I didn’t know she was coming today.”

Donghyuck lifted his head to see it was indeed (Y/n) who was wearing a determined look. She came to sit in the empty chair beside him and reached for something in her bag.

“Take this, so you don’t get any worse,” She ordered, handing him a box of cold medicine.

He took a look at the medicine in slight suspicion. “When did you get this?” 

“I stopped by the convenience store after school,” (Y/n) replied quickly, and brought out her folder. The guys watched in bafflement as she took out a few pieces of notebook paper and also gave them to Donghyuck.

She tried to avoid his gaze. “I figured you weren’t able to pay attention today. So I made a copy of my notes for you.”

“Wow, that’s so considerate of you (Y/n)-ah,” Jaemin smiled at her. “I wish a girl would do that for me.”

“Only since he let me borrow his umbrella the other day,” (Y/n) said quietly. “You wouldn’t have gotten sick if it weren’t for me.”

Donghyuck was honestly shocked that she actually took the time to do all this for him. Surely, he didn’t ask her to buy medicine and give him her notes. He wasn’t used to (Y/n) treating him so…nicely. He swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

Since that day, Donghyuck and (Y/n) strangely started to get along. They were able to work well together and talk without fighting. Their group could barely believe the change.

Once (Y/n) got to know the boy, she realized that he wasn’t actually that bad. He could be sweet and kind at times. For a moment, (Y/n) forgot about her previous dislike for him and his reputation. Suddenly, she found herself having these feelings she’s never had for Donghyuck. Though she was able to hide it well around their friends, on the inside she was going insane.

Time flew by, and their group finished the project with an A+. (Y/n) couldn’t help but be a little sad that it was over. Now there was no excuse to see each other outside of class.

“You know, I think Lee Donghyuck likes you,” Suyoung said to (Y/n) one day at lunch. “Did you just see the way he looked your way when we passed by each other in the line?”

(Y/n) tried not to blush, as she stared down at the food in her metal tray.

“Doesn’t he look at all girls?”

Suyoung shrugged, “Yeah. But he used to hate you and now he’s changed his tune all of a sudden. Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“It’s probably nothing,” (Y/n) brushed her off. Although she secretly hoped her friend’s suspicions were correct.

Later that day when (Y/n) was walking out of school, Donghyuck caught up to talk to her.

“Hey (Y/n)-ah.” She looked at the boy with slight suspicion. 

“What is it, Donghyuck?”

(Y/n) was pretty sure this was the first time she’s seen him hesitate.

“Well, I was wondering if you were busy this Saturday,” He started to say, acting nonchalant. “There’s this movie that I’ve been wanting to see, but the guys said no. I heard it’s really cool so…do you want to go watch it with me?”

She looked at Donghyuck with a blank expression, unsure what to make of this suggestion. Was it just her or did he just ask her out?

“Um…yeah I think I should be free,” (Y/n) said slowly, adjusting the straps on her bag. 

This situation felt so unfamiliar to her. Before she had never imagined herself liking Donghyuck, much less going on a date with him. But he made her heart feel so giddy, and he was kind of cute. 

Donghyuck flashed her a bright smile, “Great! I’ll text you more details later. You won’t regret this, (Y/n)-ah.”

The next day, (Y/n) was crossing through the school library to go find Suyoung to tell her what happened. As she passed through, she spotted Donghyuck with Jaemin. Happy to see him and his friends, she made her way over to say hi. But she stopped when she heard them talking.

“Me? Like Choi (Y/n)?” Donghyuck scoffed. 

Jaemin cocked a brow. “Huh, I thought you did.”

“Why would I? She’s lame and boring,” He deadpanned. “I like girls that are more bold.”

(Y/n) took a step back, accidentally bumping into a chair in the process. The boys quickly turned their heads at the noise, surprised to see her standing there.

Donghyuck cursed, “(Y/n)-ah, how much did you hear?”

Her furious glare would have burned a hole through him. (Y/n) didn’t respond to his question and stormed away. Donghyuck called after her and brought her in between the bookshelves.

“(Y/n)-ah, I can explain,” Donghyuck said. 

But she yanked her hand out of his grip. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t change. You’re still just a stupid jerk who was playing with my heart.”

“If you just listen to me—”

“I was such a fool to think for even a second, that you might actually like me.” She blinked her tears away. She felt so stupid.

His expression fell as if he had nothing to say. Confirming her thoughts, (Y/n) started to walk away.

Then just before she could get away again before she felt him grab her by the arm. Prepared to yell at him to let her go, Donghyuck spun her around and crashed his lips onto hers.

Her eyes grew larger, in surprise at the boy’s sudden actions. (Y/n) wanted to fight back, knowing this was wrong. He moved his lips against hers, and she could feel so much passion. So she closed her eyes and let the remaining resistance leave her. 

His hand rested firmly on the back of her head. The other one snaked around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Her fingers gripped tightly onto his uniform jacket. When they pulled away, (Y/n) was nearly out of breath.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke first before she could say anything. “Jaemin was teasing me about liking you earlier, and I was embarrassed. So I said those things to get him off my case.”

(Y/n) shook her head as she processed this information. “What?”

“I didn’t mean any of it,” Donghyuck breathed. “You’re pretty, you’re smart, and you’re caring. Choi (Y/n), I’m crazy about you.”

She stared at him in disbelief that he was confessing all this to her. He took her hand in his and looked her in the eyes. (Y/n) could see how serious he was.

“You’re right, I am a jerk,” He said, “But I don’t want to be anymore. I want to be with you, and only you.”

Donghyuck anxiously waited to hear your response. She hated him for causing her to go on this roller coaster of emotions. But he had kissed her so sincerely…he had to be telling the truth, right?

“I’ll forgive you, just this once,” She muttered. “And…I like you too.”

It didn’t take long for the boy to smile. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, and grabbed him by the collar for another kiss. She could feel Donghyuck’s smile. Yeah, he surely wasn’t going to be able to get enough of her.

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!