#seriously though the tree must be like

[rwbybutincorrect]

Thank you!

okay, this one I'd like to dedicate to @chadfarsight

I sadly cannot provide the link, due to Tumblr's new rules about Asks, but he gave me inspiration to take up meme editing again

HELPSDKJSSH

[astupidweeb69]

The Roommate (Dark!Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

NSFW One-shot

Author's note: This is my first time writing smut, so sorry if this turned out bad. It's also way longer than I thought, hopefully there aren't any spelling errors. Cross posted on my AO3 account.

Warnings: Swearing. Toby being creepy, he hurts the reader, blood kink? unprotected sex, creampie, biting, it's just... a lot. (4,519 words) - Minors DNI!

___________________________________________________________

Your brother hated his new roommate.

From what you gathered from the phone calls you two had, you knew he kept to himself, was kind of creepy and left the occasional mess in the kitchen. Your brother had tried to include him when he went out with his other college friends, but he always refused. The guy was gone at odd hours during the night, and smelled like dirt and pine.

You told him it was his own fault for posting an ad for a roommate on Craigslist.

It wasn’t all bad though. He paid his rent on time, always in cash - which he slipped under your brother's bedroom door at the end of every month. Plus, he had insisted on not signing any formal documentation. The lease they had was just a last minute document drawn up for a short term stay. 

Your brother would only have to put up with him for 6 months. Then he’d be gone.

But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. And your brother needed someone to pick up part of the rent last minute.

After a few months it had seemed like he’d grown accustomed to the strange ‘twitchy’ man he lived with, that is, until you told him your plans to visit.

You finally got some time off, and it was the only chance you’d get to see him. So when all the hotels in the area were fully booked you were not about to give up. And….your brother’s place had a perfectly good couch available, right?

He was reluctant at first, but after much pleading, he finally agreed.

On one condition.

Stay away from Toby.

You figured he was just being overprotective. It was kind of sweet, but he’d never been that adamant about you not talking to someone before. There must have been something seriously messed up with the guy. And to be perfectly honest, it made you second guess whether you’d actually go through with the trip out there.

But you already bought the plane ticket, and you couldn’t let that money go to waste.

So now you sat in the passenger seat of your brother's truck, the two of you making idle chit chat as he drove you back to his place from the airport. 

He talked about school, the classes he was taking, what parties he’d been going to, and fraternities he’d been considering joining. That last part earned him some of your teasing about becoming a beer pong loving, “Frat Bro”.

Only after a few beats of silence, you decided to ask him something that had been bugging you since your arrival. 

“Your roommate knows I’m staying at your place, right?”

It was a simple enough question. The last thing you wanted was to intrude on someone else’s living space after all.

You saw your brother grip the steering wheel harder. “Yeah. Toby should know you’re coming.” His response was curt and lacking his previous joyful tone.

“You two fighting or something?” 

Your brother sighed. “No just,” He paused for a moment, and glanced at you. “He’s been acting weirder than usual.”

“Weird how?” 

He didn’t say anything for a while, instead mulling over his choice of words. Not wanting to scare you, but still wanting to give you a heads up of the situation. “He’s been talking to himself. A lot.”

“That’s not that bad. Lots of people do that.” You don’t know why you felt the need to defend a person you hadn’t met yet.

Another pause. This one is longer than before.

“You haven’t heard what he’s been saying.”

______________________________________________________________

The road ahead was dark, lit up by the dim headlights of the car. The only thing out here now was trees, broken up by the occasional house. It was definitely far from campus.

The driveway was gravel, the truck rocking back and forth from the potholes and uneven terrain, finally coming to a stop in front of the house. Painted a dull plain white, one story, rather small, but it would do. It’s not like you were expecting a mansion.

After the car came to a stop, you grabbed your luggage from the backseat, following your brother to the front door where he quickly unlocked it. 

The living room was sparsely decorated, with an old brown couch in the center, a small television and a coffee table littered with cans and half finished drinks.

It completely lacked a homey vibe. Definitely felt like a typical bachelor pad. You nudged his shoulder. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Hey, I’m not majoring in interior design.” Your brother shot back, beginning to walk away past the kitchen, calling out to you. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with a look of disappointment.  “Already? I thought we’d, like…. watch TV or something?”

“Next time don’t get such a late flight.” His face stretched into a yawn. “There’s plenty of blankets in the closet. Try not to make too much noise.” Disappearing behind the door of his bedroom, he left you standing in the room alone with your bags.

Time for bed I guess. 

You sprawled yourself out on the couch, placing a pillow on the armrest, and rolled out the fuzzy blanket you’d found over your body. You turned to face the front door. The room was pitch black, with a few beams of moonlight split up by the venetian blinds.

You picked up your phone from the coffee table by your side, figuring you could watch a few videos before you fell asleep.

The screen lit up, temporarily blinding you before your eyes adjusted. Mindlessly, you scrolled through youtube to find a thumbnail that would spark any interest.

You were about to click one, when you heard someone at the front door. Your eyes widened briefly, and you quickly shut your phone off. You don’t know why. It wasn’t like you were a kid and your mom was coming into your room to see if you were actually asleep. But it felt like you needed to shut your eyes.

So you did.

The door opened slowly, whoever it was trying to remain undetected. 

However, the scent that followed gave them away immediately. You actually had to stop yourself from reacting. It was a mixture of BO, dirt, and something else. Something dead.

Without even having to look, you knew it was Toby.

Footsteps, careful and calculated. The floorboards creaking. 

You waited for him to walk by, expecting him to go to his room so you could continue playing on your phone.

But he didn’t.

The movements stopped halfway through, and you heard him, on the balls of his feet, making his way over to the couch you were on.

The fuck?

You felt your throat dry up. You wanted to swallow down your nerves, but you couldn’t react. You had to continue pretending, right?

You could hear him, his voice low and soft, like velvet. A boyish tone, the occasional word being broken up by some kind of stutter, muttering things you couldn’t make out.

He stopped when he got to your side, standing right in front of your face. 

If you opened your eyes right now you’d probably see him peering down. His jeans dirty and torn, honey brown stare filled with curiosity, looking at the glimpses of your curves that peaked through the blanket on top of you.

A hand reached out. 

Cold, yet somehow clammy… texture rough and calloused. 

He was touching you. 

He was touching your face.

Don’t move. Don’t you dare even flinch.

“M-must be the ssss-sister…”

That was the first clear sentence you could understand.

He retracted his hand. But you could still hear him, the heavy breathing. 

His whispering.

“Soft”

Then he left.

Only afterwards did you realize you’d been holding your breath.

______________________________________________________________

“You look awful.” Your brother commented when he saw you the next morning.

It was true that you barely slept that night, made obvious by the bags under your eyes, and the change in your complexion. The interaction with the stranger, the one you’d been warned of,  had plagued your mind, stirring up thoughts that kept you awake. 

You grabbed a coffee mug, pouring yourself a glass, before joining your brother at the kitchen table.

From this angle, you had a clear view of the hallway. There were three doors, one must have led to the bathroom, and the other remaining two were the bedrooms. 

You only stared at one of the doors though. The one leading to Toby’s room. 

You knew, at some point he’d emerge and you’d finally be able to put a face to the name. A face to the hand that touched you.

For a moment, you wondered if you should tell your brother what happened. He’d probably flip out, maybe even confront the man. 

So, despite your better judgment, you decided to keep it to yourself. 

He only touched your face. Sure, it was creepy as hell, but you didn’t want to cause a fight during your vacation.

Your brother clapped his hands together, getting your attention. 

“So listen!” He grinned widely. “We gotta plan out the strategy for tonight.”

“Strategy?” You asked hesitantly.

“Yeah strategy. There’s a party I want to go to. Kappa Alpha is hosting it.” 

You tsked, sipping your coffee. “You realize I don’t know anything about the frats here. Is that like… a popular one or?”

He nodded. “Yeah it is. I’ve been trying to get into this one for a while now, so getting the invite is a big deal.”

You frowned. You were already so tired, and the idea of going to a kegger was not exactly on your ‘to do’ list. But it was important to him. So you complied.

“Okay. What time does it-”

A door opened. You stopped talking.

Your eyes widened to look over towards the sound. 

Toby was up.

The first thing you noticed was a mop of dark brown hair, unkempt, with curls that went in every direction. It was slightly greasy too, he clearly hadn’t showered in a while. There was light stubble on his jawline, and his skin was a sickly, almost gray color. A snake bite graced his lower lip, and there were a few more pieces of metal sticking out the cartilage of his ears.

He shuffled forward, looking tired, still in a pair of plaid green pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with little alien faces on them.

Once he made it into the kitchen, Toby finally glanced over. You looked away immediately, embarrassed that you were caught staring.

He was handsome. You hated to admit it. But he was. You pushed the thought out of your head, reminding yourself of who he was.

“Muh-morning….” He croaked out.

Your brother gave a little nod, just enough to acknowledge him, turning back to you while Toby started toasting a poptart.

“It starts at 9, but we should show up at 10 o'clock. I don’t want to look too eager.”

“Whuh-what starts at 9?” Toby interjected.

Both you and your brother looked at him, before nervously meeting each other's gaze.

“Oh uh!” Your brother stammered. “Just another party.” He motioned over to you with his thumb. “This is my sister, (Y/N), by the way.”

Toby’s eyes bore into yours. You swallowed, trying to give him a polite, reassuring smile.

“Nice to meet you…. Toby, right?” 

You acted unsure. Like you didn’t know his name by heart. Like you hadn’t had your brother vent to you about him for hours over the phone. 

“Yuh-yeah. That’s right.” He looked back at your brother. “Is the puh-party tonight?”

“Yeah it’s at a frat house. Did you…” He hesitated, before finally asking him. “Want to come?”

Toby bit his poptart, shrugging his shoulders. “I've guh-got nothing better tuh-to do.” The twitching man looked back at you, wiping some crumbs from his lip. He didn’t have emotion behind his eyes, just a weird intense focus on your face.

You pretended to be unbothered. 

It didn’t work.

He noticed.

And he liked the way you squirmed.

______________________________________________________________

Toby stayed in his room the rest of the day. Occasionally going into the kitchen, grabbing a snack, usually some kind of junk food, before he’d scurry back into his little cave.

You started getting ready as soon as the sun went down. It’d been a while since you’d been to a party and you wanted to look your best. Or look like you got a full 8 hours of sleep at the very least.

Toby said he’d meet you guys there. Saying something about how he needed ‘to take care of something first’. No one questioned him. Both you and your brother glad not to have to share a car ride with him.

Loud bumping music, the kind that shook a house and pounded in your chest, enveloped you when you walked inside the frat house. 

Flashing lights, a crowd in the middle of the dancefloor jumping up and down. The air was hot from too many people in a room at once. You could barely move through them all to get to the bar.

God you were going to need a drink to get through this.

Maybe even a couple.

Especially after your brother left you alone to go mingle.

One tequila shot, then two maybe three rum and cokes later. You didn’t even know how long you’d been there. Time seemed to freeze. There was only the music, only the dancing, only the bodies moving against you.

You felt hot. Your cheeks burned, and it wasn’t just from the temperature of the room anymore. The room spinned a little when you walked forward. Not enough to consider yourself completely wasted though. But enough to feel…. Friendlier.

More social.

Less inhibited. 

Numb.

After a lot of struggling, you made your way to the back of the room. 

You leaned against a wall, catching your breath, holding a red solo cup in your hand.  You could hear people trying to hold conversations by shouting over the music. 

And there were plenty of people making out. In fact, you’d say the majority of people were just straight up groping each other.

It made you a little jealous if you were being honest with yourself.

You looked around, wondering if maybe you could find someone cute. You didn’t intend on getting lucky or anything, but it would sure beat just standing there like an idiot. When was the last time you even kissed somebody?

Finally, you locked on to someone across the room. Someone with honey brown eyes. Someone familiar.

Toby.

He grinned when your eyes met. It was the first time you’d seen him do that. Large toothy canine’s, that bandage on his cheek shifting slightly. 

Oh god you felt your heart flutter.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. There was something wrong with him. Your brother didn’t like him. Nobody did.

He creeped you out.

He didn’t shower. 

He smelled like death. 

You listed the reasons out, and damn if there weren’t a lot of them. But in the end it didn’t matter. In the end, it was painfully, woefully, obvious what was going to happen.

And you were already walking over there.

You slithered over to his side, sweating, peering up at him through your eyelashes. Trying to look cute. Desirable.

It was working. 

He could’ve eaten you up if you gave him the chance. 

But you didn’t know that.

You fiddled with the end of your skirt, the jacket you originally wore tied around your waist. A flush on your cheeks, you let your hand gently touch his shoulder.

“H-hey… glad to see you made it.”

He tilted his head to the side, leaning down to hear you better. It made your stomach stir with excitement, he made you feel small kneeling down like that. But you liked it. Liked that he was paying attention to you, and only you.

“Whuh-what did you say?” His breath was hot on your cheek. Using the loud music as an excuse to get closer, to touch your skin. Making the hair on your neck stick up.

You breathed heavily in his ear on purpose. “I said, I’m glad you made it.”

Toby’s lips parted, not responding at first, but not moving away either. “Oh? Yuh-yeah?” He sounded amused, voice lowering an octave. “Excited to suh-see little ole’ muh-me?” 

It was kind of a stupid, cheesy thing to say. Like he didn’t really know how to flirt, but maybe saw a couple movies and memorized the lines. But it somehow worked for him.

“Oh, I’m sure nothing about you is little.”

Why did you say that?

Why?

It just came out naturally. Oh god, now your face felt flushed from embarrassment.

You felt him touch the side of your face. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, it sounded heavenly.

“Yuh-you know, I’m having trouble huh-hearing you.” He paused looking around, making sure no one was watching. You wondered why. 

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

That was enough to make heat travel between your thighs. 

Fuck. 

One meek nod from you was all he needed, before grabbing your wrist tightly.

Too tight, like he was unaware he could hurt you. Or maybe he liked causing a little pain?

He dragged you upstairs, practically lifting you with one arm, you felt like you were gliding over the steps. The muscles of his arms barely flexing under that hoodie of his, as if you were weightless.

He was strong. 

You both traveled through the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone loitering in the hall. Some of the other party goers shooting you looks, but they were mostly directed towards Toby. They weren’t judging you or anything. In fact, they looked worried, maybe even a little scared. You started to wonder more about him. What was his reputation like if this was everyone’s reaction to him? Or perhaps he really just looked that scary. 

So why did he turn you on? 

He pushed you into an unoccupied room and flicked the light switch on.

You barely registered him locking the door behind him.

With one shove of his palm he pushed you backwards onto the bed. Your arms flailed a bit out of instinct, falling down on the mattress with an ‘oof’.

You swallowed thickly, watching him eye the way your legs had parted slightly. Your skirt hiking up dangerously on your thighs. You had to fight the urge to close them.

“Yuh-you look scared.” That velvet, sweet, voice of his was twisted by something sick. 

“Are you?” His head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on his face.

“Yes.” Was your reply. You didn’t feel like you could lie to him now. Feeling too exposed to even think straight.

He licked his lips, slowly approaching you. His fingers danced across your shoulders, traveling down your arms, sending goosebumps down your spine. They were cold and calloused, just like you remembered from the night before. 

“Then whuh-why did you follow me here?” He cupped the side of your face, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip. You were going to respond, but he quickly shoved his finger in your mouth, gagging you. He wanted you to suck on them, but he didn’t communicate that well. “Why duh-did you….approach me?”

You let your tongue glide over his finger. His eyes narrowed, watching your face, before he started talking to himself. “Fuckin’ stuh-stupid.”

You paused. Was he talking about you? 

“Should be whuh-working tonight…” He muttered. “Target just downstairs…. Ssss-so easy…this better be worth it…..” Toby chuckled to himself like he just told a joke.

You didn’t understand what was going on. Should you just ignore him and continue? 

Toby retracted his hand from your mouth.

“Sss-so pretty….” He pushed your back onto the bed, crawling over you, his broad chest heaving, face pink and eyes lidded. Pupils dilated with lust. “So…. suh-soft….(Y/N)....” 

You shivered when he said your name like that, feeling your panties dampen even more than before. Especially when he started running a large hand up your inner thigh.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Yuh-you like it when I touch you…. I know you do…” Your eyes flickered down at him, letting him continue his ramblings, Toby’s face breaking into another evil looking smile. “Luh-letting me touch you last nuh-night…. Pretending to be asleep.”

Your stomach dropped. You couldn’t hide it in your face, he fucking knew. 

He fucking knew the whole time. 

He burst out laughing at your expression. “Yuh-you’re still not even telling me to stuh-stop now!” Toby gripped your hip with one of his hands, lifting up the hem of your shirt with the other. 

Before you knew it, he tossed the fabric over to the corner. 

Your bra was next. 

In any other circumstances you might’ve found it cute, or funny, when he struggled with the clasp. But something told you pointing it out to him wouldn’t have been a good idea. 

He groaned at the sight of your exposed torso, immediately diving into your tits. Your nipples perked at the attention. 

He was right. You weren’t stopping him. Your body screamed at you to. The smell of dirt and grime, of all things dead and decaying, it permeated off of him the more he touched you.

Toby’s mouth latched on to your left breast, the other gripped tightly in his hand. You knew you’d have bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t care. 

He licked and nipped at the tender flesh, the swell of your tits heaving, your head thrown back and lips parted, letting out soft moans here and there.

A noticeable bulge grinded against your leg, as he huffed, humping himself against you like a dog. 

After a while, he finally lifted his head up. 

Toby looked you in the eye, grinning, licking your nipple teasingly one last time, before his attention moved to your skirt. 

His hands searched your sides for a zipper, he grunted out of irritation when he couldn’t find it immediately. 

You took the opportunity to gently put a hand over his, guiding it to where it was. “Here.” You said softly. “Let me help you.”

His eyes snapped up to your face when you touched him. 

Immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. Needy, desperate, quickly shoving his tongue down your throat. You kissed back, swirling your tongue around his, ignoring the weird taste of metal coming from his mouth. His breath was hot and heavy, kisses sloppy. You doubted he got much practice, but he seemed to be learning quickly.

He made up for it with enthusiasm.

Finally pulling away, you both unzipped your skirt together. Lifting your hips off the bed, you shimmyed them down your legs, Toby watching in fascination.

“I’m guh-gonna fuck you.” He stated matter of factly. Then he whispered something that made your blood run cold. 

“...Fuck you bloody.”

Shit this guy was scary.

In a few seconds, he ripped his hoodie off, along with his shirt. His chest was heavily scarred, a noticeable slash starting from his left side over to his shoulder, and a dark happy trail rising up from the waistband of his jeans.

You didn’t comment on it, but it was worrisome. You could only imagine what would cause someone to get hurt so badly and so often.

That said, Toby was definitely toned. A bit sickly looking, but his muscles had just a hint of a six pack formed. Maybe he did more exercise than you initially thought. 

He kicked off his jeans next, unceremoniously pulling his boxers down, revealing himself to you. Lazily, he stroked himself, a thick layer of precum smearing down his shaft. It was long, veiny, but not very girthy. A flushed red tip, looking painfully hard.

You pulled down your panties slowly, already soaked, and ready. The anticipation was killing you, but you wanted to make him wait for it. His Adam's apple bobbed watching you, and you liked reveling in his stares.

“Guh-gonna split you in two…” Toby murmured, to no one in particular.

He hooked his arm under one of your legs, his body shivering with need, pulling your hips against him. He glided his shaft over your cunt, rubbing your clit slowly. He noticed you tense, how you whimpered slightly, and how your slick covered him more at the action. Looking in awe like it was some revelation to him.

Toby licked his lips, before finally enveloping himself in your heat. 

It was quick. Like he was slamming a drawer shut, but he immediately bottomed out. You gritted your teeth in pain, before crying out when he started viciously pounding into you. 

It fucking hurt. It hurt a lot.

“Shit..! Tuh-tight!”

Obviously, your muscles had tensed around him, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden fullness of his cock stuffing you. Unable to adjust.

You whimpered when he didn’t let up, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. A dull ache between your legs as he continued thrusting. The wet sound of skin slapping together coming from where the two of you were joined, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent.

Toby inhaled sharply, before you felt his mouth open wide.

Teeth broke through your skin instantly, a warm liquid dripping down your neck.

You screamed.

You screamed louder than you ever have in your life.

You screamed bloody fucking murder.

“Toby!” Clawing at his back, trying to get him to stop, you started crying. “Toby! Please!”

Luckily for you, he released his jaw to call out “(Y-Y/N)!” Not understanding your cries weren’t from pleasure.

It egged him on, encouraged him. His pelvis slamming into yours, with no let up, your tits bouncing at the force. Itching his fingers to your clit, he rubbed it in harsh circular movements, making you tighten around him.

You babbled nonsense. Finally some of the pain subsiding for pleasure, and maybe it was the lingering effects of alcohol, or the slight blood loss, but you felt a buzzing in your head. Basically incoherent, the faster he went. The brutal, bruising speed.

The way he gripped your breast, the way his hand remained on your pearl, trying his best to get you to finish, but not quite knowing how. 

Something started to build. 

More and more.

Hearing him growl, pant, like an animal. It was doing something to you.

You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around him. The coil snapping, muscle spasming, pulling his cock in deeper, triggering his own climax. 

His hips stuttered against you, letting out a gasp. A warmth filling you, Toby completely emptying himself inside with a deep groan, eyes rolling back in his head. 

He gave a few sloppy, slow thrusts, before finally rolling off, and onto the bed next to you.

His cum leaking out of your cunt and staining the sheets.

Everything went blank for a moment, realization only just settling in. The gravity of the situation, the blood on your neck.

And an arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you close.

“I knew you’d be worth the truh-trouble.”

[valwrote]

Running fingers through their hair 🤍

ft. wriothesley, alhaitham and neuvillette.

synopsis : you convince them into playing with their hair and you end up taking undue advantage of it.

warnings : implied fem!reader, pet names, mention of murder and suicide (neuvillette – no there is no angst here.).

a/n : fluff but seriously hair is so floof in genshin and i love me some domesticated content.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

"No." He crossed his arms in disapproval at your request.

"Haitham! Come on!" You begged your husband to let you run your fingers through his hair in hopes to help him unwind and relax but he was adamant not letting you.

"I am sorry [Name], but I have a meeting due in an hour with the Dendro Archon about some administrative changes and as much as I would love to catch a break, I can't as of now." He exasperated, voice laced with annoyance.

Ever since becoming the Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham had gotten just a tad bit more whinier. You weren't complaining since Alhaitham had the emotional quotient of a rock.

"Oh come on! It's still an hour away. C'mere." You patted your lap. He sighed but agreed. You found yourself combing your nifty fingers through his grey locks. They felt soft to touch. Who are you kidding, he was a well groomed gentleman despite his emotionally constipated personality.

His eyes were focused on a book he was reading, his eyes scanning the pages but his expression was relaxed. He won't admit it but he liked it. This was a simple yet intimate gesture.

You on the other hand, stared outside of the window, fingers still running through his hair. The scenery of Sumeru city stretched out far and wide for your eyes to see. The sky was beaming with light, birds were chit chatting on the tree branches and–

Snore.

Your focus gets redirected back at Alhaitham who now had the book resting on his face, his chest rising rhythmically as you heard him breathing softly.

You chuckled at the sight. He really did fall asleep. He looked so carefree when a moment ago he was complaining about meetings and work. How amusing. An idea bubbled up in your head.

When Alhaitham woke up, he realised that he had fallen asleep and hurried out of the room to meet up with Nahida in the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

"Good evening Acting Grand Sage, I was just waiting on you- pfft!" Nahida's cheeks puffed up and the little Archon started giggling.

"I am sorry for being late- wait, why are you laughing?" He tilted his expression in confusion. Could his late timing be a matter of amusement for his Archon?

"Who made two tiny ponytails in your hair using sparkly pink pyro slime hairties!" Nahida chuckled more, unable to hold her laughter.

"..." he reached up to feel the two tiny fountains of hair made by tying them up. Who could've done such a— you.

Needles to say, Alhaitham image of a big mighty serious guy in front of Nahida had now been ruined.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

"Ma Chérie, what do you think of this case?" Neuvillette leaned back into his chair, papers spread out on his table. You picked up one of the documents and examined them.

What made you and Neuvillette a match made in heaven was that you were one of Fontaine's best lawyers and Neuvillette was the Ludex. You both would brainstorm cases together though Neuvillette always tended to quote how he is unbiased as it is his duty as the Chief Justice to not let personal feelings get in the way.

Still, you catch him staring at you during court proceedings, expression twisting and turning based on the situation out of his instinctive concern for you.

"Well, I think this is a classic murder which is being displayed to the common eye like a suicide." You sighed and put the paper back on the table, stretching your back from fatigue.

"I must say, that's quite a possibility. I'd suggest you investigate futher and seek the truth." He pondered, his gloved hand resting on his chin.

"Neuvi, can we take a break? I am tired." You slumped down in the chair across him, exhausting from the repetitive task at hand.

"Indeed. Repetition tends to tire out the mortal brain. Let's continue this after lunch." He nodded and started to sort the papers according to there designated folders.

"Can I play with your hair till you get the sorting papers thing done?" You asked him and he seemed amused at the idea. Neuvillette was never reluctant from trying out new things and gave into your small pleasures if they made you happy. "Sure."

You ran your fingers through his white locks. Honestly his hair were so beautiful, it would put women's hair to shame. Neuvillette took good care of them. You started using this opportunity to experiment different hairstyles on him.

Neuvillette glanced up, only to see his hair in a braid from his reflection in the mirror with a black ribbon in them. He stared at the braid for a good minute, "Hmm simple, practical and elegant. It's quite nice." He mused.

You were proud of yourself before Neuvillette asked if he could try hairstyles on you.

An afternoon spent with chuckles, smiles, whacky and pretty hairstyles.

WRIOTHESLEY 🧊

You watched as Wriothesley worked like a machine.

Step 1 : Grab the paperwork

Step 2 : Read and Sign it

Step 3 : Put in the "done" pile

The sounds of paper swiping and pen scribbling filled the room. You tried to entertain yourself with some novel but you could hear wriothesley grunted and groaning in annoyance.

"Y'know, the best thing is to simply not to do the work if you don't feel like it, wrio." You suggested, flipping to the next page in the novel.

"You're right. I'll settle for a nap, drink tea after I get up and then continue doing this..." he grumbled before getting up and making his way to his bed upstairs. You afte a few minutes got up and followed him.

You both laid beside eachother, under the blankets, soaking in eachother's warmth. "You joinin' me on a nap, sweetheart?" A smile crawled onto his face as he looked at you with his icy hues.

"No, I am simply here to take care of you, silly." You kissed his nose as he took your palm firmly in his and kissed the back of it, endearingly. You peppered his face with feather kisses, tousling his soft black locks earning a relaxed hum of content from him.

Wriothesley was a man of limited needs and such small moments with you were his saving grace from the buttload of prison paper work. His arm snaked around your waist as he kissed the top of your forehead before his hand rested on your cheeks, his eyes fluttering shut.

He yawned and made himself comfortable before drifting off into his well deserved nap.

But..

"Oh my god, you are associated with Sigewinne in this??" He baffled at the sight of his face covered in stickers. Melusines loved to play pranks but his own lover? Now that was some serious betrayal.

"First my back and now my face?" He stared at you, jaw dropped, wanting an explanation. You simply stifled a laugh before hearing a click.

"Sigewinne, did you just take a picture of me?? HEY! Don't run away!? [Name]! Sigewinne! You guys better delete that picture!" He chased after you two as you ran with Sigewinne in your arms. It was a moment of solace and perhaps another moment added in your archive of memories.

a/n : to say i am obsessed with domesticated genres and tropes is an understatement.

don't steal, copy, plagarize.

©definitelysel

not proof read.

[fangdokja]

Two hearts, one unspoken promise—forever best friends.

❤︎ Synopsis. Two childhood friends, inseparable since kindergarten, navigate the ups and downs of growing up, their bond blossoming into a deep, unwavering connection that feels like home. As they face life’s challenges together, they discover that their friendship might just be the most enduring love of all.

♡ Book. World Ablaze (WA): For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Light Yagami x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. In the Name of Love - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 7,947

♡ TW. psychological and emotional trauma, loss of loved ones, abandonment issues, angst + tragedy, implied family issues, depression and mental health issues

♡ A/N. This is a request, but I have not yet fulfilled the full request (hence the lack of proof of request). When it comes to long-form content, it feels so wrong in my brain for my writing to not set up the atmosphere and vibes properly. It don't feel right. And anyways, this Part 1 is genuinely one of my LIGHTEST and legitimately wholesome works among all my writings haha. Wow first time posting wholesome yandere content? ahahhaahh. This is ACTUALLY SO GOOD. I COOKED GUYS (both in Part 1 and 2). ahhhhh. I WANTED TO INCLUDE PART 1 AND 2 TOGETHER. But. It's 15k+ together already ahhh. Also, important to note. Unlike my usual long form content, the 'introduction' before actually dark + nsfw yandere centric content may come after Part 2 or 3. WHAT. Did this become slower burn than the Yandere! Ex-boyfriend??? Bro, it's because I just had to include the childhood trope arc. Seriously.

Light Yagami was five years old when his family moved into the tidy, tree-lined neighborhood. His parents, proud and proper, spent days meticulously unpacking and arranging the house while Light obediently helped, though his mind was preoccupied with the mystery of what lay beyond their new front door.

“Light, dear,” his mother said, kneeling to his level, “why don’t you go introduce yourself to the neighbors? There’s a family next door with a little girl about your age.”

“All right,” he replied with his usual crisp, confident tone. Even at five, Light was the embodiment of charm and discipline, traits his parents were immensely proud of. He tugged on his neatly ironed shirt and marched toward the house next door, ready to dazzle the neighbors with his impeccable manners.

The house was a bit chaotic in contrast to the Yagami’s orderly new home. The lawn was slightly overgrown, and a lone bicycle lay toppled in the driveway. Light’s tiny hand knocked on the door with perfect rhythm—polite but assertive.

The door creaked open, and a woman with a wide, warm smile greeted him. “Oh, hello! You must be the Yagami boy! Aren’t you handsome?” She called over her shoulder, “Our new neighbors are here! Come say hi!”

Light’s chest puffed with pride at the compliment. “Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Light Yagami. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman’s laughter was bright as she introduced herself in return. “What a little gentleman! Please hold on. Let me call my daughter.”

She turned and called your name. Light heard the sound of something—or someone—dragging across the floor. Then you appeared.

Tiny, smaller than Light had expected, with oversized pajamas hanging loosely off your sickly frame. Your hair was messy, your expression vacant, and you held a stuffed black kitten in one hand as though it were a limp, lifeless thing. But the most striking part of you was your eyes—dark, hollow, and uninterested, like you’d already seen the end of the world and decided it wasn’t worth commenting on.

Light blinked. This was not the bright and cheerful playmate he had envisioned.

“Say hello to our neighbor, sweetie,” your mother said in a sugary tone. “His name is Light.”

You said nothing. Your gaze drifted lazily toward him, then back to the floor. You swayed slightly, as though gravity was a suggestion rather than a rule.

Light cleared his throat and stepped forward, undeterred. “Hi,” he said, flashing his most winning smile. “I’m Light. What’s your name?”

You stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment. Then, in a voice so small it was nearly a whisper, you muttered your name.

“That’s a nice name,” Light said, his tone bright and rehearsed. “Do you want to play?”

You blinked, slowly. Then you turned to your mother and said, “I’m going back to bed.”

Light watched, dumbfounded, as you shuffled back into the house, dragging your stuffed black kitten behind you.

Your mother laughed nervously. “She’s a bit shy. And... well, she’s been under the weather a lot, poor thing.”

“That’s all right,” Light said, his voice cheerful despite his confusion. He was used to people liking him. This was new.

———

Light didn’t give up easily. Over the next few weeks, he made it his mission to befriend you. He knocked on your door nearly every day, always with a new idea:

“Do you want to play tag?”

“I brought my soccer ball!”

“I found a cool bug. Do you want to see it?”

Your responses ranged from blank stares to monosyllabic grunts. Sometimes you didn’t answer at all, leaving Light standing awkwardly on the porch while your mother assured him that you were just tired.

One day, Light found you sitting on the front steps of your house, your stuffed black kitten in your lap. He approached cautiously, as though you were a skittish animal.

“Hi,” he said, sitting down beside you. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t look at him. “Thinking about how everything dies.”

Light blinked. “Oh. Um... why?”

You shrugged. “Because it’s true.”

Light frowned, unsure how to respond. After a moment, he said, “Well, yeah, I guess everything does die eventually. But that’s why we have to make the most of the time we have, right?”

You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do,” Light said firmly. “I want to do something great with my life. Don’t you?”

You tilted your head, considering this. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to sleep.”

Light laughed, a genuine, bright sound that startled you. “You’re funny,” he said. “I like that.”

You didn’t respond, but for the first time, you didn’t immediately walk away. Light took it as a small victory.

From that day on, you and Light fell into an odd sort of friendship.

He would drag you outside to play, and you would sit under a tree and watch him with a mixture of boredom and mild amusement. He would talk about his dreams and ambitions, and you would listen quietly, occasionally offering a dry, morbid comment that made him laugh despite himself.

Light Yagami, the star of the class, and you, the apathetic enigma, were an unlikely pair. But somehow, it worked.

────────────

The first day of kindergarten marked yet another stark contrast between Light and you. While he marched into the classroom like a young prince, his satchel impeccably organized and his confidence radiating, you shuffled in ten minutes late, pajama top peeking out under your sweater, and bedhead that defied gravity.

Light glared at you from his seat as the teacher politely redirected you to the cubby area. “You forgot your backpack,” she said, her tone strained with the kind of forced patience adults use for particularly hopeless cases.

You shrugged. “I don’t need it.”

Light’s hand shot into the air. “Miss Tanaka, I can share my supplies with her today.”

“Oh, what a kind offer, Light!” Miss Tanaka beamed.

Your disinterested gaze flickered to Light as you slid into the seat next to him. “You’re too much,” you mumbled, barely audible.

Light leaned over, his smile tight. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Do you even want to be here?”

“Not really,” you replied, laying your head on your arms. “But my mom said I had to come.”

Light huffed. “Fine. At least try not to sleep through everything. You’ll fail if you don’t pay attention.”

“Fail what?” you asked, voice muffled against the desk. “It’s kindergarten. What are they gonna do? Hold me back from learning colors?”

Light groaned, already regretting sitting next to you.

———

It didn’t get better. Every day, Light arrived prepared, polished, and ready to dazzle the teacher, while you dragged yourself in like you’d just crawled out of a cave. During lessons, he’d sit upright, hand raised with every answer, while you doodled spirals in the margins of the workbook he had to open for you.

“You’re not stupid,” he hissed during snack time one day. “I’ve seen your library. Who hides research papers under their bed? You could be at the top of the class if you tried.”

You tilted your head at him, crunching on your apple. “And what do I get for being at the top of the class? A gold star?”

“You get respect,” Light said, his voice rising. “You get opportunities. You build the foundation for a successful future.”

You shrugged. “I’m not really into respect or opportunities. I’m more into naps.”

Light clutched his juice box like it was the last thread tethering him to sanity. “Do you realize how frustrating you are? People would kill to be as smart as you.”

“Okay, so let them kill me,” you replied. “Then they can have it.”

He blinked, stunned. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

Light opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, stabbing his straw into his juice box with unnecessary force.

———

One afternoon, Light cornered you on the playground after recess. You’d been lying under the slide, watching clouds with your stuffed kitten perched on your chest.

“Explain this,” he demanded, holding up a scrap of paper he’d found in your desk. Scrawled on it was a complex math equation, solved perfectly.

You squinted at him. “What?”

“This! You did this in, like, ten seconds during free time. Why don’t you do this in class?”

You shrugged, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Class is boring. I already know all that stuff.”

“Then prove it,” Light snapped. “Get the answers right during lessons. Participate.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll fail otherwise!”

You sighed, exasperated. “Light, kindergarten isn’t that deep.”

“It is if you want to be taken seriously,” he shot back. “What if people think you’re dumb?”

“They already do,” you said, stretching lazily. “Doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me!” Light exclaimed. “You’re my...my first friend, and you’re embarrassing both of us.”

You raised an unamused eyebrow, staring at him. “Friend?”

Light flushed. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

For the first time that day, you showed some form of emotion—a small, amused quirk of your lips. “Wow, that’s a lot of effort to impress a lazy failure like me. You sure you’re not the embarrassing one?”

Light threw his hands up, stalking off. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Completely hopeless.”

You watched him go, your smirk lingering. “You’re funny when you’re mad,” you said to your stuffed kitten. It didn’t reply, but you imagined it agreed.

────────────

Light Yagami was on a mission.

Every morning, he’d march over to your house, perfectly polished shoes clacking against the pavement, carrying a spare set of pencils and a stack of workbooks just in case you’d “forgotten” yours again. He’d ring the doorbell with an air of determination that would make even seasoned professionals cower.

Your mother would answer, always frazzled and apologetic. “Oh, Light, thank you so much for your help! She’s...well, you know how she is.”

Light offered a tight-lipped smile, his patience stretched thin but holding. “It’s no problem, ma’am. I’m happy to help.”

And then he’d march up to your room, where you’d be sprawled on your bed, half-asleep, clutching that perpetually limp black kitten.

“Get up,” he’d order, pulling open your curtains to let the sunlight in. “You have a spelling test today, and if you fail it, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” you mumbled, turning over to face the wall.

“I’ll never forgive you,” he snapped, grabbing your arm and hauling you upright.

You blinked at him groggily. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re insufferable,” he retorted. “Now get dressed. You’re not walking into class looking like you just rolled out of a dumpster again.”

———

It took weeks of constant pestering, but eventually, you caved—mostly out of guilt.

One evening, as Light sat at your kitchen table drilling you on basic addition, you noticed how tired he looked. His hair, usually immaculate, was slightly mussed, and his usually confident posture had a slight slump.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, interrupting his lecture on number lines.

Light blinked, startled by your uncharacteristic question. “Because someone has to. You clearly don’t.”

You frowned, fiddling with the edge of your worksheet. “You could just...not.”

Light sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re my friend. Friends help each other.”

Your stomach twisted with something unfamiliar. Was it guilt? Or...gratitude? Either way, you muttered, “Fine. I’ll try.”

Light’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I said I’ll try. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

For the first time that day, Light smiled—a genuine, relieved smile that made your chest ache a little. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

———

To everyone’s shock (and to Light’s immense relief), you barely passed your next test. The teacher, Miss Tanaka, called the class to attention, holding up your paper as if it were a trophy.

“Everyone, let’s give a round of applause for our most improved student!”

You wanted to disappear into your chair as the class clapped, but Light sat next to you, beaming with pride as though he’d aced the test.

During recess, your parents showed up unannounced, their faces glowing with joy. Your mom hugged you tight, tears streaming down her face. “You passed! My baby passed!”

“It was one test,” you muttered, mortified. “And I barely passed.”

“Doesn’t matter!” your dad exclaimed, pulling out his phone to take a picture of you holding the crumpled test paper. “This is going on the fridge!”

Light stood off to the side, looking smug. “You’re welcome,” he muttered under his breath.

────────────

One crisp autumn afternoon, you and Light sat together in the corner of the library. He was meticulously highlighting passages in his textbook, while you doodled lazily on a scrap of paper. The silence between you was companionable, save for the occasional scratch of a pencil.

After a while, you set your pencil down and leaned back in your chair, staring at him. He didn’t look up, but you knew he noticed.

“What?” he asked, his tone as sharp as the lines he underlined.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked bluntly.

He blinked, finally meeting your gaze. “What do you mean?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the books, the papers, the entire setup. “You could’ve chosen literally anyone else to help. Someone smart, someone who wouldn’t drive you insane. But you chose me. Why?”

Light frowned, setting his highlighter down. “You’re my friend.”

“That’s not an answer,” you said flatly. “You made that choice before we were friends. So why?”

He sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Why do you think?”

“I have theories,” you said, counting them off on your fingers. “One: you’re trying to make yourself look good by being the hero who saves the hopeless case. Two: you want to use me somehow, maybe turn me into some kind of pawn. Three: you just pity me. Or four...you’re a masochist who likes torturing yourself.”

Light’s lips twitched, though he fought to keep his expression neutral. “Those are some dark theories.”

“You’re not denying any of them,” you pointed out.

He sighed again, rubbing his temples. “Fine. If you want the truth, I’ll tell you.” His gaze turned serious, his eyes locking onto yours. “It’s because you’re...different.”

“Different?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

“I mean...the way you see things,” he explained, his voice softening. “Most kids our age don’t say the things you do. They don’t talk about how they’d let someone kill them if it meant they’d get something out of it. Or how they don’t care about respect or opportunities. You’re...disconnected from everything. It’s like none of it matters to you. Not even your own life.”

You stiffened slightly, his words hitting a little too close to home. “So you think I’m broken or something?”

“Not broken,” Light said carefully. “Just...strange. Most kids don’t think about death the way you do. They don’t talk about it so casually. And they definitely don’t seem like they’re one bad day away from giving up completely.”

You swallowed, looking away. “Maybe they just don’t say it out loud.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you did. And it made me curious. I wanted to know why. I still do.”

“Curious?” you repeated, turning back to him. “That’s it? That’s why you’ve been dragging me out of bed and making me study? Because you’re curious?”

“Well, at first, yes,” he admitted, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “But then you started growing on me. You’re frustrating, sure, but you’re not...hopeless. You’re just someone who hasn’t been given the right reason to try yet.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You’re weird, you know that?”

Light chuckled softly. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the quiet of the library wrapping around you like a blanket. Finally, you broke the silence. “So what’s your endgame? What do you want out of this?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Honestly? I want to see what you’ll do if someone actually believes in you.”

His words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected. You didn’t respond, unsure if you even could. But for the first time, you found yourself wondering what it would feel like to prove him right.

────────────

Over the years, Light’s persistence and your reluctant tolerance had blossomed into something neither of you could have predicted: an unshakable friendship. From kindergarten to grade school, you and Light Yagami had become inseparable—a fact that delighted your parents and baffled your classmates.

“You two are like an old married couple,” your mom teased one afternoon as Light sat at your kitchen table, carefully outlining a study plan for your next science test.

You gagged dramatically. “Gross, Mom. I’d rather marry my stuffed kitten.”

Light didn’t even look up. “The kitten has better manners, anyway.”

Your dad chimed in from the living room. “You sure about that, son? You’ve spent more time here than at your own house. Feels like you’re already part of the family.”

Light flushed, but he composed himself quickly. “It’s only because I need peace and quiet to work, Sir. Your house is quieter than mine.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here all the time,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I thought you just liked annoying me.”

“That too,” Light quipped, giving you a smug smirk.

———

Your parents weren’t wrong. Despite the bickering, the teasing, and the endless sarcastic remarks, the two of you were practically attached at the hip.

Weekends were spent either at your house or his, depending on whose parents caved first to the persistent question: “Can they stay over?” His room was always spotless, the air smelling faintly of fresh linen. Yours, on the other hand, was a cluttered mess of books, art supplies, and random knickknacks you refused to throw away.

Light always insisted on tidying up when he was over. “You’re a walking disaster,” he’d grumble, picking up a pile of papers. “How do you even live like this?”

You’d shrug, tossing a pillow at him. “I thrive in chaos. Unlike you, Mr. Spreadsheet-for-Everything.”

Still, for all his complaints, he never stopped coming over.

———

Trips with both families were another routine you’d both grown used to. Your parents and his got along swimmingly, exchanging recipes, stories, and laughs over bonfires and picnics while the two of you wandered off to do your own thing.

One summer vacation, both families rented cabins by a lake. Light had been determined to teach you how to skip stones—a task that proved far more difficult than he’d anticipated.

“You’re not even trying!” he groaned as your stone plopped into the water with a pitiful splash.

“I am trying,” you protested, flopping onto the grass. “You just have unreasonable expectations.”

“It’s basic physics,” he argued. “Angle, spin, and force. That’s all it takes.”

“Then you do it,” you challenged, crossing your arms.

Light rolled his eyes, picked up a stone, and launched it across the water in a perfect arc. It skipped five times before sinking.

“Show-off,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

———

Study dates became an unspoken tradition. Whether at your house, his, or the library, you’d sit side by side, each absorbed in your respective work. Light would meticulously annotate his textbooks, while you alternated between actually studying and scribbling doodles in the margins of your notes.

“You could at least pretend to focus,” Light said one evening, glancing at the tiny cartoon you’d drawn of him glaring at a stack of books.

“I am focused,” you replied, grinning as you added a speech bubble that read, “Don’t breathe near my books!”

Despite his exasperation, Light always made sure you understood the material. He had a way of breaking down complex topics into something manageable, and while you’d never admit it out loud, you’d grown to appreciate his efforts.

———

Free time was a mix of quiet companionship and playful banter. Video game marathons often ended with Light grumbling about your reckless strategies, while you’d laugh at his over-calculated moves. Reading sessions were even quieter—Light engrossed in a novel while you skimmed through whatever caught your interest.

“Do you ever read anything normal?” he asked once, holding up your dog-eared copy of a horror anthology.

“Do you ever read anything fun?” you shot back, gesturing to his thick political science book.

———

And, it's been like that, a normal friendship of two childhood friends.

But, after spending time with you constantly.

Light could tell you always kept him at a distance.

Even when you showed lazy smiles and seemingly emotional outbursts, nothing you did seemed... real. At least nothing genuine.

It annoyed him more than he cared to admit.

────────────

It was the same day every year.

For as long as Light Yagami could remember, you disappeared on this exact date, slipping away as if the world itself no longer had a claim on you. No calls, no notes, no explanation. You’d vanish without warning, leaving behind nothing but questions and silence. It was frustrating, baffling, and for Light, who prided himself on always knowing the answers, intolerable.

He’d tried everything—calling you relentlessly, asking your parents (who seemed strangely tight-lipped about it), even checking the places you frequented. But every year, no matter how determined he was, you eluded him.

This year, however, was going to be different.

Light sat at his desk, staring at the calendar with a furrowed brow. He had spent the last week piecing together fragments of information, retracing your habits, looking for any clue that might give him an edge. The truth gnawed at the edges of his mind—this day was important to you. It wasn’t just another day.

It was your birthday.

And yet, you always spent it alone.

———

When the day arrived, Light was prepared. He skipped school, opting instead to scour the neighborhood, the nearby park, the library—every possible place you might hide. Hours passed, and frustration simmered beneath his calm façade. The rain that had started as a drizzle was now a relentless downpour, soaking him to the bone as he wandered.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that he found himself near the outskirts of town, a forgotten area filled with rusting machinery and abandoned warehouses. Light almost dismissed it—why would you come here?—but something compelled him to look closer.

And then he saw you.

Huddled under the sagging roof of a dilapidated warehouse, you sat clutching your worn black kitten stuffed toy. The sight of you stopped him cold. You weren’t crying, but the emptiness in your eyes sent a chill through him. It was the same look you had when he first met you—hollow, weary, like the weight of the world rested squarely on your small shoulders.

Light didn’t approach immediately. For the first time, he hesitated, unsure of how to close the distance between you. The rain thundered against the metal roof, drowning out the sound of his shallow breaths. Something about the scene felt fragile, as though one wrong move might shatter whatever thread kept you grounded.

Finally, he stepped forward, moving carefully so as not to startle you. When he reached the small, makeshift shelter, he crouched beside you, his school uniform drenched, water dripping from his hair.

“You’re going to get sick sitting out here,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning in his chest.

You didn’t respond. Your fingers clung tightly to the stuffed toy, knuckles white, but your gaze didn’t lift from the ground.

Light didn’t press further. Instead, he slipped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The space was cramped, but he adjusted, shielding you from the worst of the rain that still managed to seep through the cracks. His embrace was firm yet gentle, radiating warmth despite his soaked clothing.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. He could feel the faint tremble in your frame, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. Light’s jaw clenched as he held you tighter, willing his presence to do what words couldn’t.

He didn’t ask why you were here. He didn’t ask what had happened. Those questions could wait. Right now, all that mattered was keeping you close, anchoring you to something steady.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “But I’m here, okay? I’ll always be here.”

You didn’t respond, but your grip on the stuffed kitten loosened slightly, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. It wasn’t much, but to Light, it was enough.

Minutes stretched into an hour, the rain showing no signs of letting up. Light’s teeth chattered as the cold seeped into his skin, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when you were like this.

He rested his chin lightly on top of your head, his eyes closing as he focused on the steady rhythm of your breathing. “I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “You don’t have to be alone. Not ever.”

———

The rain continued its relentless rhythm, pattering against the warped metal roof above you. The cold seeped into Light’s skin, but he paid it no mind. His focus was entirely on you—on the small, trembling frame in his arms and the fragile silence that surrounded you.

And then, for the first time, he saw it.

A single tear slid down your cheek, blending with the rain before it could fall to the ground. You didn’t sob. You didn’t even make a sound. The tears seemed to escape against your will, slipping out silently as if they’d been held back for too long.

Light’s breath hitched. He had never seen you cry before. Not once in all the years he had known you. You were always the one who laughed mockingly at his exasperation, who messed with him with your messy habits and lazy smile. But now, the person in his arms seemed like a stranger—someone hollow, distant, and impossibly fragile.

His arms tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer to shield you from the cold and rain. He felt an ache in his chest, a helpless frustration that he couldn’t name. He wanted to ask—wanted to demand—what had brought you here, what had hurt you so deeply. But the moment was too delicate. He couldn’t risk pushing you further away.

Instead, he spoke softly, his voice barely audible over the rain. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his tone gentle. “Let me keep you warm, okay?”

You didn’t respond, your gaze still fixed on the stuffed black kitten in your hands. Light’s eyes flickered to the toy, the one you always carried with you no matter where you went. He’d teased you about it countless times, calling you childish for holding onto it like a lifeline. You’d always deflected with a laugh, saying something about how it was “just a habit” or “blessed.”

But now, as he watched you clutch it with a desperation he hadn’t seen before, Light wondered if there was more to the story.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position so he could better shield you from the rain. His movements were deliberate, careful not to startle you. “You always carry that thing,” he said softly, his voice laced with a warmth he rarely used. “I used to think it was just because you liked it. But…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the thought.

You didn’t look at him. Your fingers tightened around the kitten, its worn fur darkened by the rain. Light swallowed, resisting the urge to press further. Instead, he leaned his head slightly against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I’m here. That’s all.”

He could feel the faint tremble in your frame, the quiet, unsteady rhythm of your breaths. The rain poured on, but Light stayed where he was, holding you as though his presence alone could chase away whatever darkness had brought you here.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “Not while I’m here.”

Still, you didn’t speak. Your focus remained on the stuffed kitten, and Light felt a pang of frustration—not at you, but at his own inability to reach you. He wanted to fix this, to take away whatever was hurting you, but he didn’t know how.

So he stayed quiet, his arms steady around you, offering you the only comfort he could. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer than before.

“When you’re ready,” he said, his words gentle, “you can tell me. Or not. It’s up to you.”

Your shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and though you still didn’t speak, Light took it as a sign that his words had reached you, even if only a little.

He stayed there with you under the cramped shelter, the rain soaking through his clothes, his heart heavy with unspoken questions. But for now, he focused on keeping you close, on being the steady presence you needed.

Because whatever it was that haunted you, whatever it was that had brought you to this place, he wasn’t going to let it take you away. Not now. Not ever.

———

You sat there, clutching the black kitten stuffed toy tightly, your expression blank and weary. Light stayed silent, his arms still wrapped around you, his mind whirring with unspoken questions. Then, at last, you spoke.

“Kuro’s dead.”

The words were quiet, devoid of emotion, but they pierced through the air like a knife. Light blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Kuro? Who was Kuro? He had his theories—the kitten stuffed toy, perhaps—but he didn’t interrupt. He waited, sensing that you had more to say.

“It’s stupid,” you added, staring down at the toy in your lap, your voice flat and almost detached.

Light didn’t move, his arms steady around you, letting you take your time.

You cried silently, tears slipping down your cheeks without a sound, mixing with the rainwater that clung to your face. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you continued, your words halting and broken.

“Don’t… don’t tell anyone,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “But… I’m not close with my parents. At all.”

Light’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t speak. He only held you closer, letting you keep going.

“I don’t… I don’t even like them that much,” you admitted, your voice so soft he had to strain to hear. “I respect them. I’m thankful for what they’ve done, I guess… they’re humble, and they’ve done well for themselves. But…” Your voice wavered slightly, though it still carried that hollow tone. “I don’t love them. Not really.”

You paused, gripping the stuffed kitten tighter, as though drawing strength from its presence.

“I had one friend,” you said, the words trembling just slightly. “Before you.”

Light’s chest tightened at that. He didn’t speak, but his gaze softened, his arms shifting slightly to shield you more from the rain.

“A small kitten. I found him… Kuro. Tiny. Weak. Just like me.” You took a shaky breath, your tone still muted but tinged with a deep sadness. “I took care of him for years. Before I met you.”

You stopped again, your gaze distant, focused entirely on the stuffed kitten in your hands. “He… he kept me company. More than my parents ever did. Gave me more love than I’ve ever had.”

Light felt his throat tighten at your words, but he stayed silent, letting you continue at your own pace.

“But one day… one day, he disappeared.” Your voice cracked, and Light’s arms instinctively tightened around you, his silent way of telling you he was there. “I… I never found out why. I searched for him everywhere. I still do.”

Another tear slipped down your cheek, your expression still blank, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands clutched the black kitten stuffed toy tighter, your knuckles turning white. “Kuro… he loved me. I know he did. And I loved him.” Your voice broke. “But I never knew what happened to him.”

You paused, the silence heavy between you, before you finally spoke again, the words soft but heavy with meaning.

“It was on this day,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “My birthday. The day I found him… and the day I lost him.”

Light’s heart ached at the sight of you, so small and broken, clutching that stuffed kitten like it was the last piece of Kuro you had left. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but he knew words wouldn’t fix this. So instead, he held you tighter, leaning his head gently against yours.

The rain continued to fall, but in that small, cramped space, Light made a silent vow. He didn’t know how, but he would make sure you never felt this kind of pain again. He wouldn’t let you be alone—not on this day, not on any day.

For now, though, all he could do was stay by your side, his quiet presence a promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

———

The rain poured down relentlessly, the chill seeping into your skin despite the tight, makeshift cover Light had helped you take refuge under. You still hadn’t moved much, your gaze locked on the black kitten stuffed toy clutched tightly in your hands. You were out of it—emotionally drained and distant, like you were too far away to notice anything around you.

Light stayed close, his arms still wrapped protectively around you, but this time, he gently reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His grip was firm but not forceful, a silent reminder that he was there.

You didn’t react. Not to the touch, not to the warmth. Your fingers remained limp in his grasp, as though nothing around you mattered.

After a long moment of silence, Light spoke softly, his voice steady and sure despite the emotions simmering beneath the surface. “I’m not going to leave you.”

There was no reaction at first, just the quiet sound of rain pattering against the warehouse roof. Then, finally, you murmured, your voice flat and resigned, “You don’t have to say that.”

Light frowned, but he stayed silent as you continued, the words coming slowly, emotionlessly. “I won’t be mad if you leave. Even if it’s you. I’m used to it. People always leave, eventually.”

The casualness of your words stung, like they’d been spoken countless times before. Light’s grip on your hand tightened briefly before he let out a low, frustrated sigh.

And then, without warning, he flicked your forehead—sharp enough to sting but not enough to hurt.

You winced, glaring at him in offense as you finally snapped out of your daze. “Ow! What was that for?”

“That,” Light said, his expression firm but his tone softer than usual, “is for saying something so stupid.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t get to decide that I’ll leave, or that anyone else will. And you especially don’t get to act like it doesn’t matter if I do. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

You glared at him, the tears still slipping down your cheeks betraying the anger in your eyes. “It’s not stupid. It’s realistic—”

Light interrupted again, this time by pulling you closer, his free arm wrapping around you securely. “Stop,” he said, his voice quieter now, though no less firm. “You’re my best friend. Or did you forget I existed?”

You blinked at him, your lips parting in a faint protest, but no words came out.

“Too stuck in your own bubble to notice anything?” he continued, his tone softening just enough to take the sting out of his words. “Do you know how frustrating that is?”

You looked away, uncomfortable under his gaze, but he didn’t let you pull back. Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, intertwining your fingers even tighter.

“And though it’s embarrassing to say,” he muttered, his cheeks faintly pink but his expression sincere, “I love you. You’re my best friend, and I’m not going anywhere. So don’t say things like that, okay?”

You glanced up at him, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his words. For a moment, the faintest flicker of something broke through the haze clouding your mind—something warm, something soft.

Light sighed, brushing a strand of wet hair away from your face before resting his forehead lightly against yours. “I mean it,” he said quietly. “So stop acting like it doesn’t matter.”

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t pull away either. You stayed there, silent and motionless, as Light held your hand a little tighter, his warmth chasing away some of the chill. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone.

———

You clutched the black kitten stuffed toy even closer, holding it as if it were the only thing grounding you to the present. Yet, you didn’t resist when Light pulled you closer, his arms wrapping securely around you, his warmth seeping into your cold, damp frame.

Light buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling the subtle, familiar scent of you that always lingered—a soft, flowery fragrance that felt uniquely you. For a moment, his tension eased. He could feel the faint rhythm of your breathing, slow and steady, a sign that you weren’t as distant as before.

When he finally lifted his head, he noticed the shift in your expression. You weren’t out of it anymore—your gaze was clear, steady, and focused. He stared at you, his face inches away from yours. There had been moments before where you were this close, but something about now… felt different.

His eyes lingered on you, tracing the lines of your face—your soft features framed by damp hair, the way your lashes glistened with lingering tears. His chest tightened, and his heartbeat quickened, a rhythmic thrum he couldn’t ignore.

Light didn’t understand it. You were his best friend. You’d always been. But the way the air felt heavier between you, the way his gaze locked onto yours as if it couldn’t look away—it was unfamiliar. Strange.

You blinked at him, your eyes meeting his directly. There was no hesitation in your gaze, no walls, just you looking back at him. And somehow, that clear, unguarded look made his breath catch.

Without realizing it, Light leaned closer, the space between you shrinking. His heart thudded louder, and for the first time in his perfectly calculated life, he didn’t know why.

You tilted your head slightly, a small, curious motion that made him freeze. Light’s gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. He swallowed hard, shaking off the thought before it could form fully.

This is just normal… right? You’re best friends. That’s all this is. It’s nothing.

Clearing his throat softly, he raised a hand to your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He wiped away the last of your tears with a gentle touch, his expression softening as he did.

“There,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “No more tears, okay?”

You didn’t reply, but you didn’t need to. The way you stayed still, letting him be there for you, letting him take care of you—it was enough.

Light exhaled slowly, his fingers lingering against your skin for just a moment longer before he pulled back, his face still alarmingly close to yours. His gaze flickered down once more before snapping back to your eyes, and he forced himself to look away, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Let’s… let’s get you warm,” he said, his voice slightly uneven. But he didn’t move away, his arms still wrapped around you as the rain fell around the two of you.

———

And then, you finally—hesitantly—wrapped your arms around Light in return. It was small at first, almost uncertain, but then you leaned into him, letting the weight of your stuffed kitten fall against your chest as your grip tightened around him. For the first time, you seemed genuine in not holding back, no barriers or pretense.

Light stilled for a moment, taken aback. The soft press of your arms around him felt different. It wasn’t just the act of hugging; it was the way you allowed yourself to depend on him, even if only for a moment. Slowly, his arms tightened, pulling you closer as if he could shield you from every storm that ever dared to touch you.

But then you spoke, your words cutting through the quiet. They were low, trembling, as if pulling them from within you was an effort: “People always leave, Light… It’s normal. It’s okay. I’ve stopped being mad about it. Even if they hate me, or forget me, or just… leave. It’s fine.”

You didn’t sob. You didn’t even sniffle. But the way your voice cracked faintly at the edges told him everything.

“It’s not fine,” Light said firmly, his voice steady even as his chest ached at your words. “I’ll never leave you. Never.” He paused, his voice softening. “Even if the whole world turns against you, even if everyone else leaves or hates you, I won’t. I could never hate you.”

He shifted, leaning back just enough to look at your face. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice low, steady, and filled with a conviction he hadn’t fully realized was there.

And then, it happened.

Slowly, tentatively, you smiled.

Not the lazy grin you threw out when deflecting his teasing, or the carefree smirk you donned when pretending nothing could touch you. This one was different. Small, shy, and vulnerable. A smile that spoke of a quiet happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time—perhaps ever.

Light’s breath caught. He was utterly at a loss for words, a rarity for him. He wanted to say something—anything—but his mind seemed to go blank, his focus completely captured by that tiny, genuine curve of your lips.

His heart stuttered in his chest, a rapid pounding that he prayed you couldn’t hear. His gaze flicked down, his thoughts racing. He didn’t even realize he was leaning closer again, his eyes tracing the soft lines of your face, the way your damp lashes framed your eyes, the faint warmth in your expression.

The urge came so suddenly, so powerfully, it almost startled him. A quiet, insistent desire to press his lips to yours, to see if that warmth would spread, to feel the closeness that his words couldn’t seem to bridge.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he tightened his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His face buried in your hair, his breath unsteady as he inhaled the faint, flowery scent of you—a scent he found oddly intoxicating. He closed his eyes, willing his heartbeat to calm, to stop betraying the storm of emotions he didn’t fully understand.

What’s wrong with me?

But he wouldn’t let you know. Not now. Maybe not ever.

For now, this was enough. You were his best friend, after all. That’s all this was. Or so he told himself.

────────────

Ever since that rainy day, something between the two of you shifted. The walls you had so carefully constructed around yourself didn’t crumble all at once, but they softened—just enough to let Light slip through. You stopped deflecting his care with dismissive remarks, stopped brushing off his attempts to get close. Your reactions around him felt different now: genuine, unguarded, like you no longer saw the need to pretend.

It didn’t happen overnight, but over the years, Light noticed the subtle changes. The way you let yourself laugh freely when he teased you instead of smirking half-heartedly. The way you didn’t hesitate to lean into his shoulder when you were tired, trusting that he’d hold you steady. The way you’d meet his gaze, no longer distracted or distant, and actually see him.

It was as if the two of you had carved out your own private little world, a space where no one else existed. It was always just you and him, whether you were crammed into the corner of the library whispering about your latest inside joke or walking home side by side, sharing a single umbrella that never quite fit the both of you.

And honestly? He loved it.

He loved the way you’d wrinkle your nose at his over-planned schedules but still follow along without complaint. He loved how you’d surprise him with random facts you thought he’d find interesting, your voice tinged with excitement just for him. He loved the way you always looked for him first in a crowded room, your eyes lighting up the moment they met his.

He told himself it was just the comfort of familiarity, the bond of having a best friend who understood him better than anyone else. But deep down, there was another part of him that relished it for an entirely different reason.

Because in this little bubble you’d created, there was no one else. No competition, no distractions, no one vying for your attention. It was just him.

You were all his, whether you realized it or not.

Light never said it out loud, of course. He always played the part of the doting best friend, careful not to overstep, not to scare you off. But he couldn’t help the satisfaction that bloomed in his chest every time he caught someone staring at you, only for you to brush it off without a second thought.

You didn’t need anyone else.

You had him, and that was enough.

And as selfish as it was, he hoped it would stay that way forever.

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “World Ablaze”: @berry-berry-beam , @magica-ren , @hyakki-yosai , @esthelily , @zombeepuppy , @mololoteco , @whyamaris , @iciel , @songbirdgardensworld

[velvetypoets]

Mister pitch perfect

The perfect Gryffindor golden boy has gone off his rails to catch a Black daughter.

Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective

havent done this in a while and this will be the first time im posting on this platform. im very sorry if its quite messy!

this was supposed to be a oneshot but i drag it too much. so it'll be some sort of a series oneshot? will also be posted on ao3 soon!

————————————————————————————————————————

It was never meant to be. James Fleamont Potter was basically molted into the perfect specimen of man and every soul who has ever walked Hogwarts knew. Sure he would cause trouble every then and again with his fellow mates. Yet of course, James would always dazzle his way out of it with a few charming smiles or reasonings to squeal his way out of being blamed.

[ part 1|part 2|part 3 ]

He was confident, charismatic, spotless.

And when he meets eyes with you, it was set. James is sitting at his usual spot with the marauders at supper when the moment arrives. You were fixing your necklace to your neck at the Slytherin table, struggling with the clasps as your face scrunches in frustration. James almost walks the whole way over to you and offers his assistance right then and there.

"Stop undressing my cousin with your eyes, Prongs," Sirius brings James back to reality with a slap on the back of his head. He seems to still be having his feast so that was new of him to pick on James in that setting. Remus raises an eyebrow as he stares at the two, "Since when do you care about the other Blacks?"

"That was foul, Pads!" James yell as he rubs his head and glares at his mate, he's used to Sirius playfights but that slap seems to be sincere. He tries to focus on the conversation as he tries to find you again on the table across. You seemed to have moved next to Regulus as he helps you with your necklace. James lets out an involuntary sigh.

"She's different, Moony. She's on the edge too. Pretty sure she's going to find a way to run when she hits 18," Sirius lets out a scowl, "Heard she is to be arranged with Nott. Bloody brilliant that."

"Nott? That Nott? Surely you're joking. That bastard can't even keep his owl alive for a week! How's he going to keep a wife that young?!" Remus exclaims in disbelief. Whipping his head to take a good look at you now that you're a big deal. "I wish I was. I love you but seriously mate, don't. You're big enough trouble yourself," Warns Sirius with his fork right to to James face. A juicy piece of meat dangling right on it.

He bites it though. Sirius lets out a shrieking squeal of, "My meat!", erupting laughter at the Gryffindor table as James chews proudly with a sly smile across his face. The boisterous sound turns a few heads, including yours. Your brows raised at the sudden commotion, only to have the red of your cheeks creep in as you find one of your cousin being the center of it. He watches as you rub your cheeks to hide the tint.

James gulps the meat down. He's quite full himself but he must admit, it's nothing like he has ever had.

——————————————————————————

The next time he sees you, you are sitting by yourself writing in parchments on a patch of grass by the lake. James is in a broom practicing to catch the golden snitch on Hogwarts grounds. Quite foolish but he's gotten bored of the arena and its currently being used by the Hufflepuff team anyways.

He's worried about you sitting all alone in this breeze though. It's quite cold and you don't seem to be wearing enough layers. He keeps a distance near a tree so as not to scare you, although he is quite discontent with seeing just your figure by the lake.

You whipped your head to the skies behind you, "Reggie? Is that you?" You ask calmly, your eyes not missing the shadowy figure blatantly hiding behind a tree, "I saw you from the reflection. Very funny, Regs."

James cracked a smile at your sarcastic tone. He even finds your voice perfect. He fixes himself a little before he reveals himself off the shade and lands in front of you, "So I'll take it you find me quite funny?"

Your eyes widened as you process the man in front of you. Why would James Potter—the Gryffindor golden boy—be here? And why is he talking to you now?

"You're not Reggie." You said still in shock, almost sounding like a question. Your brows are raised as you try to study his demeanor. He's holding his broom awkwardly in his arms, you've always thought James Potter's confident composure was permanent.

"Well if your standards of humour is a certain Regulus Black, I'm sure I'd be comical, love," He cracks a small smile and a hand extended to you, "Potter. James Potter."

You look at James like you're Newt Scamander finding a newfound beast, "I know who you are. Everybody does," You said in disbelief, finding the whole situation suspicious. The breeze of wind moves his curly hair to his face, framing it gracefully, "What I want to know is why are you doing this? We're not exactly fit to be friends."

"Why that's quite bold of you, lovely. Who said I'd like to be friends?" He said as he leans closer. You never noticed it before but his glasses are rather clean today, his hazy eyes look at you with glimmer in them you've never seen on anyone before. You think to yourself if its one of the charisma of being James Potter.

You stood your ground, you would have never thought to ever be face to face with this dazzling man in front of you. You are a Black though, your legs won't give in even if you try, "Well that's settled then. Are you here to pick a fight?" You ask him plainly, crossing your arms upon your chest.

James finds it adorable, he knows full well of his effects on people and especially of course girls. What he doesn't understand is the effect you have on him. "The contrary, darling. I have a proposition for you."

You lift a brow and yet let him continue, "I heard you're in quite the predicament with Nott. Now I know a way to get you out," His claim makes your eyes open, you let him continue. Words dripping in confidence, "A date. With me."

This time, you can't help but let out a laugh–of which James can't help but take in the sight. He's completely enamoured.

'What? Huh– Hold on. You can't be serious," You looked at him as if he had gone mad, the thought of a Black and a Potter dating is out of this world, "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to, but do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"

"Wait, I am serious! Picture this, if Nott knows you're going out with me he'd be livid, enough to break off the arrangement. I mean have you seen the way that scum looks at me? It's like he has this permanent face of eating vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans!" He rants as he joined in on the laughter with you.

You are smiling as the laughter reduces to giggles. As stupid as it is, it has a good chance of actually working. You pondered, there's still one thing on your mind, "What's in it for you? Would I have to do anything?"

James let out a smile, his palms are sweating like he's deep into a Quidditch game, "Well I get to see Nott lose his bride—" He pauses, confronting himself whether to tell you the real truth or not, "I mean I'll also get a beauty on my side."

You roll your eyes at that, "Don't you try to charm me, Potter. Give me the real reason or its off. I have a feeling you need this more than I do,"

She's right, James thought. He was about to play it off if you denied it straight away, he wasn't entirely sure you would actually take him seriously. He grasps the sight of you for a bit before closing his eyes tight, "Okay, how about I tell you the reason in a week— Maybe a month. You don't have to do anything, we'd just go out like normal couples do. Sounds good to you?" He said, he extends his arms to you for a handshake. His thoughts full of prayers to Merlin so you wouldn't notice the tremble in his arm.

You grin the same one James had seen a million times on Sirius's face, the Black's grin of content. You shake his hand firmly, his big ones almost encasing yours, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."

James is using every atom on his magical being to control his ecstasy as he smiles widely at you. Once the handshake is done he reaches for his scarf over his neck and wears it on you, "Nice doing business with you, sweetcheeks. I do hope you start wearing warmer clothes though. No snogging will be done if you're in Pomfreys care."

She looks good in my color

Well technically so is the color of a quarter of the schools because of course its a Griffyndor scarf.

"You surely don't expect me to go back. To my dorm. Through the halls, the stairs and the common room. With this on?"

Oh I won't regret this one bit, James thought. He chuckles at your words dripped in such a sarcastic tone, "Of course not, darling. Do you think I'm mad?"

He extends his arms for you to hold, "We'll go back together. Through the halls, the stairs, even the common room. I heard you folks have lovely parties there."

You let out a chuckle as you circle your arms around his, "Oh, the best ones. Your Gryffindors ass is so not invited though."

"Well at least I do have a lovely one, don't I?"

"Oh shut it, Potter!"

——————————————————————————

Another storm of commotion is coursing through Hogwarts. A lot has played it off as a mere prank. James grins at the thought of it. He has only you on his mind lately, cherishing the bits of conversation you and him had.

He's on his way to charms class this morning, one that inconveniently does not have you in it, he checked. He checked your schedule last night sneaking through administration with the invisibility cloak.

Moony and Pads by his side as usual. Sirius seems to still haven't caught wind of it, his hair tousled from a good sleep. Apparently he was up all night helping Remus solve a 10k piece magic puzzle.

Won't be long with how loud the students are gossiping though. James let out a coherent sighs. He had an amount of grins with knowing looks from a couple male students and even a pat on the back by a random Slytherin, "Alright, what is going on?" Remus breaks first. Stopping the two boys right before the class door.

James crackles a laugh, "What's going on? Nothing's going on, mate! What?" Moony lets out a drawled scowl on him, one he makes when he pieces that they're in some kind of trouble, "Why is everybody on Hogwarts up your pants then, Prongs?!"

Sirius yawns as he hugs James by the side to lean his head on him, "Yeah... Saw that too even if my eyes were closed the entire walk. You can tell us mate, come on," He does notice the lack of scarf on his mate's neck though, none in this rapidly chilly morning? "Prongsie, where's your scarf? I could really use a pillow here–"

"Oh! Thank Merlin! One second late and I would've thrown this in the bin. Here, take this off me," There you are with James Potter red and yellow scarf on your hands, just coming out the door. All three boys were quite startled, "What? Wait. This isn't your class," said James. His eyes land on the presence of a Slytherin scarf wrapping your neck. James wishes he could take that one instead.

"Yeah... I'm sort of risking being late to Dark Arts for this but I can't take the whispering anymore. I might square the next person who even looks at me!" You told him, your grip on his scarf tightens and James wishes the fabric would stretch upon your nails.

Sirius is well awake now, his bagged eyes darting between you and James as if you're both insane, "Hold–Hold on! What is this? What is happening, Why do you have James's scarf?" He cuts, going between you and James to put a distance and blocks James view. Remus gives James a 'he did warned you, mate' face at the side.

James on the other hand, in too much of a thrill of seeing you this early in the morning, "You could also just admit ya didn't want me to get cold, love. Thanks for the thought there," He said almost shouting as he stands on his tips to try and see you from above Sirius's head.

You let out an annoyed grunt, "Ugh I don't have time for this. Here Siri, give this to that stupid friend of yours. I'd like to keep my Dark Arts seat next to Cissy and Malfoy's been eyeing it like the vulture he is," You throw James's scarf to your cousin's head not caring if it covers his vision, it earns a few chuckles from nearby students. He trashes to take it off and looks at you in betrayal.

You're about to run off to Dark Arts and leave your cousin and his foolish mates when your feet stop and turn you back, "If you still want that date to happen. Expect my owl, Potter. She's a snow named Emerald."

"Oh and it is lovely to meet you, Remus. Do take care of my sod cousin and my idiot boyfriend. Make sure they're out of trouble," You smiled sincerely at Remus, you actually do admire him a little. You love dark arts and your professor rants and rants about Remus's talents.

Remus seems taken aback, but that would make the three of them. You left after he reciprocated your smile and responded with a polite, "You too, (Y/N)."

And as such, you scurried off in a rush to go shoo away Lucius Malfoy from your seat and save Narcissa. Leaving behind a bewildered Remus, an angered Sirius, and a lovestruck James.

James keeps his eyes on you until you turn the corridor, a stupidly huge smile stays on his lips. He turns to find the reality of Sirius's wrath upon him. Remus is quite literally holding back Sirius with his whole body, it's quite an advantageous turn of events that Sirius hasn't had his proper sleep yet.

"Boyfriend! Boyfriend?! When did you even– How is this— Let me go, Moony! He's going to have an earful!"

He definitely will get that earful later. James grins an apologetic smile at Remus as he picks up his scarf that fell to the ground. He could already smell the sweet of your scent from a distance.

Remus lets out a huffed noise, "You really do always get what you want don't you?"

James doesn't reply. He wraps his own scarf on his neck, embracing the warmth it does to his skin. Your scent crashes onto him like tidal waves. A tint of rose blooms on the pale of his cheeks.

He smiles faintly at the open skies over the hall window. He wishes for an owl he hadn't even met for safe travels.

[bubblebaththoughts]

Somnophilia

perv!Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikayan!Reader

kinkmas masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI! SOMNOPHILIA!!!, kinda dark, dubcon, pervy Lo’ak, Lo’ak is a little delulu, P in V, “unwanted” touches, Reader is Kiri’s best friend.

“Kiri! Stop it!” You shoved her off

“Ah- Someone has a crush!!!” Kiri teased

You both hear the flap of the tent-like marui pod swoosh open and then closed, neither bothered to look and see who it was as you two were basically in the middle of a wrestling match.

“You like him!” Kiri pointed in your face

“She likes who?” The person who walked in now spoke up, making you and Kiri finally look up to see who it was.

You knew who it was by his voice, Lo’ak. Kiri’s face dropped as she saw him, looking over at you for a second to widen her eyes.

“None of your business.” Kiri answered for you, crossing her arms at Lo’ak

He merely shrugged, passing the two of you to sharpen his hunting knife in the corner. He kept his head down, grinding the sharp edge against a stone as you and Kiri resumed your conversation.

You must have forgotten Lo’ak was there, and he could hear about your admiror“And then Nìtem was adjusting me and I-“

“Nìtem?” Lo’ak interrupted, almost dropping his knife “You like Nìtem?”

Your eyes snap up at him, a murderous glare.

“Brother, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.” Kiri warns, a stern look crossing her face

“Seriously? Nìtem!” Lo’ak scoffed

“What do you care?” You ask, your eyes narrowed at him

“I didn’t.” Lo’ak shook his head “I don’t care.”

“Mind your own business baby brother.” Kiri sassed

Lo’ak rolled his eyes, going back to sharpening his knife with a huff.

“I wanna go look at the stars.” You sighed, lying down on the floor and staring up at the low ceiling of the pod.

“Then go look at the stars.” Kiri suggested

“Are you going to come?” You perked your head up

“No it’s cold.” Kiri smiled “If you want to go out there, you’re on your own.”

“I’ll go.” Lo’ak said, lowly

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped listening in on my conversations.” Kiri’s eye glared around Lo’ak

“And I’d appreciate it if you would stop being such a baby.” Lo’ak sassed back to his sister.

“I’m going to look at the stars, I don’t care who comes.” You shrug, walking out by yourself

You hear footsteps beside you, Lo’ak’s footsteps.

“You really like Nìtem?” He asked softly

You shook your head, “No.”

“Then why-“ Lo’ak began

“Just because he came up in conversation doesn’t mean I like him.” You tell him, peeking back to see his face

You find an area that isn’t completely covered by trees so the stars were all visible.

“So why did you want to see the stars?” Lo’ak asked as you squatted down on the mossy ground

Your eyes snap up at him, “Why did you want to come out here with me?”

Your hands feel around the ground, making sure it was smooth so you could lay down to watch the sky.

“I asked you first.” Lo’ak countered as he got down on the ground next to you

“Because, I mean-. Look at them.” You pointed up at the sky. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, they are.” Though Lo’ak’s eyes never left you as you were explained your reasoning

Your head turns to him, “So why did you come out here with me?” You repeat tour earlier question

“Just-“ Lo’ak began “Just gotta keep an eye on you.” He shrugged

You scoff, “If anyone should have an eye on them it should be you, Lo’ak.”

He mocks offense, placing a hand on his own chest, “How could you say that?”

“Whatever, troublemaker.” You roll your eyes, tilting your head back up to the sky “And stop staring at me, watch the sky.”

Lo’ak listens, for the first time ever, and readjusted himself to look up at the sky.

You are comforted by the silence of the world right now. The clan were all, for the most part, asleep. And soon you felt your eyes getting heavy and then very soon after that, you had drifted off to sleep.

Lo’ak hadn’t noticed until he had heard a light snore come from you. That’s when he looked over and noticed your sleeping form.

At first, he wanted to wake you up, but he felt it was best to leave you alone. But he didn’t want to leave you there, what kind of friend would he be if he left you there?

But it was cold out here, like Kiri had mentioned. He debated with himself, but figured if he just got close to you, your body heat would keep each other warm.

So Lo’ak scooted close to you, slipping his arm around your waist and holding you as close as he could allow himself.

Sleep wouldn’t come to Lo’ak like it did to you. Instead, all he could think about was how close he was to you, how the curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips, how your head rested on his shoulder, how hard he could feel himself getting.

He tried to brush it off, go to sleep, anything. This wasn’t the best time, at all.

He found that his hands had a mind of their own as they gently squeezed at your hips, absentmindedly pulling you back on forth on to him for some sort of relief.

Lo’ak shifted against you, his eyes flickering down to your sleeping face. You wouldn’t mind, right? Fuck it, he didn’t care.

He leant down, his lips peppered kisses on your neck as his long fingers slipped under your loincloth.

You sighed, making Lo’ak pause, he peeked down at your face, you were still asleep.

He continued his venture to your pussy, pushing your loincloth completely out of the way.

He had to hold back a moan as his fingers separated your soft folds, Eywa, you were so wet, so wet for him, you just didn’t know that, yet. His finger circled your clit for a moment before he moved it down to your tight hole.

He edged to tip of his finger in, watching your face for a reaction. Once you didn’t react, he sunk his finger in.

Your body naturally reacted to him, your walls gushed around his single finger. He smirked down at you, you were being so good for him.

Slowly, he started to gently thrust his finger in and out of you. While somehow still asleep, you arch your back against him, a low breathy moan leaving your lips. You were so reactive.

Suddenly, the best idea he’s ever come up with popped into his head. He pulls his finger from you with a quiet “pop”.

Lo’ak maneuvered himself from behind you and gently laid you on your back, He slowly untied your loincloth and discarded it. Then he spread your legs until he could fully see your pretty pussy, all splayed out tor him, dripping wet.

“Fuck, sevin…” He muttered to himself lowly as he sunk in between your beautiful legs.

He admired your beauty for a second before he used his fingers to hold your pussy lips apart so he would have better access to your little clit.

He leaned in, taking your clit in his mouth, swirling his tongue on it. He began to hear your breathy sighs once again as he continued his advance on you.

You slowly begin to drift from deep sleep, feeling a beautiful sensation between your legs. Your eyelids flutter open and you can barely make out the silhouette of a figure hovering over your pussy. You soon realize that it's Lo’ak and he's definitely in between your legs, his tongue gliding along your sensitive skin.

“Lo’ak!” You gasped down at him

His eyes flickered up at you, a smirk falling on his lips before he looked back down to continue his meal.

His tongue is gentle and playful as it swirls in circles around your clit. His movements are slow and calculated as he teases you, running his tongue along your inner and outer lips. His breathing is heavy and you can feel his desire for you emanating from his body.

He slides his tongue back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth, gently biting and licking it. You moan softly in pleasure and arch your back, pressing your hips up against his face. His hands wander up your body and he kneads your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers as he continues to pleasure you.

“Lo’ak… please.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, you didn’t know if you wanted him to stop… or to fuck you with his tongue harder.

Your desire for him grows and you can feel your orgasm building. He moves his tongue faster and faster, pushing you over the edge. You cry out as pleasure washes over you, your orgasm rippling through your body. He doesn't stop until every last wave of pleasure has passed and you collapse onto the ground, exhausted.

He crawled up to you, hovering over you.

“What the fuck Lo’ak!” You cursed at him, out of breath

“You wanted it, sevin. Your body was calling for me.” He grunted into your ear, then leaning down to kiss, bite, and suck on your neck.

“Aha- Lo’ak- You shouldn’t.” You try to push him away

“Why not, sevin?” He whined to you “Made you feel so good, didn’t I?”

“You did but-“ You began

“But what? No need to fight me if you want this. C’mon pretty girl, don’t make me stop.” He was more focused on leaving love marks on your neck than to listen to you

“We might get caught.” You tried to reason with him

“That’s a risk I’m definitely willing to take.” He moaned against your neck. “Besides, no one is awake sevin, no need to worry. It’s just you and me, and the stars.”

“Hah… Okay.” You give in

Your hands wander his body, gliding up his torso to his shoulders, then his neck as he peppered kisses on yours.

“I’ve wanted you…” He leaned in, kissing your lips “…for so long.”

“Lo’ak…” You whined against him

“Patience, sevin.” He remarked, pulling away, he brings his hand to your cheek, his thumb rested on your lips as he observed your beauty.

You feel his hands on every inch of your body, exploring the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts, and the contours of your face. His lips follow suit, sending tingles down your spine as he leaves a trail of kisses across your skin. His hands wander further, pushing against your inner thighs as his mouth finds its way to yours.

His kiss is passionate and hungry, his body pressing against you as he holds you close. You feel yourself melting into him, every inhibition and worry slipping away as you succumb to his touch.

He continues to explore your body, like his hands and lips never want to be still for a moment.

His hands wander further south, caressing your inner thighs before he slips a finger inside of you. Your eyes close and you moan with pleasure as he slowly moves his finger in and out of you. You feel his hard cock on your thigh and you open your eyes to see him looking at you with pure desire. He moves his finger faster, and you arch your back as the pleasure builds inside of you.

“You getting close again?” He asked, teasingly

“Mhm..” You moan, too embarrassed to use your words

He slides his finger out, making you whine.

He moves so that he is on top of you, pushing his cock against your slick pussy. You gasp as he slides inside of you, filling you completely. He moves his hips in deep theusts, driving you wild with pleasure.

“That feels better, doesn’t it?” He whispered to you as he brought his finger back down to your cunt, this time focusing solely on your clit

“Faster… please.” You moan in response, trying to grind against his slow pace.

“You got it princess.” He smirked, speeding up his thrusts

“Ah! Lo’ak!”

“It’s okay, you’re right there aren’t you?” His head leaned down to kiss on your neck again

“Yes!”

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, until you can't take it anymore. You cry out as you reach the peak of pleasure, thrashing against him.

“You’re squeezing me so good sevin, c’mon, make me cum pretty girl.” He moaned

You pull him against you tightly, letting him decide the pace now that you had already cum.

With a whimper, he’s cumming, and he’s cumming deep inside of you.

You feel his warmth as he fills you with his cum, marking you as his own. You lay there, panting, your body still trembling from the pleasure he has given you.

“Told you we wouldn’t get caught.” He smiled, reaching to your face to push your hair back

“Whatever,” You whine, pushing at his chest

“You don’t think I’m going anywhere do you?” He asked with a tilt to his head “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He leans down, biting your neck gently and then whispers: “You’re mine now.”

taglist: @danniackerman @loaksslut

[peachesofteal]

MELOS (PART TWO)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part One / Melos masterlist 5k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni. Blood, feelings of fear and panic. Reader POV. Trauma. Protective Azriel. Canon-compliant, post ACOSF and HOFAS. "I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness"

The fly amanita has been eluding you.

It’s speckled red cap is usually so easy to spot, but you’ve been trudging through the woods all day, turning over logs and peering around tree trunks to no avail. You’re getting closer and closer to the break in the forest, the one bordering a large meadow rich with wildflowers, the one you hardly venture to unless you’re truly desperate for something specific.

You’re seriously considering it when something dusky red catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot the healthy patch of fungi. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you sink to your knees, digging down to the roots. The soil is wet, freshly damp from a recent rainstorm, and it sticks to your fingertips. “Such a pain in-“

Magic scrapes at your skin. Long gruesome fingers of something unseen try to clutch at you, drag you away, and your power surges to meet it, beating it back to the gloom it calls home. You shudder. The magic from your mother's blood, the gifts the Middle grants you, are enough to keep you safe, protect you from most things in this place, the ones nefarious and full of malice, but that does not mean they do not try. 

You exhale, breathing freely in the crisp winter breeze whispering through the trees, rustling the deadfall into small vortexes that spin across the wood, twisting upward in a delicate dance of changing seasons. You lift your face to the sun just as the wind turns dark, smoky grey, and then explodes in a burst of ink, onyx spilling around the mushrooms, wisps snaking through the stems towards your knees.

You swat them away.

Azriel.

You grit your teeth. Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think- 

A shadow brushes against you like a feather, and you hiss. 

Azriel.

The male who tortured you. Used you. Gained your trust to hurt you. Suffocated you until you thought you were going to die, until spots appeared in your vision and your heart slowed. The male that hurt you, in more ways than one. 

Fooled into falling for a ruse, you believed it meant something every time your heart thundered when he was near, how your magic crooned for him, tried to reach for him, touch him. The pain you saw in him, over and over again, a mirror to your own, led you to believe in a fairy tale that never existed, a stupid notion about two halves of a whole, only for it to crumble and reveal manipulation and lies.

And after it all, whatever he gleaned from you he must have determined to be inconsequential, since no one has shown up at your door to haul you away for execution. No one came to imprison you, or banish you, or torture you, again. No one came to take you away from your home, your life, like you were expecting.

He did it for nothing.

The shadows are an ever-present reminder.

Ever. Present.

They collect in the corners at work, they trail along the ground as you run your errands, go to dinner, visit your only friend in the city.

Thankfully, they seem to stay out of your house, though in the middle of the night, it’s not so easy to tell.

You shoot them a glare. “Run back to your master and leave me alone, for the hundredth time.” You have no concept of a Shadowsinger’s magic, or an Illyrian’s, no idea if the shadows see, or hear, or speak. Their presence frustrates you, and his hoarse attempt at an apology that night still haunts you. Why does he not just come to speak with you? Explain himself? Justify his actions?

It’s been weeks, and still nothing. Silence from the Spymaster. Your rage that was once all consuming is starting to cool, leaving a mess of confusion and pain in its place. 

You need to let it go, you must, but the music persists, faintly there in the back of your mind, a melody you can’t forget.

It’s a double-edged sword, one that slices and stings. You see him in your nightmares, and your dreams. In the dark, you hear his voice, cold and calculating, pacing around you in a suffocating circle, and in the sun, you see him in the Middle, ablaze in a mist of brilliant blue, brushing his lips against yours.

You’ve grown familiar with how a room changes when one of the Wraith sisters arrive. Shadow rolls in like a fog, dissipating as they materialize, grey gossamer turning to smoky quartz, taking shape as a beautiful female, her eyes iridescent like black pearls. 

Rarely, do the twins ever come together. 

Today is the exception. 

Cerridwen gives you a half smile, gaze lingering on your clothes. “If I made you a new frock, would you throw this one out? It’s nearly in tatters.” You huff.

“This is my work frock; it’s supposed to be a bit messy.”

“It’s not messy, it’s falling apart.” She raises an eyebrow, and Nuala places a slender hand on the stack of brown paper wrapped packages on the table.

“How are you?” The question is loaded, expectant, and they watch you, analyzing every second of whatever is showing on your face.

“I’m fine.” Are you? The lie is so painfully obvious, and they exchange a look. 

“Azriel,” Nuala begins cautiously, “has asked if you would be open to seeing him.” You freeze.

“I..”

“In a public place of your choosing, in the city.” The very idea tips you off balance, blindsides you. Could you do it? See him? 

“With a third party, if you would like.” Cerridwen adds. Maybe this is your chance at closure, an opportunity to put it to rest. “Take some time to decide, and we’ll-“

“No, no. I’ll do it.” You scramble to think of a place where you’ll feel safe, somewhere you’ll be among many, and not few. “Is… Rose and Thorn okay? It’s in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.” They nod.

“Of course. And a third party?” You shake your head. Something in your soul assures you no chaperone is needed, and you allow it to guide you. “Very well.” Nuala waves her hand, wisps of storm clouds floating around her fingers-

And then Wraith sisters are gone.

He’s there before you.

Seated at a table outside, elegant and sculpted, an exquisite, eldritch beauty accentuated by strong, chiseled lines. His skin glows golden brown in the warm bath of the sun, flecks of caramel and green, honey and oak painted together like a priceless landscape in his irises. His wings are tucked in a tight formation at his back, but even in restraint, they shudder, their membranes more unique than a snowflake, more delicate than a spider’s web.

He’s almost too stunning to look at. The beauty of a god. A prince of shadow, shining in winter’s glow.

Suddenly, you’re very self-conscious, fighting the urge to pick at the frayed threads of your dress, too aware of how faded its once emerald green is, how fast your heart is beating, anxiety and pin pricks of fear cascading up your spine, coupled with an undeniable longing that shakes you to your core.

An ocean tide too strong drags your eyes to his, holding you captive in its current, the two of you suspended, floating, woven together in a melody, same song you’ve been hearing, feeling, all this time, elusive, empyreal notes harmonizing across your soul, your magic. The heat of the patio, magic humming in the air producing the equivalent of a warm spring day, urges you out of the cold and towards the table, meeting him where he stands, so tall he towers over you. 

“Hello.” Your stomach flips. This is suddenly harder than you imagined, and you’re being torn in two, afraid and yearning, two sides of a coin. His eyes gentle, and he moves back a fraction, giving you space. You manage to clear your throat.

“Hi.” You can’t look away, and finally, after a second turned eternity, he motions to the chair.

“Would you like to sit?”

“Sure.” The words are stiff, like your back, and you hold yourself rigid, hands clasped together in your lap.

“Thank you for coming, I… I know this was a lot to ask.” You nod, unable to make your mouth move. “Are you well?”

“Yes.” You’ll need more than one syllable answers to get through this, and you fight against the vice squeezing in around you, trying shake loose the battle raging in your blood. There's a need to protect yourself, fortify yourself... and another, one humming a song of wonder, of desire, a song you don't know the words to. He takes a deep breath.

“There’s nothing I can say to excuse what I did, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I-“

"What you did? You tortured me, you terrorized me. You made me feel like I was dying. and I... why did you… why did you waste your time tricking me into thinking you were… we were… it was all fake.” Your voice breaks, and his eyes flash with despair. “You tricked me into trusting you, letting you get… close,” you study the tabletop, fingertips tracing loops in the woodgrain, trying to maintain your control. You can’t let him see how badly it hurts; how awful it is to know whatever you thought was happening between the two of you wasn’t real, how he's shattered your own trust in yourself. How could you not see the deceit? How could have fallen for such a blatant deception? How could you allow yourself to be hurt like that? These are the questions keeping you from sleep as they toss about in your mind, scolding you, chastising you for allowing yourself to be so weak. Stupid. “Why waste all that time if you were just going to do it? The act itself was... it was terrible but the manipulation, the lie that came with it, feels worse somehow.” Your cheeks heat with shame, mortified at the tears now blurring your vision, and his hand twitches, almost jerks towards yours before sliding away.

“There are no words in any language, anywhere, to tell you how sorry I am. I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness, if you’d let me.” Everything you want to fight back with, the words you wish to bury him with, die on your tongue as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I don’t deserve to see you or ask for a moment of your time. I don’t even deserve this chance you’ve given me today but… nothing was a trick, it was not fake. I was a fool.” You know you should say something, but still nothing comes, and there’s a rising uneasiness emanating from his, shadows shivering around him in a halo. “I would ask you to strike a bargain with me.” What?

“A bargain?” He nods solemnly, face set with resolve, foreign limerence weighed down by sorrow reflecting in his gaze.

“Allow me to spend some time with you, to show you how sorry I am, to prove how real it was, and in return, I will owe you a debt.” You fight to keep your face blank, smothering an outward ripple of shock. Maybe he’s gone insane.

“You… the Spymaster of the Night Court… would owe me a debt.” You chew on it, toss it around between your cheeks, try to digest the enormity of it. A debt could be anything, it’s a favor, a wish, a request that must be granted, no matter what it is. You could ask that he drink a vial of poison, and he’d have to do it. Could ask him to leave Pyrthian, and he’d have no choice. Most importantly, you could ask him to leave you alone. Forever. “And if I asked you to never speak to me again?” He winces.

“That would be your right.” This is a bad idea. Your magic trills, vibrating with a strange yearning, again guiding you away from the rational choice and into an agreement.

“I will see you once a week for a month, and in return, you will owe me a debt,” you extend your hand, “and swear not to harm me.” You add hastily, expecting him to refuse, or attempt to change the terms, but he meets you with zero hesitation.

The magic hits you like a gale force wind, wild and too strong, planting itself in your skin to push ink to the surface.

A tree.

The roots sprawl around your wrist, twisting upward into a trunk and then outward into branches, spreading wide until they’re nearly touching on the inside of your forearm. He snags a finger under the cuff of his shirt to reveal the tattoo’s twin, the concrete vow between the two of you plain as day.

What did you just do? 

You’re taking advantage of the first meeting. Having a second with you, a powerful, formidable second, gives you an opportunity to trek into a more dangerous, more unstable part of the Middle in search of a rare mineral.

You’re also using it as punishment, irritated with the small twinge of guilt growing in your side. He strides along at your side silently, shadows skittering ahead across the forest floor, disappearing and reappearing at will, as if they’re scouting and reporting.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” He finally asks, cocking his head to the side as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. He’s not winded at all, of course, and you’re starting to regret this choice, while also trying to avoid staring at him. Every time he moves into your line of sight, your palms sweat and you remember how his laugh sounded on the steps of your house, how he earnest he was when asking you questions. You remember the kiss, and the way his mouth felt upon yours. You remember it all, and butterflies take flight in your belly. 

But being alone with him in a dangerous place such as this, is also a stark reminder. A reminder of the last time you were alone with the Spymaster, truly alone, and how it ended. 

“There’s a cave a bit from here where a very rare crystal grows. Its mineral compound is a key piece to a specific elixir.” His lips twitch into a small, barely there smile, reading between the lines.

“You’ve brought me along for back up.” You smirk.

“You didn’t say what spending time together had to entail.” You shift your backpack. “It's just past this bog up ahead.” He stops short, eyes sharp, tensing.

“A bog?”

“Yes. You know… like a swamp?”

“Of Oorid?” You blink.

“You know the Bog of Oorid?”

“I’ve been there.” Now it’s your turn to scrutinize him. Could you have underestimated this male, again? 

“Why?” You shiver. You’ve visited the Bog before, twice, and left each time with a new scar, a new nightmare.

“We were looking for something.” We? Questions brew in the back of your mind, so many of them they’re hard to contain, but you’d hate to appear too interested in him and his adventures.

“Did you find it?”  He nods and says nothing. Fine then. “It’s not the Bog of Oorid, just a boring swamp. C’mon.”

You withhold a key piece of information regarding the swamp.

It’s quite hateful, if you’re honest, and a small part of you weeps at your own vindictiveness, but the vengeful side feels too smug, too satisfied.

“It’s this way.” You take the lead, stepping into the ankle-deep muck. “Sorry, you’ll have to get a bit dirty.” The trees here are warped, bent to the undertow of the swamp, stripped of their life, yet still thriving, flourishing in the inert, foul water. Wicked, and greedy, they creak and coo, relishing each cursed step Azriel takes. Your magic crests, drawing up through the Middle, and you smile to yourself as the mud reaches mid-calf. Right about now-

He hisses.

“Are you alright?” You call innocently over your shoulder, now paces away, reveling in the sound of him fighting against the sludge's hold. When he doesn’t answer, your heart quickens, and you turn.

He’s shaking his head, wings flared at his back, muscles flexing beneath his leathers, trying to work himself free, and you bite your tongue to keep from telling him it won't work.

The swamp is a collector, a keeper of things, admirer of the rare and unusual. You’re sure it’s never ensnared an Illyrian before.

“Careful,” you sing, “struggling makes it worse.” He’s knee deep but surprises you when he breaks a leg free and takes another step, cobalt blue siphons beginning to gleam, shining into the dark green stagnant water and pockets of mire. Interesting.

“Clever little witch.” He's amused, reverent, and you're irritated by his reaction. “How does it not trap you?” Keening echoes through your soul, frantic and tortured. It’s reaching for something, crying for something, steeped in a distress you don’t understand. An incessant tugging, the faint sound of a melody. A chiming of bells, ringing, and ringing, and ringing. You steady yourself with a deep breath.

“I ask it not to. My magic comes from the Middle, like my mother’s. It makes things... more amenable to me.” You make it sound far worse than it is to spook him, but he only watches you with interest, keen eyes dissecting you from the inside out.

“And will you ask it to release me?” 

“Maybe.” You shrug. He sinks farther, now trapped to his mid-thigh, and your pulse races. You had planned to leave him here, trap him here until you came back, but your magic is clawing at you, heart trying to beat out of your chest, fear and panic colliding with an instinct buried so deep, it can’t be cut out or ignored, an instinct trying to push you into his arms, pleading with you to help him. It hurts, trying to fight it is like trying to swim against a current, your muscles screaming at the struggle, your power thrashing in your veins. The music is no longer a delicate, enchanting thing but a symphony flowing into a fortissimo, brass and strings and keys digging into your soul.

It's too much, your heart pounds in your ears, magic shredding your restraint.

It's too much, and you long to go to him. 

Release him, you command the swamp, and it tightens its embrace, a lover clinging to another, refusing to relent.

Is this not for me?  

No. He is mine. Release him. Now. You press onward, urging the swamp to relax, it’s reluctant acquiesce bringing you a relief so strong you have to hold yourself steady. It recedes, and the two of you stand face to face, chests heaving. You don’t understand what’s happening to you, what this war that rages in your magic, your heart, your entire being means.

He closes his eyes, the shadows receding, disappearing entirely as he takes a long, measured breath, his hand pressing against his ribs, still deep in the dredge of the fen. 

"Are you alr-" 

“Is there anything else I should be aware of, before we continue?” He cuts you off, the heat radiating from his body coming in waves, and you push against the pull.

“No.” You croak. He inclines his head.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

“Why don’t you winnow here?” You're seated on a rock outside the mouth of the cave. The trek itself is the most dangerous part of this task, and the crystal retrieval was uneventful. Boring, even, as you walked side by side with Azriel in silence, contemplating the unexpected amount of remorse over the swamp settling in your stomach like lead.

“I don’t winnow to most places in the Middle if I can help it.”

“No?”

“You never what will be waiting for you, or what you will discover, when you arrive.” You take a bite of your apple and sneak a glance at him. “You’re not angry. About the swamp.”

“No.” He’s preternaturally still, but rife with intensity, alight with an ache you can’t describe.

“Why?”

“I deserve far worse from you.” You say nothing, because what can you say? It’s true.

But if it’s true, why does it feel so awful? 

You stand abruptly, eager to separate yourself from this situation, this confusion and confliction. “I should get these back.” Winnowing from the Middle, at least, is a perfectly safe option, and you’re eager for the escape now.

“Next week?” Your head is pounding, limbs twitching like your body has a will of its own, and suddenly you’re drained, magic and will quickly depleting. He steps closer, brows knitted together in concern. “Are you okay?” No. 

“Y-yeah. I’m going to… I’m going to go.” He frowns.

“You look ill.”

“I’m just tired. The swamp takes it out of me.” You lie weakly with a halfhearted smile that lacks conviction, and before you can do something stupid like reach for him, you draw on your power, giving him one last look. “Next week.”

You’re at the Palace of Bone and Salt when it happens.

The market is packed to the brim, overflowing, most caught up in the approach of Winter Solstice. It’s still weeks out, but all are always eager to celebrate the city’s favorite holiday. Boughs of holly and evergreen, ribbons of red and green decorate the square, twinkling fae lights nestled high and low. You’re looking for bone marrow, but can’t help loitering by the chocolatier’s stall, his perfectly crafted confections artfully arranged in pyramids stretching far past your head. He catches your eye with a smile. “Would you like to try anything?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. They always look so lovely.” He pulls a pink chocolate swirl from the collection that’s caught your eye and holds it out to you.

“On the house then, for Solstice.”

“Thanks so-“ Your gratitude is stolen by a groan, one rattling upward from beneath your feet, the entire market rumbling so violently the stalls creak, their goods tipping to the side.

A quake. 

They’re rare, but not unheard of. The mountains breathe, stretching and straining, the plates they’re built upon occasionally shifting and realigning, all of it causing Velaris’ foundation to shake. These things you know, but you’ve never experienced it firsthand, and you didn’t expect such… force.

The shopkeeper dives beneath his counter, others running in every direction through the market, panic and fear permeating the air. They’re looking for cover, afraid the second and third story buildings may come crashing down on their heads, while others try to outrun it, sprinting away as fast as they can manage.

It’s pandemonium. Everyone is being tossed around, marble and wood falling and rolling, and you’re frozen, rapidly trying to weigh the options, decide what to do when something catches your eye.

A child.

She’s standing in the middle of an aisle, screaming for her mum, and without hesitation, you snag her around the waist to tuck her into your chest, covering the back of her head as you curl into a ball and huddle beneath the counter of the first stall you see.

That’s where you stay, for the next ten minutes. Curved over this little girl who can’t be more than two, holding onto her as tight as you can to quell her screaming, trying to calm her. Things fall on you, something scrapes the side of your face, and it stings, but you don’t let go. You can’t.

You’re somewhere else in your mind. In the Middle as a child, running as fast as you can to the boundary, trying to get to safety as your mother howls. Claws scratch down your back, blackened, putrid magic tries to drag in the bowels of the forest, all while horrid shrieking and crying fills your head. The boundary is too far, and you fold yourself into a hollow, a damp, muddy nest inside the base of a tree where you hold your breath and sit really still, just like you were taught.

The quake ricochets around you, but the screeching in your ears is not from this time, this moment. It’s from then, you and this small child in your arms now the same, scared, alone, and crying for your mothers.

Even once the rumbling stops, you don’t move. Too afraid it will start again and you’ll be caught in the open, you wait. The sticky, festering sap of the memory clings to your synapses, refusing to let you go, embedding itself beneath your skull like it needs to live there, as if you could ever forget. There are moans from the injured, confusion and worry from those who took shelter, but multiple voices rise over the din of everyone else, giving instructions, looking for the wounded and those who need help immediately.

“- was right here, but she let go of my hand… there were too many-“ a frantic female’s voice echoes over through the market, and her terror is met by a kind, reassuring voice.

“We’ll find her.” The girl in your arms makes no attempt to free herself, still shivering in your hold, clinging to you with all her might, and you stay rooted to your spot.

There’s a brush of magic against your mind, a gentle caress that probes the dense sedge wall, and you push it away, opening your eyes to see a beautiful female crouched in front of you. “Hello.” The High Lady. The little girl finally moves, wriggling against you.

“Mara!” Her mother calls, rushing over and scooping her into her arms, sobbing. She looks her daughter over and then holds her tight before trying to approach you. “Thank you, thank you,” she’s reaching for your hand, trying to squeeze it in a manner of gratitude, of love, but you can’t move, still grappling with the noise ringing in your head. There’s more conversation, more of the High Lady’s voice, patient and gentle, and another’s, deeper, heavier.

“-shock, maybe?”

“-go get him,”

“Cassian-“ The second voice is enough to startle you back to yourself somewhat, and you carefully stretch your limbs, crawling out from under the counter and away from them, standing up on your own two feet. The High Lady holds her hand out as if you steady you. “Easy. You’re hurt.” Hurt? You instinctively touch your face, fingers coming back stained crimson. You need to get out of here, need to get as far away from all of this as you can. You’re still trying to right yourself, convince yourself you’re here, not there.

“Maybe you should sit down.” The other one, the big Illyrian who you met in this very place months ago, watches you with concern. You’re shaking, lungs expanding, searching for as much air as they can find, warm trickle of blood falling over your lips and down your chin. Pain registers slowly, no longer isolated to your face, but in your side too, and when you press your hand to your ribs, wet fabric squishes beneath it. More blood.

“Let's get you to a healer,” the High Lady tries, motioning to your head, your side, and when you don’t respond, she frowns, glancing at her companion. The wailing is finally quieting to a point where you can properly think, but words still won’t come, and she’s about to say something else when shadows swirl around the three of you, and Azriel drops from the sky.

Azriel. Your heart sings his name, and the double-edged sword cuts to the quick, opening you up to a strange spark in your chest.

He looks… awful. Insane, even. Wide eyes find you, his wings stretched into a defensive position, shadows spread around him in a dark cloud, and his fear is so palpable you swear you can feel it. All you can do is stare at him as he frantically takes you in, focus never wavering, even as he speaks to those at your side. “What happened?”

“We found her under here,” Cassian points to your hiding spot, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

“She needs a healer.” He grits, hands flexing and relaxing from flat palm into fist, repeatedly.

“We know.” The High Lady angles her body between you and the Shadowsinger. “Az,” her voice is serious, with an undercurrent of authority, “maybe you should back-“

“You need a healer.” He ignores her, and you shake your head. You need to get out of here, to get somewhere safe where you can try to rip out the rot of these memories still nipping at your heels. 

“I need to go. Home, I need to go… home.” I need to go home? That’s the best you can come up with? Cassian snorts, and Azriel says your name, an edge of dominance cutting through the haze of your mind. The blood loss is making you woozy, and the ground is unsteady, continent turning over as you start to feel sluggish. Your vision grows blurry, and then there’s a hand on your cheek.

“Look at me, it's okay.” Azriel murmurs, and you try. You do. There’s something about his touch, the texture of his hands that soothes you, comforts you, but the world is falling away, and darkness is taking you, tugging you into the lull of sleep.

You curl your fingers into his shirt, a last-ditch effort at staying upright, at staying awake, looking up into a never-ending swirl of hazel, green moss and bright umber drenched in panic.

They’re the last thing you see before everything goes black and you slip under.

[killa-cookie]

hii :3c can I get a shadow milk cookie x gn reader angst?? were like reader used to worked with before his corruption but when he became corrupted they stop working with him, left him and reunited with when he escaped the silver tree

(sorry if it's long and wordy LMAO)

oohfph angst

REUNION

Shadow milk x Gn! Reader angst

"______ Cookie, could you get me that book?"

"Yes Bluebery Milk!"

You quickly dashed to his side in a Swift motion, handing him the book eagerly. He softly smiled at you in response as he began reading.

"You know, ________. You're the best assistant I could ever ask for. " he softly hummed gazing at you, waiting for a response

"Since when did you get all sappy Mr. blueberry— I know you like complimenting others but now this is a leap!" You exclaimed, a shocked look on your face.

"Hm, is that just an excuse for you saying you don't believe me?" His tone amused as he lifted his head from the book, properly looking at your dumbfounded face.

"N-no way! I always believe you Sir. Blueberry!" You stammered, he was right though. You couldn't just accept a praise as high as that from such a kind figure.

"I know you do, but I also know that you don't believe high praise." His gaze softened.

"Ugh— it's not fair you know everything Sir!" You groan in defeat, he was always right. He knows he's always right, and you do too.

"I am the virtue of knowledge, _______." He deadpanned at you. He then chuckled, amused by your behavior.

"Gh... Just promise you won't do anything you might regret in the future... " you looked at the ground then back to him. His expression curious.

"Now why would I do that? But, I promise."

— those days were shortly lived.

Destruction surrounded you, fires spreading like light. The nearest buildings were destroyed, your favourite library... Gone.

You had evacuated all the nearby townsfolks, all those innocent. You helped those trapped in debris, those trapped under wood and other solid materials.

You were scrambling, while hiding from the attacks those beasts had struck. You can hear Burning Spice's loud laughs, amused by what he had inflicted onto the sacred land.

As you were looking to find more townsfolk, you met eye to eye... With him.

He looked sinful, he wasn't the blueberry milk you knew, he was a monster.

"_______ cookie! I can explain—" he knew what kind of monster he had become, he couldn't explain but he wanted you to calm down, he hated seeing you scared... Scared of him.

"NO— YOUR A MONSTER; A BEAST. YOUR NOT THE COMRADE I HAD ALWAYS ADMIRED, STAY BACK.!" You screamed at him with all the oxygen you had in your body, enraged at what he had done.

"______ cookie...." He weakly reached out to you, as you quickly backed away.

You hated him, despised him. He had given into temptation. He broke your promise, don't do anything you would regret in the future.

He was too distracted by how you looked at him, and you took this as the chance to run away.

By a miracle you had gotten away, but the destruction had inflicted good damage onto you.

You leaned onto a rock and sobbed, you had never thought this would have happened. You missed blueberry milk cookie, you missed everyone. They weren't themselves anymore.

—

"So you were a librarian that served Shado— I mean, Blueberry Milk Cookie?" GingerBrave exclaimed in awe. It was an honor to meet such a historical figure as your self!

"You can refer to him as Shadow Milk in front of me, no worries. But we must focus on keeping him and the others inside that tree."

Your tone slowly drifted to seriousness. You didn't want him to inflict the same damage he had done in the past.

Especially on this sacred Faerie kingdom, even if they knew you used to work for Shadow Milk. They treated you as an equal, as if you didn't work for a sinner, a BEAST. This land was sacred and pure, you adored it.

Even though you didn't fully understand this Dark Enchantress thing... You loved traveling with gingerbrave and the others, you weren't so sure about pure vanilla though... He reminded you so much of blueberry and you hated it.

The battle had already begun and not even an hour had passed, the rift in the tree slowly opening wider and wider by the minute. You couldn't do much since you were only such a simple librarian.

" WE MUST FIGHT OFF AS MUCH AS WE CAN FAERIES! " the elder spoke, charging at the rift at full speed. You admired his brave and courageous demeanor for an old man. (You were probably older than him)

White Lily's bud helped in trying to close the portal, but it wasn't enough.

Elder Faerie had sacrificed himself for more power would be bestowed unto Lily, a brave action indeed. You admired that.

It was then strong enough to hold the rift for a while, but you were still paranoid. It's as if a voice was calling you to get closer to the portal, you were always somewhere near it but you wouldn't dare to get closer.

You were guarding the rift the whole day, not even taking a break. The Faerie soldiers were slightly worried because you weren't moving your stance a bit and stayed in the same position for hours. One of them even thought you had become a statue and stared panicking.

You decided to shut your eyes for a mere moment... For a MERE MOMENT.

"T-THE PORTAL! IT'S OPENING AGAIN!" A Faerie soldier yelled, he quickly asked others for backup and support. The Faerie soldiers were very diligent in their attacks.

You had been helping them by casting spells of bounding onto the rift, but it just absorbed the spells- disappearing without a trace. You then decided to test your luck and get dangerously close...

You felt an eerie presence as you got closer and jolted backwards in fear. He was there, waiting. The gingerbrave team had just arrived helping in the rift. But it wasn't enough.

Then... He emerged from the portal.

"OH MY OH MY~! WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE—"

Shadow milk's voice was filled with excitement, he looked around for a bit until his eyes settled onto you. His gaze softened for a hit before sharpening once more. He told himself that you were just forced to be him, you wouldn't actually hurt him?

He tried making himself believe that you would never betray him, you were his trusted comrade! But deep down he knows... His most precious treasure would die just for him to be killed.

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 1

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up.

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse.

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

next part

A/N: i'm so excited to share my first full fic! this series is very very lowkey inspired by one day and highkey inspired by peter by taylor swift. comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this! hope you guys like it :)

divider credit @ cafekitsune!

Age 10

“I still don't see why we had to move here." a sullen, 10 year old Y/N replied, pouting as she stared out the window from the backseat. her father couldn't help an amused smile at the little girl as he drove towards her new school. "i told you darling, daddy’s got a very important new job here in king’s landing." "yes but why did I have to move here." the older man let out a patient sigh. this had been going on weeks leading to their move. "you haven't even given the city a chance yet, kiddo. why do you hate it already?" "because..." the little girl started with an exasperated whine. ".... i don't have any friends here!" "you have me." her father offered with an assuring grin. the unamused look he got in return was not grateful in the least. "you're dad. i want friends." the seriousness with which Y/N declared her dilemma earned her a laugh from the front seat.

her father pulled into the curb by the grand iron gates of Red Keep Academy, the best private school in the city. as Y/N hopped out the backseat, looking deflated, he lowered the car window, "hey c'mon now, you can't start your first day all sad. who knows, maybe you'll come back with a hoard of friends, even more than you had back home." Y/N only looked ahead at him, unconvinced. "bye, dad."

as she made her way towards the main archway to the school, she thought of all the things she was missing about home. not the new townhouse they had in the city, her real home, back in the reach. she thought of the swing behind her house, the smell from the bakery next door, the big oak tree she saw on the way to school every morning, the fountain in the park – when suddenly someone ran past her, fast enough to knock her down.

"ouch!" she cried out from the floor, rubbing her shoulder where she had been hit. "aegon!" a woman suddenly rushed to her side, glowering at the little boy who had pushed past her. "are you okay, honey? were you hurt?" the first thing Y/N noticed was how kind the woman looked with her big brown eyes, and so very pretty. "i'm okay." she reassured in a small voice, before turning to give this 'Aegon', the dirtiest look she could muster.

the boy had to be her age, pale blonde hair that looked like someone had tried to comb it but had not been given enough time to finish the job. he wore a matching school uniform to Y/N, navy blue blazer, white shirt and dark green pants. his shirt though was untucked and seemed to already have mud stains.

she thought he seemed mostly unbothered by his own actions, but stood there attempting to look sheepish nonetheless for his mother.

"apologise to this young lady." his mother demanded. "sorry..." he mumbled almost incomprehensibly. already upset and now physically hurt, Y/N wordlessly got up and hurried away, trying to stop hot tears from spilling out.

as she walked away she heard the boy's mother scold him, "that was not an apology, Aegon. go say sorry, properly this time." she heard a childish groan in response, "do I have to?".  his mother must have given him one hell of a look, Y/N thought because she heard her say nothing else but small footsteps came jogging up to her.

as the blonde boy walked next to her, she waited for him to say something while she kept walking ahead, but he seemed to just wordlessly fall in stride with her. After a minute he suddenly asked, “do you even know where you’re going?”

now that he mentioned it, she didn’t.

she suddenly stopped and looked around herself, confused. He stopped with her and studied her for a second. “I don’t know you.” He observed. “are you new?”. She decided to stay silent, hoping he would go away if she ignored him but she was wrong. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you’re going in the wrong direction, new girl. That way –” he pointed to where she had been headed “—is the middle school building. Primary school is this way.” He started walking down a hallway, and Y/N took hurried steps to follow him.

He gave her a sideway glance, “what grade are you in anyway? Third?” he smugly asked, proudly looking down at her as a mature fifth-grader. “fifth.” She snapped at him. “oh”, he responded, surprised. “who’s class?” “Miss Reyne.” “no kidding!” he gave her a toothy grin. “so am I.”

Y/N didn’t like this Aegon, she decided. As he kept chatting away about how boring Miss Reyne was, she gave him no replies and generally walked as if she were alone and had no association with the silver haired boy beside her. As they settled into class, she was determined to avoid him for the rest of her day. Aegon though, was determined for quiet the opposite.

He took a seat next to hers, kept making comments, providing her a running, private commentary about each teacher and student. He wasn’t affected by Y/N’s lack of a response, or if he was, he didn’t let it show. Y/N had to admit though, he was funny. she couldn’t help but crack a smile when he told her about the time Jason Lannister got gum stuck in his hair, and had to suppress a giggle when Aegon impersonated Mr. Bolton falling asleep mid-way through teaching a class. At these small instances of Y/N’s guard breaking, he flashed her a bright smile, pleased with himself.

Y/N though, didn’t utter a word to him. Until Art class that was.

They had been asked to paint an animal, and when Y/N looked up from the goldfish she had been painting, she saw Aegon’s work. “a dragon isn’t a real animal.” She disproved. The boy merely shrugged, “that’s not an animal either, it’s a fish.”

“a fish is an animal.” She frowned at her work. “it’s just an animal under water.”

“oh well, let’s add some of its natural habitat then.” He smirked, grabbing the bowl of water they’d been sharing to clean their brushes. “NO! stop!” in an attempt to block him from pouring water on her work, the brush in her hand smeared some of the yellow paint on his face.

He froze in his action immediately, bringing up his fingers to feel the paint streak running down from his brow to across his nose. This time Y/N couldn’t suppress her laughter at the sight, his blinking expression making it all the more funnier. “well, if that’s how you want to do this!” he declared as he scooped some of the red paint on his two fingers before smearing it on her cheek.

Within five minutes, their respective art works had been abandoned and both sets of uniform utterly ruined. The two had to be separated by their teacher, then ordered to walk down to the washrooms and clean themselves right up.

The second she left the girls washroom though, Y/N found the silver haired boy waiting for her by the door, some green paint still visibly stuck in his pale locks. “race you to class?” he mischievously suggested. “Hmm” Y/N pretended to think about the challenge for a second, before saying “okay” and dashing towards their class.

With a self-satisfied smile at having beaten Aegon, she took her seat. Sulking at his defeat, Aegon slinked back in his chair, “you cheated, didn’t wait for the ‘go’…”

“win’s a win.” Y/N declared, grabbing golden glitter for her fish. 

He didn’t stay grumpy for long though, before she knew it he was back to his talkative self, this time with Y/N chiming in with her own comments. The hours flew by with Aegon by her side, and as the day came to an end Y/N realised she’d enjoyed herself after all.

As they walked towards the school gate to leave, Aegon suddenly changed the topic. “you like video games?” “yeah…?” she hesitantly replied. “great, you’re coming over tomorrow to play some.” He beamed. At the end of the sentence Y/N observed he hadn’t actually asked her a question. “okay.” She found herself agreeing.

“cool, see you tomorrow.” Aegon had started running in the direction of one of the cars, when he suddenly stopped and turned around. “never asked your name.” he sheepishly realised.

 “Y/N!” she distractedly answered as she sped up, having found her mom’s car in the parking lot.

“Y/N…” Aegon muttered to himself as he walked away, liking the way the name rolled of his tongue.

Age 15

“You’re late.” Y/N didn’t even bother to look up when she heard the window to her bedroom open, but did glance at the subsequent sound of someone falling face first onto her carpet. “have you been drinking? Its 2pm.”

Down on the ground laid her best friend of five years, with his messy platinum hair and stick-thin lanky limbs, carrying in the distinct smell of smoke when he entered her room. Though they were the same age, aegon looked more boyish still even as he had started to race towards every vice of the adult world he could get his hands on.

Aegon merely rubbed his now injured nose, as he lifted his head off the ground. “No I haven’t been drinking… still drunk from last night. Big difference.” Y/N sighed and shook her head in vexation before returning to her homework.  Aegon had recently taken up drinking and despite Y/N’s repeated rebukes, he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much to stop. He continued to wave off her concern and she was starting to tire of voicing it.

“Let’s say I believed you… you wanna tell me what made you so late, then? I do have other things to do with my day than wait around to teach you biology, y’know.” Aegon grabbed a chair and dragged it to sit next to her at her desk. “I was actually busy being taught biology as it happens… albeit of a different kind.” His smug, self-satisfied grin as he pulled a cigarette from his front pocket  and placed it between his teeth, told Y/N all she needed to know. “Elinda Massey was the most enthusiastic of teachers.” Y/N couldn’t help but grit her teeth at the mention of Aegon’s latest distraction.

With a swift motion she grabbed the cigarette and threw it in the bin, ignoring his protests. “you know you’re not allowed to smoke in here, my parents would kill me if they smelled it.” Aegon snorted at the statement, “yeah but, that’s never stopped me before.” The casualness with which Aegon dismissed her, pinched Y/N. It was certainly true that Y/N usually found it hard to say no to Aegon, no matter how the consequences might harm her; but she didn’t like how he took the same for granted, as if it was a given.

“What’s got you all prissy today?”

“you. You wanna pass biology this year or not?” Y/N replied, visibly irritated. “yeah like there’s a chance in hell they’ll actually fail me. Grandfather would have the place shut within the week.” “then why do you even need a tutor? Go off with Elinda or whoever.” Y/N huffed, her eyes remaining trained so hard on her textbook that she was half certain she was going to burn holes into it, her hand clutching around the pencil in her hand.

“Elinda? That’s what you’re so annoyed about?” aegon snickered. Y/N turned to now glare directly into his blue eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks and her nostrils flaring. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to push aegon right out the window he came from so she could be alone instead of having to deal with this. “No, I just think you’re wasting your time here right now, when you could be doing…. Biology with Elinda instead.” Aegon brow furrowed at her reaction, but instead of another retort his hand reached out to gently grab her arm. “hey…” his features softened from their usual impish nature to highlight his concern “…what’s actually up with you?” in the face of such kindliness from him, she couldn’t muster any more scathing replies.

He’d seen right through her, like only he could. For weeks now she’d been stressed, but found the topic too awkward to discuss with Aegon. But she knew she’d have to open up to him sooner or later about her problem. Keeping secrets from Aegon was simply not something she did. Or even possibly could if she tried, she thought.

“promise you won’t laugh.” She first demanded in a nervous tone. Raising his three fingers, her best friend solemnly confirmed, “scouts honour.” She swallowed, her eyes looking beyond Aegon’s shoulder rather than at him as she slowly admitted. “I’ve not had my first kiss.”

Aegon merely blinked back at her, “what, is there supposed to be more to that or…?” “I’ve not had my first kiss.” She repeated as if those words were supposed to be self-explanatory. “yeah and I’ve never been to the Summer Isles, what’re you on about?” Y/N couldn’t help a groan as she momentarily hid her face behind her hands, thinking the more she would explain herself the more embarrassed she would get.

“It’s just, I’m 15, and I should have had it by now, I’ve never even been on a date.. and… and… and you’ve got Elinda and Maria before that, and Jeyne and, and…. I just can’t believe you’ve gone to third base before I’ve even had my first kiss!” her words came out rushed in the end, out of frustration and a need to just get the shameful confession over with.

She had expected Aegon to laugh it off, or worse, agree that her situation was absolutely the height of shame. Instead, he looked confused that such a thing was bothering her in the first place “what, that’s it? why didn’t you just say so before?”

nonchalantly, aegon put an arm behind Y/N’s chair. Eyes closed, he suddenly leaned in towards her, lips puckered, causing her eyes to go wide. “what the –” as a reflex response she pushed back at his shoulders, making him fall of the chair.

“the fuck was that for!” he shouted from the floor, his ego and back bruised.  “why did you try to kiss me?” Y/N was shocked, horrified even, at the prospect. Aegon was her best friend, she couldn’t even imagine looking at him in that light. it was Aegon, he was simply too familiar for her.

Aegon raised his hands out as if the answer was obvious. “you said it yourself you wanted to have your first kiss!”. Y/N’s nose scrunched up, “not with you!”.

“well how was I supposed to get that! Fuck me, I’ll never understand you women”

“‘you women?’” at that, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. This scene before her, this response by her best friend was too ridiculous. Yet, she noted as she offered a hand to help him back up which he grumblingly took, this was very much in character for Aegon. She knew he always wanted to help her, he might not have always understood how to go about it, but his heart was in the right place.

“I don’t need you to fix it, aegon.” She affably told him, a faint grateful smile on her face for her friend’s valiant effort nonetheless. “yeah, no-shit, because there’s nothing to fix. You’re not broken, Y/N.” Y/N didn’t know that she needed to hear those words until Aegon said it and it felt as if a burden was lifted off her shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong. Doing all this, the kissing and the more-than-kissing, it’s fun. Honestly it’s so, so much fun, like I can’t even—” “you wanna get to your point?” “–so it’s great and all but, not doing it doesn’t mean you’re any less for it. You’re still Y/N, you’ll always still be Y/N to me.”

The anxiety she had been feeling, the fear of being left behind and the worry about other’s judgement, even her own – it all started to look so small and insignificant when Aegon told her she was still the same to him. This was her only constant in life, this bond between her and Aegon, the one person she couldn’t hide who she was from. In that moment, she felt glad to have him by her side.

“Besides if you were ever truly that desperate, you could always just try Jace. he’s had a thing for you like forever” Aegon revealed, rolling his eyes in apparent annoyance of the fact. Y/N though, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Jace… has a thing for me?” The thought of it seemed to please her, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as a red blush started to creep onto her cheeks once more.

Aegon looked disgusted at her response, and grimaced, “yeah okay, no need to flatter yourself too much …. It’s Jace.” He stuck his tongue out at the distaste of the thought of his best friend with his nephew. Y/N didn’t pay him any attention, having taken to doodling hearts in the margins of her notebook while engrossed in thought. Aegon immediately regretted having said anything, snatching the notebook from under her hand, “alright are we going to do some biology or what?”

Age 17

Y/N had been fast asleep when the familiar sound of pebbles against her window awoke her. she looked at the time on the watch as it read 2:17 am, quickly rising from her bed. there was only one person who had to be out there, and she knew why too. her heart sank, knowing already that aegon must have had another fight with his father. she opened the window and as expected, aegon targaryen precariously balanced his steps on the tree branch just outside.

"aegon, what are you doing? It's late," she whispered-shouted, trying not to wake her parents but already held out a hand to help him in. "Needed to see you," he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. She wanted to chide him for endangering himself by climbing up so high when he’d drunk so much, but looking at his condition she decided to stay quiet. He climbed into her room, stumbling slightly as he landed. Y/N caught his arm, steadying him. "You've been drinking again," she said, more as a statement than a question.

aegon’s normally sparkling blue eyes were unfocused, his silver hair dishevelled. He'd grown taller of late, she missed the days when she could stand shoulder to shoulder with him. she now had to look up at him, as she put one of his arms around her shoulder to guide him towards the bed as his own steps fumbled.

“He doesn’t get it, Y/N. None of them do. To him, nothing i've done or will do matters for shit. i'm just not the son he wanted. he regrets me, i can see it in his eyes, I—”  a sob escaped his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She gently sat him down on the edge of her bed, his weight pressing down on the soft mattress.  As she looked into his sad, bloodshot eyes, she harboured such hatred for Viserys as she thought impossible for anyone else to hold. she kneeled down in front of him, her heart breaking to see him so.

"I know, i know. But you can’t keep doing this, aegon. If you keep drinking like this, you could seriously hurt yourself one of these days." and she didn't think she could survive that.

she reached out to hold his hands in her own. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you. Always." if aegon heard her, he gave no indication, instead staring at their intertwined hands.

"can I crash here tonight?" he suddenly asked, looking more innocent than she'd ever seen him as he lifted his eyes to look up at her. Gone was the bravado and arrogance that was usual of him, even expected. In that moment he looked more lost than ever, and was looking to her as if she was his only hope for shelter.

she knew her parents wouldn't be thrilled about this impromptu sleepover, but then again she'd never had the ability to deny him anything. "of course," she tenderly smiled.

he kicked off his shoes and moved back up the bed, still holding onto her hand, pulling her with him. he lied down on her pillow, refusing to let go of her hand as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. he looked so peaceful, Y/N couldn’t help but reach out her free hand to run it through his hair in admiration. She wasn’t blind, she knew how handsome he looked, causing the girls to flock to him like moths to a flame. But his looks were just an objective fact to her, she never found herself attracted to him in the same way as the girl at school. But somehow in the pale moonlight, he looked more beautiful than she’d ever seen him, and it caused her chest to swell overwhelmingly.

she looked down to notice he'd opened his eyes again. "Don't leave," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"I won't" she promised, pulling the blanket over them both. he nodded in satisfaction of her reply, nestling against the crook of her neck, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Sleep evaded Y/N though, on the one hand she was wracked with worry over Aegon and his drinking habits, on the other.... she could feel his breath tickling her neck, as his one hand held her own while his other wrapped around her waist, his feet entangled with hers. his body pressed to her own under the covers, making the cramped space on her single bed too hot. Aegon had never been this physically close to her, this vulnerable. she thought how his safe space, the place he ran to when he wanted an escape was her, same as he was for her. it had always been this way, yet, in the darkness of the night she sensed something had shifted between them. she couldn't name it yet, though.

The next morning, when the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, aegon stirred. He blinked, confusion clouding his eyes at his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the familiar face inches from his own "Y/N?" Y/N merely hummed in response, only now starting to stir awake. "what... how did i get here?" he asked looking around the room, startled. He lifted his head as he realised he was all but laid out on top of her, before moving away to lay on his back. He looked down to find his hand had cramped from holding onto hers all night, immediately releasing it. Y/N rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she responded, "what d'you mean?"

"i mean what am i doing in your bed at the crack of dawn." aegon looked earnestly confused, Y/N realised, which worried her.  "You came here last night," she slowly replied, watching his face carefully. "You were drunk. Do you remember?"

aegon frowned, rubbing his temples. "No... I don't." he suddenly looked at Y/N, "Did I do something... did we...?" he motioned to the space between them, his brow raised. Y/N sat up from her bed in alarm, "oh, no, nothing. of course not." she reassured him. she tried not to look too wounded at his relieved expression "good, good." he nodded, staring up at the ceiling.

"you had a fight with your dad and wanted to crash here. do you not remember coming up here last night?" "I don't remember anything really. last thing I do remember is opening one of the bottles from the wine cellar and then" he shrugged. Y/N frowned at his response, "Aegon, have you started blacking out?” her stomach tied itself in knots, feeling anxiety over this new development. But she felt as if she was the only one who understood the gravity of the situation.

she searched for any fear in aegon’s eyes, but only found apathy and disinterest. he seemed unconcerned, merely rolling onto his side and closing his eyes, lazily stretching himself out to get comfortable to fall back asleep.

“do you understand what that means? it means this is getting dangerous. This is no longer all for a good time, Egg.” She attempted again, this time raising her voice to catch his attention. It seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"wake me up for lunch, yeah?" he yawned, drifting back to slumber within minutes.

A wave of anger washed over her, she wanted to knock him off her bed or  hit him with a pillow in frustration over his own self-destructive ways. Did he not understand the ending he was currently headed towards? Did he not care how this going to affect him, affect her? She was tired of being the only safety harness keeping him held back when all he seemed to want to do was jump into the abyss.

“fucking… suit yourself.” She stormed off the bed to head out of her room, shutting the door behind her loudly.

[mercy-burning]

Christmas Miracles

Mercy’s Ficmas 2024 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer aims to comfort you after a rather explosive breakup with your boyfriend during your Christmas party. Category: Fluff Content: Yelling, sad Reader, drunk Penelope (she's my fav, what can I say), a mistletoe kiss, Spencer is a yearner (he is also my fav, what can I say) Word Count: 2.6k

The first day of Ficmas has arrived! I'm starting you off strong with some short 'n sweet fluffy pining goodness <3 (who am I lmao)

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It's not uncommon for the holidays to be a lonely, depressing time for some. It's covered up in ribbons and bows and sparkling lights, but really, under the surface can lie a lot of darkness.

Spencer can see that in you— Not just this holiday season, though it's apparent now more than ever just how unhappy and exhausted you seem. When you're at work day after day, constantly thinking about and putting away criminals, and even then you seem more happy than you do when you're around your significant other, that's when there's a problem. And surely you must know how your friends have noticed... There's no way you couldn't have; It's practically all of your jobs to notice.

Still, you don't say or change anything about it.

He knows it isn't his place, but Spencer wonders why. His heart breaks for you, each and every time the jet touches down and your eyes darken with the realization that you're one step closer to going home. Home should be an escape from work, and not the other way around. Many times he's even offered to go somewhere with you as a distraction, a silent confession that screams, "I know you're not happy, but it doesn't have to be that way. You don't deserve to feel that way. And I'm here for you." Sometimes you agree and tag along, sometimes you don't. Every time, Spencer wishes you could see yourself the same way he and everyone else does.

And more than anything, he wishes that asshole of a man that calls himself your boyfriend would fall off the face of the Earth. In fact, "asshole" is too tame of a word to describe him, and "man" way too kind.

Much is apparent as the muffled argument rings high and dims the twinkling atmosphere of your apartment. The lights on your Christmas tree flicker in and out like they know that something is inherently wrong, like they're dying out and being suffocated by the thick tension.

Spencer's heartbeat flickers right alongside them, his gut twisting as your hurt and angry words cut through, sharp as a knife.

Finally, Derek's voice offers a bit of distraction, though not a very good one. "So, when are you going to swoop in and save the day?"

He winces. "She doesn't want my help. I already do what I can, but... It's best to let her handle it the way she wants to."

"Seriously? She's having a miserable time at her own Christmas party because of that dickwad, and you and I both know damn well that you're the only one who's gonna be able to help her out of it."

This time, your boyfriend raises his voice, cutting you off and making Spencer jump. He looks at the ground and continues the conversation with Morgan to try and distract himself. "I'll do what I can, but I'm not..."

He can't think of the right words, though Morgan seems to get the sentiment; He playfully nudges him with his elbow. "Why not? It's not exactly a big secret that you're in love with her or anything. And besides, we all know you'd treat her a thousand times better than—"

"It doesn't matter, okay? I'm not going do anything like that; I mean, they haven't even technically broken up, anyway, so... No."

Morgan sighs, and JJ offers a thought— how the last thing a woman wants after a fight with a man is another man to swoop in and try to whisk her away, no matter how good his intentions are. Morgan explains in turn that he's not actually suggesting any flat-out advances, and in a matter of minutes, the entire BAU ends up in a discussion weighing Spencer's options.

And then, the musing amongst the group comes to a close, but only at the screeching sound of your voice.

"You know what? Then you can leave!"

There's a collective gasp, a holding of breaths and clutching of champagne glasses in anticipation of the end, which comes crashing in with a resounding and cathartic, "And don't you ever come back! We're through! I never want to see your stupid face ever again!"

The door slams, and an immediate hushed chorus of cheers is not far behind. Morgan firmly pats Spencer's shoulder, as Rossi raises his glass and muses, "It's a Christmas miracle."

The real miracle, Spencer thinks, is you; even as your spirit waltzes back into the living area in pieces. Easily the most bright and beautiful soul he's ever known, it nearly crushes him to know how awful you probably feel in that moment, for something that isn't even your fault. He sympathizes, but more than anything he wants to reassure you that nothing could ever deter his steadfast belief in the simple fact that you are the only miracle one could ever need.

Penelope rushes to your side and embraces you in a warm hug, to which you drop your gaze to your feet.

"I'm sorry... I ruined your night."

"My dear, you've ruined absolutely nothing," Rossi offers gently.

His words elicit a sniffle from you, and then you're turning your head into Penelope's shoulder, hiding your face and slumping full-force into her arms. JJ and Emily rush over and pile on in a group hug, handing their drinks to Hotch. He's stayed verbally neutral over the situation, but Spencer can see the relief and hope resting in his expression as your grief slowly dissipates. A Christmas miracle, indeed, his smile seems to say.

The lights on the tree seem to brighten at the breath of fresh, unwavering life in the atmosphere that feels very much like love. A proper family. A support system. A warmth.

Spencer feels that warmth vibrantly in his fingertips— Even hours later in the cold, out on your balcony as he mindlessly observes the city below, every sharp breath of December air filling his lungs in slow, steady cycles. New snow isn't falling, but the streets are glittering with what's already there, every speeding headlight making the ground dance below him.

He wishes it were more quiet; something about the eerie silence of winter and the unexplainable feeling that somehow it might heal something within himself. Everything is always so loud, even as he closes his eyes to drift off into sleep. There's always some sort of man-made noise going on, whether it be a fan, or traffic outside his window, or even the quiet rustling of Hotch's paperwork on the way home from a case. For once, he thinks, it might be nice to drift off with nothing but the winter wind carrying him to sleep.

For now, though, he settles for car engines and crunching snow and the muffled bellows of joy beyond your patio door.

The joy crescendos for a moment, and Spencer turns his head to catch your glowing silhouette emerging from the door. The warmth he feels only pulses, hotter and brighter than before.

"There you are," you exclaim softly, stepping outside and closing the door. "Aren't you freezing out here?"

"Not really," he muses.

You take stance beside him, crossing your arms and overlooking the streets just as he'd been doing moments before. A soft smile ghosts over your lips, and on a breath out, your shoulders relax. "Great view, huh?"

"It is," Spencer confirms. "It's certainly better than the buildings I get to look at."

The laugh that escapes you in a cloud of visible air is quite possibly the most beautiful sound to him, especially when it's because of something he said. If he could indulge in the pleasure of making you laugh for the rest of his life, he would take the chance in a heartbeat.

"Well, then you're welcome on my balcony any time."

"Thank you," he says, trying not to give himself away as he feels the butterflies creeping their way in. With a nervous smile, he clutches his scarf. "I'll hold you to it. It's a nice balcony."

He kicks himself for that last part, inwardly cursing his inability to filter out the awkward, unnecessary sentences. He could keep talking and make it worse, but he ultimately decides that scrunching his nose in shame and passing it off as being chilled is the better choice. If you notice, you don't let on.

Taking that as a good sign, Spencer tries to relax. He breathes out, and you turn to him. "Are you... having a good time tonight?"

"Of course I am," he answers, perhaps a little too quickly. "I mean, you throw a great party."

You laugh again. This time the sound huffs out of you with a resounding sadness that cracks his heart once more. "It's not anything, really— just some lights, music, and drinks... But thank you anyway."

Before he has time to think better of it, Spencer calls you out by name, quick to defend you. But then he pauses, unsure of what else to say. He doesn't want to bring up your breakup and make you feel worse, but... what else can he do? The only thing that feels right is the need to remind you how inherently good you are.

So, that's what he does.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short. I... We all love you and we're glad to be with you, regardless of how... grand it is. Just being yourself is grand enough. You don't even need the lights or the drinks, or... him. You're better than all of those things combined."

At first you look pained, the mention of your ex-boyfriend exacting immense pressure on a fresh bruise, and Spencer almost regrets it— almost; Your features soften moments later as his words settle in and seem to melt away the pain, revealing a layer of disbelief and confusion. And then, softness.

Your lip trembles as you struggle to speak. "You don't... have to... say that."

"Yes. I do." As firmly as he possibly can while still being gentle, he reaches out and clutches your hands with his own. He hopes that whatever warmth he has immediately draws itself to you and wakes you up. He wills it to comfort you and make you see—make you feel. His fingers are desperate in their pursuit to love you, their grip unwavering and brimming with hope.

When your eyes meet his, he nearly collapses. There's so much love and relief and bewilderment sparkling in them that he suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to get lost in their depths—to explore and study each emotion until he knows every aspect of you. He almost forgets how to speak for a moment, his mouth dry and the concept of what he wants to tell you being clear as day, reflected in your eyes, as the words themselves slowly become less tangible.

All he can manage to say is the simple, unabashed truth. The love he has for you rests perfectly within those three words, anyway. They ring out and linger in the December air, floating softly around you like a feather, until it lands on your nose and wakes you up from your deep, dark reverie, releasing you into the light once again.

"You're utterly remarkable."

You clutch onto his hands like you've just been pulled from a frozen lake, grasping for any semblance of stability, and he's right there to guide you as you draw yourself closer to him. His heart beats loud and fast as you sigh out and smile, tears welling in your glimmering eyes.

"Thank you, Spencer," you breathe out sincerely in a broken whisper.

He smiles back at you, a weight lifting from his chest as he tells you, "Of course." As if it's the most natural thing in the world to express how wonderful you are.

A sudden burst of energy comes sweeping across the balcony as a loud, bellowing voice makes an expression of their own. It's Penelope, giggling and bubbly as ever.

"Hey! You two! It's present time! Get your pretty faces in here pronto!"

She's gone as quickly as she had appeared, leaving the door open a crack as you laugh and drag Spencer by the hand to follow.

He's grateful for the shift in activity, unsure how much longer he could have been out there alone with you before he said something he regretted. Not that he'd been looking for anything theatrical by any means, but in truth, the entire evening feels like it had been a movie, wrapped up in a neat little bow as the two of you cross the threshold into the rolling credits. The rest of his feelings he could deal with tomorrow, but for now, he's satisfied with this conclusion.

You stop as you approach the door, huffing a short laugh.

"What is it?" Spencer asks as you let go of him and turn around, plucking something from the panel of wood. From your delicate finger hangs a bundle of mistletoe. It sways gently in the wind before you clutch it in the palm of your hand.

"I always come out here after a fight... Guess I figured he might try to make it up to me or something... Like I knew he was going to let me down again..."

The words are sad, but your tone drips with amusement, or something close to it. You feel the plant in your hand, looking down at it and then back at Spencer.

His body freezes under your gaze, the implications sending him into a numbing warmth that both pleases and scares him in equal measure.

"You never let me down," you continue, stepping closer and interlocking his hand with yours, the mistletoe trapped in between. "I want to thank you for that."

Your face leans in, and at this point his heart is beating so loudly he can hear it drowning everything else out. He can barely hear himself stutter out, "It's not a problem, really... And I know you just got out of a relationship, so... You don't have to..."

"Yes. I do."

You kiss his cheek, firmly and quickly, and yet you don't fully retreat. Your lips linger near his jawline, and you squeeze his hand and whisper, "Thank you," against his skin.

He can feel the words worming their way into his pores and leaving trickles of static in their wake, spreading through him like lightning. Their sincerity moves him, and drives home your miraculousness with such force that he can't help but tilt his head down and capture the lips that uttered them in a swift, soft kiss of his own.

You press yourself into him effortlessly, a gesture that makes him wish he had the ability to stop time and keep it trapped in the palm of his hand and yours, like the mistletoe. He could spend forever in this moment if he were granted it.

But alas, time cannot be stopped, and neither can Penelope Garcia.

She bangs on the door and yells impatiently again. "Presents!"

You and Spencer break away in a collective laugh. He feels lightheaded and lovesick, every nerve ending alight with your essence.

"Okay, okay!" you yell over your shoulder, removing yourself from him completely this time and taking the mistletoe with you. You shove it in his coat pocket with an adorable scrunch of the nose and shuffle inside.

The moment you're out of sight, pulled back into the party and leaving him alone on the balcony to follow, he finally breathes out. And the slow inevitable smile that break out over his face feels bright enough to light the entire city.

The mistletoe hums vibrantly in his pocket through the rest of the night—his very own tangible reminder of a miracle; That time, for one brief moment, could stand still.

[fatuismooches]

a lesson in love.

The puppet that had recently begun to live in your village had been acting strange around you lately. His name was Kabukimono, and you had never met anyone like him before. You distinctly remember the first time you saw him, Niwa and the others crowded around him. He had the fairest skin, long luscious locks, and clothing that only the highest-standing nobles in Inazuma could afford. He almost reminded you of a princess.

Although the other villagers accepted him, they were still quite reserved towards him. Niwa, Katsuragi, and a few others were the only ones who would smile and laugh with him, ruffling his hair as if he were a normal human. And though Kabukimono was greatly pleased by this, you could see he was still rather lonely. After all, his friends worked most of the day while he was left to his own devices as of now.

You were fascinated by the beautiful boy who seemed enamored with the most simplest of things life had to offer - collecting fruits (especially Lavender Melon, which seemed to be his favorite), playing with finches and other small creatures, and shyly yet curiously watching the other children play from a distance. You were quite entranced with him, and so you struck up a conversation with him. From that day forward, Kabukimono was a changed puppet.

Kabukimono would constantly stare at you and then immediately look away when you turned to face him. He would trail behind you like a lost puppy until you acknowledged him, and quickly scurry to your side. You would wake up to the puppet sitting outside your house, waiting to start the day with you (you were greatly concerned once you realized he sat there for the whole night.) He’d insist on carrying everything for you, and although he was very strong, he did not have a good sense of balance, and well… you can guess how that turned out. He was quite literally attached to your hip, and it didn’t take long for everyone else to notice as well. 

The kids would giggle uncontrollably and start to whisper: “Kabuki and [Name], sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-”, you quickly clamped your hands over their mouths before they could say anything else, while the puppet was confused the whole time. Couples would shoot you knowing looks. Niwa’s wiggling eyebrows and grin did not help you much either. Kabukimono’s love-struck behavior only increased but the problem was that he himself did not understand why he felt this way. Often you would see him with a stumped expression. And well, you had grown a soft spot for the puppet too… you completely adored him. You wanted to make him happy. But first, you must talk with him.

It was a normal day where you were doing nothing in particular, simply enjoying the calmness while Kabukimono sat next to you as well. The puppet had trouble understanding the concept of “relaxing” and doing nothing but he did feel the stress leaving his body whenever he engaged in this activity with you. The birds chirped, the breeze was cool, and everything felt perfect for some conversation.

“Kabukimono, have you been alright lately?” you questioned, hoping to get him to talk about his feelings. The puppet perked up at your voice.

“Me? Yes, I’ve been fine. Why?”

“Well, sometimes I see you looking a little down. I was just wondering why.” Kabukimono was surprised you noticed that, and he felt a bit shy but happy at how much you paid attention to him.

“W-well, it’s nothing really,” he tried to reassure himself and you but you didn’t buy it.

“You know you can tell me anything,” you advised. “I want to help you with whatever’s bothering you.” Kabukimono chewed on his lip, persuaded by your kindness. A determined expression appeared on his face.

“I think I’m sick, [Name],” he said it so seriously you were caught off guard. Out of all answers, you were not expecting that.

“Sick…? But you know you cannot get sick,” you said, trying to hint at the fact that puppets could not contract illnesses.

“I know that, but there’s just no other explanation I can think of! I asked some of the children in the village, and my symptoms line up with what they said!”

“Well, what are your symptoms?”

“My body gets really hot, my palms get sweaty… and my chest starts to feel funny,” he explained.

“Hmm, that does sound like a sickness.” The puppet let out a resigned sigh but then straightened up again.

“But…”

“But?”

“These things… they only happen around you, [Name]. Around everyone else I’m fine, but then as soon as I see you, all these weird things start happening to me,” Kabukimono looked down at his lap bashfully, almost afraid his statement would offend you. Your heart completely melted.

“Hey, look at me, Kabukimono,” you requested, and the puppet slowly complied, looking at you with his shimmering, worried eyes. “Don’t give me that look,” you giggled. “I’m not mad. In fact, I think I know what’s wrong with you. But I… need to do a quick test on you to confirm. Is that okay?”

Hope appeared in his eyes as he nodded excitedly. “Oh, of course! But what do you need to do?”

“Here, give me your hands, Kabukimono,” you said gently, as you placed his soft palms on top of yours. The puppet’s stunned and red-faced reaction already told you everything you needed to know but you still had to take this slowly. “How do you feel right now?”

“I-, I…” Kabukimono struggled to find the words to describe his current state. All he felt was hot, hot, hot from the simple yet affectionate gesture. But the patient smile you gave him was comforting. “I feel very happy, and my mouth hurts from smiling so much. And my body is getting hot like I said before.”

“I see,” you nodded in understanding. You released his hands from yours, much to Kabukimono’s disappointment, but then you placed your hand on his cheek, immediately bringing back his giddiness. “What about now?”

“I feel so…” The puppet was cut off as your thumb suddenly moved to trace your lip. “Ah, it feels like my chest is going to explode!” You chuckled at his simplicity as you removed your hands from him.

“And you’re absolutely sure you only feel this way towards me?” Kabukimono shook his head rapidly.

“No! No, no one else. No one else comes close to you,” he declared, intent on making himself clear, still in awe at the tingly feeling your thumb left on his lips. Your heart sped up from his unintentional adorableness.

“Well, I think I know what you’ve been inflicted with,” you nodded in response. “Yes, it’s quite obvious to me now.” Kabukimono leaned in more, curiosity taking over his body. He was so interested to hear what a smart human like you would say.

“You’re not sick, Kabukimono. You’re simply feeling a rather intense emotion,” you said slowly, hoping not to confuse him. “You are in love,” you finished. Kabukimono’s face was frozen in shock, only a slight shaking of his mouth and eyes could differentiate him from a statue.

“Love… love, i-is that what this is…?” His voice had come to almost a whisper. “Love, like how those married couples love each other?” Suddenly the mental image of him kissing and holding you appeared in his mind and would not leave. “Love!” The puppet could not help but repeat the lovely word again and again. But then a realization hit him and his excitement came to a screeching halt.

“But love… love needs more than one person, does it not? You need to… oh,” the reality of the situation hurt him. Surely you would never return his love. Surely you were interested in someone else, someone who was human. He was just a no-good puppet. Quickly you found your words to comfort him.

“No, no, no, Kabukimono. Look at me, pretty. Please don’t look so forlorn. You need not worry, as I love you too. I love you with my whole heart,” you stated matter-of-factly, in a way that could not be disputed. 

It felt like something was stuck in Kabukimono’s throat, as he found it hard to push words out. “You… love me?” You vigorously nodded in confirmation. “You love me,” he repeated as if saying it more and more would help it settle in. “You love me… such an amazing person loves me…”

You squeezed his hand in response. “Yes, I love you dearly, Kabukimono. I want us to be together,” you said softly. The puppet’s mouth opened and closed, not sure how to even respond to such tenderness. But what ended up coming out was a pitiful sob and streaming tears.

“Thank you for teaching me… thank you for loving me. I don’t know how I could-” The boy’s words began to slur as he cried. Although he loved you dearly, Kabukimono’s mind could only think about how you could abandon him as his creator did. Would you soon deem him unworthy or not good enough, and leave him too? You were taken aback at this drastic change in behavior but quickly pulled him into the reassuring warmth of your chest. You now understood what Niwa meant when he said he was an emotional puppet.

“Hey, hey, deep breaths, okay?” You rubbed Kabukimono’s back in gentle motions as you instructed him. “In, out… in, out, okay…?” The puppet followed your directions and with time, his sobs lessened and now he was a curled-up quiet mess that was in your arms. He would not move away from your chest, and you would be more concerned but you knew he did not need to breathe.

“You don’t need to apologize or thank me for anything. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but… I will always be here for you. You are a beautiful, kind soul. I am so happy to love you, my dearest,” you whispered, stroking his hair in a further attempt to calm him. The puppet almost felt like bawling again at your sincerity, but your voice was such a soft lull, all he wanted to do was take a break in your embrace.

“I love you, [Name]...” Kabukimono mumbled softly, as he fell asleep right there on your chest, knowing that he would be blessed with dreams with you instead of his abandonment.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

[brynn-lear]

When The Cypress Tree Wilts [Yandere!Kamisato Ayato x Reader]

Prompt: Kamisato Ayato, the sole survivor of Teyvat, struggles to cope with grief. He finds solace in the company of a fellow survivor, (Y/n), on the Astral Express. Although the two came from different universes, with him being a fictional character on (Y/n)'s end, he had grown fond of them. Perhaps too fond for Mister Yang's liking. He has seen this story played out once already. [Dedicated to @jessamine-rose]

Content Tags: (light?) yandere themes, major character death, we ain't trusting getting roses again after this one boys

For twenty-seven years, the cypress tree stood alone. Its branches, exhibiting complete fortitude to withstand erosion, have been a home for many animals. A guardian of many and a home for herons. It's no stretch to say its artistic seriousness made the Cypress tree the Warden of the Forest. 

What happens, though, if the forest catches fire? What happens when everything it held dear—all the pillars ingrained in the firmest soil—is reduced to ashes in a single glance? When the forest's life-loving temperament disappears, just what is left of the guardian tree? 

There's only one answer: the Cypress loses its Inazuman function. Harmony, balance, and peace wither away from the tree's symbolism. All that's left is the alternative Enkanomiyan myth: cypress trees must only be planted as a mourning tradition. 

The Warden of Death...

Kamisato Ayato closed his eyes, making his umpteenth attempt to breathe steadily. 

He sat upright on one of the Astral Express's couches. It's been more than eight months since he had found himself as the sole survivor of his world. So far, everything that had been told to him had been unreal. 

Gone were the clan, his retainers, and his dearest sister. None were left as he watched their remains swept by the wind. Memories of Ayaka's burnt hair and cheeks crumbling refused to leave his every waking moment. He tried desperately to hold on, but the ashes kept slipping through his fingers until his family's white heron was reduced to a lifeless husk. Her feathers were plucked too soon.  

He cannot have her back. He cannot have his clan back. His world was forever unsalvageable.

That was his fate as the Remembrance's souvenir. He can carry the weight of survival while the memokeepers preserve Teyvat's memories.  

But at least he has someone in a similar position as himself. 

"Mister Yang," you called over the older man hushedly. Welt glanced at the mopping mess and knew just what you were hinting at. Better to alert someone who can assist him better.

"Are you alright, Mister Kamisato?" Welt asked, sitting beside Ayato. He passed his cane onto his other hand so he could pat his shoulder. Ayato only laughed stiffly. 

Thankfully, it's not an entirely hopeless cause. There was, at least, a silver lining to make up for it. No matter how dim the glimmer was, he at least had the Express's understanding. 

And yours as well. 

Ab███████, h█ed his pl█as.

"—to, you can still think this through!"

"Stand back, Himeko."

Just like him, you lost your world, too. You came from a fabric of existence wherein he was deemed fictional. A video game called "Genshin Impact", as you called it. You were terrified when you discovered your universe crumbled because of some time-travel paradox. But in spite of your enormous losses, curiosity triumphed over fear. You would prefer exploring the galaxy than thinking about how much work you still need to do for your college classes.

But today? You rest. After all, the express is landing in Penacony.

While Welt did his best to provide consolation, you handed them warm drinks. Ayato gave you a gentle nod. 

He gave it a quick sip. Unlike Himeko's, your brew was more tame. Not at all professionally made— it's everyday coffee— but that adds more to its appeal. Ayato politely wiped possible stains near his lips. You can't help but notice how his mole was placed below it. 

He's definitely a video game character, that's for sure. They don't make people this attractive in your old world. 

Just holding the coffee you made… feeling its warmth in his hands… It gave him strength to speak. 

Ayato sighed. "Apologies, I simply… will take longer to recover my mental composure. I am not usually this easy to rattle or ramble often. I deeply apologize for the trouble I caused the express thus far."  

"I do wonder if I had wronged the Gods. I committed plenty of misdeeds in the eyes of the Shogun, yet they were pardoned. But perhaps the Heavenly Principles…" He muttered, thinking he was inaudible. More than half a year without his retainers and constant troubles had dulled his vigilance.

Welt shook his head. "Do not be harsh on yourself by culminating these harmful… ideals, Mister Kamisato."

"I agree." You said. "At any rate, you'll end up miserable for the entire month if you keep overthinking what that Silver Wolf said."

His mood had been visibly dampened since Silver Wolf's last visit. She claims that he was "destined for ruin based on Elio's script" and that it was better he knew about it now rather than later. 

Ayato looked away. "I suppose so… This wishful thinking brings me nothing but thoughts such as to save my one and only sister, with this pitiable strength— how can I recreate the past?"

Welt grew cold with mild horror. Then, he cleared his throat after a suspiciously long pause. 

The past Welt knows is not the past he wants a repeat of.

"Why focus on that when the future awaits you?" He said, but with how the older man refused to meet his lilac eyes, there must be more he won't let on. 

"Your reluctance… Does this have something to do with what the memokeeper previously stated?"

"...What Black Swan said?" You tilted your head. 

Welt sighed. "So many things must be runnin' around your head... I don't usually encourage drinking, but maybe you should have a few shots later."

"I shall consider it, but I must know now, Mister Yang." He looked at him. "What did she mean when she said I was an alternate version of your acquaintance, Otto Apocalypse?"

Welt coughed up his coffee. 

Re██y his angu█████ c███s.

"-to, don't do this. You can't bring ██████ back—"

“Your farcical tangents will distract me no more. Do not play parlor tricks with that cane of yours. My mind is sound, and my decision is final."

"..."

"..." 

"..." 

Ever since Ayato was dubbed as a new Nameless alongside you, he's been bombarded with both blunt and subliminal messages of his supposed "true" nature. One faction agrees he's an existence not meant to be trifled, while the other wants to cultivate him into a villain. 

You don't know much about that. Unlike whatever hero's journey he had been experiencing— you're detached from trouble. Your new life was spent writing, dressing up with March, eating with Stelle, and reading through Dan Heng's data banks about constellations & other aesthetically pleasing biological entries. You were a quiet existence. Black Swan remarked you're amicable for someone who cannot return to normalcy. You embrace change far better than others.

But you think that's because there's enough grieving for the Express to carry; they don't have room to acknowledge yours… 

"You're Kamisato Ayato, not Otto." You told him firmly. "Don't overthink what she said."

"It is not as if I do not know that, how—"

"No, there are no buts or howevers; that's final."

Ayato laughed softly, no longer tense. 

"Understood. I'm your Kamisato Ayato, right?" He tilted his head like a dog. 

"Yes, yes, you're our Ayato." You sighed. 

He's a lot cuter when relaxed. 

You shook your head. 

No, better not let this develop into something else. You don't want to have a crush on a guy that's essentially no different from a flatmate. 

Furthermore, you exclusively confide in him. You'd rather your relationship as each other's anchor remains the same in the future. After all, you're not the type to let everyone in the room know your baggage. So was Ayato, but... His trauma lends itself to the extremes.

While you were lost in thought, adorable footsteps strutted closer. 

Angry, adorable footsteps. 

"What are you guys doing drinking coffee?! The train is about to jump soon!!!"

Pompom huffed. They put their little paws on their hips, scoffing at you three. You apologized profusely, forgetting that your trip to Penacony was in ten minutes. 

"Sorry, Pompom." Welt sheepishly said. 

Ayato looked at Pompom earnestly. "So am I."

"Whatever, okay, but you better change later! You can't join a wedding wearing those clothes!!!"

You frowned. You were already dressed, though. You thought you already looked perfect for the evening. Maybe you should've tried harder... Perhaps you were too relaxed about this...

"Oh, but I'm sorry…" You told them, frowning.

Pompom shook their head, panicking. "Not you, (Y/n), you're always so harsh on yourself— you always know how to dress pretty. I'm talking about these two boys!"

They stared at each other before laughing awkwardly, provoking the conductor further. 

Pompom growled, grabbing the broom. 

"You know what?! Get off the sofa! Change! NOW!!!"

Abu████ce, stir this b███ft ████e, 

"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM?!? HE WAS LIKE A BROTHER TO US!!!"

It's clear that someone isn't having the best time.

Penacony weddings are too lively for Ayato's tastes. But much like shadows, nobody can evade the bright lights. 

He nearly tumbled when he saw you. By the looks of his pale face, the lively atmosphere had been draining him senseless. While he maintained his elegant demeanor when talking to Aventurine (and failing), you were refilling your cup at the food aisle. Once Ayato reached you, he desperately wanted to place his head on your shoulder. 

“Please… lend me… Five…”

You smiled and opened your arms.

"Don't speak, I got you."

He leaned on your shoulder.

The five seconds you assumed were startlingly morphing into five minutes. You can't feign as a warm statue for that long. While you worry about your willpower, Ayato sank deeper into his thoughts to meditate. 

From this angle, he looked like a resting cat.

"You okay, Ayato?"

"The SoulGlad, it's so…"

Ah, right. You figured he might've drunk.

"Not once had it been a passing thought that excessive alcohol and fire displays would be a common wedding practice. The culture shock is astounding." Ayato leered quietly. "Thankfully, I no longer care about putting on a social mask. I cannot stomach participating in copious amounts of… festivities."

You laughed. Is it bad you find his suffering entertaining? 

"Is it so different from how they conduct weddings in Inazuma?"

"Hard to say… The Clan may be focused on cultural ceremonies, but I purposely avoided weddings. It helps steer clear talks of arranged marriages. I can only name Chisato's as an exception on top of my head." Ayato placed a hand on his chin. 

He continued. "Extravagant weddings such as this had a decline for two years. The dismal lives of vision wielders immensely affected how much pyrotechnics and other displays were available. Any commonplace joy could be marked as vulgarity by the Shogun at any second... All those charges just for an insincere ceremony."

"I… See." You assumed the answer was a resounding no. "Sounds like you're against marriages of convenience."

Ayato pulled away, looking at you. 

"Not entirely. I understand why it's a necessary evil, given our politics." He said. "But I still firmly believe that when there's true love, nothing should stand in its way."

His eyes reveal that he's starting to sober up. In Penacony, it was probably a beneficial phenomenon. Might as well give away hangover relief if you market alcohol as the icon of your dreamscape. 

"(Y/n), this may sound peculiar, but I glimpsed at an apparel store nearby."

You nodded slightly. He knew you had an affinity for fashion. When you visited the Xianzhou Luofu, he mapped out stores that might interest you. Ayato likes the way you dress. Sometimes, he would even approach you for a consult. 

"And? What did you see? Did you take a picture?"

He groggily nodded and pulled out his phone. 

"Please, take a look."

…

You blinked, turning red. 

"Ayato, these are wedding dresses…"

"I do know that, yes, but don't you believe some of these would suit you? Oh— this one is a particular favorite of mine."

…

He said it so casually that you were beginning to doubt if you were insane. Do friends casually daydream about another friend in a wedding dress? Is that a norm for platonic relationships? You looked away and gently pushed his phone away. 

… You hate how you liked what he picked out.

And you know he noticed it, too. Cheeky bastard. 

"Let's hold that thought for now."

"May I ask why?" He tilted his head, slightly pouting. "I think a traditional white wedding dress would compliment you. Are you, perhaps, seeing flaws I have missed?"

"Y-You're really not getting it, huh…"

Whatever was troubling you, he wasn't about to dissect it. His thoughts were reduced to simplicity that evening, just down to you look gorgeous tonight. The two of you should extend your visit to Penacony for much longer. It is always night here… 

How unfair that you dressed so prettily; he wished it was for his eyes alone. The delicately lace-adorned pastel pink dress suits you well. It felt like a grave sin for him to keep staring at the delicate sapphire necklace resting atop your neck. Not to add, a few strands of your hair framed your face, and your hair was tastefully swept into a neat (h/c) bun. What completes the look is the strappy heels. 

When will it be your wedding, (Y/n)?

Your face contorted. "How drunk are you?"

Ayato smirked curtly and shrugged back to what March calls his "nobleman smile", gazing at you intently. You weren't sure if he was listening to you anymore. 

"Enough."

That was his reply, short and simple. 

As long as your eyes mirror his, it's enough for him. 

“LAAADDIEESSS AND GENTLEEEMEEENNN AND OTHER LIVING CREAAATURREEESSS!!!!”

A rather shrill voice shouted through a microphone. It's the wedding's host. From the volume, anyone can discern that it came from the event room. You placed your cup down. It's that time— noises from excited guests, lonesome people, in particular, were shared around. No one can miss their hands, which tremble with excitement. 

You jolted.

Shit, that's Sparkle. You promised Stelle and March that you four would take BFF pictures in the costume photo booth before the final farewells. Something about silly masks and hats. Miss it, and you're guaranteed to enter the next fight without a shield. Worse, you might wake up with a bat-shaped wound on your head. 

You grabbed Ayato and swerved past the crowd.

“(Y-(Y/n)?!”

Ayato's mind went blank. 

You voluntarily held his hand. Gloved hands. Still, he thanked March that she gave him a pair for the occasion. His hands were sweating, and his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. 

Public displays of affection are generally subdued in his old world. Handholding raises questions regarding those reared into nobility like he was. His upbringing was far from liberal, so he did his best to give his sister more freedom, yet he is not accustomed to this skinship.

He gripped yours back weakly. Ayato can't stop staring at your determined expression. He gulped. Can you sense it? Are you secretly enjoying this? Do you know what you're doing? 

Can you feel your effect on him?

He's not just drunk. 

He might be hopelessly in love with you.

Ayato grew hotter by the second. His breath was stripping away bit by bit. This epiphany was consuming him. He's been trying to deny it for as long as possible, but how laughable is it to do so when he had often pictured himself in peaceful household situations beside you? Can such desires be kept in the shadows, much like his Shuumatsuban work?

He wants you.

Kamisato Ayato wants you as his sole partner.

Wherever you're taking him, he'll follow you to the end, down to the last seconds of this script.

"THE BRIDE IS ABOUT TO THROW THE BOUQUET!!!"

Many lonely guests packed together like penguins. When the bride spun the bouquet around her palm, their reactions ranged from hopeful and cheerful to downright competitive and miserable. They thought a few flowers would ensure marriage, which is a little absurd, but who are you to spoil their fun? Simply because they obstruct your path does not warrant your discreet resentment—

Ayato stopped, halting you as well in the process.

"Ngh…?!"

You looked back, and such an act almost felt as forbidden as Orpheus' most egregious mistake.

If there was a semblance of variety in those women's faces, they were unified in one fell swoop. Their faces soured when the bouquet was passed down to its next owner. Worse, the flowers sat so beautifully in his arms.

That's right. His.

Those red roses…

"AALLLLRIIIIGHTTT! IT SEEMS MISTER KAMISATO GOT IT!!!" Sparkle cheered on. She had a crooked smile on her face. It didn't ring as malicious; instead, she was conflicted before she donned a playful mask. "And sheesh, while holding (Y/n) 's hand too— CONGRATS TO THE SOON-TO-BE-S!!!"

Ah, damn it. Instead of this, you wish people had applauded when you presented your thesis. No matter how crestfallen some were, they were at least good sports. They clapped and teased; you even spotted Himeko raising you a glass at your shared table, laughing. Beside her, Welt did you the courtesy of reminding you that you're hands were linked together. You gawked, pulling away as though Ayato's hand burned. Immediately, he cleared his throat and looked away. 

To Ayato, this was the only sign he needed.

With enough time and effort, a leafless tree could still be saved, new birds could still migrate, and an abandoned forest could still be restored. Gradually, he was discovering a fresh cause for optimism instead of a substitute for the people he had lost. There he was, Kamisato Ayato, a hidden custodian of Inazuman traditions, with his feet rooted in a foreign land. Though not very stable, his groundwork keeps him on course.

If he could revive the Kamisato Clan on its brink, how can he not do the same for his life? It's just like what his late father said:

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

As long as a hand still reaches out for him, he'll do anything to grasp it. 

Unfortunately for you, it was yours that held his so tightly.

Hence, whether you like it or not, amidst the guests' congratulatory remarks and the bride's laughs, he had made up his mind.

Ayato will pursue you until you wear the gown of his dreams. 

More people trailed behind Sparkle and the bride as they went down the stage and to Ayato. You made an effort to get in touch with him to return to your starting point. However, it was challenging, given the number of people around. To hear what bashful comments he said was an even taller order.

That was until the bride dragged her new husband towards you.

"Here, dearie, the garter!"

You blinked.

"What?"

"You know the tradition, bouquet, and garter— I know it ain't as exciting as a bouquet, but ya can't be a pair without it." The husband grinned. "C'mon, take it!"

Your eyes widened.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly—"

"Aww, please, do you think we'll get in the way of love when we just got married?" The bride joked. Even though you don't know her well—you just know she's Stelle's friend—you didn't like how this sounded. "C'mon, take it! Don't make poor Mister Kamisato sad."

Did Ayato request this?

You looked back at him. He was smiling at his fellow guests.

He must've made a drunken joke.

"Alright, I'll have it." You'll be a team player, too.

Unbeknownst to you, Ayato's heart was brimming with joy as soon as you accepted it. You twisted the garter around your hand and tied it into a bracelet, and his eyes wrinkled. His face was beaming, and the guests warmly pointed out that it was definitely NOT the drink.

You laughed softly.

Maybe Stelle wouldn't get too angry after she sees these "loots".

Unfortunately, unlike the worlds you once immersed yourself in, your life was not a game. This second try was no exception.

There's a stark difference between the people he loves and himself, Ayato later found. The latter cannot sustain a better life for those he warded, while the former cannot attain the luxury of a peaceful death.

Readers would have gone crazy over how the author mercilessly punished and blamed the main character's dreams if his life had been a work of fiction. If it were genuinely one, he would venture to say that the systematic fate that everyone else was subjected to is the primary criticism.

His mother, his father, his sister, his clan.

And then you?

Ayato had already lost everything twice. 

There's no restraint left for him to hold on to. 

So…

"Mister Kamisato, please hear us out!" March begged, the shrill of her voice becoming hauntingly akin to a dull knife— repeatedly cutting through ears in prolonged agony. 

Ayato scoffed. His blue locks framed his face as he gazed down.

He's heard enough. 

Why shouldn't he challenge his fate?

Why shouldn't he challenge Elio's script?

"Whether I permit you or not, there won't be an intelligent word out of you." 

No other voice came to disparage him. This silence was loud. As if a voice was missing. Ayato looked at the ground.

He had almost forgotten he had used his former "brother" as a sacrifice. Silently, he thanked Dan Heng- or perhaps Dan Feng- for all that he had done for him and his "bride".

This act angered the rest. His temporary family brandished theirs in unison, with Stelle moving to the front. His response greatly saddened March. But Mister Yang? He was frozen. He didn't seem to move an inch. The older man looked deep into his lilac eyes. There must be more he won't let on. 

The past Welt knows is not the past he wants a repeat of.

But unfortunately, history is a vicious cycle— and it repeats itself.

He materialized his haran geppaku futsu, letting Dan Heng's blood drip while its azure glow shine bright. But what shone brighter was the cryogenic "coffin" behind him.

You may have lost your battle with this curse, but you have helped him not lose his. 

You were looking out at a night with a full moon in your last moments. The pitch-black moon seemed to loom life itself. As you strolled alone, every step wet your feet, but there's a persistent sense that you might have been staring at your reflection the entire time despite the void's lack of offerings.

It's always night in Penacony. You have heard that innumerable times. Night never sleeps. The chitchat never stops. The tango doesn't halt. But time stands still for you as the rest of the world rejoices. 

But Penacony was not your resting place. It was the Xianzhou. 

How unfortunate that you forget that in your last moments. Mara has a knack for erasing the memory of its victims. The only solace that your admirer gets is that your previous recollections are of him, of you, and of the bouquet and garter you received. 

At least before you closed your eyes, you thought of him. 

Ayato gazed at your mara-struck face once more.

Beauty is eternal. Despite the chill seeping into your bones, your clothes were nothing short of ethereal. A traditional white wedding dress, floor-length with a fitted bodice and a flowing skirt, would've been given more justice if the wearer was not frozen in time. The laces and beadwork detailing were reminiscent of sakura petals, with a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves.

You're holding a bouquet of roses mixed with sakura...

Just like you, Kamisato Ayato always had a good eye for aesthetics. 

It's a shame the little life left in his eyes was wilting away.

It's a shame that this wedding never happened.

It's a shame you told him you needed more time to think.

It's a shame you're frozen in time.

However...

As long as a hand still reaches out for him, he'll do anything to grasp it. And Yaoshi has plenty to reach for.

With that, using the blood of the Vidyadhara he had slain, he summoned his new Aeon.

One that he does not particularly believe in. And if he had never placed his blind faith in the Shogun, he doubts he would do the same in Yaoshi.

So, Aeon of Abundance, with the former High Elder's blood on his hands...

Prove him wrong.

"Abundance, heed my pleas,

Repay my anguished cries.

Abundance, stir this bereft peace,

Awaken love from death's disguise."

Bring his soon-to-be Kamisato (Y/n) back to him.

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie reaches for Steve's fruity-scented shampoo - the stuff he swears he hasn't been using each and every time he stays over. He pops the cap and then the lights go out.

He screams bloody murder and drops the shampoo bottle. He kicks it and presses his palms against the nearest surfaces. One on the tiled wall, the other on the glass as he does everything to stop himself from moving his feet because, if he trips on that fucking fruity shampoo that makes Steve's hair oh-so-silky, he'll go slipping and sliding straight through the glass and into the goddamn toilet.

And he cannot die like that, buck-naked as the day he was born.

Though, if he absolutely had to die in the nude, he'd want it to be while he's railing someone six ways from Sunday...

Preferably the hunk who is bursting in through the bathroom door and waving a flashlight right in his eyes.

Steve opens the shower and reaches in to shut off the water. Eddie palms around and grips his boyfriend's wrist, impossibly warm despite now being wet.

"Are you... uh..." Steve drops the light enough from him to stop spluttering about. Eddie blinks hard, regaining enough focus to find a sly smile tugging at the corner of Steve's lips as he attempts to be serious, "Um, are you okay?"

Alright, maybe falling head-first into the toilet would have been a little less embarrassing than this: Steve staring back at him and snickering. He cups his junk and grumbles.

"Towel?" he spits, holding out one hand.

"Sorry," Steve says as he hands the brown (seriously, why do the Harrington's enjoy brown so much) towel over, "It's just you looked like you were in the middle of some naked jumping-jacks."

"Stevie, I was terrified," he retorts, drying off his arms and hands first so he can get a better grip on anything so he can safely get out of the damn shower before it becomes a fogged-up glass tomb.

But Steve places the flashlight tight under one arm and spots him, hovering one hand and placing the other on his dripping wet hip.

"I know," he soothes, now completely serious, "I was scared too."

Eddie doesn't care that he is mostly wet and that his hair is completely soaked, he goes right into Steve's strong arms, feeling his navy-blue sweater quickly dampen between them. Steve maneuvers around to stop their bodies from completely blocking their light source and hugs him tight.

"So stupid," Eddie can't help but mutter, "How am I more scared of the fucking dark than I was when I was six? Besides, how do you even lose power out here in Richie Richville?"

"Well, considering this house is surrounded by trees," Steve shrugs, "We lose power quite easily in bad weather," he pulls back enough to give a dangerously-teasing smirk considering Eddie's state of undress, "Thought you'd enjoy some candles and what-not, anyway. Doesn't Bilbo Baggins scurry around his cottage with a candlestick?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to move away as he hurriedly wraps the towel around himself - to protect his modesty. Yeah... that.

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, "He lives in a Hobbit hole, for one. And I'll have you know his home is well-lit."

"Come on!" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking his hand.

He leads them back into his bedroom, which at least has some moonlight peaking in from the windows. And yeah, now Eddie can really hear the source of the power outage. The wind outside and the trees that shroud Loch Nora sound like a goddamn tornado.

"Though I think Rivendell surely must have had some sort of electricity," he wonders aloud as he attempts to focus on something else.

"We can debate the infrastructure of Middle Earth later," Steve chuckles and promptly shoves a pair of sweatpants into his hands.

Eddie steps forward, smiling bashfully.

"You mean it?" he coos, biting the 't'.

Steve's eyes flick to his lips as he bites his own, "I can think of a few things we could do that don't involve the power being on."

Eddie opens his mouth, readying himself for a lame line about their palpable electricity that will probably make Steve laugh when the damn radio crackles.

If a physical object could be a boner-killer, it's the damn radio Steve currently has attached to his hip.

"Steeeve is the power out at your house, overrr!" Dustin screeches the moment Steve fishes it from his back pocket.

"Yes, over," Steve answers. He holds a finger up, silently asking Eddie to wait as they make no attempt to move an inch from each other's personal space, "I'mfine-okaygoodbye!"

He clicks the radio off completely and tosses it on his dresser, paying no mind to the fact it sends his Little League trophy toppling onto the carpet.

[star-daughter]

So let's talk about Vivziepop's designing skills!

The amount of sadness I feel when I see Vivziepop's designs of the demons in Helluva Boss is impossibly high

Simply comparing them from where she is pulling from feels like looking at a newborn compared to a grandma. Now let's go through them!

Lucifer

Viv's Lucifer, a popular depiction of Lucifer ("The Fallen Angel" by Alexandre Cabanel), and one with Jesus ("The Temptation of Christ" by Ary Scheffer)

You can see a big difference in a lot, as you can see Lucy (which will be Viv's version) has well. Clothing but we can give her a pass for that as I don't think Youtube would be fine with an animated dick on screen. Another thing is his lack of wings, bat-like or feathered along with blonde instead of red curled hair and yellow eyes instead of the blue Lucifer has in The Fallen Angel.

But what I see as the biggest thing is Lucy's lack of muscles! In both of these depictions I have chosen Lucifer appears muscular whilst Lucy has Viv's favorite smile and body shape.

Asmodeus

Here we have Viv's Asmodeus (Ozzie) and Asmodeus from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

I will give Viv major props, I LOVE Ozzie's design. If we removed the feathers, made his head bigger, and some small things it would be AMAZING! But comparing it to Asmodeus it's... wooo.... very different.

First you can see is Asmodeus does not look conventionally attractive with his strange old man face, elf ears, bull head, ram head, serpent tail, and literal chicken legs. Ozzie does have the 2 heads on his shoulders (just very small) and a tail (not a serpent one) but other than that the similarities end. Though I do think taking Asmodeus the direction to being physically attractive to most people was a good way to go.

A personal nit pick is the clear lack of a BADASS DRAGON. Yes, Asmodeus has a BADASS DRAGON. On his little Dictionnaire Infernal image he's sitting on a BADASS DRAGON which he holds a banner as he rides. Viv you could have made Fizz a cool dragon demon! Make him look LESS like Blitz's twin brother and more like something that related to the Ars Goetia canon.

Beelzebub

Now this is Viv's Beelzebub and a fly-like Beelzebub (Beelzebul) (I've left out the more manly versions of Beelzebub to keep it fair as Beelzebub is a woman)

So a big thing we can see is Beelzebub is a furry whilst Beelzebul is a straight up fly, taking the term "Lord of the Flies" much more seriously. Now comparing these two is basically impossible minus their wings and extra arms. Now with them looking nothing alike I'll put some of my own personal critique's in.

One, Beelzebub's hair and tail makes me want to vomit. It's constantly moving thus every frame it must be moved which is HORRIBLE on an animation stand point. Two, Her clothes. A direct quote from the Helluva Boss wiki says "Beelzebub represents the animal tamer/animal shows" when her clothing looks like that it's hard to believe. If it was casual clothes? Okay I'd believe that but it being her debut episode wouldn't you want her in her normal clothes? And that's ignoring her magical disappearing bra... is that just an arm strap? Three, the ear thing. God the ear thing! Viv said they were supposed to appear like beehives... girl what beehives have you been seeing? Maybe she meant honeycomb? Still I see zero resemblance.

Mammon

Here we have Viv's Mammon, Mammon (Mam) from the painting "The Worship of Mammon" by Evelyn De Morgan, and Mammon (Mon) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

As we can see Mammon looks like the Teen Titans Go Robin mixed with a Christmas tree, the Christmas theming is quite clever I'll give Viv that. Christmas is a time of greedily taking all that is given to you through gifts. Now I could complain about how Mammon is poor rep for a fat character and simply is a widened version of her normal body type but I already made a post about that

But comparing him to Mam and Mon? Nothing similar. Mam we can see appears like a very large naked buff dark skinned man whilst Mon is a freakish old man with wide eyes and tattered clothes. Mammon shares zero similarities to either of them.

Another thing is Mammon's monster form... I believe everybody has seen it and hochie momma it is HORRIBLE! From the screenshots I've seen we don't see all of it but he's clearly intended to be a spider of sorts which is great! Spiders can often be seen with 6 flies trapped on their web being hoarded for later but Viv seems to have taken the lazy route of extra legs and 2 extra set of eyes. Anthro spiders can be so so SO cool but I feel scammed. Stolen from. My life savings have been taken by this shitty design.

Paimon

Here we have Vivziepop's Paimon and Paimon (Paimonia) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

As we can see they appear nothing alike minus the crown and odd chicken legs though Paimon lacks the camel that Paimonia has. Paimonia also has a feminine face and a humanoid body, nothing like Paimon. Though I personally think Paimon's design is stunning what made Viv connect the two, is it because the Goetia family is intended to all be ripped from the Ars Goetia? I feel though that Paimon's design takes as much as it can from Paimonia while making him look related to Stolas but why does he need to be named Paimon?

Stolas

Here we have Vivzie's Stolas and Stolas (Stolos) from Collin de Plancy's "Dictionnaire Infernal"

So, I have a lot of issues with Stolas's design, it's ugly first of all but compared to Stolos's cute yet shocked wide eyes and charming little beak it's even more obvious how ugly it is.

First, Stolos is shown as an owl (but also is described as a Raven). which Viv got right along with keeping his crown and odd horn-like feathers. However, I believe making Stolas that skinny doesn't follow the model of most owls as they can be pretty fluffy and plump. Even Stolos has a round fluffy chest that trails into his comically long legs.

Second, that cape is very horrifying but not in a good way. Nobody wants to animate a cape with that many rips! Even if they don't have to be precise. Also, why do his buttons have no lineart when everything else around it has lineart? I have the same issue with Blitz's design and his random chest orbs.

Feel free to put in your own reblogs and replies with your opinions! You can also send in asks with designs from HH or HB that aren't linked to previously existing designs unlike these fellows and I'll throw in my personal thoughts.

-Mod Paimon

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part six

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Six - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.5k

The three of us walk up a gradual hill, the incline barely noticeable as we climb. I lead the way, trying to discern where we’re headed, but my mind is elsewhere, tangled in thoughts. The air is thick with unspoken tension, and I keep mostly quiet, letting Logan and Wade carry the conversation, if you could even call it that. Their words are strained, almost like they’re both trying to avoid something.

Logan breaks the silence first. “You said Logan was a hero. What happened?”

Wade, who’s been unusually subdued, answers without missing a beat. “He died.”

Logan grunts. “Oh.”

Wade continues, “Well, technically, you were chest fucked by a tree, but really, you just ran out of batteries trying to save someone.”

Logan’s voice hardens. “Who?”

“The shit heels that grew her in a lab, called her X-23. But she was just a kid. A younger, daintier, somehow meaner version of you.” Wade’s tone is lighter than the words he’s saying, but there’s a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “He died trying to save her and—” He trails off, his eyes briefly glancing at me before he looks away. I frown, feeling the weight of his unfinished sentence. “It was beautiful.”

Logan stays silent, and I can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he processes Wade’s words. The only sounds are our footsteps crunching against the gravel path.

Wade suddenly shifts the tone, his voice adopting a mock-seriousness. “Look, miho, I know you’re hurt. My blind, elderly African-American roommate, Blind Al, always says that pain teaches us who we are. Sometimes we need to listen to that pain instead of running from it.”

Logan stops walking and stares at him. “Holy shit.”

Wade looks at him, feigning ignorance. “Yeah, she’s wise.”

“No, no,” Logan says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s her name? You call her Blind Al?”

Wade shrugs, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Well, she’s blind.”

I can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, though it feels out of place in the somber air. Wade’s absurdity is almost a comfort, something solid to cling to in the middle of everything that’s falling apart. But as I glance over at Logan, I can see the conflict in his eyes. We keep walking, but the silence that follows isn’t as comfortable as before. 

I hear a small bark up ahead, and my heart stutters as I look up. A mangled puppy, dressed exactly like Deadpool, sprints toward us. My pulse quickens, not out of fear, but because a part of me dreads that I might have led us straight to the Deadpool Corps. My eyes dart to Logan, who seems just as wary, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet, and I can’t help but feel a pang of something.

The puppy leaps into Wade’s waiting arms, licking his face and even partially getting into his mouth. I gag and look away, Logan doing the same. His disgust mirrors mine, but beneath it, I sense his discomfort—a small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture.

Wade grins, oblivious to our revulsion. “Look at you. She’s coming with us.”

“No, she’s not,” I say, more forcefully than intended.

“Oh, yes, she is,” Wade insists, cradling the puppy like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

“Fuck, no,” Logan says.

Wade doesn’t back down. “Oh, yes.”

As if summoned, a man dressed almost identical to Wade approaches us, though he’s got long flowing hair and an unmarred face. The difference is striking, and I can’t help but steal a glance at Logan, wondering if he’s comparing them too.

“Sorry. Sorry about that,” the man says, his voice smooth, almost charming. Oh, he’s very Canadian.

The man beams at the dog. “Come here, girl.”

Wade narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”

The man smiles, all too friendly. “I’m Deadpool. And I guess you’re Deadpool too. But in here, everybody calls me Nicepool. Oh my goodness, wait till you see Ladypool. She is gorgeous. She just had a baby too, and I can’t even tell.”

Wade snorts. “I don’t think you’re supposed to say that.”

Nicepool waves it off. “That’s okay. I identify as a feminist.”

“Right,” Wade says, eyeing him up and down. “Are those gold-plated, 50 caliber Desert Eagle pistols?”

Nicepool grins proudly. “Of course. To match my ear huggy.”

Wade’s eyes light up. “Can I have them?”

“Over my dead body. You’re fun,” Nicepool laughs, glancing at me briefly before turning back to the dog. “And I guess you’ve already met Mary Puppins, AKA Dogpool. Careful where you put your hand, she’s 90% G-spot, and she’ll let you know it. You let this little flirt out of your sight for one second and she starts shopping for a new papa.”

Wade chuckles. “If you can’t be a responsible papa, then maybe you don’t deserve this little unicorn.”

“Guilty on all charges, Your Honor. Shan’t happen again,” Nicepool says, still grinning.

Wade raises an eyebrow. “Why are you so nice?”

“It costs nothing to be kind,” Nicepool replies smoothly.

Logan, who’s been silent for too long, finally cuts in. “Shutting the fuck up is also free.”

Nicepool gives him a once-over and smirks. “Caliente.”

I glance at Logan, silently agreeing with Nicepool's assessment, though I wouldn’t dare say it aloud. 

Wade, oblivious to the tension, introduces Logan with a smirk. “This is Logan. He’s usually shirtless, but he’s let himself go since the divorce.” My eyes flick to him, Divorce? He only shakes his head at me, seemingly lost to what Deadpool is saying.

Nicepool’s eyes flicker with recognition. “Oh, a Veil. We’ve had one of you. Yeah, I remember her, she was so sad without her little Loggie.” My head whips to him.

Wade rolls his eyes. “Where’s your mask?”

Nicepool laughs, tapping his unmarred face. “Come on, guys.”

Wade just shakes his head, but Logan isn’t here for pleasantries. “We’re looking for the Borderlands. You know where it is?”

Nicepool nods, a sudden burst of enthusiasm lighting up his face. "Borderlands, yeah, that’s 12 clicks due west. I can lend you my ride if you like. It would be my honor."

I narrow my eyes, not buying into his cheerfulness. "I don’t entirely trust you not to kill us." My voice is edged with suspicion, but he just shrugs it off, completely unbothered.

"Hey, you don’t have to trust me," he says with a carefree grin. "But I’ve got the perfect car for you."

I shoot Logan a glance, and I can tell we’re both thinking the same thing—whatever Nicepool considers perfect is probably anything but. Logan huffs, clearly resigned to whatever nonsense is about to unfold. "We’ll take it," he mutters, his voice laced with irritation.

He leads us through a cornfield, thick and dense, the stalks towering over us as we push our way through. The rustling of the corn is the only sound, and it’s almost suffocating how the plants seem to close in on us from all sides. I keep close to Logan, my senses on high alert, while Wade babbles on about something I’m trying hard to tune out.

We finally reach a small clearing where a car sits under a dust cover. With a dramatic flourish, Nicepool whips off the cover, revealing a vehicle that makes Wade recoil in horror.

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, absolutely not. Uh-uh, what the—? No, no,” Wade protests, his voice rising in disbelief.

Logan gives him a withering look. “Just get in the car.”

“This isn’t a car,” Wade insists, throwing his hands up. “This is a Honda fucking Odyssey. Throttle response sucks a cock. Dated infotainment system. When Honda saw that untreated chlamydia was making a comeback, they invented the Honda Odyssey to compete.”

Logan’s patience is clearly running thin. “Get in the fucking car.”

Nicepool, ever the optimist, smiles warmly. “She’ll get you there safe and sound. Betsy always does. You’re gonna have to give me my dog back, though.”

Wade, suddenly somber, lifts up the puppy. “I know, listen.” The dog reaches a paw out to him, and his voice softens. “Yes, child. If you ever wanna give her up, or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, I’d love to be her papa.”

Nicepool chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, what will ever happen to me?”

Wade looks at him, deadpan. “Lots of stuff.”

I can’t help but huff in exasperation, stepping forward to take the dog and return her to Nicepool. But Wade, ever the drama queen, clutches the dog closer. “No, we’re running away.”

He makes a half-hearted attempt to flee and after a few futile steps, he admits defeat with a sigh. “The corn was too dense, girl.”

Reluctantly, he hands the dog back to Nicepool and slinks into the car. I take the back seat, stretching my legs out along the seats. Wade plops into the front seat, grumbling. “Fuck.

Next Part

A/N: I have plans to make the next few parts very angsty with some sad flashbacks, you have been warned (:

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

(lmk if it worked)

[kikyoupdates]

Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

prologue | story masterlist | next

I don’t know where I’m going.  

You’ve been walking for a while now, with no real destination in mind. Truthfully, you’re not searching for anyplace in particular. You just figure that anywhere will be better than being stuck with that crazy old man.  

So, you walk. The building you’ve just come out of is rather secluded, tucked away behind a canopy of trees. There’s no one else as far as the eye can see, so you make the journey in total silence, instead focusing on the sweet-tasting air, and the little birds that flit from branch to branch.  

The minutes trickle on, turning to hours, and you find yourself weighed down by a heavy feeling that must be fatigue.  

But it’s okay. Because it seems like you’ve just reached the city.  

Here, you are no longer alone. It’s crowded and busy, and there are tons of people roaming about. You can’t help but blink in awe. Up until now, the only person you’ve met was Dr. Garaki. You never imagined that there would be so many others besides him.  

Curious, you take a step forward. 

Only to be immediately pulled back.  

“Be careful!” a woman cries out, and something speeds past you at that very moment, just narrowly missing your body. You frown and look back at the woman in confusion. For some reason, she’s gasping for breath and her shoulders are trembling. “You almost walked right in front of that car,” she says shakily. “Seriously, you need to look both ways before crossing. The pedestrian light wasn’t even on.”  

You’re not really sure what she’s talking about, but you nod nonetheless. 

“Okay,” you reply. “Thank you.”  

She lets go of your arm, then looks you over for quite a long time. Something about your appearance must not sit right with her, because her brow is now furrowed.  

“Is everything okay—”  

“Hey, what’s the hold up?” someone else interjects. It’s a man, and he loops his arm around the woman’s. “Come on, I’m in a hurry here. I need to get back to work soon.”  

“Oh. This girl was about to wander out into the street, so I got worried about her,” she explains.  

“Yeah? Well, she’s fine now, so let’s go. Like I said, I don’t have time for this.”  

The woman is jerked along without another word, but you can see her glancing back over her shoulder every few moments, a look of concern plastered across her face.  

Eventually, she disappears through the crowd, so you shrug and carry on walking.  

A lot of people seem to be giving you funny looks. You don’t notice them at first, but eventually, you realize that you’re drawing a lot of attention to yourself. You’re not really sure why, though.  

More importantly, so much of this is new to you. Not only are there tons of people, but there are countless buildings, in all colors and sizes, as well as other strange things you’ve never seen before. The world outside appears to be vibrant and bright, already a massive improvement to the dingy lab you awoke in.  

You keep walking. Some people look like they want to call out to you, or at the very least, they’re thinking about it, but ultimately, they reconsider and let you carry on your way.  

Everyone disregards the fact that you’re a child all on your own and assumes that someone else will come to your rescue eventually. That’s the reasoning they use to spare themselves the hassle and wipe their hands of any responsibility.  

And then, someone does come to your rescue.  

“Hello there, little girl. Are you by yourself?”  

It’s a tall man with a warm, inviting smile. He fixes you in a tender gaze, and unlike everyone else, he takes the time to find out how you’re doing.  

You nod in agreement. “Yes. I’m alone.”  

For some reason, the man’s smile grows even wider. Unfortunately, you’re too naïve to realize why.  

“Well, that just won’t do,” he hums. “It’s not safe for a kid like you to be all alone on the streets. How about I help you out? I can get you something to eat too. You sound like you’re hungry.”  

Hungry? You’re not too familiar with the term, but perhaps he’s referring to how your stomach is grumbling without pause. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, one that you’d been trying to disregard up until now. But if this man says he can help with that, you’ll gladly take him up on his offer.  

“I think I am hungry,” you concede. “I want to try eating something.”  

“Of course,” he grins. “Just follow me.”  

So, you do. It doesn’t occur to you that perhaps you shouldn’t trust people so blindly, especially given the experience you’ve already had with Dr. Garaki. But as you will soon discover, the outside world is plenty dangerous too, and your total ignorance makes you all the more vulnerable to it.  

The man reaches over to grab your hand in his, and he seems tickled pink by the fact that you don’t try to refuse.  

For a while, the two of you walk like that, hand-in-hand. You keep looking around the whole time, trying to make sense of your surroundings, and eventually, you see something that makes your eyes widen.  

“There,” you say, pointing towards a building. You can see through its glass windows, and the people inside are all sitting at tables and shoveling various things into their mouth. They’re... eating, right? They must be. Your brain instinctively makes the connection, and right on cue, your stomach starts grumbling even more.  

“What is it?” the man frowns.  

“They’re eating food,” you say. “In there. Can we go in to eat too? I’m hungry.”  

“Ah. I actually don’t have a lot of money on hand,” he sighs. “But I’ve got a nice meal waiting for us back home. I can get you more comfortable clothes to change into as well. Don’t worry. It’ll be way better than sitting in a cramped diner.”  

You tilt your head to the side, confused. “But they’re all eating, and I want to eat too. I don’t feel like waiting any longer. I want to go there.”  

“Like I said, I don’t have money,” he explains.  

“Money?”  

Yet another term you’ve never heard before. There’s a lot that you don’t understand, that you still need to learn. Of course, the man can’t possibly know that, so he must assume you’re just playing dumb. 

“Everyone else is eating, so why can’t we do it too?” you ask.  

He clicks his tongue, and his smile drops for the very first time. “Don’t be difficult,” he grimaces. You notice that his grip on your hand has become tighter. “I promise I’ll give you some food at home, so please just listen to me, okay?”  

Despite his insistence, you stubbornly root your feet into the ground. There’s food right on the other side of that window, and you’re not going anywhere until you’ve tried some for yourself.  

“I want to go in there,” you say again. “I’m not leaving.”  

It seems like that’s really not what the man wanted to hear, because all of a sudden, anger flashes through his eyes, and he pulls you forcefully, making you stumble forward in bewilderment.  

Then, he throws you over his shoulder.  

“I played nice and gave you a chance,” he glares. “All you had to do was not act out like a little brat.”  

He’s running now, still gripping you tight and refusing to let go. All you can do is gape, watching as the diner fades further and further into the distance. You lament the loss of your food, which now appears to be hopelessly out of reach. The hunger is getting worse by the second, too. It feels like your stomach is about to implode.  

You know what you have to do. You need to fight this guy off and break free of him. But much to your dismay, you can’t muster up the strength, no matter how hard you try. That feeling from before, when you channeled all that energy... it’s gone. And you’re not quite sure how to bring it back.  

“I want food,” you groan, feeling weaker by the second. The man pays you no mind, of course. He keeps running as fast as his feet will carry him. You wonder where he’s taking you. Wherever it is, you doubt it’s anywhere good. It seems like Dr. Garaki isn’t the only crazy bastard in this world.  

So, you escaped. Only to be captured by yet another maniac. 

And to think that this is only your first day of living.  

“It’s going to be okay,” the man reassures, laughing in a shaky, deranged manner. “You’ll see. The two of us... we’ll be happy together. I’ll take care of you and give you everything you want.”  

“...is that so? And here I was, thinking that you’d kidnapped the poor girl.”  

Another man’s voice. It’s deep, but soft, and it catches you completely by surprise, since you were convinced that no one else was anywhere near you.  

The man who kidnapped you cries out, but it’s too late. Something tough and sturdy wraps around his body and immobilizes him, and in the next moment, your feet are resting comfortably on the ground, right where they ought to be.  

You look up at your savior, who has pale skin, long disheveled black hair, and a lethargic yet stern expression.  

His name is Aizawa Shouta, and he will change the course of your life forever.  

“I’ll never understand what goes through the minds of sickos like you,” Aizawa mutters. 

“I-I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” the other man frantically protests. He’s bound by some weird kind of cloth, and it’s safe to say that he isn’t going anywhere. “We were just enjoying a nice day out, and she was getting a bit rowdy, that’s all. I was bringing her home so that she could calm down! Isn’t that right?” 

He looks over at you expectantly, perhaps hoping that you’ll help him get out of this sticky situation. 

But just because you’re more ignorant than the average person doesn’t mean you’re stupid.  

It's obvious that he’s a bad guy, just like Dr. Garaki.  

“I only met you a few minutes ago,” you say. “And you promised me food but got angry when I wanted to go inside one of the buildings. You grabbed me and forced me to go with you, even though I didn’t want to.”  

Aizawa narrows his eyes, and the man chuckles nervously in response. “Sh-She’s always such a joker. Come on, don’t be that way. You’re going to get your old man in trouble.”  

“Nice try,” Aizawa comments insincerely. “But I’m afraid there’s only one place for creeps like you.”  

The man wails out in protest yet again, but all his pleas fall on deaf ears. It looks like he’s in a lot of trouble. You’re not sure where he’s being sent to, but it probably isn’t someplace nice.  

Aizawa grips onto the cloths tightly, but finally spares you a proper glance. “More importantly, are you okay, kid? That must’ve given you a fright. Everything’s fine now. You’re safe.”  

You frown. Can you really trust him? It’s only been a few hours since you’ve awoken, but so far, your experience with people has been disappointing to say the least. You’re starting to realize that you have to be more on guard. There’s no telling what someone will do next.  

“Who are you?” you ask. “What if you try to hurt me, too?”  

Aizawa smiles sympathetically. “Yes, I understand why you might feel that way. But I promise I’m different from this dirtbag. I’m a hero. Protecting people is what I do. That much, I can promise you.”  

A hero. For some reason, the word evokes a strong feeling.  

Kill heroes. Kill heroes. Kill heroes.  

You wince. That voice in the back of your head is acting up again, making you feel all jumbled up and icky inside. It’s the same voice that was commanding you to obey Dr. Garaki. The voice that you instinctively know you can’t trust.  

But much like before, you manage to fight against it. You shove it to the back of your mind and disregard what it has to say.  

The man in front of you says he’s a hero, and apparently, heroes are supposed to help people. It’s possible that he’s lying. It’s possible that you’re being set up for disappointment again.  

But you decide to give him a chance. 

“I’m Aizawa,” he introduces.  

“I’m [Name],” you say. Even if Dr. Garaki was the one to give you this name, it’s yours now, and you are determined to cherish it. 

Aizawa nods, offers you a small smile, then reaches out to you.  

You take his hand. 

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