#someone even asked about glasses for their dog and i swear to you my soul left my fucking body

[timelessbian]

are you tired of being nice? don't you just want to nuke the sun?

[ellievickstar]

Climbing Out (Chapter 6) 

A/N: So we have to recover from the break I have been taking so I’m trying to post more until I can find a consistent schedule. Hahaha you guys can suggests which days you want this series to be posted on and I’ll think on it. 

Ship: Azriel x Reader, archeron!reader

Warnings: Abuse AKA Violence, Swearing, Feel free to tell me if I need to add anymore

Genre: Angst

ACOTAR Masterlist

Climbing Out Masterlist

Requested? No. Inspired? Yes! This series is inspired by Just Another Stereotype but the storyline is slightly different.

~*~*~*~*~

The word fine was always interesting to me. 

You see, whenever someone says their fine they usually mean that their not. Imagine asking your friend if they were okay and no matter how much they were suffering in their on head they would smile and wave you off, saying the same thing, “I’m fine”. But were they? 

No one usually blinks twice at the answer. We all know it’s a lie but no one cares enough. Because whenever someone asks about how we feel, we know it’s not because that person cares.

It’s because it’s basic courtesy and it’s seen as rude if they don’t. However, most of the time, they never actually care. Which is why we find the need to say that we are indeed ‘fine’. 

Now, I was trapped in that cycle. As I walked around the townhouse, feeling dead on the inside. I hated myself more then anything. As they prepared for Hybern, the queens, the war that was bound to occur, I was left to myself. 

Occasionally when we got together for meals, or if they passed me in the hallway, someone would ask me if I was alright.

But as hollow and as empty I felt on the inside, as I struggled to fill the void in my head as intrusive thoughts constantly penetrated my mind, I always forced myself to smile, and say that I was fine. 

There was one thing that kept me sane, helped me escape my reality. Books. Whenever I could I would make the long trek to the libraries and bookstores around Velaris and I would look for new books to read, new worlds to explore.

There was one that made me particularly interested, a book series called ‘Throne of Glass’. It was about a young female assassin and I was greatly invested in the whole series. 

So I had my books, my small world, and I didn’t dare ask for anything more. As Feyre and Rhysand were still going at each other like two dogs in heat, I preferred to stay away, not really wanting to hear about my sister’s happiness. 

I was happy for my sister, of course. She deserved her happiness but I could not help but feel trapped. I wanted to look for more, explore more.

There was a void in my soul that I wanted to fill, I wanted a purpose. And being trapped in this court, constantly being pressured to stay in line so things went smoothly. I hated it. I hated myself for wishing that I had more, told myself that I was ungrateful and that I should be thankful I was even alive. 

But I felt alone. 

Despite everything, I felt alone. Sure I was surrounded by people but it felt like that kind of loneliness that made me feel like I had no one. Nothing to depend on except myself and I know that that should have been enough but I wanted more then anything to have someone to lean on. I needed to get out of this place, I needed to feel free after everything. 

“Y/N?” My head snapped up as I looked at Rhysand. His eyes hardened as if analysing my every move for a second before shaking his head. “I asked if you were going to accompany us back to your sister’s home to send a letter to the mortal queens, I need to make sure, just in case you had changed your mind,” I blinked before coming to a realisation that he was talking about the trip to the mortal lands tomorrow. 

“Uh- yeah, I’m still going,” I stumbled over my words before quickly standing up, “I’m so sorry I’m extremely tired, I should probably get some rest before tomorrow, you guys can fill me in later,” Feyre looked at me with concern and Rhysand looked as if he was ready to call me out for my lie. But I quickly rushed to my room.

Not looking back. 

~*~*~*~*~

The next morning came quickly. Though I had told the inner circle that I was exhausted, I did not sleep at all. I lay awake and watched the window in my bedroom until the sun began to rise. It was only the did I give up trying to fall asleep and threw back the covers to get ready. 

I chose simple Illyrian leathers and a cloak that seemed to big for me, and the smell on it was so familiar though I could not quite put my finger on it. I pinned my hair back in a half updo, keeping the hair away from my face but not pinning it up entirely. I preferred my golden brown locks to be let down instead of tying it up, especially since I had long hair. 

As I exited the room, I bumped into Nuala and Cerridwen, no doubt on their way to wake me and were shocked to see me up on my own, since I had been sleeping in the past few days. I showed them a polite smile before continuing my way to the kitchen. Azriel was there, no surprise. The three Illyrian males were always up and running at dawn. Well for Rhysand it was more like up and fucking my sister. I doubt Nesta would react well to their relationship or id they would keep it a secret. 

Acknowledging Azriel with a subtle nod I approached the cabinet and took out a bar of chocolate, munching it as I leaned against the kitchen island. He was eating a sandwich, probably prepared by one of the wraiths or himself. 

“So, books,” He raised his eyes at me expectingly. I shrugged as I took another bite out of the sugary goodness I was holding. “I like reading, it’s like an escape from reality, plays some of the characters are hot,” His eyes darkened and I could feel his gaze burning holes into me. I tugged the cloak tighter around my shoulder. “You do realise that’s my cloak right?” He deadpanned. It took me a second to register what he said before I blushed and immediately took the cloak off, extending it out to him, my face probably scarlet. 

He chuckled before punching my hand back. “Keep it,” He said, “It looks better on you,” His lips twitched when I flushed further. I held the cloak to my chest before I remembered when I had thought that the scent on it was familiar. No wonder. 

~*~*~*~*~

It was two hours later when we were finally gathered in the living space of the House of Wind. We went over the plan again. Feyre would fly with Cassian and I would fly with Azriel while Rhysand winnowed them to the gap near the wall and flew through the wall. 

Waiting for Rhysand’s signal, Cassian glanced towards me and Az. 

“You know,” He started, “You never actually specified how your powers worked,” My brain drew a blank. I didn’t exactly know myself. However, I supposed I could try and explain. 

“I can manipulate shadow, kind of like Azriel, I can winnow and I can control the natural elements like air, water, fire and earth. When it comes to water I can increase or decrease the temperature to make it so scalding it would burn your skin off just to come into contact with the steam or I could make it so cold it would cause frost bite, the rest of the elements are kind of like the High Lords accordingly,” I explained. I supposed that was a decent explanation but I might have confused myself. 

“So when you say that you can manipulate water, what about a substance with water,” Cassian pushed. I thought for a moment before nodding. I supposed that that was possible. “What about blood?” Azriel suddenly interrupted my train of thought. I turned to him and sighed before giving him my reply. 

“Yes.” 

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: This newer power will certainly be interesting to explore. IDK I was thinking about how our bodies are 75% water and I was like: Oh it woul be so cool if I could kill someone by quite literally draining them of blood if I could manipulate water. And so we have this. Sorry I took so long with this one but have a nice day loves <3

tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing @flightlesslittlebirdie  @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123 @bookworm-nerd6  @gigisssz @bethany-bee0128  @cityofidek  @aetherl0l @valeridarkness @starrstrucked @judig92 @starlit-terror

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 29 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -

At the end of a long, somewhat traumatic day, John drives me over to the hotel where the department has set me up to stay.

It's not much to look at, an older style place with two stories and rooms accessed from the outside of the building.

Rolling to a stop in the parking lot, John leans forward, peers through the windshield and swears.

"Fuck. I can't leave you here."

"What? Why not?"

I frown and give the hotel another once over.

It's seen better days but it's not that bad.

"It's not secure. One flimsy door between you and the world? I don't like those odds."

"Well, lucky you don't have to. I'll take 'em," I grumble.

John did all the real work today, managing a team of police and forensics specialists as they documented, investigated and eventually cleared the scene of Lucille's demise but I'm dead tired anyway.

All I want is to fall into a bed, shut my eyes and hope I don't dream about bodies under the floor or dead old ladies in bathtubs.

'Thanks for the memories, Universe. Now how 'bout you send me something good for a change?'

"Carlos, come home with me. At least my place is secure."

I lift my brows at him.

"Is it? What happened to the angsty vampire spiel?" I do my best to imitate his growly Batman voice. "You're like a drug to me, Carlos. There is no us."

He scowls at me.

"David did something to help me control my... urges. At least in the short term. And I'll keep my distance. Besides, with this new debacle and all the paperwork it comes with, I doubt I'll be home much anyway."

"What about David?" I ask. "Would I have to share a bathroom with him?"

John shakes his head.

"He went home. He's a busy man and he trusts me to handle things, at least in the short term. No one's going to force you to do anything against your will. Especially not me."

I waver. John's house is spacious and clean, the hotel looks cramped and questionable.

John's house is removed from town and secure, the hotel is too close to the river park for my liking,and John has a point about those flimsy doors.

"The dogs miss you," he says and I swear under my breath.

It's a low blow, hitting me with the dogs when he can tell I'm wavering.

Fine. Two can play that game.

"Kiss me."

"What?"

He blinks.

"I said, kiss me. Prove that you can kiss me and not want anything else."

His eyes lock with mine, catching the evening light just right so they swirl with kaleidoscopic autumn fire.

Then he blinks again and turns away with a sharply indrawn breath.

"I can't."

"Right. Well. There's that, then."

Sighing, I pop the door open and get out of the car, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and rolling my head to crack my neck.

John gets out as well.

"What about your... other friends?" he asks. "Can't you stay with someone?"

I start walking towards the lobby entrance and he follows me.

"Yeah, probably. At the moment, I'd rather be alone. I'll be fine, John. My connection to the case is dead and if revenge was the motive, there's no one left alive to want it. My guess is the demon was too strong for Lucille. The first ritual opens the doorway. The second establishes the covenant. The third completes it. But demons don't like to be bound."

I fall silent as I open the lobby door and step through.

A bored-looking receptionist greets me without looking up from his computer.

I check in and collect my room key.

John waits outside, watching unhappily through the glass until I rejoin him.

"So, what? You think the devil made her do it?" he asks and I shrug.

"Demons aren't interested in making pacts or stealing souls. Not the ones we're talking about, anyway. They're creatures of desire. They just want. Wannabe occultists like Lucille perform complex rituals in pursuit of knowledge or riches or eternal youth or whatever they're after but it's not really the ritual that attracts the demon. It's the wanting. They feed on it."

A shiver runs up my spine.

The demon in the dark, where I saw Kyle, wanted... something.

At the time, I was pretty sure what it wanted was me.

Now, I'm less certain.

"Anyway, if a demon gains the upper hand, it'll take what it wants and give nothing in return, which is what I'm guessing happened to Lucille."

John looks unconvinced.

"What about the Kyle problem?"

"Which one?"

"How he got up under the bridge. Lucille didn't do that alone."

"If she had an accomplice, he'll have split if he knows what's good for him."

"What about the detective, Sparks? How does he fit in?"

I shake my head.

"I don't have all the answers, John. I just know I'm done with this case."

"And if it's not done with you?"

"Then it's a good thing I know a vampire who can track me from across town."

John huffs in frustration and rubs the back of his neck.

"Carlos... I can't just leave you here."

"Could you leave McKenzie or Nguyen?"

"Yeah, probably. But I'm not..." he draws a breath midsentence, cutting himself off.

"You're not what?"

He locks eyes with me and speaks so quietly I can barely hear him.

"I'm not in love with McKenzie or Nguyen."

A tiny electric shock zaps my heart and a wave of dizziness washes over me.

"In love?" I shake my head. "You can't be in love with me. We barely know each other."

"You don't think I doubt it? Love is something I've read about in books. I've never felt this way before," John's tone is solemn, his gaze soft and I realize he's let his guard down.

This is the most vulnerable I've seen him and I know my next words could make or break whatever this thing is between us.

It's hard and it hurts but the only fair thing is to tell the truth.

"I don't know how I feel, John. I need more time. I'm sorry."

He releases a breath and looks away, the tension in his broad shoulders easing as he accepts defeat.

"Fine. Fine, if you're sure it's what you want. Just... call me if that changes. I'll come."

I nod, unable to say more and wave awkwardly as I walk to the corner of the building and unlock my room.

John watches me until I'm inside and give him the thumbs up through the window.

Then he gets in his car and drives away.

As his taillights vanish around a bend, I rest my forehead against the glass and sigh.

'Right. This is why the Universe doesn't send you good things, Carlos. Because when it does, you push it away or ruin it. Way to go.'

I give myself a minute to wallow in depression, loneliness and regret and then I acquaint myself with my new, temporary home.

It's not terrible but it's not the Ritz, either.

There's a bed, a nightstand, a dresser and a TV, a mini fridge and a microwave, a tiny closet and a cramped bathroom with a tub that could kindly be called 'child sized.'

The wallpaper is a speckled beige, the carpet is a dark reddish brown that was probably chosen for its ability to hide stains and the framed landscape on the wall is about as generic and contrived as a painting can be.

All I really care about is the bed, though and a quick inspection proves the sheets are clean and the mattress is passable.

It'll do just fine for me.

[vsnotresponding]

🖊️+ Lyric (it’s been a while 🥺)

Absolutely will not be normal about this. I refuse.

🖊️+ Karma (workaholic train wreck I <3 you)

🖊️+ Sher (dunno if u can tell but I’m a sucker for manipulative characters. I’m just mmm the tension. Explain to me why you being so problematic plz and thank u)

🖊️+ Ira (my queen. Protect ur people girlie)

🖊️+ garavan (did I spell that right??? I wanna know more)

thanks for the ask <3 also long ass post 1k worth of stuff + art

at least i had the decency of sending multiple asks so tumblr wouldn't break with your answers /j

LYRIC

you are right it's been so long, but because i'm actively working on púlsar i don't talk much about UP even tho i do draw them

okay so, for lyric im sharing his literal origin story, as well as some facts about the man and some drawings i like of him.

first some facts:

he's pan and a flirt

in the college au he needs glasses to read

his flower is lycoris radiata (got it from this video, minute 3:35)

origin story:

so i had been toying with the concept of a character named lyric which lived through multiple déjà vus. and he died too. one day (on a plane to ireland with school) i drew this guy:

[who are you? I like you btw 25.02.19] [molt decent 25.04.19]

and i went "oh he's cool i like him". then, like two months later i was drawing ely and i got a revelation:

"lyric & ely belong 2 the same story. ely is the one thing that's different at his new life" which is INSANE of my brain to think about because ely is a character from 2017 i drew ONCE. and now here we are

and then i drew him for the first time, and then in a scene with ely <;3 (and then killing a monster but im not showing it because i didn't know how to draw profiles and it shows)

*trying very hard not to cringe at old art*

and here's some lyrics that i like:

redraw of the og lyric and ely scene // redraw of the redraw // lyric screaming at ely// I like his hair here // redraw of the og lyric fighting lost souls

college au lyric dabbing wearing a behold a pan shirt // first page of a sketchbook// tiny lyric from the afterlife comic look at him so tiny // lyric from a series of drawings I made with my OCs and their flags

where is your rider scene (inspired by the song by the oh hellos)

tiny lyric and akira from the comic based on the song Elsa's song from the amazing devil

and also the most gorgeous man i'll ever draw (from a piece called bring him back) for you to be very normal about (im very normal about this drawing of lyric sooooo normal):

KARMA

i find it hard to say things about karma because with his pov we learn most of the relevant stuff. so you are getting fun facts and a sad fact

first the fun:

in the modern aus he's legally blind. round golden rimmed glasses.

his plushy (you'll meet him in today's chapter i believe) is called jhai

his name comes from me hearing someone call their dog karma and going "oh that can be a name cool im using it" (the other dog was called kraken)

he's the character that has gone through the most extreme character design change of the bunch (mainly because everyone else didn't exist). but he was more of a black sheep of the family cool dude that could use guns (yes there were guns in púlsar early stages idk either). his hair was also auburn. and then idk what happened but i changed it to the mess he's now. very glad i did i love him

and now the sad. check tags for tw because oof:

so, my man is very depressed. his mom's death hit him hard and it was all in general a terrible time for him (also it was around his bday. this was totally unintentional i swear)

on the early days and in spite of the promise he made, he climbed onto his windowsill and thought about jumping. everything was just too much. fortunately, someone knocked on his door and scared him, he slipped backwards and fell to the floor. he hasn't told this to anyone and doesn't intend to, but even if that's two months before púlsar, that's basically the mental state he starts with

and stealing your phrase, spoiler for flavor: he doesn't end púlsar much better

SHER

i can't tell you much. but what i CAN do is show you some baby sher and karma being cute together so you are extra sad about today's púlsar chapter:

"baaaa" "will you stop pulling my hair?" // "mom look he's walking" (chasing a bird) & it's cut but it says "he's so tiny" // sher teaching karma how to read

sher being told he has to leave his mom's home "do i really need to leave?" and it's cut but it says "you need to learn to be a prince with your dad" // sher at the palace // sher and karma's plushy lions

also as a fun(?) fact, he was very close to his uncle (his mother's younger brother). he was a big support for him when he moved to the palace away from his mom, and acted as a shield (or as much as he could) between him and his father. the uncle's name is Ádil.

he was married to Orga (one of the members of the council, arranged marriage), and died shortly after karma moved to the palace (sher was around 16 by then, and for reference, he's 23 now). sher suspects that his uncle's death wasn't fully natural, but he still has to be nice to orga because she's powerful.

ádil was one of the few people in the council that openly opposed the shahin. go figures i wonder what happened there.

IRA

so i already answered an ask for her here, basically a love letter to her character i love her so much.

so you get old ira sketches being happy and free (and chaotic):

GARAVAN GARVAN

you did in fact not write that properly, but that's actually great because it gives a segue into a fun fact about him!

i affectionately call him gman and mostly all my notes refer to him as that. also, once my phone autocorrected his name to garbanzo (chick pea). bean (a nickname for a character from púlsar gen 2) calls him that (ira did totally not correct her when she started doing it because she thought it was 1. funny and 2. that it would annoy garvan). also! karma sometimes calls him G

as a not so fun fact: he often needs to be the balancing component in the friend group, being silly and making jokes. he doesn't look like it, but he's very caring and does worry a lot about karma (not that karma notices lol).

his mom died in childbirth so it was emhi's mom that took care of him (until she too died shortly after). we don't talk about their father.

he was close with sher when they were younger (sher used to beat him at sparring), bonding over being clear aldamu and what it meant for them (sher taught him things about khithi culture that his mom taught him).

(i have so Many Thought about emhi garvan and sher as young teens in the palace, you have no idea, there's some clues sprinkled around púlsar about it but that's all you are officially getting)

man that was long

[rcksmith]

Desire — Kaz Brekker

(Photo not mine)

Requests: “Hello there! I've been around this blog for a bit now and you are an amazing writer! I was wondering if you would be ok with doing something with 21 28 & 29 from the smut prompts and kaz brekker? If you are uncomfortable please just ignore this!”

“Kaz brekker Smut prompts 28 66?? Love you💖!!”

“I can request Kaz smut prompts 29?❤️”

Smut prompts:

21. “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

66. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of shot, mention of desire, desire, mention of smut, explicit smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There was something about you. Something impossible to decipher, with a glow hovering around you like a electrical energy. Wrapping your whole body in a cloak of magnetism. There was something about the way you spoke, walked, laugh. Something about what it was like to be you, in your beauty and mysteries like a sphinx.

Something that made Kaz Brekker completely furious.

You couldn't be more distorted from the image, in Kaz's mind, than what was to be a peaceful woman. Calm, controled, with steel emotions and wit in eyes. Someone who, like him, knew how to dance the waltz of negotiation, manipulation, who could blend in with the shadows and know the best time to listen more than speak.

You were not like Inej, you were not like Jesper. Hell, you were like nobody Kaz has known in all of his 28 years.

Nothing reminiscent of calm and control would be used to describe what it meant to be you.

Your soul are stormy, loud, obstinate, too stubborn and too talkative. You needed to speak loudly, laugh, move, expose your opinions to the seven winds and to whoever listened the most. You needed to question, inquire, doubt and test the limits of any situation. A direct order for you would be an affront to your free and independent spirit. A command that would curtail your freedom or tame your strong genius was almost like an invitation for you to do exactly the opposite of what they had ordered you to do.

So, for a man of trained reasoning, subtly balanced world, and who was used to his every command being followed vehemently and promptly in blind obedience, such a personality like you was like introducing a disturbing factor capable of shaking all his judgments. Sand in a watch, or stone in a shoe, would be no more a nuisance than a strong nature like your.

The extraordinary stubbornness and mania to counter his orders - when, in your words, they were unreasonable - had made you different from all the women Brekker had ever met. Kaz liked challenges and responsibilities, a good puzzle, but you were on a level far beyond that.

You were a danger to his peace of mind. And you knew that. All his aversion to your indomitable spirit only served as fuel for your own mission in to piss him off. Few men were like Kaz Brekker, you knew that, with a strength of character too powerful to be ignored. He was not just comfortable in his position of authority as he was obviously unable to act in any other way than as a leader. His stoic figure and always so contained in a wall of indifference made you want to ruffle his hair to see if you could remove any emotion. And being a girl who hasn't always liked leaders, Kaz Brekker was a huge temptation. Few moments had been better than those that you managed to piss him off beyond what he could handle.

However, all the reasons why the two of you were so exasperating for each other, did not explain why the air crackled in ambiguity when your eyes met. The hemisphere was adorned in a thought-provoking, poignant veil, like a warm honey flowing down its throat, and there was something else in the way blood flowed like flames of fire through veins of you two.

Jesper said that the sexual tension between you was so tangible that it could be cut by one of Inej's knives, but you refused to think of Kaz that way. At least until that moment.

Not pure images of what the infamous Brekker could do to you between four walls swept you like the strong Arabian wind. Making you be surprisingly breathless. Kaz was not a man whose private life was exposed, nor was he involved with many women, but you have heard two or three of them when they were drunk saying that Kaz Brekker in the room could be incendiary.

Everyone knew that his touch reserve didn't limit him to anything, but that his job was at the top of the priority list and that sexual encounters were almost never on that list.

"It was not my fault!” Jesper defended himself one night, slightly drunk, sitting at the club's round table next to the other crows “I didn't know he was married to another man! That damn pretty face seduced me!”

"Did he seduce you?" You asked, skeptical and playful.

"I swear to God! And it had been a long time since I had sex with anyone, and I went… ”

“But you did sex last week." Inej laughed, chocked.

"Exactly!" Jesper said, as if he were obvious.

You laughed with your beer glass in your hand, taking another sip.

“Is a week a long time to not sleep with anyone?" Matthias retorted, trying not to laugh.

“Are you going to tell me that is not?” Jesper and Nina spoke at the same time.

“If a man has time for sex more than once a week, he clearly doesn't have much to do. And I'm sure I gave Jesper a lot of tasks that would keep him busy.” Kaz narrowed his eyes at his friend, and Jesper hid his guilt behind the rim of his beer glass, looking to the side.

"So you are saying that you are a very busy man?" You teased, trying not to laugh at the scathing look Kaz sent you.

"I disagree. The values ​​of hard work and discipline cannot match the hot body of a woman in bed.” Matthias said, exchanging a brief conspiratorial look with Nina, who winked at him.

"There are more important things." Said Kaz.

"Like what?" You rested your chin on the back of the hand whose elbow was on the table, the playful look of a rebellious student.

"Progress." Kaz held your gaze.

He wasn't going to take your bait. But you didn't give up easy.

"Tell me, if God gave you a deal: all the hunger in the world would be extinguished in exchange for you never being able to have sex again, what would you choose?" your eyes had a teasing feline glow.

At that moment, Kaz felt a shiver up the back of his neck, like a warm breath of autumn. Something crawled, like a snake, across his rib cage and down to his groin, pumping blood like fire through his veins.

He held your gaze, but the feline glow in your eyes promised to contain the most ardent sins. Suddenly, Kaz's mind was flooded by the wave of obscene images of you, on his bed; moaning, squirming, shouting his name and being very obedient with every order he gave you.

He would make you such a good girl...

"I don't believe in God." He replied succinctly, the predator's eyes still in your eyes audacious feline's.

A big, satisfied smile spread across your face, and you said: "As I thought. Bad luck for hungry people.”

Realizing that he had fallen right into your cunning trap, Kaz got rid of your diabolical magnetism and cursed.

“I didn't say…” he stopped, impatient “It doesn't matter. I have more important things to do than waste time here.”

But the smile you hid behind the glass was noticeable to Kaz.

After that night, the crackling, gasping flame that circled the two of you intensified to alarming levels. Kaz could feel you holding your breath when he was too close, and you could see him squeezing his cane harder when you sweetened your voice for him.

However, regardless of Kaz's wanted to fold you at a table and put an end to your brat girl pose, enjoying the groans he was sure you would let out, the two of you still fought like dog and cat.

Just as it was now.

“What do you mean, I'm not going?!” You looked at Kaz, amazed, when he told you that you would not participate in the robbery that week “I know that security system like the back of my hand!”

It was true, what you had of stubbornness, you had of technological intelligence. There was no computer that you would not hack, a program that you would not hack, and a system that you would not unlock. Your genius with technology made up for all your lack of obedience.

But Kaz ignored. “I've already told you. It's a more dangerous mission than you're used to and we don't have time for the plans you come up with right away.” He needled you.

“Are you referring to Switzerland?” You were never anything short of direct and inquiring. It was logical that you would question every orden. “But I already told you that when the alarm went off your plan didn't work anymore! I was more useful inside to deactivate the alarm than waiting outside.”

And stubborn. Holy God, how stubborn you were!

"And it cost you to get shot."

"But it was just a shot!"

Kaz looked at you, puzzled. “Just?! And wasn't it enough ?! You put the whole team at risk!”

“But if I hadn't deactivated the alarm, we would all be arrested! And only I knew how to do that!”

"My fucking God, isn't there a speck of common sense in you?!"

But you answered boldly: "Not when you impose clueless plans on me."

Mortified would be an understatement to describe how he was now. What an unbearable creature! Kaz felt the anger spread from his neck to his face, igniting his breath and squinting his eyes in annoyance.

Why was it so difficult for you to follow a simple goddamn rule?!

“Besides, your initial plan was flawed and there was no reason for me to be out when it was necessary inside and...” And you kept talking!

If you had noticed Kaz's completely enraged state in front of you, you would have been scared, shut up and ran. But, truth be told, Kaz suspected that even if you knew how to read the murderous humor in his eyes, you wouldn't have left that office. Much less be afraid. You could argue with the demon. And you would probably beat him out of tiredness.

However, regardless of the desire to shake you up, to see if that put any good sense in you, in that second, watching you gesture with your hands, defending your point of view as if it were the england queen's crown, something swept Kaz's body from the top of his head with dark hair to the tips of his illustrated boots.

The sound of the world was drowned out by the flow of blood itself in his veins. His heart hammered hard in his chest and, in that instant, a sharp sting in his groin and the pit of his stomach set him on fire.

His gaze went down to your mouth, which kept moving. And when it came up to your eyes, your stubborn and defiant gaze sent Kaz's rationality into space. He dropped the cane abruptly, which toppled to the floor with a hollow crack, and advanced towards you in firm and determined steps.

Gluing his gloved hands to your face, Kaz silenced all your protests with a strong kiss. Hot, fiery, domineering. The kind of kiss that held years of camouflaged desire, years of irritability, years of an unnerving desire to make you shut up with all the perverse forms that existed.

You weren't afraid of him. But you should. You should if you knew everything he wanted to do with you.

However, as if you have been burning in the same desire for years, you responded to that kiss with the same urgency. The same hunger. Kaz slipped his hands into your hair, closing his fingers there and deepening the kiss with ferocity. He felt beside himself, like a hungry wild animal that had been denied food for years and that only now had its teeth set on its prey. You moaned against his lips, bringing your hands to his lean, strong biceps, squeezing your fingers there.

You both needed air, but neither seemed to give a damn about that. Misted of desire that burned like a fire in their bodies, Kaz pushed the two of you backwards, slamming your back against the wall and swinging a frame beside. You gasped, and the gesture made it possible for Kaz to invade your mouth with his tongue, hunting every piece of hot meat. You two fought the same battle in that kiss: invade, dominate, conquer.

They both wanted to take the waltz, but Kaz would never let you conduct the show.

He pulled your wrists up, pinning them with one hand against the wall, leaving you immobile while sinking his mouth further into yours. Kaz felt you try to get rid of his tight grip, but he was stronger than you. And much more when he have a objective.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He murmured against your mouth, the tip of his tongue playing with your bottom lip. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Was impossible for you to control the loud moan that escaped. Your body trembling with desire, your legs wobbly, your wet core vibrating with his words. Kaz Brekker was a fallen angel. With a beauty and charm you've never been immune to.

How can you think you'd win the dominance game with him?

And, like the fallen angel he was, his smug and arrogant smile painted the corner of his lips when he saw what his lines did to you.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Kaz mocked “If I knew it was only necessary to do this for you to shut up...” he brought his lips closer, his voice hitting yours “I would have fucked you like the naughty brat you have been a long time.”

If his caustic and maddening kisses hadn't been enough to break you in half, that statement would have done all the work.

In that second, you hoisted your white flag, biting your lip in a needy moan and closing your eyes for a second by the overwhelming vibration of your core. God, you needed more. Whatever he gave you. Anything he wanted to give you. You just needed more.

"Are you going to be good?" He played with the dough you were in his hands, his devilish mouth going down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and debris wherever he went.

You agreed, desperately. “Yes, Sir."

That title seemed to do things with Kaz. Because in the next second, his mouth was back on your. More urgent, more needy, more dominating. You shifted your hips for more friction with his, and Kaz rewarded your obedience by pulling one of your thighs forward, making your skirt go up, aligning your thigh on his hips and giving access for his member to fit perfectly against your pulsating core.

You moaned louder this time. Fingers clenching, heart pumping frantically. Kaz pulled his lips away from you for a second, taking his hand off your thigh and bringing it to your mouth.

“Pull.” He ordered, referring to the glove.

You murmured a low, excited moan, bringing your mouth to the glove and clenching your teeth on the cloth at the top of his middle finger. Satisfied, Kaz pulled his hand back, watching the alabaster skin peel away from the leather fabric. As soon as he was free, he removed the glove from your mouth, replacing it with his own and stealing all your breath in that fiery kiss.

His free hand wandered over your thigh, touching you for the first time with a touch that promised to show you all the most delicious and secret sins in the world. His tongue wrapped around your again, and the moan you let out was even greater when his long fingers brushed against your wet, throbbing core.

"S-sir!" You sobbed, your hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

"Look at you." His fire voice beat against your lips, the tightness against your wrists getting stronger, more possessive "I’ ve only started using my fingers and you ’re already shaking"

Your body cried out in unbridled desire, sobs mingling with loud moans and heavy sighs as Kaz tormented you with his fingers. He touched you, slid, opened and sank, increasing the volume of your pleas.

“P-please" You begged, the body in need, the urge too urgent.

Kaz looked you in the eye, a dark, malicious gleam burning in his Egyptian blue irises. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased you.

But you no longer cared about his teasing. With your lips swollen and red, your heart racing and the core pulsing in despair on his experienced fingers, you were already surrendered.

"Please. I n-need." You mumbled submissively, rummaging your hips in his hand.

"I bet if I wanted to fuck you against my desk, here and now, you would be very happy to do it, wouldn't you?"

He was foisting all of his dominance on you, bending you to your knees for him. And you knew that. You knew he was taking years of anger out on you. But you couldn't care less. You wanted him. Ardently. Desperately. And if it was a good girl Kaz wanted, damn it, you would be a good girl for him.

You readily agreed, your eyes shining in supplication.

“Good.” Kaz pulled you brutally off the wall, turning you over to the table and pushing your chest against the icy wood, pulling your hips at him. “Because that's exactly what is going to happen.”

Suddenly, desire and hunger roared like a wild beast. Kaz watched you, bent over his desk, obedient, surrendered, offering every inch of your body to him.

His breath was burning in his throat and it was no longer possible to order his thoughts, contain his euphoria. He would fuck you so hard that it would make that memory the only thought when you remembered him. When you dare to rebut his orders.

Kaz pulled you skirt up and your panties down, letting out a groan that sounded more like a growl as he saw your wet core. Pulsing and desperate for him. For anything he wanted to give you. It sparked a fervent desire that Brekker had never felt in his life, devastating any possibility of thinking about anything other than fucking you.

Playing with your fingers in your slick, wet folds, you whimpered again, the core pulsing whenever he teased you inside, pressing his fingertips there but never entering.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" His voice came over the top of your shoulder, hoarse, animalistic, full of profane desires.

"Please." You were quick to beg “I do what you want! But just...please, please… ”

You already felt your eyes watering from over-stimulation, your heart burning so hard it was beating, your core aching from emptiness.

You sealed the end of the game between you. Kaz had won. In a triumphant checkmate.

And you didn't have to beg again. Barely seeing when he unbuttoned his pants, you just reasoned his hard, hot, pulsating member by opening your from the inside. Claiming everything that was yours as his in a strong, desperate, hungry lunge.

"S-sir!" You screamed, your nails scraping the wood from the table, the core pulsing overwhelmingly around his rigid member.

In a more badly lunge, Kaz sank completely into you, moaning loudly as he hit rock bottom. The gloved hand slid over your shoulder, propelled you to him while the bare hand tightened on your waist, hitting you at a steady, raw, animalistic rhythm.

The sounds were pornographic, dirty and loud, echoing off the walls. The air was hot like molten lava, pungent and muffled, driving you two lost breath. Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end tomorrow, in aggressive, rough thrusts. These were thrusts that made half of his things on the table fall to the floor, mixing in a mess that would serve as a reminder later about the sinful activities you two did.

You screamed when Kaz took on more force, his fingers squeezing you so hard that they would leave you with marks on your shoulder and waist the next day.

"Fucking hell!" Kaz snarled between his teeth, feeling your flesh throb around him, squeezing he with such desperation that he knew you were close.

You sobbed, tears streaming down the corners of your eyes as you pushed your ass towards him, trying to bring him as deep as possible, as deep inside you as possible. But every time his pelvis smashed into your ass, a loud moan and the feeling of being completely full drowned you.

You begged, pleaded, for something you didn't know. But Kaz seemed to know. Taking both hands to your hips, your pace became even more unperturbed, pushing you to the limit until you cum in a scream in his name, your lungs on fire. Kaz came close behind, sinking as deep as possible and pouring all the hot liquid into you. Almost like a brand.

The air was filled with sex, lust and desire, filled only by the sound of their ragged breaths that struggled to stabilize.

You were still panting when Kaz's voice came after you: "Whatever I want, don't I?"

A deal with the devil.

[yamagucji]

Embarrassing moments

warnings. just for shits n giggles, 14+ readers preferably, mentions of vomit, poop, choking, etc.

HINATA was extremely constipated and needed to use the bathroom quick. but there’s a long line to the mens bathroom (what’s the occasion anyway??) and he’s standing all the way at the back. poor hinata felt a fart coming so he just couldn’t... hold it in. mans SHARTED. shitted and farted at the same time. it stunk so bad that the guys in front of him said, “damn, you need the toilet more than me,” and let him cut in line.

USHIJIMA and tendou stopped to pet this dog during their walk. tendou’s conversing with the owner while toshi’s petting the dog. dog likes it, it’s all good. until... it got bored and decided that toshi’s butt smelled good. dog just wouldn’t stop sniffing his ass. “please, stop smelling me,” toshi says with desperation, which now catches the others’ attention. the owner has to pry their dog away from toshi’s ass cheeks, please. the awkward tension kinda dies down until tendou utters, “so, what’s your secret? what product are you using?”

YAMAGUCHI drank water in the middle of silent class reading. this boy started choking— and i mean choking on his water. you can hear his muffled coughs in the distance and when you turn around to look at him, his face is all red and his cheeks are puffy. none of his classmates say anything but you can practically feel second-hand embarrassment oozing around. the assistant teacher even has the audacity to say, “drink some water.”

KENMA’s calling this one his last try. he sticks his remaining coins into the slot and tries to get the brand new nintendo box thats in the machine. mf has been going at this for over twenty minutes now. his pouch is empty and there’s a crowd of kids waiting for him. no miracle happens in his last try (shit got stuck!!) so he has to move away only to watch in horror— as the kid after him manages to get it. you’re gonna have to hold kenma down before he hunts that kid with every bit of his soul.

DAICHI had a fat one coming in, that’s for sure. thought it was a free real estate just because everyone else in the camp seemed asleep. so he let that monster fart come out (even partly stuck out his thigh for better airway). whole team was awake in a matter of seconds. nishinoya’s jumped off his sleeping bag and asking everyone if they heard that “loud bang.” tanaka’s over here sniffing around because he knows that no one has got some kind of bomb that stinks.

SAKUSA’s not gonna admit to this one. but one time he opened a bathroom stall (it was unlocked) only to find that it was occupied. there are no words to accurately describe just how horried the sight was. sitting on the toilet was a man taking a shit, with his dick on full boner mode, staring back at sakusa. they only made eye contact for just 2 seconds but sakusa’s seen enough. he’s heard enough too, when said stranger asked him, “you wanna join me?”

ASAHI projectile vomited at the theaters. you should’ve known it was a bad idea to take him out to dinner before going to watch a scary movie. man had no courage to tell you he had an upset stomach nor tell you he’s not a fan of horror. it’s twenty minutes into the movie and he’s poking your arm— but you don’t notice because you’re too engrossed. another twenty minutes, and a jumpscare comes on. man beside you vomits like there’s no tomorrow. ya’ll spend the rest of the movie secretly trying to clean his throw-up.

TENDOU was watching anime in his dorm peacefully. until... the whole shiratorizawa team opened the door just in time for the show to switch up to an inappropriate scene. out of all the times they could’ve walked in, they really had to come when 2d clown man was moaning and fighting a kid? tendou scrambled to close his laptop but now he’s just staring back at his teammates; silent, except for the fact that his show is still playing and you can still hearing moaning in the background.

TSUKISHIMA turned his house upside down and still couldn’t find his glasses, nor his extra pair. he was about to leave bare eyed until his mom caught him and forced him to wear his sports glasses. yeah, the one with the whole strap and everything. mans looked like a fool coming to school with it on. people who didn’t know it was his sports glasses mistook it for swimming goggles. he’s so utterly humiliated now, he can’t even bite back when hinata or kageyama says something.

GOSHIKI... i don’t even know what to tell you. who let this kid go further into the lake by himself? it’s all fun and games for everyone until you hear an ear-defeaning shriek by your one and only goshiki. he’s yelling out, “help me! please! help!!” the lifeguards start kicking in and everyone’s trying to make way. is he drowning? is there something there? no for god’s sake. you find out he just made it 5 ft deep and happened to swim over a bunch of seaweed. never take him swimming again.

ATSUMU decided to check himself out using someone’s car window. he’s fixing his hair, picking at his teeth, and even checking to see if he has any boogers. all of a sudden the window rolls down and there’s a senior citizen staring back at him. “boy do you think my car is your mirror?” the man says in a gruffy voice. atsumu’s knees nearly buckle from how scary this man is and how embarrassed he is of all the four minutes he probably spent with this stranger.

SACHIRO’s job as a vet sometimes makes him do really questionable shit (from an outsider perspective). once he had to ejaculate someone’s dog in front of their owner. uh huh... jack them off, for the sole purpose of examining the dog’s semen. he’s never felt such a wave of regret wash through his body during that whole procedure. it didn’t help when the owner was looking at him mortified, nor the fact that it took such a long time.

OIKAWA does this thing were he shows up unexpectedly behind iwaizumi and slaps his ass. everytime he does it iwa always hits him back (but not the ass). today he learnt his lesson when he mistook a stranger for iwa and slapped the guys ass from the moon and back. when i tell you just how quick all the blood drained from oikawa’s body when the man turned around— you can hear a bag of chips fall at the other end of the aisle and it’s the iwa, who had to witness that whole ass-slap event.

ARAN is gonna knock the shit of the miya twins one day, he swears to god. they sent him a mysterious video during his morning walk, where he stopped at a busy street. it starts off quiet, so he goes to turn the volume up full blast. damn video suddenly started blaring ‘lick my pussy and my-’ please... he’s shaking. passerby’s are looking at him with distaste. aran’s now flushed from embarrassment and running towards the miya house. you can guess what happens next.

BOKUTO walked into the wrong house. spent a whole ten minutes rummaging around the kitchen because his friend said to “make yourself comfortable, i’ll be on my way.” little did this man know that there’s a whole family upstairs waiting for the cops to arrive because they think it’s a robbery. poor bokuto, dragged out of the house by some cops but had no idea what was going on. man was literally just vibing— thinking he was in his friends house.

OSAMU swore this size pants still fit him (hint: it doesn’t). he’s walking through the snack section of the store, lightly limping because damn his dick can’t breath. his truth is tested when he goes to pick something off the lowest shelf and his pants literally go, ‘let er rip.’ fabric tore, and what’s worse is that he was wearing onigiri undies. osamu goes to check if there’s anyone else in the aisle and there is— a group of underclassmen girls from his high school.

KUROO tried to make his chemistry presentation more interesting by putting in jokes. he thought they were funny; kenma even huffed a breath. kuroo’s at his third joke by now and literally no one has laughed. not a single one. except for kuroo himself, who’s awkwardly laughing in a dead-silent room. man was embarrassed. other people are getting second-hand embarrassment by the way they avoided eye contact with him. he vented to kenma later only for kenma to say, “it wasn’t funny. it was just stupid.” poor kuroo.

SUNA accidentally connected his bluetooth to the bus. you know, the one that drives all of inarizaki to their games. wanna guess what the fuck he might’ve been listening to? it’s porn. he’s watching porn in broad daylight. suna doesn’t realize what the issue is until he goes to turn up the volume and notices that the sound is off. he take his airpods off and that’s when he hears pure moaning sounds blaring inside the bus. everyone’s laughing— except for kita and their coach who’s still outside. mf calls himself lucky for that.

[shivada-jade]

soulmates! (2)

soulmate!au BECAUSE IM WEAK. YOU'RE WEAK TOO.

characters: ganyu, kaeya, thoma ➡ mentions: cloud retainer, ningguang, adelinde, diluc, crepus, rosaria, traveler warning(s): like- just one swear

part one: (bennett, zhongli, diluc)

ganyu: can see footprints where soulmate has recently stepped on. if followed, they will be lead to their soulmate. sort of like "hot and cold" cold if you're far and hot if you're close

she knew she is a very busy person. she surprises herself when she asked ningguang for a day off.

"you want a day off?" she remembers ningguang's composed face deteriorate and herself doing the same thing.

ningguang let her rest for two weeks even if ganyu had only requested one. now she has so much free time.

the first thing she did was sleep, but she couldn't- not when she spots purple footprints.

as part adeptus with one heck of a good eyesight, she always assumes that the footprints on the ground are because of her eyesight, but cloud retainer says otherwise.

"child, you have a soulmate system of which," the old bird starts. "where one has the ability see where one's soulmate has been, and if they've been there recently."

blue footprints that fade away means her soulmate had left a long time ago. red-ish-orange footprints mean that her soulmate is very close by, but it's never been that colour in her eyes.

ganyu strolls along the grassy plains of liyue, admiring all the sweet flowers. she lightly touches her horns, a habit she got from being awoken from naps on a field of sweet flowers.

the footprints were purple, which is the closest to red ganyu had ever gotten. blue is the colour she always sees like her vision, her hair, the waters of liyue, and the glazed lilies.

the purple is also as beautiful.

"fate will bring two together at the right moment. thou need not rush." ganyu can hear cloud retainer say, so she didn't run after the footprints.

the half-adepti thrums her fingers on her leg, unsure what to do with all the free time given to her. she supposes she can head back to liyue and have tea with madame ping.

meeting madame ping confuses ganyu. the elderly woman keeps asking of her soulmate system and if she's met them.

"ganyu, have you met them?"

"ganyu, why not chase after them?"

"ganyu, ganyu ganyu-"

ganyu politely sets her teacup down, "i have yet to find them."

madame ping chuckles in her elderly woman way, like those smug elderly women who know more than others but will act clueless to amuse them.

"you know, i have a special gift, some speculate it as a curse, but i think it's wonderful," she said, pouring more tea for ganyu. "i have the ability to see red strings that connect soulmates. i can connect, i can break connections, but i can't see my own."

ganyu frowns slightly, "have you met yours?"

"no, but it makes me happy seeing the strings connect with people," she blows on her tea to make it cooler and turns her head to avoid looking at ganyu.

"madame ping, why-"

"you," a person behind ganyu seethes.

meekly, ganyu turns around and finds someone glaring at her. "may i help you?"

"ganyu, right? why do you always walk so fucking fast. i can never catch up to you when i see your footprints, and you're always going from place to place. one moment you're in liyue, the next your in somewhere like fontaine or something. it's like you're spiderman."

ganyu's jaw goes slack, "you're my soulmate?" she looks at the ground, seeing red footprints of where her soulmate had just walked. she now understand why madame ping kept asking her about her soulmate, because madame ping knew her soulmate was going to meet her.

ganyu clears her thoat, standing up to offer her soulmate a seat, "would you like to join us for tea?"

her soulmate blinks, and looks at the tea set then back to ganyu, "sorry, i didn't mean to intrude your tea party. i'm [name]."

"hello, i'm madame ping," the woman speaks "and your soulmate is ganyu. have tea."

ganyu stifles a laugh and sits on a chair next to her soulmate. "i apologize for walking too fast."

kaeya: he hears what his soulmate sings

at first kaeya thought he was going crazy when he kept hearing music in his head.

"dad!" he cried, forcingly rubbing away the tears that fell down his cheeks. the kids near the winery had come over and played with him and diluc, and that was when the first notes started. it never bothered him. he brushed it off until it became a full sound of a voice and a song.

not understanding scared kaeya to death. he always knew something, but this is the first where he doesn't know. he felt like he was going insane with this voice in his head, singing in his head; a voice that wasn't his.

"dad!" he called out again more desperately. diluc held him by his side, worried for his brother.

"father!" dliuc called this time, "father, kaeya's feeling sick."

diluc brought in kaeya, rubbing his back in attempt to comfort him. he saw adelinde and waved to her.

adelinde gasped when she spotted the blue-haired boy sobbing. she dropped her feather duster on the shelf she was dusting and dropped herself next to kaeya, inspecting of there were any wounds on his skin.

"kaeya, dear. what's the matter?" she quietly tells diluc to get his father in the wine cellar and gently pushed kaeya to take a seat near the fireplace.

diluc silently obeyed and ran, unlocking the door that led to his father.

kaeya hiccupped, unable to form words.

adelinde hushed him. her motherly fingers soothed his head, "what's wrong? breathe with me, dear. just until your father gets back."

she inhaled and exhaled in a steady manner for kaeya to follow. the boy shakily did the same. he did it a few more times, inhaling and exhaling slowly with adelinde. he calmed down. the crying stopped and his breathing was normal again. adelinde took this as another chance to ask him what's wrong.

"are you ready to tell me?"

kaeya blinked the tears off and gripped his clothes to stop himself from crying again. "it's happening again. i- i don't understand miss adelinde."

adelinde placed a hand over kaeya's for him to know she was listening. "what don't you understand?"

"i keep hearing things. i always hear a voice that isn't mine in my head-" kaeya sputtered.

diluc and crepus open the door from the cellar. crepus' face etched with worry when he spotted kaeya crying to adelinde. diluc had told him as much as he could but all the information he gathered was kaeya started covering his ears and crying.

"-all the voice does is sing and sing. i don't even like some of the songs it sings! i don't- i don't know," kaeya stammered, not noticing the two others that joined. "i don't know what happening to me. i'm scared."

crepus smiled at adelinde and nodded to her, signaling that he can handle it from here. adelinde gave a grateful nod and brushed herself off the floor to continue her duties.

"my boy," crepus smiles, kneeling in front kaeya to see him better. he brushed his face with a thumb and hugged him. crepus chuckled when kaeya hugged him tighter.

"my boy," the man continued with a knowing smile on his face. "that's your soulmate system. you can hear them singing if they sing as they can hear you singing when you sing."

kaeya lets go from crepus' hold and sniffled his tears away, "what? but isn't a soulmate system when things fall on you?"

diluc from the back of the room silently listened in, also confused as kaeya. didn't everyone have the same soulmate system?

crepus pats kaeya's shoulders, "we all have different ways to know who our soulmate is. yours and diluc's soul systems are different from everyone."

"master crepus is right." adelinde piped in while dusting off the dust on the shelves. "my soulmate system is a countdown to when i'll meet them."

kaeya looked at the woman shocked, "so not everyone has things falling on them?"

"correct." crepus raved, "but unlike diluc's soul system, instead of things falling on me, it appears on my hand for my soulmate system."

diluc eyes his brother, picking up a stray book on a chair and handed it to adelinde to help her.

kaeya pulled a cheeky grin and pointed to diluc, "diluc's eavesdropping."

the said boy gasped and turned his body around to make it look like he was doing something busy.

crepus bellows a laugh, "so what song is your soulmate singing?"

...

to be frank, kaeya had no idea what his soulmate sang that day. it was random words jumbled together. in fact, most things his soulmate sings are songs he has never heard before. it progressed from simple tunes, but now kaeya feels like his soulmate might be a song composer.

when he was younger he'd brag to diluc saying "my soulmate sings so well! what does your soulmate sound like, hah!"

to which diluc would respond with

he grins, swirling his wine around the glass as he watches a stack of papers hit diluc's face while bar tending on the first floor. kaeya clinks his glass on the table, watching people enter and leave the tavern from above.

today, his soulmate sings a song he's heard of.

'the wellerman,' and judging from the pauses and missing lyrics, kaeya safely assumes his soulmate was singing a duet with someone.

"soon may the wellerman come, to bring us sugar and tea and rum!"

kaeya hums the next few notes, never singing. after hearing his soulmate sing for the first time, his thought was to never sing- not when his soulmate could be a billionaire for singing with their voice.

only on occasions he would sing to let his soulmate know he was there.

he finishes the last sip of his wine and descends down the tavern stairs, raising a hand to acknowledge rosaria drinking in the corner. he airily chuckles, seeing diluc scrunch his eyes at the papers in front of him instead of looking at kaeya.

kaeya pushes the door open, humming along to the song his soulmate sings. he strolls by the alleyways, waving a hello to flora and a couple dogs that bark at his feet, scratching behind its ears.

he hears a bard singing at the plaza and saunters towards the music, climbing up the stairs and his frame almost freezes when seeing someone acting out to the song playing in his head.

good hunter's table tips over with a person on it. they land smoothly to the ground with a grin while singing with a resident bard.

"one day when the tonguing is done, we'll take our leave and go," they sing with so much melody and soul. the bard in green rumbles with cheer, raising his hands and dancing with the other with an arm latched around another.

kaeya watches, mesmerized by the singing and clapping around the plaza. he claps along and laughs when the bard drags his friend up to the walls of the fountain, singing louder.

the makes eye contact with the singer and waves. the singer waves back, unaware of what kaeya now knows.

soulmates.

he clued the pieces together and admired his soulmate from a distance, not wanting to disturb the performance.

"she'd not been two weeks from shore, when down on her a right whale bore!" the bard sings in glee.

kaeya quietly sings the next part, blending with the crowd. the whoops and cheers grow louder, chanting for his soulmate to sing the part kaeya sand under his breath, but to his surprise his soulmate tenses.

"WAIT! stop!" they hush the crowd with a hand and confuse everyone, "my soulmate's singing! but they're a bit too quiet. they never sing so shh, this is rare!"

the people murmur, watching kaeya's soulmate covering their ears to hear him clearer. kaeya grins, taking this opportunity to sing out loud.

"soon may the wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum!" kaeya waltzes in front of the people who create a pathway for him.

his soulmate's eyes snap to him and he steps up next to them, standing on the fountain. the bard grins, and cheers. the crowd follows his cheer, watching their cavalry captain sing to his soulmate.

kaeya takes his soulmate's hand and presses a kiss on the back, "hello darling, i'm kaeya."

his soulmate doesn't hear him talking, no. they hear music when he speaks. though, kaeya's introduction threw them off, who's to say they couldn't return the gesture.

"a pleasure to meet you at last," they place a hand over their forehead for drama. they grin taking kaeya's waist closer to them and whisper in his ear, "you have a marvelous voice."

mondstadt had never seen kaeya at loss for words and a blush rising his face.

thoma: you taste the same things your soulmate tastes, no matter how strange- even when you're already eating something else

for most times, you were envious of your soulmate for eating the most lavishing food- food only one with money can get. you so desperately wanted to try the food they ate.

you didn't know what they ate, but only knew of the taste. sometimes it clashes with what you eat, like one time you ate an orange while your soulmate started toothbrushing. it wasn't very pleasant to say the least.

you were minding yourself, gathering food for your dinner until you taste something horrible.

wtf is my soulmate eating

it is a vile taste on your tongue, and no amount of water can wash the taste off. you try rinsing it, you tried eating something with a stronger taste, but no matter what, the thing your soulmate ate just stays there. it's disgusting.

you buy anything sour to un-taste what you tasted, and it still doesn't work. walking nearby a tea house, you see a man of blonde, clutching his stomach and laughing at a traveler from afar. call it fate, because it probably is, you know by the second he says his stomach hurts, he is your soulmate.

you point at him with a pointed glare, "what on earth did you EAT?!"

you take a bite of a sliced purple melon in your hand and the man in front of you widens his jade eyes, noting the food you're eating and the blooming taste on his tongue. the traveler next to him knits their brows, looking between you and their friend.

"thoma," the traveler calls. "who's this?"

thoma looks at you apologetically and sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck. "hey? i did it to win a contest... i couldn't let my pride down." he pauses, looking at you, "forgive me?"

you wanted to throw a punch on him, but you knew he had it worse with a bad aftertaste and a stomach ache.

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. and place a mischievous grin, "take me on a date with food that's actually good, and then i'll think about forgiving you."

[thishintoflove]

“I Think He Knows” - A Kingsman Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 5

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x M!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Explicit (Pining, dirty talk, hand jobs, oral sex)

A/N: I feel like there’s a lack of M/M in the Pedro cinematic universe fandom, so here’s some bisexual Whiskey having a good time with a fellow male agent.

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are paired together for an out-of-state mission. On your last night, your pining and his flirting finally come to a head.

I think he knows his hands around

A cold glass

Make me wanna know that body

Like it's mine

The mission was long but you were finally finished with it. Three weeks in Dallas were more than enough for you, and you were looking forward to getting home to your own bed and your own office in Kentucky. You were aching for the privacy it offered, after spending almost a month sharing a hotel room with your fellow agent. This time you’d been paired up with Agent Whiskey, and because of that you were glad the trip was almost over.

It’s not because Agent Whiskey- Jack - was incapable. Quite the opposite. He was extremely efficient and good at his job but he was also… extremely attractive. Which was a huge distraction.

You took pride in being a capable agent but Jack and his pretty face compromised that. You’ve never been in a situation like this before. Lusting over your coworker felt extremely unprofessional, but it was impossible to ignore him. He was an in-your-face kind of guy, always butting in with a comment or joke, always using his body as a weapon. He’d lounge around your shared hotel room in nothing but a thin towel, his wet hair draped across his forehead, and you swear he did it on purpose. The man knew how attractive he was and he obviously loved flaunting it.

He was tall and tan, with soft brown hair, a pair of beautiful round eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement, and a smile that made your knees weak. The downside was that his smile made just about everyone weak. You were living in your own personal hell. Every single day having to watch Jack be attractive without even trying, and then watch as everyone in his vicinity tried to flirt with him. Tonight he was wearing a black leather jacket and extremely tight jeans, looking more like a movie star than an undercover agent. The man could pull off anything. It’s actually unfair.

You were out at some dive bar, celebrating the end to a successful mission before flying home tomorrow. It was Jack’s idea of course, but you’d agreed because you needed a stiff drink after these three long weeks and honestly you couldn’t say no to him.

“Another round, kid?”

You glanced up and saw him staring at you, a twinkle in his bright eyes. His hand gripped his empty whiskey glass and you eyed your own half-full drink. You couldn’t throw it back like him.

“I’m good for now,” you answered.

He nodded and slapped you on the shoulder as he stood up, “I’ll get you another one anyway. You better finish that by the time I get back.”

You sighed as you watched him walk away. His ass looked fantastic in those jeans. All the training and harsh exercise routines that Champ put the team through really worked for him. No wonder he could get any pretty thing he wanted.

Speaking of which, he seemed to have turned his affections on someone else. You groaned, your eyes never wavering from where Jack stood. He was currently making small talk with the pretty brunette bartender. He was giving her the full Whiskey treatment- gazing at her with those soft, mocha-colored puppy dog eyes and giving her a charming half-grin. Watching him flirt was simultaneously entertaining and torturous. He threw his head back, laughing at some dumb joke the bartender must have said, and you almost growled out loud as you hungrily stared at his neck.

Stupid horny bastard.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

You were getting really sick of hiding your partial hard-ons and jacking off in the cold shower, but everything the man did was hot. The deep voice and accent alone were enough to get you going on most days. God, you hadn’t felt like this since high school.

If Jack noticed you staring or caught on to the fact that you took extra long showers, he didn’t say anything. You were openly out at the agency and your sexuality wasn’t a secret. When you first joined the Statesmen, you felt you had something to prove at work, as if you had to demonstrate your masculinity by keeping up with the largest members of the team. But you’ve excelled in your role for years now and you were beyond proving yourself at this point. You were just glad that Agent Whiskey wasn’t one of the people who cared that you liked men.

In fact, he treated you just like he treated everyone-- this meant he wasn’t shy about flirting and teasing you. Sometimes it seemed like he was coming onto you, but you had to remind yourself that he was like that with everyone-- you weren’t special and there was no way he was actually interested.

Before falling asleep each night, you’d listen to Jack’s soft snores and run scenarios through your head of every possible way that you could share your feelings. You thought about all of the things you could say, and all of the ways Jack could react. It was agonizing but your analytical mind couldn’t stop. You wished you had the courage to just ask him out. The worst that could happen is he’d say ‘no’ and maybe request to never work with you again, but then at least you’d be free of him.

Wanna see what's under that attitude

Like, I want you, bless my soul

And I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

A loud laugh suddenly interrupted your thoughts and you looked over to the bar again. The bartender was giggling and grasping at Jack’s arm. The sight made your stomach turn, and you made a quick decision to get out of there before you had to watch them start making out over the bar.

You stepped up next to Jack and finally drew his attention away from the girl.

“Hey, hold off on my drink. I’m gonna head out,” you told him.

“What? Come on now, it’s so early!”

“Yeah. I just don’t really feel like hanging out anymore. I’ll see you back there.”

Before Jack could respond, you threw down some cash on the bar and turned away. You were already across the floor and on your way out the door when a hand on your arm stopped you.

“Hey. Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” you muttered, trying to ignore the shot of arousal you felt when he grabbed you, “I just don’t feel like sitting in the corner, watching you flirt with some chick.”

You tried to turn away from him, but Jack let out a quiet “ohhh” of understanding. His grip on your arm tightened.

“We’ve been on this mission for weeks now, and on our last night you finally decide to say something?” Jack laughed, turning you around so you were facing him again. He invaded your personal space, ducking his head and trailing his nose along your neck and jaw.

“What?” you asked, confused because he couldn’t possibly mean...

“You're so slow, that’s what,” Jack mumbled, his lips tracing along your neck. It felt amazing, but... was Jack- your fellow agent and known womanizer- really nuzzling your neck right now?

“I'm confused, are you really into this?” you asked again, trying to hold back a moan. Jack pulled away and looked at you with huge eyes.

“God, you’re an idiot. I've been sending you obvious signs, makin’ eyes at you and showing off what I got, and now I'm literally biting your neck, and you're still asking?” Jack said incredulously. You searched his face and saw eyes that were filled with desperation and lust.

“I just assumed…”

“I like it both ways, kid. Is that clear enough for you?”

He then took one step forward and kissed you fully on the lips. There was only a moment of shock before you melted into the kiss, pressing your bodies closer and running your hands over Jack’s shoulders and back. All of your worries disappeared then. You didn't feel the terrible anxiety that constantly filled you with dread. Your mind stopped frantically thinking about every possible worst case scenario. Everything stopped. There was only Jack.

“Oh ohhhh right. Yeah I’m an idiot,” you quietly mumbled against his lips, “Want to go back to the hotel?”

“Fuckin’ finally,” he replied with a grin.

Lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh

We can follow the sparks, I'll drive

So where we gonna go?

I whisper in the dark

You weren’t sure how you made it back to the hotel so quickly, but as soon as you tumbled through the door, Jack had you pinned to the bed underneath him. His hands roamed all over your torso, and he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside before quickly doing the same to his own. The room was filled with your little whimpers every time Jack ground his hips against yours. You stared up at him, his lips swollen and red bitten and eyes blown with lust, and you were positive that you looked just as debauched. He looked just as beautiful hovering over you as you’d always imagined, and you wanted to feel him everywhere.

“More,” you whined, canting your hips up into Jack’s.

He groaned and trailed his hands down your chest, his fingers brushing against your nipples, causing a moan to slip from your mouth. He continued his journey down until he reached the fly of your jeans.

“Lift up,” Jack mumbled, leaning in to kiss your neck as he tried to tug your pants down. You obeyed and soon your pants and your boxers were off, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, his fingers barely brushing over your erection, “You’re even prettier than I thought, darlin’.”

You groaned, pushing your body closer to Jack’s. As his hand slowly learned the feel of your cock, your own hands wandered all over his body. From his strong shoulders to his muscular back, to his waist, his hips, his thick thighs. You slipped one hand into his jeans to grab his ass, finally getting the chance to touch the part of Jack’s body you’d fantasized about the most. You could feel his clothed erection rubbing against your thigh as Jack continued steadily stroking your cock.

“Jack,” you whimpered, gazing into his dark, lust-filled eyes. You were barely able to control your thoughts properly since Jack’s pace was getting quicker and way too distracting. He grinned down at you.

“This good, baby? You want it a little rougher?” he asked, a groan slipping from his lips as you squeezed his ass in response.

Jack pushed forward and kissed you harder this time, moving his hand faster along your cock. Then he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and nipping all your sensitive spots. Suddenly he bit down hard on the skin between your neck and shoulder, following it up with a long lick with his wide tongue. That show of possessiveness was enough to push you right to the edge. You cried out as pleasure tore through you, coming in ropes all over Jack’s large hand. You gasped for breath, your chest rising and falling as your head lolled against the pillows.

Jack hovered over you, continuing to kiss your neck and upper chest as you came down from your high. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, can I get a confirmation on that, darlin'?“ he asked with a cocky grin.

Your eyes blinked open and you smirked at him. “You’ve got the confirmation all over your hand.”

“Ooooh, so he’s mouthy all of a sudden. Guess I just had to get you in bed to see the sassy side of you, huh?” Jack tutted.

“I’ll show you mouthy,” you muttered, blushing at the stupid euphemism even as you trailed a line of kisses down Jack’s sternum and belly.

When you reached the top of his jeans, you surprised your fellow agent by flipping him over and yanking his pants down in one fluid motion. Jack growled at the switch, but when you took his cock into your mouth, he gasped and surged forward. You enjoyed the desperate moan he made as you swallowed him completely, his hips bucking into your mouth. But you wanted to take your time with this. You grasped his hip bone with one hand and held him down, before pulling off his cock and moving to lightly lick his balls. Jack was making beautiful, desperate noises and you loved the idea that this strong, confident agent was falling apart because of you. You smiled against him and swiped your tongue along the bottom of his shaft before taking him fully into your mouth again.

“Holy hell, you’re fuckin’ amazing,“ Jack groaned as you bobbed up and down on his cock, “I’m so close-”

You sucked harder and reached your other hand down to fondle his balls again as Jack thrust into your mouth. Soon he was arching forward and shouting your name. You let him come in your mouth, swallowing his seed down like it was another shot at the bar.

When you looked up at Jack from between his legs, you grinned. He had his head tilted back, one hand thrown across his mouth as he stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. When he felt your eyes on him, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, that was…”

“Amazing,” you cut him off, “Even better than I imagined.”

“So you imagined it, huh?”

Unable to control the urge any longer, you leaned forward and pulled Jack into a sweet, affectionate kiss. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and you could feel him grinning the whole time. When you finally pulled back, he was still smiling but he also looked a bit confused.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” he asked.

“I was convinced you were straight. I’ve been a fucking mess trying to decide if I should say something or not,” you replied.

Jack hummed and reached for you, but you chuckled and pulled away.

“You need a shower,” you said, “Then we can talk some more.”

“Only if you join me, sugar...”

I want you, bless my soul

I ain't gotta tell him

I think he knows

[lrissa]

You’re Easier To Kick When You’re Kneeling.

summary: you and eren were both titan shifters, getting your ass beat in the court room by humanity’s strongest

warnings: violence, swearing,

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

“Good luck!”

Where the last words Hanji spoke before shoving you and Eren into the court room. Tension penetrated the air as the Survey Corps gave hard glares to the Military Police.

Spinning around you saw everyone looking to you and Eren. Embarrassment and fear crawled through your nerves, gazing to Eren as he looked just as afraid.

“I’m scared..” You whispered to the brunette, he turned to look down at your lightly shaking physique.

“We’ll be fine.” He gave you a small smile, his eyes creased softly, he wished he could reach out and pat you on the shoulder.

Straining yours eyes forwards you bit down your tongue readying yourself mentally. You noticed two long metal pillars beside eachother, gulping.

“Step forward.” An office spoke as he shoved the barrel of a gun into Erens back. Urging him forwards forcefully, quickly you walked to catch up with him.

Two officers pushed you and Eren apart. Snapping your head to the brunette, he nodded his head to you calmly, his eyes gave you comfort as the man shoved you to your knees infront of the pole.

Together the men picked up the metal and ordered you to place your hands stretched behind you, doing so they let the pole fall back into place. Having you directly connected to the pole and squatted down.

You hung your head low as the hair on your shoulders fell forwards to conceal your face. Your eyes had dilated and your body shook. Fear. Worry. Anxiety.

A door opened followed by footsteps and a chair scraping across the stone as someone seated themselves. The judge.

“Well then, let us begin. Eren Jaeger and Y/N L/N, yes?” He’d adjust his glasses and stare at the small paper in his fingers before continuing. “You are soldiers, sworn to sacrifice your life for the public good. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Eren answered as he stared bug-eyed at the judge, “Yes, sir.” You repeated after Eren and tilted your head up.

“This is an exceptional situation. The tribunal will be held under military, not civilian, law. The final decision rests entirely in my hands.” The white haired man looked from the paper to us, “Your fate will be decided here. Do you have any objections.”

Looking to the floor you squeezed your eyes shut momentarily, opening them wide again. “No, sir.” You and Eren spoke simultaneously.

“I appreciate your perception. I will be direct. As anticipated, concealing your existence has proved impossible. We must make your existing public in some form, or a threat to humanity other than titans will arise. What I will decide today is which force will have custody of you.”

“The Military Police,”

“Or the Survey Corps?”

“Then, I ask the Military Police for their proposal.”

Your head shifted to the Military Police, watching as a man readied himself before speaking vibrantly.

“Yes, sir, I am Commander of the Military Police, Nile Dawk, I will present my proposal. After a thorough investigation of Eren and Y/N’s body, we believe they should be eliminated immediately.”

Your eyes expanded as he said this. This man hardly knew either of you, not a single fucking thing. Your eyebrows furrowed into a scowl while your hands contoured into fists.

“It’s certainly true that their titan power overcame our pervious peril. However, now their existence threatens to spark a civil war. So we ask them to die for humanity’s sake, leaving behind all information they can.” He finished

Your stomach churned as he spoke, did everyone seriously wish you dead?

“There is no need for that! They are an invasive pest! They have deceived the walls that embody Gods wisdom! They must be killed at once!” A preist yelled at the top of his lungs as he pointed to us with crazed eyes. Freak.

“Preist Nick. Order, please.” The judge calmly stated before shifting his attention to the right side.

“We’ll hear the Survey Corps’s proposal next.”

“Yes, sir. I, 13th Commander of the Survey Corps, Erwin Smith, will present my proposal. We would welcome Eren and Y/N as an official member of our forces, and use their power to retake Wall Maria... That is all.”

You stared at the Commander, that’s all. That’s all? Yours and Erens life were on the line and he couldn’t conjure up another defense statement.

“That’s all?” The judge questioned suspiciously.

“Yes, sir. With their power, we can retake Wall Maria. We believe it is clear what our priorities should be.”

“I see. And where do you plan to begin this mission”The judge stated, “Pixis, the Trost wall has been completely sealed, correct?” He added.

“Yes, it can never be opened again.” A bald man retorted.

“We would like to set out from Karanes, in the east. From there, we will proceed to Zhiganshina. We will determine the route as we go.” Erwin confidently spoke as he stared to the judge.

“Wait a minute!” shouted a man, whipping your head over, “Shouldn’t we seal all the wall gates once and for all? The Colossal Titan can only destroy the gates. If we can strengthen them, we needn’t endure further attacks!” His planned seemed smart but there where missing pieces and it would most likely be difficult to achieve.

“Shut up, merchant dog!”

“With those titan powers we can return to Wall Maria!”

“We can no longer indulge your delusions of grandeur!”

Argued two men as they yelled at one another from across the room, ‘So annoying’ you thought.

“You talk a lot, pig.” A dark voice rung throughout the court, turning your head up you spotted Levi. Behind his tough physique he was actually a bit funny.

“Where is your proof?” Levi continued, “that the titans will wait while we seal the gates? The ‘we’ you speak of are only those you wish to protect, your ‘friends’ who help line your pockets. The people who starve because there isn’t enough land to sow don’t even figure into the thoughts of you pig.” Levi finished as you stared at him with wide eyes, was he seriously protecting you from the Military Police?

“We just thought that we could survive by sealing the wall gates—“ The merchant began, “Silence!” Yelled the priest beside him as he slammed his hand on the railing, nearing the mans eyes. “Impious traitor! Mere humans altering Wall Rose, walls that were a gift from God? Can you truly see those walls? Gods work far beyond human capabilities, and not understand?”

The rest of his words drowned out as your mind took hold, thoughts of the future plundered your head as you squeezed your eyes shut.

The judges taps of his desk brought you back to reality and you snapped your head up, “Silence. You may discuss your personal philosophies and opinions elsewhere.”

“Jaeger, L/N. Can you continue to serve as a soldier, using your titan powers to benefit humanity?”

“Yes, I can!” Eren spoke clearly, the judges cold gaze shifting to you, “Yes, sir.”

“But the report on Trost’s defense says this... ‘Immediately after turning into a titan, Eren swung his fist at Mikasa Ackerman.’” You sucked in a breath and looked to Eren, his eyes extended as he looked to Mikasa. Of course, he doesn’t remember.

“Is Mikasa Ackerman present?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“You are Ackerman? Is it true that, as a titan, Jaeger attacked you?” The old man questioned her.

You sighed softly, ‘As if he can control it yet’ you thought angrily in your mind.

“Yes, its true.”

Gasps of terror rung throughout the court, all eyes falling on Eren in a deathly glare.

“I knew it... He’s just another titan.”

“What about the girl!” Another protested as your head whipped to them, sending a glare to them.

“But, on two previous occasions, Eren saved my life in his titan form. The first time, mere seconds before a titan would have had me in its grasp, he stood between us, protecting me. The second time, he saved Armin and me from an HE shell. I would like these facts to be considered aswell.”

“I object,”

“I believe these comments are greatly colored by her personal feelings. At an early age, Mikasa Ackerman lost her parents and was taken in by the Jaeger household.” Well haven’t you done your homework, you pondered with a small frown.

“Our investigation had also revealed a surprising fact about the underlying events. At age nine, Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman killed three robbers who tried to kidnap her.”

More gasps could be heard as the news entered their ears, you shook your head. ‘What stupid fucking evidence to have, like they had a choice’ you considered furiously in your mind.

“Even if it was self defense, I must question their fundamental humanity. Is it right to entrust humanity’s fate, resources, and lives to him?”

Whispering and arguing broke out between the different sides, turning their heads to their fellow comrades to spew hatred. What a loss. Losing to this mans ugly mouth. You hung your head and sighed quietly.

“So is she. Do we know if we can trust her!” Referring to you as he pointed. “That’s right! Just to be safe we should dissect her too!” He looked to Mikasa next.

“Wait!” Yelled Eren and looked up to the man, “I may be a monster, but they have nothing to do with it! Nothing at all!” Eren defended as you watched, his spit flying from his mouth as he spoke from his soul. Your heart clenching in pitifulness as you frowned sadly.

“We can’t trust that!”

“It’s true!”

“If you’re covering for them, it means they’re one of you!”

“No!” He screamed and slammed his handcuffs against the metal pole, looking down in defeat, “I mean, you are wrong. But you’re simply coming up with theories that fit, whatever it suits you to fit.”

“Eren..” You said softly as you stared at him, your eyes in pain for him. He was so much braver than you and it gave you courage to see him so persistent.

Looking up you began to speak, “Besides, all of you people. You’ve never seen a titan! What are you so afraid of? What is your point if you do not have the power to fight? If you’re afraid to fight for humanity’s survival then, help us!” Your voice getting increasingly louder as you glared at the pathetic people who called themselves the Military Police.

“Just shut up and trust us!” You yelled your last statement and looked up to the judge, your chest panting heavily as you meant every word.

“Weapons ready!” The Commander of the Military Police shouted while his cadet set his gun on the railing and pointed it to you.

Until your face snapped to the right and pain shot through your nerves, your vision blurred instantly. Metal was all you tasted. A tooth had even managed to fall from your mouth and rolled onto the ground. You blinked to dimish the haziness and looked to your striker.

Levi Ackerman

“Huh?—“

His steel pointed boot slammed across your face again. Your back slamming against the pole behind you. Blood trickled down your nose and down to your chin, dropping onto the floor. Your blood had even splattered small droplets along the stone flooring.

Levi grabbed your collar and shoved you forwards to him. The handcuffs clanging against the pole as Levi stared down at you, his frigid glare locking eyes with your beaten ones before slamming his knee into the side of your head, sending it flying.

Pain. So much pain. It was burning you alive from the inside as all you could do was endure it. Tch, this guy’s a dick.

“Y/N!” Eren screamed from the opposite end. Hatred and worry evident in his tone as he struggled against his own cuffs, “Stop it!” Eren attempted again as all he could do was watch his friend get beaten to the brink of death.

Levi continued to sock you with his boot, giving you zero remorse as he beat the girl below him. Mikasa glared and got ready to jump the railing before Armin held her back.

Blood streamed down your face, a large puddle had began to form under you. You gasped for air before Levi lifted his leg high and stomped down on your head into the puddle of your demise. Grimacing at the filth and pain, all you did was lay there. If someone wasn’t looking hard enough, they’d assume you were already dead.

Croaks of pain left your body as his boot remained on your head, struggling to breath as blood trickled down your nose and into your mouth, unintentionally swallowing.

“This is a personal opinion. But I believe pain to be the best way to train someone. What you need is to be trained like a dog, not a man.”

Your rigid breathes left your mouth as you stared straight at Eren, his eyes meeting yours as he seemed to become visibly furious. Bruised and cuts tracked your once pretty, soft skin. Blood now coating all the crevices in your face.

“It’s easier to kick you while you’re kneeling, too.”

Levi lifted his boot and slammed it into the side of your head once again, giving you no time to breathe he stomped it back onto the cold ground again. Repeating his tourtue when he kicked your head all over again.

Strangled breaths was all you could muster, along with the rattling of the handcuffs as you were thrown around like trash, filling the silence of the fearful court room.

Kick. Kick, Kick.

All anyone could do was watch your doom, “Wait, Levi...”

Your head was pushed against the pole with his boot flat on your face as he turned his head to the one speaking, “What is it?”

His boot fell from your face as you hunched forwards, croaking as you gasped for air, blood trickling down the sides of your mouth.

“That’s dangerous... What if she gets angry and turns into a titan?”

You slowly tilted your head up to Levi, hair falling away from your face and resting on your shoulders. The raven head stared at you for a moment, then shoved his boot back onto your face and slamming it against the pole.

“What are you saying?” Levi dropped his leg again and gripped a fistful your hair, violently pulling you to his face as your eyes struggled to remain open from extreme bruising.

“Aren’t you going to dissect her?” He dropped your hair and stood straight, peering down to your defeated and beaten figure.

“When she turned into a titan last time, she killed twenty other titans before collapsing. If she is an enemy, her intelligence makes her a more formidable foe. Still no match for me, of course.”

Levi gazed to the Military Police, “But what will you do? Anyone persecuting her should also consider that fact. Do you really think you can kill her?” Levi spoke cooly as he stood infront of you, staring you down.

From afar you heard others speak, but your heartbeat clogged your ears as it deafened any other noise. Staring at Levi’s boots infront of you, you noted your blood coating the bottom before gently shutting your eyelids.

You could only hear Levi as he spoke from ahead of you, “I’m certain I can kill her. The only problem is I doubt I can do any less.” Levi proposed.

Hearing the pound of the desk above you, the judge made his decision. But you’d never make out what he proposed.

Footsteps stepped back from ahead of you as new ones came from behind you, uncuffing you and lifting the pole.

You tumbled forwards onto the unwelcoming ground, cautiously opening your eyes to the glaring sunlight that entered through the windows.

Eren ran to you, crouching down infront of you as you saw him shout words at you. He picked your head up in his hands and cradled you in his lap, checking for your pulse.

Your eyes began to shut again, your head lulling to the side to spot the raven head. Levi stared at you from afar, his arms crossed over his chest. The last thing you saw was the ravens dark gaze before your eyes rolled and all you saw was darkness.

be real, we all wish we were the ones being kicked

[goldenvoicedminstrel]

Hot take; Maglor has written every member of his immediate and extended family a song inspired by them. Every single one of them has promptly learned to play/sing that song, even if that is the only song they know (looking at you Caranthir) they know it perfectly.

This comes in handy later, because when Maglors memories start fading he keeps his family alive by singing their songs over and over. It’s also good for the family members, because when everything else about Maglors existence fades away, they have the songs to prove that he was real and that he loved them.

I had a lot of thoughts and even more emotions about this, so enjoy my rambling.

Let’s say it starts with someone, perhaps Fëanor, telling his small son the story of the Ainulindalë, how Eru composed the Great Music and the Ainur sang Arda into being, and how everything and everyone is a part of that Music.

Of course young Makalaurë, who learned to sing before he could speak, is enchanted. 

We are all a song! The next day he comes to Nerdanel and starts to hum a simple, sweet melody, that sounds a bit like a lullaby. When she asks what song it is, he only says: “Yours.”

(She begins to use it as a lullaby for him when he is afraid at night, and later for his brothers as well. It works without fail.)

And that is only the beginning. Because once he has started to hear the melody in everyone around him, he cannot stop and while the most important part is still the melody, he starts to make up words, too, and so the songs are born.

Maitimo’s gives him a lot of trouble at first. He is too young and inexperienced and he finds that his attempts to create something as graceful, kind and perfect as his older brother all fall short. It takes him years to finally put together a melody “well-formed” enough. It is indeed very beautiful and harmonic and has a majestic air to it that makes his brother blush, but Maitimo will always love best the first attempt his little brother presented him with so long ago.

It is easier for his younger brothers, children in general are louder in every way, and though he makes small changes over the years and adds parts to their songs as they grow, the melody at core remains the same.

Tyelko’s starts as a children’s rhyme, that teaches his brother to imitate the animals he loves (the elf version of old MacDonald had a farm) and evolves until it seems to be made up only of the sound of the birds and the barking of dogs and even, in a particularly dramatic moment, the bellow of a stag. 

Little Carnistir’s song starts out much quieter, but rises unexpectedly at times, and when his brother was very young, Makalaurë used to throw him into the air with the crescendos and he would shriek and giggle until he was red in the face. Later, he adds some words a plays on the numbers that Moryo so enjoys, and sometimes he can hear him absentmindedly hum the melody under his breath when brooding over another problem. (There is also a rhyme very obviously leading up to a swear word, which is then abruptly left out for comedic purposes.)

Words are important in Curvo’s song as well. It is the most complicated, fast-paced like their father’s, made up of many different parts all moulded together. There are many wordplays, because smithing is hard to portray in song, but word-smithing is much easier, and Makalaurë always knows when his brother is singing his song in his head, for an amused little smile appears in the corner of his mouth.

Each of the twins have their own song, but they are both built around the same musical theme and made to be sung as a duet. The Ambarussa immediately invent a game in which one of them hides in the woods, and the other, with his eyes closed, has to find him  only through singing his part and listening to the answering verse.

(He likes to add verses for special occasions and perform them elaborately. He did this for all his brothers when they came of age, and again for Curvo’s wedding. On the other hand he is not afraid to compose a verse of pure mockery when his brother have been getting on his nerves again. But those are only temporary of course. Though they can be very catchy.)

The last time he sings his brothers their songs, the last time any of them do so out loud in front of the others, is on the ship to Beleriand. He hopes it will raise their spirits and strengthen their resolve. 

Then their father dies violently and for the first time Makalaurë does not feel like singing, not even in grief.

(Or perhaps he stops singing them before that, when one of the Ambarussa fails to answer their brother’s song for the first time.)

Maitimo is taken and when he comes back, Maglor cannot bear to induce the torment his brother’s body and fëa have suffered into his melody as well, but when he tries to sing him his old song on his sickbed, Maedhros flinches away. And Maglor understands.

He has always tried to capture their fëa with his songs. But the people he wrote his songs about do not exist anymore, while at the same time he will not- cannot- erase this last piece of home, of a happier time, so he keeps the songs locked away in his mind, like a most priced jewel in a glass case, to be viewed but not touched again.

(Later, much later, when Maedhros steps forward, Silmaril in hand, into the fiery chasm, he does not remember his melody anymore.)

(When Caranthir dies alone in Doriath he hums.)

Yet still, parts of them, snippets of melody, make it into his greatest work before he realises it. His brothers’ songs become the strands that make up the frame of the Noldolantë, because as much as Maglor says the song is about the downfall of the Noldor, first and foremost, it is about his family.

He begins singing them again only after they are all gone.

They sound sad at first, because even the happiest song does when sung by a sad man,

but they become happier the longer he repeats them, and he is happier because he is with his brothers again and that feels so much more real than the cold, wet sand and hard rocks under his feet, and the chill clinging to his ragged clothes and protruding bones. 

The songs become happier and then they fade away.

But still they are sung in Valinor, where all those lost souls return to eventually.

After everything that has happened, it is not easy to remember the person you used to be and even harder to know who you are now.

When Nerdanel welcomes back her sons, who stumble out of the Halls like frightened children once again, she hums a melody to them that, she too, had locked away in her mind for a long time before releasing it again, in the times when the quiet was oppressing and the absence of her family like a physical wound. She hummed it under her breath or sang it to the empty room to remind herself her son had loved her once. 

Her own song. Calm and steady, slow where her husband’s had been fast, and repetitive where his had been ever changing. In every repetition a little detail had been changed, chiseled away like the outer layers of stone, until laid bare was the first song her son had ever written, a simple, sweet melody gifted by a little boy to his ammë.

She hums this melody into her sons’ ears when she takes them into her arms again for the first time in millennia, when they still cannot quite believe her to be real. Later she sings them another song, theirs, unchanged by time like none of them are, and her words are sincere and not filled with cruel irony.

The Ambarussa are the first to pick their melodies up again, and they begin to echo them back to each other like they did when they first learned them, and they rediscover that they are not alone.

Caranthir hums his song under his breath, and remembers he does not have to keep all his emotions hidden, and that his outbursts had once not only been angry, but filled with laughter as well.

Curufin repeats the familiar words, and recalls a time when his sharp tongue had been a source of amusement rather than manipulation, and his sharper mind had sough to solve complicated problems instead of creating them. 

Celegorm stands in the woods and imitates the animal calls his song helped him perfect long ago- and the animals answer him. He listens and laughs without cruelty, and remembers what love truly felt like.

Maedhros, when he finally arrives, sings the melody carefully, and when he tries to recreate its beauty, he remembers what it felt like to be whole and at peace.

But while they have their brother’s songs they do not have their brother.

They wait and they keep singing, hoping against all reason that somehow it might reach him, bring him comfort that they are safe now, bring him back to them.

He never comes. And so they cling to their songs in a way they cannot cling to him, and once again the songs remain unchanged.

Not because they pretend to be the same people they were before, but because this is the last thing they have of Makalaurë. He never wrote a song about himself, after all.

[johnkrrasinski]

baby, just say yes

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3,324

Warning: fluff!! pure feelings, inaccurate depiction of middle-age relationships (?)

Summary: inspired by taylor swift’s “love story” and a bit of bridgerton. james barnes was the son of your father’s rival. what happens when two star-crossed lovers fell in love? will their love conquer their families’ bad blood?

a/n: in honour of taylor releasing re-recorded version of love story, i wanted to write something inspired by it because i’m a sucker for fairytales (HA!) i wanted to post this on valentine’s day but it turned out to be longer than i planned. also, bridgerton might have influenced some of my writing. so enjoy! reblogs and comments are always appreciated. :)

The party was in full swing as the music enlivened the masquerade revellers in ball gowns and fancy suits. You stepped into the party in your best dress with your hair half pinned up in braids. You wore your fulgent jewellery proudly, not caring what anyone thought of your confidence. As the daughter of an aristocratic family, you never once had to worry about fortune or popularity. Your father was a powerful man and everyone knew and worshipped the ground you walked on. But really, you were smart enough to know that these people were merely a bunch of bootlickers. They wished to get close to you for your wealth and repute.

The ball that was held by your father bored you. You never really liked any of his associates. You were a naturally an introvert, you preferred to be alone in your room and read books or be with your dog. However, keeping up a good appearance, well your father’s appearance, was necessary to maintain the family’s name. So you had no choice but to get up, get ready and show your face.

You greeted one of your cousins, Bella, who had come all the way from France. She looked dazzling as always. She hoped to meet a rich husband in one of these balls, but none of them had been captivated by her enough to get down on one knee. Somehow, they always turned their heads to you even when you never displayed any interest in marrying any time soon.

People were chatting, laughing and drinking left and right, some were on the hunt for a match. A few men had come up to you and asked for a dance, you always came up with a reason to dodge them. So you ran to the nearest table to get a glass of champagne. A bit of alcohol could soothe your nerves.

And then, as if the world stopped moving and time froze. A man with short dark hair and navy blue velvet suit made an entrance to the ball. He folded his hands behind him and his walk displayed confidence and power. You couldn't see his entire face for he was wearing a mask but even with only half of his face was shown, you could already tell how handsome he was. The scruff on his lower face added to his sex appeal and there was a mysterious way about him.

He walked further into the ball until his eyes found yours, and it was like the butterflies in your stomach had been possessed. He boldly made his way towards you until you were standing face to face. You could make out his features more clearly now from this proximity. You couldn't help but instantly noticed his eyes; how translucent it was, not only in the colour but also the way it spoke to your soul wordlessly. And the blue in them made you think that God created him and inspired the ocean to seize the colour. And his smell was intoxicating. He had a masculine scent to him, filling up your thoughts with obscene scenarios. It piqued your curiosity about the man behind the mask.

You were a respected woman despite your age. Not only because of your family’s power but also because you carved out your image as this ‘untouchable, implausible’ lady to any man. It would take a true magnetic man to charm you and so far, you haven't crossed paths with one yet…. Until tonight.

He broke the silence first by greeting you, “hello there, milady. Quite a warm night, isn’t it?” Oh, how his voice was making you feel things you’d never felt before. Is this what love at first sight felt like?

“Yes, milord. It truly is.” You replied in a calm manner despite the hurricane inside you.

The orchestras began playing a lively tune, inviting men and women to pair up and dance. He held out his hand for you, “may I have this dance, milady?”

He led you to the centre of the ballroom. He stood in line with other men facing their partners. They bowed their heads and so did you with other women. They held out their hands for their partners to take and began putting their hands on their partners’ shoulders and waists.

You held your breath as he laid his hand on your skin, closing the distance between the two of you. He began to take the lead as your feet were moving in sync, trying not to step on him. You had taken dancing classes before but you almost never danced in the ballroom, so you were a little nervous about forgetting the lessons you had learned in front of this beautiful man.

“I never caught your name, milady.”

“I never caught yours either.” You snarked.

“I asked you first, milady,” the smirk on his face showed his amusement.

You chuckled, “My name’s y/n.”

“Such a lovely name for a lovely lady.”

“Oh, please. Cut the coquetry, milord. Plenty of men have told me that before.”

“Oh, have they?”

The choreography made you switch partners and you danced with this stranger. He looked delighted to have a chance with you but you merely smiled politely at him, until they switched back to your previous partners.

“Did that man tell you the same thing?”

“No, but I could tell from his expression that if we had danced a little longer, he would’ve found a synonymous flattery for me.”

“Are you used to having men throw themselves at your feet?”

“Yes, milord. I eat it for breakfast.”

You danced with him a little bit more until he spoke a hushed tone, “this party bores me. Would you like to meet me in the garden once this dance is over?”

“That would be splendid.”

The dance was finished and you bowed to each other and he kissed your gloved hand. “I’ll see you in the garden in 10 minutes.” He walked past by you, brushing your shoulder with his. You turned your head in his direction, deciding whether you should hold onto your words or not. But without much thinking, you took a glass of champagne and then snuck out, avoiding your parents’ scrutiny.

You found him standing there with his hands behind his back in the middle of the garden where flowers surrounded him, making the sight seem romantic. “Are you expecting someone, milord?”

“Not anymore,” he smiled. “I’ve persuaded you into a clandestine meeting, seems like I am winning the game.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, milord. I sneak out to the garden every day. Which reminds me, I didn’t quite catch your name back there.”

“My name’s James, milady. But, you may call me Bucky.”

Your furrowed your brows in a questioning look, “Bucky?”

“Yes. My mother bestowed me that nickname and the people that are closest to me call me Bucky.”

“Hm, is this another of your flattery that I get to call you ‘Bucky’?

“Yes, milady. I don’t take a lot of women to the gardens as well, so you could say you’re pretty special.”

“Let’s see how tonight goes and I will know.”

You and James talked some more. He told you stories about his family and you told him about yours. He also opened up about how his mother died. Though he looked dejected while telling stories about her, most of the times he was charming, with and clever, making you feel at ease in his company. You had met plenty of men but none of them had made you feel as comfortable as James did. He made you laugh several times with his jokes and you exchanged thoughts about social issues such as marriage, love, children with him. You always thought you’d never marry or perhaps you’d marry in your thirties or forties but it seems as if your heart is tossing away those ideas.

You were really enjoying your time with him that there was a moment where it was just the crickets and your soft breaths. You laid your head on his shoulder as his warmth engulfed you. You nearly fell asleep until the voice of your father disrupted your moment. “Y/N!” The sounds of footsteps were approaching and then your father’s incensed face came to view. “Y/N! What do you think you are doing?!”

“Father, calm down, I was merely promenading with James.”

“Milord, forgive me. I asked for your daughter to meet me in this garden. Please, don’t rebuke her.”

“You shut your mouth, young man. I know who you are and I would never let you lay a hand on my daughter, ever again. You should be ashamed o yourself.”

“Father, what are you so furious about?”

“Don’t you know who he is, y/n?!”

“No, who is he?” You looked at James then back to your father. James looked shocked at the intrusion.

“He is the son of that bastard, George Barnes. I had told you many stories about the lies and betrayals they did years ago. I would never forget them.” Your father enunciated those words as he stared into James’ eyes.

“Is that true?”

James looked doubtful, “yes.”

You felt dizzy. The first man that had truly captured your heart was the son of your families’ number one rival. It was as if the world didn’t like the idea of you finding love.

“Y/N, I swear, on my mother’s grave that I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were-”

“You stay away from my daughter! Do you hear me? If I ever see you anywhere near her, I will kill you with my own hands.” You father grabbed your hand then dragged you back to your carriage where your mother had been waiting for you both.

You tried to free yourself out of your father’s grip but it was to no avail. You looked back at James who was still standing there one last time before the carriage took you away. You cried all the way home.

-

It’s been three days since the debacle in the garden. You didn’t regret one thing about your feelings, but you blamed the universe for the circumstances. Out of all the people in the world, why must the man that you’d been waiting for was the one you couldn’t be with?

You missed James. You missed the warmth of being in his arms, the gentleness in his eyes and the way his voice soothed you. You wanted to see him more than anything but since that night, you begged your parents to let you see James, you fought tooth and nail to make your father change his mind, but all you got was being locked in your room after you threatened them to run away from home. They even went as far as hiring a guard to stand in front of your bedroom all day.

You sat by your window, looking up at the moon in your nightgown, wondering if James was thinking of you too until your reverie was disrupted by a knocking sound on your window. You instantly looked down to see what was the cause and the sight before you blew away the dark clouds above your head. James Barnes was standing below, with pebbles in his hand.

He smiled when you saw your face and you opened your windows, “James! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, of course. Are you able to come down?”

“I’ll try, but be quite okay? Don’t let anyone see you.”

You opened the lock of your door as quietly as possible. It was nearing 2 AM and the guard was snoring in his seat. You minded your steps like a ninja, not wanting to cause any noise. You held your breath when he stirred in his sleep but he thankfully he didn’t wake up. So you sprinted downstairs under the darkness of your mansion.

You quietly unlocked the door of the main entrance and immediately ran to the backyard, where James was waiting for you.

“James!” You shrieked. The joy in his face was palpable, so did yours. You ran to him, lifting your nightgown so you wouldn’t stumble and jumped on him and he caught you.

“I’ve missed you, princess,” James whispered breathily while hiding his face in your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you too. How did you know where I live?”

“I got connections. I’ve spent the last three days endlessly thinking of you.”

“I haven’t thought of anything else other than you too, James.”

He smiled then kissed you deeply, pouring all his longing in the last three days for you.

James took you to the outskirts of the town and you walked hand in hand, wandering around in the night. You talked about the history of your families and how your father wouldn’t let you go out alone knowing that you would try to see him and he told his father about you and what went down in the garden. You sighed, knowing that there was no chance for you and James to be together but then a fleeting thought came.

“Let’s run away,” you recklessly uttered.

“What?” James heard every word you said, he was just taken aback by what it meant.

“Let’s just… Get out of here. We can leave at midnight, I’ll pack up my things and we can be together.”

“Y/N, we can’t.”

“Why?” You were exasperated. “Don’t you wanna be with me, James?”

“I do, however, I can’t do that to you, my love. It’s too dangerous. Your father is a powerful man, I can’t imagine what he would do to us both if he found out.”

“We can, we just have to be careful! C’mon James, I’ve felt so alone my whole life until I met you. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“You won’t, darling. I promise you. I’ve got plans, okay? You just need to trust me.”

“Okay, I trust you.”

-

It had been a week since you last saw James and you were losing faith every day. You had no clue of what James was planning to do. You trusted him but you wished he had been more clear of his intentions. Now, all you could do was wait for him in silence, unable to do anything, like a kite in the wind.

“You haven’t touched your food, dear. Is everything alright?” Your mother asked from across the dining table.

“Yes, mother. I am simply not famished.”

“Eat some of your food, will you? I’d hate to see you ill.”

You wished you could sneak behind your father to vent to your mother about your feelings for James, however, you knew that your mother was loyal to your father and there was no secret between them. You used to hope that one day if you’d ever find a husband, you would have the same foundation in your marriage as your parents had, now you would be delighted if they announced their divorce so you could be free from your father.

The majordomo interrupted your dinner by informing that you had a couple of guests. By the look on your father’s face, you could tell that he wasn’t expecting any tonight, but he got up to welcome whoever was waiting outside anyway.

You heard your father’s booming voice from the dining table and you and your mother exchanged glances. You instantly followed him to see what was going on.

“You dare to show your face here after I’ve warned you of staying away from my family!”

And you stopped in your tracks when you saw James standing next to an older man facing your father. “James…”

“Y/N…” Without a second thought, you ran to him, wanting to hold and kiss him more than anything. For a second there, you forgot everyone was watching. But your father caught you and your guard held you back.

“Let go of me!”

“Now I want you out of my land and never to return or there will be a huge consequence.”

“I am here to make peace. My son told me about your daughter and I wasn’t keen on the idea of uniting our families but I am willing to try for him. Let’s end this bad blood between us, Robert. We shall not let our children suffer simply because of our pride.”

“I’d rather die than to let my your bastard of a son touch my daughter.” Your father gritted through his teeth. “Now leave or you will be removed forcibly.” Your father turned around but before he could close the door on them, James stopped him.

“I’m in love with your daughter, Sir Y/L/N.” That stopped your father in his tracks. “I have met many women yet, I have never felt this way for anyone,” James gazed into your eyes.

“In the last two weeks I have known her, I have learned that you raised a bright, courageous, loving, beautiful woman,” he paused, as if he was trying to show you the sincerity behind his confession. You didn’t realize tears have welled up in your eyes.

“From the very moment I saw her in that ball, I knew I’d live in regret if I didn’t catch her name before I leave. Your daughter stood out like a diamond in the dirt and it was an honour to held her hand while dancing. It was an honour knowing her. And it would be an honour to have her by my side until the end of my life,” He paused. “I know I am undeserving of your daughter but I will never let her doubt that she is loved and she deserves everything good I could offer.”

A single tear cascaded down your cheek. “So, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He moved closer toward you, and your father was left speechless by James’ words. James got down on his knee and presented a velvet box with a gleaming diamond ring inside it.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, thousand times yes.” James put the ring on your finger and you jumped on him and he caught you. For a minute there you forgot that there was still an unresolved animosity between your families, though your mother had a huge smile on her face and she nearly teared up at the sight of her daughter being so in love. George Barnes was smiling ear to ear as well, looking so proud of his son.

He thought that with his son’s reputation of being a rake, he would never settle. But he finally found his match and though he didn’t take it so pleasantly at first, James talked it out to him and George learned to be happy and accept it. George recalled the moment he fell in love with Winnifred, she didn’t come from an aristocratic family. She was merely a singer and his family didn’t approve but he opposed them and married her anyway until they had James. George also hoped that their marriage could end the bad blood between him and your father.

James set you back on the floor and you looked at your father. “Father? I love him and I may never fall in love again. Please, let me be with him. If you love me, you won’t stand in the way.” Your father was baffled, but the resentment in his eyes had softened. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life waiting for me to find someone to marry and keeping enemies? I’m marrying him whether you approve or not. But I wouldn’t want you to be absent from my wedding.”

Your father sighed, “are you happy?”

“More than I have ever been.”

“Then I suppose, I shall put my pride aside for the one person I love the most in the world.”

“Thank you, father.” You hugged him and he kissed the top of your head.

You grew up being cynical toward fairytales, but for once in your life, you believe that you have found your fairytale ending.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

‘Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon—Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

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[atinyarmyzen]

𝒸𝒶𝓃’𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓂𝑒?

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: brief mention of injury, some swearing

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: period setting, angst, fluff, you are the only child of a noble family who is an aspiring writer (much to your mother’s distaste), and one day to run into an old friend. 

𝐚/𝐧: this took way too long to write so sorry if you’ve been waiting a while, this idea popped into my head and I started writing it like a month ago on and off. I hope you enjoy this v fluffy dramatic ghost au!

You don’t know him, but he knows you. Yuta had been a lingering spirit in this house for over a century, and he has grown quite fond of you over the years. He used to be your “friend” when you were little, but you had long since forgotten him. It broke his heart, but he still loved watching you while you wandered around the huge manor, he loved your singing and watching you read by the window. He had grown content with the arrangement, him admiring you and you never noticing, until one day- you do.

Your family had lived in the house for a couple generations, though the huge manor has been there for hundreds of years before you. Your mother and father were nobles who owned a sizable chateau in the countryside. You were expected to be a debutant and were to be married off to some other noble. It felt more like being sold in your eyes, and you wanted no part of it. Rather than going to parties and balls you preferred to read your books and run around barefoot in the huge meadows. It was lonely considering you were the only child, but you didn’t mind. You preferred the people in your books, and would often visit places all around the world through the stories you read.

Yuta had been the spirit of the house for as long as he could remember. He could barely recall his mortal life, and his life as a spirit felt like eternity even though he had only been dead 100 years. He knew you since you were quite small, and you knew him. You were the only person that had ever actually seen him, and your sweet friendly soul made him feel like wasn’t alone - trapped on the other side of existence. You would often run down the long hallways together, laughing and giggling the whole way. To your parents, it just looked like you running around alone, and they often just passed it off as you being having a wild imagination.

Those were the best days of Yuta’s existence, but it was not to last. As you grew older, your “imagination” began to fade away. One day, Yuta found you where you normally were, in the library by your favorite window. He smiled as he snuck up on you, prepared to playfully spook you like he always would. Except when he jumped out in front of you, you didn’t move a muscle. You kept your eyes trained on the book as if you heard nothing.

“Y/N?” he questioned. Nothing.

He kneeled down in front of you, his big doe eyes looking up into your face as your eyes continued darting across the page. “Y/N?, what’s wrong?” he asked again, thinking you were just giving him the cold shoulder. “Have I done something wrong?” he pleaded, his brows knitted in concern. Yuta reached out his hand and cupped your face, he noticed the sun rays seeping through his ghostly form as he touched your soft cheek. Instead of meeting his eyes, you simply shivered and pulled the window shut as if there was a draft. Yuta drew his hand back, can’t you see him?

He heard your mother call you from the other room, your head immediately perked up in response. “Coming mother!” you announced as you closed your book and got up to leave. Yuta watched in horror as you walked right through him out of the room, his eyes pricked with tears as he watched his best friend leave. His heart shattered, he had never loved anyone so much and it seemed like you had all but forgotten him.

Years past and you grew into a young adult. You attended school, went to parties - or rather forced to go by your parents, and talked to what seemed like hundreds of bumbling idiots who just wanted to marry you for you family fortune. The only solace you found was in your library where you could escape to far off places in books, or running around with your small dog in the fields. Yuta had no choice but to watch you grow, and soon his fondness for the small child he knew grew into love for the beautiful angel that graced the halls of the estate. He had become content with his situation- as long as he got to admire you from afar, it did not matter if you could not see him.

Until one day.

You had become absolutely fed up with your parents incessant need to marry you off. Dinner, like always, turned into a debate over your free will.

“I’d rather chew glass than marry that fool.” you spat as you pushed the food around your plate.

“Y/n, stop being so ridiculous. Don’t pretend you never expected this time to come.” Your mother retorts.

“I’m sorry darling, but we have already discussed the arrangement with his family,  you can’t pull out now.” Your father added.

“I wish his dad pulled out but here we are.” You quipped under your breath.

Your father choked on his food and tried his best to stifle his laugh at your little joke. Your mother was less than pleased and scowled at you from across the table.

She shot daggers at your father. “I blame you for her mouth.”

“Would it really be that horrible if I didn’t marry? My literature instructor says I have a talent in writing and that I should consider publishing my stories. I could be so much more than somebody’s prize.” You said with an almost pleading tone.

“I won’t have my daughter becoming some kind of spinster lady. Can’t you see what’s best for your family?” Your mother said, sounding deflated. Your father kept his gaze down.

“I think “what’s best for me” are the words you’re looking for.” you seethed before you loudly pushed your chair back and sped out of the room.

You were too upset to even think about where you were going so your instincts took you right to the library where you sat on your seat by the tall glass window in a huff. All of it, the anger, frustration, sadness began to come to a boiling point. It felt like an elephant was sitting on your chest. Tears pricked your eyes and despite your best efforts they began to fall.

Yuta had heard the whole exchange at dinner, and watched from the corner of the room as your body heaved in sobs. It felt like someone was shoving a spike through his heart- he knew you. He knew you better than anyone, they way you prefer animals to people, your favorite books that you read through so many times the pages have worn, the way your eyes light up when you find inspiration for your stories. He knew what your dreams were- and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He felt helpless, he decided he would do his best to comfort you even if you couldn’t see him, maybe you could feel him. Just as he started towards you he knocked over a stack of books. He cringes at the sudden noise which instantly made you jump and whirl around.

“Hello?” you said, startled.

Yuta dashed behind a bookshelf, although he mentally kicked himself for it because you couldn’t see him anyway. You got up and cautiously stepped forward.

“Mother?” you called. There was no way the wind knocked that huge pile over.

You felt the hair on your arms and neck stand up. You realized that you were supposedly alone, but the sickly chilling feeling in your gut said otherwise. Despite your every nerve screaming at you to get the hell out of the room you moved closer to the corner where the noise came from. You were stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a faint shuffling behind the tall book shelf. You gulped and peeked into the shadows.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you thought it was going to be something that would haunt you forever. Instead, you found nothing but what looked like a young man sitting on the floor with his hands covering his eyes. He looked just as scared as you were. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and you studied his appearance a little closer. His form was shifty, as if he was not solid, he looked though he was dressed from a hundred years ago. He had long, sliver tresses that reached down the nape of his neck and brushed his forehead. He had delicate features and full, pink lips. You smiled at the boy, there was something so sincere and endearing about him.

You decided to clear your throat to announce yourself, “Ahem”.

The boy gasped and ripped his hands away from his face. He looked up at you with huge, sparkly dark eyes and you were sure you could see your reflection in. Something about his eyes struck you- they were oddly familiar. You stared at each other for a while before he snapped out of his trance and quickly stood up. You were taken aback at how you were suddenly looking up at him, he looked to be about your age.

“You can see me?” He finally spoke.

“Of course I can.” You replied as if you see him everyday.

“Do you remember me?” Yuta said quietly.

“Remember you? I’ve only just met you.” You stared at him quizzically

Yuta’s heart sank, he thought maybe after seeing him for the first time in years you would recognize him. Still, he was thrilled you could see him at all.

“Are you afraid?” the boy asked.

“Should I be?” you retorted.

He chuckled. “No, not of me at least.” He grinned.

This was the second time he made your heart do flips in the span of 30 seconds. His smile was enchanting. It made you feel safe, warm, and again- he seemed oh so familiar. You felt like you could trust him with your life, and you had no idea why.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Good. I’m y/n.” You said, reaching out your hand.

Yuta stared at your hand for a minute before he took it in his and lifted it to his lips. You were taken aback, expecting a handshake. He pressed a kiss to the back on your hand while keeping eye contact with you. You gasped slightly, his hands felt cool, but his lips were warm. His gaze was so intense compared to moments ago, and it sent shivers up your spine.

“I know. I’ve known you since you were quite small.” He smiled as he straightened up again. “I’m Yuta, I’m the spirit that lives in this house.”

“Well Yuta, it’s nice to finally know you. How can I see you?” You asked

“Very few humans can at your age, usually it’s just children.” Yuta explained.

“I see.” You reached out to touch his face. “May I?”

Yuta nodded. You gently touched his cheek, it felt like a thick, cool air. He lifted his hand to cover yours. You noticed you could see your hand through his shifty one. “Can you feel anything?” You asked curiously.

“Barely, I can only feel warmth, but no sensation like I did when I was alive.” He said flatly.

“Wow.” You said, astonished that you were actually speaking to a fully materialized spirit.

Yuta chuckled at your child-like wonder. “You know you don’t have to go through with it.” He said after a short silence.

“What?” You say, puzzled. “You heard that?”

Yuta smiled shyly. “Yeah, most of it.” He said fidgeting with his hands. He then looked up at you with wide eyes. “Not that I eavesdrop or watch you all the time- I just- well- “ He began to panic. You laughed and reached up to “touch” his shoulder comfortingly.

“Don’t worry- I don’t think you’re a pervert.” You said, giggling.

Yuta sighed. “Oh, good. I didn’t realize that sounded rather creepy.” He laughed nervously.

You laugh again. “I’m glad there’s someone I can get along with around here. I would tell you to make yourself at home but you were here long before me.” You turned to pick up some of the fallen books and start putting them back in their respective places.

Yuta leaned his shoulder against the shelf with his arms crossed, smiling fondly at you as you move around the room, going on about the different books you’ve been reading. I felt like no time had passed, like everything was right in the world again.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

From that day forward, Yuta became your confidant. Being as you were the only one that could see him, you figured there was no harm in telling him all of your secrets, fears, and dreams. On top of that, there was something about Yuta that felt incredibly safe. Even if he were alive, he would still be your closest friend.

If you spent a lot of time alone before, it was like you were a hermit now. You really left the library, and sometimes it even sounded like you were talking to yourself. Your mother pressed her ear to the large wooden door, curious as to who you were talking to.

“That girl, she worries me.” She said, knowing for a fact you were alone in there.

Despite the growing concern of your parents, you were the happiest you had been in a long time. Yuta was always with you, he made you belly laugh until your ribs hurt, always wanted you to read him your stories, and he told you stories from when he was alive.

“I am 125 years old you know.” he said after he finished telling you about his childhood.

“You don’t look a day over 25.” You said sarcastically.

“Oh stop, you make my blush.” He said exaggerating his gestures.

“If you could even blush.” You quipped

He feigned a shocked gasp. “How rude Miss Y/n. I thought you were a lady.” Yuta fired back with a smirk.

You snickered. “If being a lady means I have no sense of humor, then I’m no lady.”

Yuta chuckled at you, your unapologetic attitude was one of the things he adored about you. His gaze lingered for a bit as you concentrated on the book in your hands.

“You know you don’t have to go through with it.” He said suddenly changing the subject.

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“You don’t have to marry that pompous ass if you don’t want to.” He clarified.

You scoffed. “Yuta, you of all people should know the world doesn’t work like that.” Your eyes went back to your book.

“I wish we would have lived at the same time.” Yuta’s voice suddenly became softer.

You looked up to meet Yuta’s eyes- they could be so intense sometimes. Words were suddenly lost on you, your lips parted but nothing escaped. You were suddenly aware of the proximity of his face to yours. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then tracing your jaw with his finger until he reached your chin. You felt goosebumps erupt on your arms, the cool air suddenly making you shiver.

Yuta noticed and pulled his hand away. “Sorry.” he breathed. “I forget how cold I am.” He said sadly, his eyes downcast.

You gently brought you hands up to his face, causing him to meet your eyes. He looked surprised.

“Me too.” you said quietly. “Maybe in another life, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you for a husband.” You smiled.

Yuta’s face lit up with a huge grin that reached his eyes. He laughed breathily.

“I suppose this would be a good time to tell you I have loved you since you were small.” He brought a hand up to hold yours against his face. “But I’ve been in love with you since you’ve grown up into the beautiful person you are now.”

There was a moment of pause as you stared in the galaxies that seemed to be swirling in his eyes. All you could hear was your breathing growing shallower and your blood rushing in your ears. He was perfect.

Now or never.

You leaned in slowly, as if being magnetically pulled. Your lips hovered over his; he stayed still. Both of your eyes were half-mast as you stared at each other’s lips.

He pulled away.

You deflated. Yuta kept his gaze down. “I can’t.” He said in a thin voice. “And why not?” you retorted. He met your eyes with his glassy ones. “If I am going to kiss you- of which I want nothing more- I want to be able to feel you, and you me. You deserve that.”

“I don’t care Yuta. You have already given me what I know I will never have in this life.” You breathed, feeling tears begin to prick your eyes. “I love you.”

Yuta blanched at your words. He had gone too far, let his own selfish desires to be with you again get in the way. If you really wanted to be with him, what was the cost? He could never give you what you wanted from him. “You deserve someone who can give you a real life, a human one.”

You stood up abruptly with your back to him. The tears that had been gathering in your eyes spilled over, suddenly it was hard to breathe. Why was he doing this? You spun around to face him. “Then why?” you said with a shaky voice. “Why did do all of this? If you knew all along that you loved me why would you wait until the moment I realized that I loved you too to break my heart?!” Your voice began to rise as you spoke.

Yuta looked at you with a helpless look on his face. “I’m sorry.” was all he could choke out before his head fell into his hands and he began to sob. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at his any longer before rushing out of the room.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

You hadn’t seen Yuta in weeks. You barely spoke, your appetite was all but gone, and you cried nearly every night. You had forgotten how lonely it all was before him. You had become completely apathetic to your situation, allowing the your betrothal to become official. The wedding was in a week, and you were dragged to countless meetings with your dress designer, dance lessons, and wedding plans that your mother was far more excited about than you were. You spent any other time you had locked away in your room writing. At least in the world of your own creation, the heroine was able to have the life you wanted. She could have a career, travel the world, walk along the streets of big cities, and still have the love of a lifetime without having to sacrifice a single thing.

One day, you sat at your writing desk by the tall window, watching your tears fall to the paper below in soft patters. You looked up into the mirror, you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. You were frail and your skin had taken on a dull sallowness. You could feel yourself slipping, the constant despair causing your to fray at the seams. You closed you eyes for a moment before opening them to see a head of silvery hair standing behind you. His eyes were just as doe-like as ever- they looked at you with such sadness. With a sharp gasp you turned only to find nobody behind you. You looked back to the mirror to see only yourself reflected back at you. There was no way of knowing if you imagined it or if he was really there. It all became too much, and with a pained scream you shattered the mirror in front of you with your fists.

Where is he?

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

Despite the fussing of everyone around you and your mother’s scolding, your lacerated hands hardly concerned you. You sat in your nightgown still, in your usually chair by the window in the library. You fiddled with your bandages on your hands before one of the house attendants had come in.

“Miss Y/n?” he spoke softly.

You quickly snapped out of your trance, “Yes?”.

“A letter for you, miss.” He said as he handed you a small envelope with a seal.

You offered him a small smile, “Thank you.”

Your literature professor had told you to send off one of your stories to a publishing company in New York City. You eyed the wax seal on the envelope, and broke it.

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒴/𝓃,

𝒲𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓅𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒴𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝓊𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓊𝓈 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃.

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈,

𝐸𝓁𝒾𝓏𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝒾𝓃, 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝑒𝒻

Holy shit. You thought, quickly folding up the letter and going to your room to hide it in your desk drawer. This was surreal, never did you think you could actually get published- by one of the largest publishers in the country no less. Your wedding was in a week, what could you possibly do about it now? You slightly cursed yourself for being so resigned about your engagement. Until you remembered Yuta’s words:

“You don’t have to do it you know, I think you know that too. You could leave it all behind and be perfectly fine on your own.”

You turned to your bed to pull out a large suitcase, throwing it open before shoving every possession you could fit inside. Your life wasn’t here, especially now that Yuta had gone. You thought of your family- their disappointment. Your mother’s you could deal with, but when your mind crossed your father there was a slight tinge of guilt. You paused your movements for a moment. He understood you, and he always stood up for you when your mother would get particularly overbearing. Still, you knew he wouldn’t stop the engagement. You snapped out of your trance and continued to pack until were interrupted by a knock at your door.

You jumped at the sudden noise, suddenly aware you could be discovered. “Yes?” you called.

“Supper is ready Miss” someone said from the other side of the door. “Be right there!” you shouted.

Shit. You thought. You quickly shut your suitcase- which took a fair amount if effort due to how utterly stuffed it was. Shoving it under the bed, you fixed your slightly disheveled hair and left your room to meet your parents who were already sitting at the dining table.

“You look flushed, dear.” Your mother commented upon looking at your face. “Is everything alright?” She asked while sipping her wine.

“Yes, mother. It’s just rather chilly today.” You lied. You father just looked at you with a raised eyebrow before going back to pouring his own wine.

You were on edge the whole time, your leg constantly bouncing while mindlessly pushing food around your plate. You could barely stomach the idea of food due to house nervous you were. You were making your escape tonight, you thought. All you have to do is wait till dark. As soon as supper was over you quickly excused yourself and shoved your chair back before leaving the room without another word.

“She has barely said a word for weeks.” Your mother said lowly. “What on earth has gotten into her.”

“She wasn’t meant for this life.” You father mumbled. “She’s far too smart and stubborn.” You mother continued to watch the door where you had walked out. Her eyes narrowed before she finished her wine. “I blame you.” She said bitterly.

You rushed to the library to gather the few books you new you couldn’t live without. You dashed around the room, stacking them in your arms before you came to your usual spot by the window. You looked at the scattered books and your scrapped pieces of your writing. Your eyes stopped on a small drawing you had sketched while you and Yuta were spending one your usual days lazing around the library. He was facing you, his gaze turned out the window in front of him. Though you’re no artist and you could never do his angelic features justice, you could still very clearly remember the scene. You stuffed it in your pocket before heading back to your room to get the rest of your things together. For the first time in your life you had never felt so sure of something. Although you might never see Yuta again, he could never leave your memory- no amount of distance nor the passage of time could change that.

You bittersweetly smiled to yourself as you made your way down the hall to your room. You struggled to open the door with all the books in your arms and barely noticed someone sitting on the chair at your desk.

Your mother.

She was holding the letter.

All of the breath left your lungs, there was an icy feeling in the pit of your stomach. All of the hope you had deflated in a matter of seconds.

“After all I’ve done.” Your mother started, still staring at the letter. “You still are adamant on destroying our family.”

There was silence for a several moments. You had tolerated her snide remarks and constant distaste for everything that made you happy. You played along with her ideas for your entire life, and for what?

“No, mother.” you said in a low voice. “You are adamant on destroying me.”

Your mother quickly stood up and rushed over to you. “How could you be so selfish?!” She seethed, her face just inches from yours. “Do you honestly expect that you could survive in this world all on your own? Don’t you know that isn’t possible for us?!” She said in a mix of anger and tears.

“Just because you gave up on your dreams doesn’t mean you can get in the way of mine.” You said in a flat, low voice.

Your mother shook with rage and tears before she pushed past you and stopped with her hand on your door handle. “I will not have my family be a laughing stock just because you have silly delusions. You will stay in this room until the wedding if that’s what it takes.” She spat before slamming the door.

“NO!”  You heard the faint sound of a lock from the outside. You slammed on the wooden door with your fists in rage until it eventually turned into tears of frustration. You eventually slumped against the door, exhausted.

Hours passed and shadows stretched across your room as the sun sank into the earth. The only light coming from the small lamp in your room. Everything was numb, all your fight had left you. You leaned back against the cool wood of your door, still sat the same spot you slumped in. You let out a sigh before felt yourself falling backward. You yelped as the door opened behind you and you fell  out into the hallway.

“What the hell-“ you began before you looked up.

Yuta.

You stared for a few seconds in disbelief thinking it was just another one of your hallucinations. Yuta’s brows were knitted as he stared down at you.

“Well? Don’t just lie there, you don’t have much time.” He said. You looked at him quizzically before it dawned on you: he was helping you escape. Yuta seemed to notice your moment of clarity and offered his signature smile. You got yourself off the floor and looked him in the eyes. Tears pricked your eyes as you smiled at him. Without really thinking you threw your arms around him, and you were surprised to feel warmth rather than the coolness of his shifty figure. It didn’t quite feel like a typical hug, but more like being enveloped in warmth.

“I missed you.” Was all you could say. You both stayed there for a few moments before you felt his warmth pull away from you.

“I never left.” He said with a warm grin. “Now hurry up, lady. I don’t pick locks for just anybody.” He winked.

You grinned widely before running off to grab all of your things. It was probably just before dawn by the looks of it, Yuta lead you to a small doorway that you had never seen before. “This was how I sneaked out.” He told you. You huffed in amusement before grabbing a hold of the handle, it was old and probably hadn’t been opened in years. You had to use all of your strength to slide it open, it was slowly beginning to inch open before you heard a voice.

“Y/n.”

You jumped and fell backward before looking up to see your father with an unreadable expression on his face. Your heart was leaping out of your chest, you looked around and saw Yuta standing next to you with a panicked expression on his face. If you weren’t screwed before, you definitely were now. \

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said in a grave voice before walking over to you. He helped you off the floor, and you kept your eyes glued to them.

“Without this?” He continued. Your eyes snapped up to see him holding an envelope. You met this eyes with your brows knit together, utterly confused.

You took it from him and opened it. Inside it was a train ticket and some cash. Your mouth fell open before you looked back up at your father who was smiling fondly. He took your face in his hands and gingerly kissed your forehead before meeting your eyes with his glassy ones.

“Go.” He said with a wide, proud smile.

You kissed his cheek before telling him you loved him and that you would write when you got to New York before you scurried out the door. You came out the other side to see the garden just outside your favorite window by the library. You took a deep inhale of the crisp morning air and saw the sky begin to tinge with orange as the sun began to rise. You opened your eyes to see the window open and Yuta staring at you with a fond look on his face. Despite your joy, your heart deflated when you made the realization.

Yuta would probably never see him again. You ran over to him placing both your hands on the window sill as he leaned down on his elbows. “Come with me.” You said through the tears painting your cheeks. Yuta gave you a sad chuckle before he reached his hand out to your face. You leaned into the warmth and closed your eyes. “I can’t.” You voice broke. “Not without you.” You opened your eyes to meet his and scanned his features for a moment, desperately trying to engrain his beautiful face in your memory. The sunlight shone faintly through his slightly transparent figure, giving him an ethereal glow.

He was the first to break the silence. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll see you again soon.” You were confused. “How?” you asked.

He chuckled again. “I’ve waited a hundred years to meet you, what’s another few decades?” You smiled at his jest. Yuta brought his hands to your face, they felt almost real this time. “Go, I want you to live. Be the heroine in your stories. Go on adventures. Break hearts. Feel heartbreak. Laugh till you can��t breathe. Feel it all, the greatest joy and the deepest pain. Write your stories. Then, after you’re old and grey and it’s time for you to leave this world, you can tell me all about it.” You let out a shaky laugh between your sobs, never had you felt more pain and love at the same time. Yuta leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. This time, you swore you could feel the plushness of his lips and his fingertips grazing your jaw and neck. You felt his pull away and opened your eyes to meet his. They never failed to put you in a trance.

“I love you.” You said in a voice just above a whisper. You saw his pupils dilate as he heard your words.

“If you only knew how much I loved you.” He said with the most beautiful smile that lit up his eyes like stars.

“Now beat it, you have a train to catch.” He joked. You chuckled. You abruptly turned to leave to save yourself from further torture. You ran across the meadow to your horse. You strapped down your things and hoisted yourself up before taking one last look at the window. Yuta was still there, he gave you a small wave. “See you soon.” You whispered before spurring your horse forward into a brisk run.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ • ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ 

Snow fell softy outside your window, the city took on a unique charm during the winter. The lights glittered and the people bustled down below, never stopping for a heartbeat. You looked around your home that you had called your own for decades. There was a piece of you here that would never leave, given you had written some of the most bestselling novels in history within these walls. All of the fame had made for an extraordinary life, but even in the moments of utter chaos time would slow to a crawl when he would cross your mind.

Over the years you wondered if it was all your imagination and if you ever actually would see him again. You reached to the side of your bed and picked up a small compact you kept with you all the time. You opened it to find the drawing of Yuta you had made all those years ago, it was your only way to remember his face as the years went by. Then you looked over to the mirror in the other side and saw your face. You were no longer the youth you once were, you looked over the way time had wore over your face. You smiled, it was proof you had kept your promise to Yuta, or leaving it all behind would have been for nothing.

You closed the locket and held it to your chest as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep. It felt strange like, you were being enveloped in warmth, the noises around you starting to blur and echo, as if you were under water. You heard a voice whisper right before everything turned black.

You woke with a gasp. It felt as though you had slipped into a deep ocean and couldn’t stop yourself until all of the sudden you were brought back to the surface. The room your were in was flooded with sunlight and you squinted as your eyes adjusted. What soon came into focus was the library from your family home. Everything was the same, except it felt different. Lighter, dreamier, as if time didn’t really move here. Looking down at your hands, they were no longer veiny and wrinkled from time, but youthful again. You turned your head to the window, a boy sat there. A boy with silver hair. As if he knew you had spotted him, he turned his head to meet your eyes. He smiled as if he was expecting you.

Yuta.

He stood up as you ran to him and nearly knocked him over as you embraced. He  was real, you could feel his solid form as you buried your face in the hair that dusted his neck. He smelled exactly how you imagined and he was so, so warm. You felt the vibrations of his low laugh as you clung to him desperately. He pulled back to look at your face before he kissed you, gently brushing his thumb along your neck where his hold was. You were finally home.

You pulled away from each other before letting out a giggle. “I have so much to tell you.” You said. He smiled. Not a thing about him had changed.

“And I can’t wait to hear all of it.”  

[puppywritings]

you make it feel like christmas - kim doyoung x gender-neutral reader 

⇢   synopsis: when you entered your job a few years ago, you found your best friend, doyoung. the two of you were partners-in-crime, platonic soulmates. however, during a drunken phone call with doyoung’s mother, she catches the wrong idea and invites you to spend christmas with their family… as doyoung’s partner. ever the mama’s boy, doyoung doesn’t want to disappoint her. and you? you’re counting down the days until you can stop this lovers pretence and slap your best friend upside the head.

⇢   word count: 5.6k ⇢   trigger warnings: alcohol use resulting in minor memory loss, swearing, slight suggestive references. this piece is suitable for all audiences! 

⇢   a/n: this is my piece for @pastelsicheng​ and @dearyongs​‘ a taste of winter collab. quick disclaimer that doyoung’s family in this fic may not represent his real life family situation, however this is a work of fiction and isn’t meant to mirror real life. i don’t know doyoung, nor do i know his mother, and the characters represented in this writing are fictitious versions of them. furthermore, the christmas traditions depicted in this story are mainly based on my own experiences celebrating the holidays in england.

⇢   taglist: @hunjins​ @ahgase55g7​ @mmoondance​ @notnctu​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @yeoshwa​ @infnteen​ @neonun-au​ @luvlala​ @neo-shitty​ @yutacrush​ @ethaeriyeol​ @fairyinaflowercrown​ @in-my-neofeelings​ @dreamieofu​

"All I want for Christmas is youuu, baby!"

Doyoung's voice was almost deafening in your ear, which would've been a problem if you were sober. Your voice, too, merrily drunk and far too loud, belted out the holiday tunes. Your best friend's arm was slung around your shoulder, and yours was around his waist. It was like the blind leading the blind, however; neither of you were keeping your balance very well. The two of you staggered together, navigating the city's streets back to his apartment.

The Christmas party that your office held would have been okay without your favourite coworker - you would've had a good time and enjoyed yourself, sure. But with Doyoung's presence, paired with the copious amounts of alcohol, it had been a riot. Even if you had peaked too early and had to depart by 11pm. 

Doyoung was, undoubtedly, the best part about your job. The workload wasn't overwhelming, nor was it tedious, and the salary was nothing to sneeze at. But, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing your job had ever provided you with was the opportunity to meet your best friend. Doyoung was your platonic soulmate, and your favourite person.

"Hey," Doyoung slurred, calling out to you suddenly. "Is that your ringtone?"

Squinting, you listened closely. "No, Doie," you hiccupped. "I think that's your ringtone."

"Oh, shit,'' Doyoung mumbled, diving into his coat pocket to retrieve his ringing phone. "My mom! She's facetiming."

Your vision was blurred, but you very vaguely saw Doyoung answer the call, bringing up his mother's image on his phone screen. Though you’d been best friends with Doyoung for a few years, you’d never met her. Doyoung lived and worked alongside you in the city, but his mother lived a while away in the countryside, and so your paths had never crossed.

"Hi Mom," Doyoung waved at her.

"Doyoung? Where are you?"

"I'm walking home, Mom," he responded, beaming at her through his phone.

"You sent me a strange text message," she told him, her voice raised a little more than necessary - Doyoung had mentioned that she was somewhat inept when it came to technology. 

"Huh?" Doyoung looked confused.

"Something about lunch the day after tomorrow," she elaborated. "Doyoung, you aren't coming home for the holidays until next week, right?"

"Ah," Doyoung said, understanding. "That was meant for somebody else, sorry Mom."

"My boy," you heard her tut, and you laughed. "Is someone there with you, Doyoung?"

"Yeah," Doyoung nodded, "Y/N is here."

"Hi, Mrs Kim," you waved, as Doyoung turned the screen towards you. If you weren't so drunk, you would've been nervous about meeting your best friend's mother for the first time. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) your bloodstream was mainly rum at that point, so you had absolutely no worries nor qualms. 

“Kim Doyoung! Why didn’t you tell me you had a partner?” his mother blurted out.

“Huh?” exclaimed Doyoung, utterly confused.

“Oh Doyoung, you must bring Y/N home for the holidays! I can’t wait to meet them,” she cooed.

“Mom, wait-”

“See you two next week!” she cheerily said her goodbyes before hanging up, disappearing from the screen and leaving the two of you in silence. 

Doyoung looked at you. You looked back at him.

“Did she…” you began, not quite wanting to end your sentence.

Doyoung nodded gravely. “She thinks we’re dating.”

The look on Doyoung’s face - eyes wide, lips in a straight, serious line - it was too much for you. You snorted, gripping his arm as you buckled in laughter. He wasn’t far behind you, bursting into a fit of giggles too. You and Doyoung loved each other, that was indisputable. But it was completely and entirely platonic. The two of you laughed together the rest of the way home.

As you were coming to your senses the next morning, you groaned. Why the hell did you feel so lousy? you wondered, full to the brim with self-pity. Your head pounded, a throbbing ache so strong you were certain somebody was banging pots and pans in your brain. Your throat was so, so dry, and you felt as though you could drink a whole gallon of water and still be thirsty afterwards. And then the memories of the previous night came flooding in.

Ah, you thought, Now it all makes sense.

You sorted through the events of last night, mentally flicking through the filing cabinet of your memories. A filing cabinet that was sorely empty when it came to the night prior. You remembered arriving at the party with Doyoung; you remembered the first few drinks, but following that your memories began to fade. You remembered Doyoung pressing a sloppy kiss to your boss’ cheek - a rather stoic middle-aged man - and you had no doubt that Doyoung would be apologising profusely on Monday morning. You had absolutely no recollection of the walk home, but since you had awoken in Doyoung’s spare bedroom, you supposed the night could have gone worse. At least you made it home safe.

Begrudgingly, you threw back the blankets and lifted yourself out of bed. Doyoung - bless his heart - had left you some painkillers and a glass of water on the bedside table. You consumed both of them gratefully and emerged from the spare room, wincing at the sunlight that met you. As you made your way down the hallway, whistling met your ears. How Doyoung could be so lively after a night of heavy drinking, you had no idea.

“Why the hell do you never get hungover?” you grumbled at him as you entered the kitchen, finding him at the stove.

“Good morning to you, too, sleeping beauty,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Seriously,” you continued as you took a seat at the kitchen island, “I swear I get hungover enough for the both of us.”

“Thank you for taking on that burden,” Doyoung replied sweetly, which you responded to with a spiteful glower. It doesn’t last long, however; Doyoung finishes cooking breakfast, and dishes you up a serving. Sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, baked beans, hash browns, and toast. As much as you playfully bickered with Doyoung, he was an absolute treasure.

“Doie, you’re a gift from the heavens,” you praise him, the sight of the warm, greasy food reviving your soul almost immediately. 

Doyoung took a seat next to you, placing down a plate of his own breakfast. “So,” he began, “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Huh?” you asked, suddenly wondering if you’d forgotten something drastic. “Did we…”

“Oh my god, no,” Doyoung denied quickly.

“Thank fuck,” you sigh in relief. Your best friend was attractive, definitely. But you saw him as more of a sibling than a lover.

Doyoung waited a moment before explaining, and with each second that passed, your suspicions rose. “My mom… She’s invited you to spend the holidays with us.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. That confession was a lot tamer than what you’d expected. “Sure, that sounds great. I was spending the holidays alone this year anyways.”

“There’s a catch.”

You dropped your knife and fork onto your plate. “Doyoung,” you groan, “Why is there always a catch?”

“My mom thinks we’re dating.” Doyoung pointedly avoided your eye contact while he spoke.

“And you corrected her, right?” you asked, fearing the worst. Doyoung’s silence only confirmed your fears. “Right?” 

“She was so happy when she thought I was dating someone! And she’s been on my back about settling down forever,” Doyoung rambled, trying to save himself from your wrath - to no avail.

“Doyoung!”

“Please, Y/N. It’ll only be for a few days,” he pleaded, clasping his hands together and giving you his very best puppy-dog eyes. And you had to admit, they were some top-notch puppy-dog eyes.

You gave a resigned sigh, and Doyoung cheered. “Fine. But only because I really want to try your mom’s cookies.”

“You’re the best friend in the world,” Doyoung complimented you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You whined at him, fighting the urge to bat away his affections; in your hungover state, you were not at all ready for hugs.

“Then make me some more hash browns,” you grumbled. If Doyoung was prepared to put you in this situation, he’d better also be prepared to pay you for it.

“You got it, best friend,” Doyoung beamed at you, getting up to obey your command. “You should pack those Christmas pyjamas you’re wearing, by the way. My mom would love them.” You scowled at him. He immediately backed down, waving away his previous statement. “We can figure out the logistics later.”

“You better make this worth my while, Kim Doyoung.” When he served you your hash browns, you were still scowling.

As the taxi pulled up at Doyoung’s childhood home, you couldn’t help but marvel at it. You raised a hand to the cab’s window, looking out at the idyllic cottage, rooftop covered in snow, decked out in twinkling Christmas lights. The environment had grown increasingly more peaceful as you had travelled out of Seoul and deeper into the countryside, picturesque hills and winding valleys rolling past the train windows. This place felt worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and it was difficult to feel even slightly stressed. Even if the situation your best friend had put you in was less than ideal, this was an absolutely beautiful place to spend the holidays - it looked like it had jumped straight out of a Christmas card.

Despite the beautiful winter wonderland before you, you still weren’t prepared for the cold that hit you when you stepped out of the cab. You busied yourself getting the luggage from the trunk while Doyoung paid the driver.

“Are you ready?” Doyoung asked you, looking into your eyes sincerely.

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You gave him a smile, reassuring him. The truth was, you were truly excited to spend the holidays with Doyoung and his mother; you were excited to meet her, to eat her home cooking, to hear stories about Doyoung in his youth. You just had some qualms about the whole fake relationship pretense, and you really didn’t want to let your best friend down.

“Y/N?” Doyoung spoke, taking bags out of your hands.

“Yeah?” you asked, watching wistfully as the taxi drove away.

Doyoung smirked at you. “Just try your best not to fall in love with me for real, okay?”

You rolled your eyes so hard they practically fell out of your head. “You wish.” Just as the cottage door swung open, you reached for Doyoung’s hand, holding it tightly. So began the relationship charade.

“Doyoung, my boy,” his mother beamed, coming out to greet her son. It was hard not to smile upon seeing her - she was clearly over the moon to see you and Doyoung, and her joy was infectious. She was a small woman, but you had gathered from Doyoung’s description that she certainly had a big character. She welcomed her son into an embrace, kissing his cheek. “You don’t visit home enough, Doyoung,” she chided lovingly.

“And you must be Y/N,” she spoke, moving her gaze onto you. She looked at you fondly, and you beamed back at her. “You’re so beautiful,” she praised you.

Your cheeks, already red from the cold, blazed a little brighter. “Thank you, Mrs Kim.”

She wagged a finger at you. “Mrs Kim, you make me sound so aged. Please, call me Mom.” She turned around, welcoming the two of you inside, and you shared a smile with Doyoung. 

The interior of the cottage was every bit as charming as the exterior. Family photos decorated the walls, and warm rugs hugged the floors. You supposed the home would have a cozy feeling all year round, but now, in the festive season, the place was dressed up to the nines. Lavish paper chains were strung up, along with twinkling lights and boughs of holly. Not to mention the Christmas tree; though not huge it was still sizeable, likely the biggest Mrs Kim could fit through the cottage door. It was embellished with golden tinsel and crimson baubles.

“Your home is so beautiful,” you commended. “Did you decorate yourself?”

“All by myself,” Doyoung’s mother confirmed proudly.

“This must’ve been a beautiful place to grow up,” you marvelled, your comment pointed towards Doyoung, who smiled back at you appreciatively.

“Oh, the stories I have about Doyoung growing up,” Mrs Kim said, and you detected a mischievous tone.

“I can’t wait to hear them,” you grinned.

“And see them!” she added. “I have so many photo albums.”

Doyoung groaned, while you and Mrs Kim laughed in the presence of his misery. Yes, you decided. You were going to enjoy this visit very much.

When you settled into bed that night, you were beyond exhausted. Doyoung’s mother had kindly set you up in the spare room, which was delightfully warm and snug. Doyoung’s childhood bedroom contained only a single bed, whereas the spare room had a double bed to accommodate you - the ‘couple.’ Though it had only been a few hours since you’d arrived that afternoon, the gravity of your situation had well and truly sunk in. The performative affection you and Doyoung had been carrying out was alien, equal parts strange and comical.

“I can’t believe the amount of times you called me Honey today,” Doyoung scoffed amusedly, dressed in his blue flannel pyjamas with his dark hair laying flat and fluffy on his forehead. He turned off the big light to leave the room illuminated by the warm glow of the table lamps, before climbing into bed beside you.

“Mock me all you want, Doyoung, but I think I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you return smugly.

“Well, I can’t imagine it’s hard. I’m very easy to love. You on the other hand?” Doyoung faked a weary sigh. “I have my work cut out for me.” You flicked Doyoung on the forehead, snickering when he yelped. 

You yawned, depositing your phone on the bedside table and snuggling down into the blankets. Though you were exhausted, and the cottage was immensely cozy, it always felt a little strange to fall asleep in a new place. You were thankful for the company of your best friend, who always put you at ease.

“I hate sharing a bed with you,” you grumbled your complaint. Despite the comfort he brought you, he wasn’t the easiest person to sleep with. “You starfish. I always wake up with, like, one centimetre of bed space.”

Doyoung dropped his phone, letting it fall onto the blankets. He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “One centimetre?”

“Yeah, one centimetre!” you insisted.

“Well, I always wake up with your cold feet on my legs,” he rebutted.

“Yeah, well-” you sputtered. “It’s not my fault you’re a living hot water bottle!”

“And it’s not my fault you’re always cold. Yet I’m always punished with your horrible cold feet.” You laughed back at him; the normality of your bickering helped to put you at ease.

“Let’s get some rest,” you suggested, yawning again. “I don’t wanna miss your mom’s cookies tomorrow morning - I wanna try them while they’re warm.”

“Mmm, good idea,” Doyoung agreed, eyes wide with the thought of his mother’s cookies.

“Goodnight, butthead,” you teased your friend, turning off the lamp beside you.

“Sleep well, idiot,” he replied fondly. 

Thoughts of warm chocolate-chip cookies were the last things on your mind before you fell asleep, and you were lucky enough to have them drift through your dreams that night.

As you slowly woke up, gradually returning to the land of the conscious, you first became aware of how delightfully warm you were. A light winter sun was shining through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft white light. You sighed, hugging your pillow closer to you, but  furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you found it to be much firmer and less pliant than a pillow.

“Nice to see you’ve finally awakened. You drooled on my pyjamas.” Doyoung’s voice was gentle, and lacked any real annoyance.

“What time is it?” you asked, rolling off the boy.

“Half nine,” he told you, looking at his phone screen. You digested the information as Doyoung got out of bed, stretching his muscles which had stiffened from sleep.

“Now that I’m finally free,” he stared at you pointedly, “I’m gonna take a shower. There’s another bathroom down the hall if you want to wash up.” You nodded, accomplishing your own satisfying stretch in bed.

A while later, fresh and ready for the day, adorned in your favourite comfy sweater, you made your way downstairs, trying to dampen down your high, high hopes for cookies.

“Good morning, Mrs Kim,” you greeted the woman with a smile. A smile that increased tenfold when you saw she was, in fact, in the middle of preparing cookies.

“I already told you to call me Mom, darling,” she chastised gently. “Did you sleep well?”

You gave her a nod, silently thinking about the several times you woke up to Doyoung kicking you through the night. 

“Lovely,” she commented. “I’m making cookies, would you like to help?”

“I’d love to,” you answered honestly. “Your cookies are kind of famous back in Seoul. Doyoung never stops talking about them.”

“That boy and his cookies,” she remarked with affection.

Doyoung’s mother set you off to work making another batch of mixture, as she began her duties with the rolling pin. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, and you marvelled at how much she put you at ease. She was a warm lady, the kind of mother figure a person is lucky to have.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me everything,” she spoke after a while. “How did you and Doyoung meet?” 

“Ah,” you mumbled, gearing yourself up to talk about your fake-boyfriend. “Well, we work together. I joined the company about two years ago, and Doyoung was the one to show me the ropes.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Mrs Kim asked you sweetly.

You turned away from the cookie dough, choking a little at the mention of romance with Doyoung, as you remembered the first time you met the man. 

You were almost trembling as your new boss showed you around the office; this was your first “grown-up” job and you were the very definition of nervous. You were thankful for your brand-new black blazer which covered the sweat stains that you knew were building. 

“And this,” your boss introduced you, “Is Kim Doyoung. He’ll help you settle in.”

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you offered Doyoung your hand to shake, which he accepted. 

Doyoung waited for your boss to leave before speaking. “So,” he began with a smirk, “How hard did he try to be ‘relatable’ and ‘down with the kids?’”

You hid your laugh behind a cough. “He’s a little out of touch, huh?”

“A little?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, laughing alongside you.

“Is it okay to talk about the boss like this? We’re supposed to respect him, right?” you asked your new coworker, a little uncertainly.

“Ah, Y/N, of course we respect him,” Doyoung tutted at you, before adding, “To his face.” 

Doyoung had you in stitches your entire first day. Though he tried not to show it, you hadn’t seen anybody try so hard to help you become comfortable and calm. He had been easing your nerves since day one. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed as you recovered.  “I think it was.” Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight in a romantic sense, but the two of you definitely connected on a personal level right away.

“So romantic,” Doyoung’s mother cooed as she rolled out the dough. “What do you love most about him?”

“Hm.” You paused, taking a moment to think. It was true that you loved a lot of Doyoung’s qualities - he was your best friend after all. He was always supportive, an ever-present shoulder to cry on. He was funny, and kind, and pleasant to be around. You always had fun together. “I love a lot of things about him,” you answered truthfully.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she agreed with you jovially, to which you smiled and nodded. “Now, I don’t want to rush you,” she continued, “But will you and Doyoung be giving me grandchildren any time soon?”

You choked on your spit, just as Doyoung entered the kitchen, coming to your rescue.

“Speak of the devil,” his mom noted affectionately, as she loaded the full trays into the oven.

“Cookies?” Doyoung’s eyes glinted hopefully. His hair was still damp from the shower, dripping and leaving wet droplets on his plain white t-shirt.

“Yes, in about fifteen minutes,” she confirmed. “You can wait that long, right?”

“Oh,” Doyoung moaned, “I don’t know. I can feel my life escaping from me as we speak.” He collapsed at the kitchen table behind you, falling onto the chair as he pretended to faint. You chuckled at his antics, reaching over to ruffle his still-wet hair adoringly. You caught his mother looking over at the two of you fondly, and you smiled, a little self-conscious. 

It felt more natural than you’d imagined, being cute and cozy with Doyoung in this false relationship. You supposed your friendship was a little more affectionate than you realised. Now that you thought about it, there was a certain tenderness that was common between the two of you - aside from the constant snipping and bickering, that was.

You’d never considered that you could be suited to a life outside the city, but the longer you spent in the charming countryside, the more ideal it felt. On your second morning of your winter break, you and Doyoung had donned your warmest winter gear (hats, scarves, and gloves included) and set out on a walk down the rustic lanes that your best friend had once called home. Though there were no eyes on you, and logically you didn’t have to keep up your fake-dating pretence in these hidden moments, shared only by you and Doyoung, the two of you held hands as you ambled down the snow-covered roads. It was an unspoken act, and one that felt strangely comfortable and oddly natural. You didn’t accredit too much thought to it; best friends could hold hands, if they wished to.

“We’re almost there,” Doyoung told you, after a short time of walking.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Where?” You hadn’t thought you were walking with any specific location in mind - you’d assumed the pair of you were meandering through the countryside with no direction.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, leaving you wondering.

Not long later, Doyoung directed you towards an opening in the shrubbery at the side of the lane, maneuvering himself over a stile before helping you over. The field you found yourself in was empty, the normally green meadow blanketed in completely untouched white. The only thing standing in the field, other than you and Doyoung was an old, rather dilapidated-looking barn. You imagined it once blazed a beautiful scarlet, although the years and the weather had chipped and faded its coat, leaving it a patchy maroon.

“Who does this belong to?” you asked, reclaiming Doyoung’s hand as you approached the barn together.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung countered. “Nobody, I think. It’s been abandoned as long as I can remember.”

“It’s a little creepy,” you commented apprehensively.

“Don’t worry, there aren’t any ghosts,” Doyoung mocked you, although it was devoid of any cruelty.

The door creaked as Doyoung pushed it open, and you didn’t entirely trust it not to fall completely off its hinges. The interior of the barn was a dark contrast to the stark white of the winter wonderland outside, although some sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden structure.

“Welcome to my secret clubhouse,” Doyoung introduced you. Your hands fell apart, as Doyoung left your side to venture to the back of the dwelling, finding a rickety swing that hung from the rafters, constructed of two pieces of rope and a plank of wood. He sat on it, swinging lightly and you were surprised to find that it managed to support his weight.

“How many of your romantic conquests have you brought here before me?” you teased, examining his hangout.

“You’re the first.”

The barn wasn’t particularly exciting, but there was a certain buzz to be derived from gaining a little bit of insight to Doyoung’s past. The floors of the building were no longer lined with hay, but dirt and dust, featuring intermittent weeds and plants. A tree had reached its spindly branches inside the structure, intertwining itself with the beams and pillars. You perched yourself atop an old stool that was sitting amid the weeds and rubble.

“Did you put that swing up yourself?” you asked, eyeing its stability.

“Yep,” Doyoung confirmed. “All by myself. I climbed right up into the rafters to fasten it.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself,” you remarked. The barn was a rather significant height, and it can’t have been safe for a young boy to scale the wooden bones of the building, likely aided by the serpentine branches of the oak tree. 

“When I was a kid I thought I was superman,” Doyoung said, and you could see him reminiscing internally. You watched, captivated, as he looked around the tattered old barn which was clearly a sentimental place for him. He was beautiful, your best friend. Eyes that shined, dark as the night; a nose that sloped almost perfectly; pink lips that looked best when smiling. Though the winter was a cold one, your heart was warmed by your love for Doyoung. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply existing together without any demand or pressure to make unnecessary conversation.

“We should get back home,” Doyoung spoke after a while, standing and stretching. “My mom is making hotpot for lunch.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with enthusiasm. Spending time with your best friend, taking walks through the beautiful countryside, and being fed homemade dishes for every meal. This Christmas holiday may just be the best thing to ever happen to you.

Christmas morning came much more swiftly than you expected. The homely atmosphere of the cottage, the domestic haven where Doyoung spent his youth, felt like a sweet sanctuary that existed outside of the linear flow of time. Early morning walks down dew-covered lanes gave way to plentiful lunches that you savoured, which morphed into homely afternoons that eased into sleepy evenings around the fireplace. It was the sweet retreat you hadn’t realised you’d needed, and you were remarkably upset that you had to return to the city the following day.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll put this to good use,” you grinned at Mrs Kim as you handed over the Christmas present you’d brought her. She unwrapped the parcel, although the shape didn’t quite leave room for a discreet gift, to reveal a bottle of red wine.

“I’m sure I’ll find some way to use this,” she responded, a teasing twinkle in her eye as you shared a laugh together. 

“Y/N,” Doyoung spoke, handing you a small box wrapped in festive paper. “Here.” He was already wearing the watch you had gifted him with. You peeled back the wrapping, opening the box to find a delicate silver necklace, hanging from it a shining silver jewel. It looked expensive; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a real diamond.

“Wow,” you gasped, at a complete loss for words.

“Let me put it on you,” Doyoung offered, and you let him. 

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him. “Thank you.” He smiled back sincerely.

Doyoung’s mother reached under the Christmas tree, bringing out two identically wrapped packages, square-shaped and squishy. “You kids open your presents together; I made them matching for you.”

You tore into the paper, opening the bundle to reveal a mass of knitted wool, soft and burgundy. You lifted it up to reveal a beautiful, intricate Christmas sweater - and noticed that Doyoung was holding an identical one.

“They’re so beautiful, Mrs Kim,” you complimented her, a little starstruck; though you knew Mrs Kim had handcrafted them, they looked like they were bought from a shop. They were of the most perfect quality, and looked splendidly snug and cozy.

“Yeah, thanks Mom,” Doyoung added, admiring the material. He waited until she looked away, taking a sip of her hot cocoa, before turning to you and muttering “Matching Christmas sweaters?” accompanied by a fake gag. You looked away, finding it almost impossible to stifle the giggle that bubbled up within you. They were beautiful, and you were endlessly grateful for the homemade gift, but Doyoung’s comment had amused you.

Mrs Kim looked at you with a knowing expression, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d noticed the exchange.

“Now you know I wasn’t kidding about my mom’s homemade cooking,” Doyoung said as he worked on the mountain of dishes in the sink.

“You really weren’t,” you agreed, stood next to him with a towel to dry the porcelain. You typically weren’t such a big fan of turkey, but something about the way Mrs Kim cooked it meant that it was surprisingly delicious. You had gone back for several helpings of the meal, encouraged by Doyoung’s mother, who seemed to derive pleasure from keeping people well-fed.

“I need a nap,” Doyoung declared, and you shared his experience of full-stomach sleepiness.

The pair of you finished up in the kitchen, and moved to the living room where Doyoung’s mother had relocated.

“Ah!” she stopped you in the doorway, before you could enter. “Look.”

You followed her pointed finger, to the green sprigs hanging in the archway. Mistletoe. Doyoung gave an awkward chuckle.

“Mistletoe for the lovers,” his mother chortled gleefully.

Doyoung captured you in his embrace, and your heart began to beat a little faster - was he really going to kiss you? You closed your eyes as he moved into you, and felt his lips peck your forehead. You smiled, before pulling him in for a kiss on the lips. In the spirit of Christmas. Doyoung’s eyes widened, and you laughed as his mother cheered. You followed her into the living room, making yourself comfortable on the couch that had no right being as cozy as it was. Doyoung’s cheeks were still red when he joined you, taking a seat on the couch alongside you.

The television was on, playing some old Christmas movie you vaguely recognised but had never seen. You brought your legs up onto the couch, snuggling into Doyoung’s side and nestling in further when he wrapped his arm around you. The film was already halfway through, and you were too sleepy to pay attention. It wasn’t long before you began nodding off to sleep, and you knew Doyoung was doing the same. Comfortable and relaxed, you let it happen, easing into a well-deserved nap with your best friend. Just as you fell into the unconscious, you sensed Doyoung’s mother draping a blanket over you both, and you smiled gratefully before letting yourself go.

“Taxi’s here!” Doyoung announced from his point of watch at the front door.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Doyoung’s mother pouted.

You agreed with a sad smile. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs Kim,” you bid her goodbye as Doyoung took your luggage out to the car.

“Beautiful Y/N,” she smiled back at you, taking your hands in her own. “Tell me the truth here.”

You blinked, surprised at her direct request. “Of course.”

“You and Doyoung aren’t really dating, are you?”

“I-”

“It’s okay, my love,” she reassured you. “Don’t worry about it. That Doyoung, he’ll do anything if he thinks it’ll please me.”

“He’s a good boy,” you commented, to which Mrs Kim nodded in agreement. “But how did you know?” You’d thought you’d given a pretty convincing show.

“Nothing gets past me,” she responded, her eyes glinting. “Listen. Doyoung’s partner or not, I can tell that you’re important to him. And for that, you’ll always be a member of this family. You’re always welcome in this home, Y/N.”

You swallowed back tears, touched by her warm words, and by how genuine they were. “Thank you, Mom.”

The older lady pulled you in for a hug, just as Doyoung called out to you, “Y/N, we gotta go.”

“You have my number, right?” Mrs Kim checked, and you nodded. “And keep that cookie recipe safe - three generations old, that is!”

“Of course,” you assured her, retreating to the taxi as Doyoung said his goodbyes to her.

“Come back soon, you two!” 

“We will,” you and Doyoung promised her in unison.

Settled in the back of the taxi, you heaved a sigh. It had been a beautiful holiday period, but part of you was happy to be returning to the security of your own home. And an even bigger part of you was relieved to drop the act of being Doyoung’s partner.

Doyoung looked at you, a tired look in his eyes. “Y/N, I love you so much-”

“But we could never date,” you completed his statement, sensing its direction.

“Never,” agreed Doyoung with a laugh. 

The two of you were much better off as friends. It would be a lie to say you’d never wondered what it would be like if your relationship ever happened to cross that boundary, but you were sated by the lesson you’d learned over the last week. Your relationship was platonic, and was destined to remain that way. That didn’t mean your relationship was any less significant than that of a romantic couple, though. Doyoung was your family. And you were beyond lucky to have found him.

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 4

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 4: Ramen Noodles for the Soul

There was a battle commencing as two shadows faced off against each other, one being a ghastly figure that had the body of a tiger, but nine human heads with elongated necks and the other was a petite woman and all she had with her was a fan. The dark area surrounding them was riddled with buildings ripped apart and the still bodies of people then the beast lunged at her with a silent roar.

“The Kaiming Shou ran first as they viciously tried to strike the Geisha down,” the voice said as the creature was about to tackle her down, “but she was too quick for him,” the woman elegantly dodged as she leaped into the air.

“The woman was through with the beast wanton destruction so with her aim true she cut off the first head,” the woman fan opened and it had cut off one of the creature heads. “And then the second,” the next head soon plopped to the floor as she continued that action until she was left with only a headless body, “until finally none remained and with a flick of her fan,” The Geisha’s eyes seemed to narrow minutely as she gently waved her fan to the beast and it erupted in a gulf of blackened flames. “they had burned into the nothingness.”

The scene then transformed into one of peace, the bodies and destruction vanished and in its place, a field of flowers had grown next to a rustling town.

“No one knows exactly where the Geisha had gone nor who she was, but that had no purpose in the townspeople's eyes as they were grateful for saving them in their time of need,” the voice continued as the villagers all bowed to the field of flowers. “So they tell this story, not in hopes of finding who she was, but rather to tell all that if you ever happen to meet the valiant woman that saved them from ruins, to kindly welcome her with open arms.” The scene faded to black and a few seconds later a round of applause erupted with cheers quickly pursuing.

The voice took off his hood and gave a mock bow to the audience as made his way off the stage to let the next person go.

“Mac, why are you such a hard act to follow,” one of the performers sighed as he walked towards the stage, “you know everything after yours is gonna be less than mediocre.”

“Then get good,” he smirked.

“Maybe you're just too good,” he playfully punched the monkey's shoulder as he went to the stage to set up.

“That was awesome!” A young boy bolted from his seat as he collided into Macaque, “super cool!”

“Thanks kiddo,” he said as he lifted him off the ground and tucked him under his arm, “now let’s find your sister before she rips off your head.”

“Pfft, Yan Yan won’t be too-,”

“BAO!” A voice sternly called out and he could feel the boy shrink.

“Shit,” he muttered as he soon saw his sister followed by his brothers and sisters and a certain Jellyfish demon, “double shit.”

“Thank you for finding him Mackey, your plays are marvelous as always,” the bluenette woman gave a quick smile to her former teacher and her eyes pivoted on her idiot brother as it tightened, “as for you.”

“I love you very much,” Bao said with puppy dog eyes and a pout as soon as he was let down.

“Really,” Bohai deadpanned as one of the children began to play with his tendrils.

“Cute, but that stopped working a long time ago,” she instead began to lecture him on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone as they all left, some even complimenting him on his play as they walked by.

“Yan is really protective when it comes to them,” Mei hummed out as she dragged MK by the sleeve of his purple jacket, who was morning.

“You should see when they go out in the street, that’s a right nightmare,” he said as he tied his fluffy mane of fur back up in a ponytail. “Swear the only reason she is friends with Bohai is that he can help wrangle all those kids.”

“Soooo, I didn’t know you were such a theater nerd,” she mischievously grinned. She was excited to find out that the tough, grumpy monkey actually had a love for the theatrics and voluntarily went out from time to time to play at the theater. She teased him endlessly for this the second she found out about it.

“Dad likes his dramatics,” MK unhelpfully replied as he crossed his arms.

“What’s got you so moody,” the father asked and all he got was a groan in response.

“Someone dropped all of his snacks and he won’t stop whining about it,” she teased him.

“My caramel popcorn was in there!” He dramatically cried out and fell to his knees. “All that delicious goodness! Gone!”

“How about ol doc over here can take us to this amazing noodle shop I know,” Mei patted his shoulder.

“Really?” He looked up at her with hope.

“I am?” Mac quirked one of his eyebrows.

“Yes, because you don’t want two poor children to go hungry,” the fourteen year old put her hands on her head in a faint.

“I am soo hungry,” MK flopped on the ground to emphasize both of their points.

“I guess if I have to,” he begrudgingly agreed in a mocking tone as the two teenagers cheered.

“I’m telling you, this place's noodles are simply to die for,” Mei said as they approached a restaurant called Pigsy Noodles.

“I’ll take your word for it,” the monkey demon shrugged as Mei opened the doors wide open and they heard a friendly voice greet them.

“Welcome to Pigsy Noodles!” They saw a short pig in an apron turn around to face the group, “How can I help-,” he paused for a moment as he stared not at the kids, but rather at the monkey that was accompanying them. He didn’t know why, he never met the chimp before, but something felt a bit...off about that simian.

He wasn’t the only one as Macaque felt almost a tinge of tension, now he met all types of Pig demons, but he has never felt one so similar to Zhu Baije before.

It was a tense stand-off before Mei butted in, “We are here for your finest noodles! I promised MK here that yours is simply the best!”

This snapped the pig out in an instant as he smiled at the two, “well of course it is, come and sit. I’ll have the menu out in a jiffy,” he gave a nod and turned to grab the items.

The three sat down and the monkey gave a quick once over on Pigsy, both physically and spiritually, and relaxed once he realized that, no this was not the original Zhu Baije, it was just someone that had an eerie likeness to him. But he still kept a careful eye out to him and he knew that Pigsy was doing the same as he kept glancing over to him from time to time as he prepared another customer's food.

“Mmmm, this is good!” MK said as he slurped some of the noodles.

“What’d I tell you,” Mei said with her mouth full of Yao mein.

Macaque mentally agreed as he sat in between the both of them and silently ate his food.

“Many thanks from such esteemed customers,” the pig demon jokingly said.

“It’s quite good,” another voice added, though this time Pigsy's smile quickly turned to irritation at that voice.

“It's better to be the best damn thing you have eaten with the number of times you don’t pay freeloader,” he said.

“Ah, but isn’t the knowledge of my experience of my worldly knowledge of the unknowns, myths, and truth that surround our world. Whether it comes from the depths below to the heavens high in the sky, truly that is the greatest substance of all ” the man mysteriously says as his glasses almost glinted.

“Is it money,” Pigsy deadpanned.

“No,” the aura of mystery that surrounded him suddenly dissipated as he sheepishly grins.

“Then I don’t care!”

“What kind of unknown?” MK perked up as he turned to look at the stranger. “Is it cool? Are they adventures?”

“How about fights? Are there lots of action packed ones filled with danger and mysteries?!” Mei joined in as she got interested as well.

“All of that and more,” the stranger hopped into the chance to tell some of the stories that he had uncovered. “You have all heard the tale of the Legendary Monkey King, correct?”

“Yeah!” They both excitedly cheered but paused as they glanced back to Macaque who was still eating.

“As long as you don't up and leave the restaurant, you can listen,” he waved them off very much knowing why they looked to him in the first place. “Get me another bowl please,” Mac said to Pigsy as he handed him some money.

The pig just nodded as he turned his back to start up another bowl.

The two smiled at him and rushed off to hear the stories on the other end of the counter and that left both Pigsy and Macaque alone together, who both silently decided that it would be best to passively listen to the story than talk to each other.

“-and legends say, that only one with vast knowledge and strength are the only ones they can create the mystical pills of immortality,” Tang mysteriously said as the mythical book was laid out between them.

“So only people with amazing powers can do that!” MK’s eyes widened. “So cool!”

“Or they can just steal it, like the Monkey King,” Mei grinned.

“Or that too,” Tang nodded to her, “but even that was a feat in itself that he had managed to successfully procure such valuable items in that time frame.”

“Man it must be tough to find them all,” MK said.

“It is, some are deep under the seas where only the legendary dragons dwell, another is high up on the mountain tops where you have to pluck it just right or else you have to wait for eons before trying but want to know a secret,” Tang leaned in.

“Yeah,” they whispered and followed suit.

“There is said to be a plant in the Plum Blossom forest that is an ingredient to make the Pills, but no one has yet to find it,” the man happily stated as he began to talk, not knowing of the two nervous glances as they forced themselves not to turn around to a certain monkey.

Macaque only grinned into his cup once he heard that, but Pigsy scoffed.

“Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me,” he said as he wiped down the counters.

“Well every myth has a fraction of the truth,” he rebutted, “so I’m not giving up my exploration yet.”

“You visit the forest?” Mei curiously asked.

“I try to go as much as I can, but not just for the plants, there is rumored to be all types of different mythical creatures and spirits that wander in the forest,” Tang excitedly said.

“Oh really,” MK forced out with a pained grin, Mei was the same as she had seen some of them when she slept over one day. “That sounds really cool.”

“So,” the pigtailed girl tried to redirect the conversation, “I want to hear more about the Monkey King or any other gods, please.”

“Well I do have one in mind,” the man's eyes lit up as he flipped through the pages.

The two kids have a sigh of relief.

“The Six Eared Macaque is an interesting one.”

And immediately they both tensed back up.

“He is a demon that has caused mass confusion throughout history as no historian can agree which version is correct,” he landed on a page with a shadowed monkey with glowing violet eyes that seemed to bore into them.

“Oh, well-,” MK was cut off by Tang as he went on.

“Is he this one-note villain that simply stood in the Monkey King way or is he more of the mischievous trickster that helped wandering souls against vengeful beings and healed those when they asked. Is he both? If so, was he the healer before or after the Journey? If before then why did he decide to attack the Monkey King? If after, how did he survive that last attack? There are just too many questions that surround the origin of the Six-Eared Macaque, it’s truly quite fitting due to his nature.”

“It really is,” Mei gritted her teeth and slowly turned to face said Monkey demon, “hey Ma-I mean fluffy, I think it’s time we head home, right MK.”

“Yes we do,” he robotically said as the two made their way back to him.

“Oh is it getting late?” Tang blinked, “I didn’t even realize it.”

“It’s all good,” Macaque smirked as he ruffled the two heads, “nice stories.”

“History you mean,” he gave a wide smile, “besides, they were very good listeners…sorry I didn't catch your name?”

“Macaque,” he happily ignored the kid's panicked stares at him.

The man looked at him for a solid minute before laughing, “like the Six Eared Macaque! What a strange coincidence.”

“It sure is,” he smirked.

“Your parents must have loved the myths then,” he wiped a tear.

He shrugged, “it came along the way.”

Tang was a bit confused by that, but before he could ask the monkey he put a hand on both of the teenager’s shoulders and they seemed to vanish the next moment.

“…alright I’m not even gonna question how,” Pigsy grumbled as he continued cleaning.

“He vanished like a thief in the night,” Tang said in amusement.

“At least this thief paid for his food,” the pig grumbled then he noticed that there was some money with a note. Pigsy took a glance at the message and he gave a slight grin, “congratulations Tang, I won’t be on your ass today about your meal.”

“Huh, but you never let go of a chance to put it over my head?” The historian questioned as he walked over.

“Well you can thank their dad,” the pig demon showed him the note and he read it.

Thanks for keeping them entertained, food is on me.

“Well that is nice of him,” he smiled, “I hope they come back sometimes.”

“Hmph, any paying customers are more than welcome,” the pig said as he continued his cleaning, while the historian was more than happy as he continued to eat.

It was the middle of the day and both kids had their designated classes, whether online or home tutoring, and he was currently plucking out some of the weeds from a batch of Morning Glories when he saw the flowers bloom. “Back again already crackpot,” he called out as he took out one of the longer weeds he was plucking out of his mouth.

A croaky voice with a laugh, “what can I say, I can’t stay away from your glowing personality.”

He rolled his eyes as he stood up and turned to meet a balding old man with frizzy red hair and no shoes on his feet, “fuck off.”

The old man gave him a toothy grin as he flopped to the ground, poured a cup of wine, and held it out to the monkey.

“A bit too early for a drink there Shen,” he mused as he took the cup from his hand and sat next to him.

“It’s late somewhere else,” he chuckled and leaned back against one of the Plum trees.

“Yeah yeah,” he waved him off and took a sip of the drink, “don’t you get tired of drinking the same shit every time?”

“Yep,” Shen said.

“And you're still not gonna switch it out any time soon?”

“Nope,” he grinned and took a swing.

“You know one day you’re gonna tell me what the hell this is,” he grumbled in his drink.

“Not on my life.”

“Thought so.”

“Hey Dad,” MK called out as he entered the infirmary, “do you know where-,” he paused as he saw that he wasn’t alone.

“Didn’t expect you to have a hatchling,” the large alligator demon said, or what he assumed was an alligator as he looked almost similar to a ghost but in blue.

“Not most do,” Mac said as he picked out a violet plant and started to look it up in a book.

“Uhhhh,” his mind was running a mile a minute trying to come up with what was happening. “Sorry?”

He waved him off, “just be glad it wasn’t surgery.”

“So what is going on?” He asked as he slowly closed the door behind him.

“Just whipping up an antidote for him,” he hummed out.

“I didn’t know ghosts needed medicine.”

“Not a ghost,” the alligator muttered.

“Huh?”

“What he means is that he’s in his corporeal form,” Mac further explained as he began to dice up the plant. “Had to with the amount of poison in his system, so I just placed him in the lamp as usual.”

“Poison!? Lamp?!” He said in alarm.

“…oh I guess you have never seen it before, hold on.” Mac finished placing the last ingredient inside, stirred it, and let it simmer. He turned to the alligator, “want to rest or free roam?”

“Rest,” he said.

The monkey complied as he used his tail to grab a lantern and in the next moment, the transparent demon was gone.

“What is that?” MK went forward to get a better look.

“This is the Shadow Lamp, it allows me to store people's bodies in there, which puts said bodies in a stasis thus allowing me plenty of time to make the medicine needed.”

“Oh, so it’s like a fancy tool to help patients! Why don’t all doctors have this?”

“Cause originally this was not a medical tool,” he explained as he carefully set the lamp down.

“A weapon? How?” He tilted his head, he didn’t see how a lamp can cause harm.

“It was used to suck the bodies in the lamp, but be able to control their shadow against their own will,” he inwardly chuckled at MK's shocked face.

“What?! That can happen?!”

“Yep.”

“But wait?” He backtracked as he looked at the lamp, “if it’s so dangerous why are you using it?”

“At the end of the day, a weapon is just a tool,” he quietly said, “it doesn’t have any emotions, no attachments, no moral conceptions, it’s just a tool that anyone can use. It’s the one who uses the weapon that determines how the tool can be used.”

“Really?”

Macaque paused as he looked into MK bright eyes, he gave a small smile.

“Really.”

He put away his supplies and safety materials before ruffling MK’s long hair. “Now how about you tell me what you were originally here for nightlight.”

“Oh right! Do you know where the spare water bottles are? The others have holes punctured in them.”

“Damnit Minsheng,” Mac pinched his nose, “they should be in the bottom cabinet by the fridge.”

“Thanks!” He said as he left the infirmary, “Want me to bring you anything?”

“No, I’ll be a bit busy,” he muttered as he took out his phone, “I have a few arrangements to make, specifically with some glue, rope, and a whole lot of glitter.

“Hey Pigsy!” MK hollered out as he walked into the shop, “the usual please!”

“Coming right up,” the pig grinned as he was already preparing his order.

The fifteen year old grinned as he sprawled over the counter, “Tang not here today?”

“Surprisingly no, he’s probably off at the library or some antique store,” the pig demon then noticed that he was alone, “surprised I don’t see Macaque or Mei here.”

“Well Mei wanted to pick out her future bike, so she dragged Dad over to the auto shop.”

“Auto Shop? For a bike?”

“Motorcycle,” he explained.

“Ah,” he nodded and placed his food in front of him, “bon appetit.”

“Thank you!” He cheerfully replied as he dug into his food.

Pigsy just grins at the boy as he was about to go back to cleaning up since MK was the only one in, but he paused as a probing thought couldn’t leave his mind. He knows it wasn’t any of his business and he hasn’t seen anything damaging nor even concerning, but his damn gut has been bothering him ever since he laid eyes on him. “So kid.”

“Hm?” MK looked up as some noodles were hanging from his mouth.

“I'm a bit curious about your old man, he isn’t the chattiest bunch and I’m a bit curious at what he does,” he casually asks.

“He’s a doctor!”

“Really?” Now that was a surprise, he was betting on being some sort of martial arts teacher.

“Really! He’s super smart and a bunch of people and demons go to him, he’s even had a student before.”

“Huh, doesn’t seem like the type to take on a student.”

“No, but she was really persistent,” he grinned at the understatement.

“I bet.”

“Though he is a bigggg worrywart,” he leaned back from his chair.

“He is?”

“Oh yeah, like there was this one time when I was ten that I scraped my finger against a really thorny plant and when I yelled out, he instantly picked me up and started to treat my entire arm as he tried to find out if the plant was poisonous while asking me if I had a fever, nausea or any other symptoms and during that entire time I was not let down,” he deadpanned.

He snorted at the image, “that certainly is unexpected.”

“He also sometimes performs shadow plays at the theater.”

“Flair for the dramatics,” he quirked his eyebrow.

“Like you wouldn’t believe it,” he nodded.

Pigsy chuckled, “makes me wonder how he met your mother then.” Though he stopped as he saw MK fell silent and his face flushed. “…did I say something wrong?”

His head shot up and he shook his hands, “No! Nothing! You said nothing wrong! Well-actually a bit, but not anything mean! It’s just that-well he…adopted me.” He couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face.

“Oh-shit, I’m sorry that was really callous of me,” he winced, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“My loss?” His grin faded at the unusual statement.

“Your parents,” he clarified.

“Oh,” face completely slack and blank, “they're not dead.”

Pigsy’s eyes blinked, “Oh,” then he came to the realization of just what he meant and his voice and face dropped, “oh.”

MK gave a sad little smile, “Yeah, he actually found me in a back alley when it was about to rain and he adopted me from that point on. He may not be blood related to me, but he’s still my dad.”

The pig smiles and begins to heat some noodles, “and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, you want some more? This one is on the house.”

“Yes please!” He perked up.

Pigsy couldn’t help but give a wide smile at the child's affectionate nature, it was contagious.

‘Glad for my gut to be wrong for once,’ he mentally thought as he poured the soup in, ‘he just looks like the usual jackasses you see in the underbelly, but he’s just a protective bastard for his kid…kids, half sure that he practically adopted girlie.’ He should ask the monkey next time he comes in, it would be hilarious to see his reaction…damnit Tang has infected him.

Macaque was standing in front of the two teenagers in one of the forest's many clearings, “So after much deliberation, I decided to finally teach you how to actually fight.”

“I told you we would wear him down eventually,” Mei nudged MK, but they were both caught off guard when their feet were swept under them and they fell on their butts.

“First lesson, don’t let your guard down,” he said as his tail gently swished behind him, “that is the height of stupidity that will get you killed.”

“Noted,” they both groaned.

“Now,” he waited for a bit for them to get on their feet, “I can’t promise you that I am an expert on martial arts, most of my moves are just street fighting, but I can promise you that by the time I’m done with you guys, you will actually have a chance to put up a fight.”

MK and Mei listen intently.

“Mei,” she perks up, “I know your family has some sort of dragon ancestor right?”

“Oh yeah! The Great Dragon of the West Sea,” she proudly stated.

Macaque could only blink at the irony as he quickly realized just who her ancestor, or rather the son of the said ancestor, was, “Nope, not going to open that can of worms,” he muttered. “But yes that, and I believe that you have already looked through some of the martial arts teachings that was formed by him?”

“Yeahhh, but I’m having real trouble with actually learning some of the moves,” she nervously chuckled.

“That’s cause it shares the same qualities as Tai Chi, though with much serpentine movement, I have fought quite a few with that kind of style and usually two things stand out to me, they are quick and accurate.”

“Like a snake,” she nodded.

“Like a snake,” he agreed, “I can definitely teach a few off of the top of my head, but it would probably be best if I see a few of your scrolls at a later point so I can demonstrate.”

“Hell yeah!” She pumped her fist in the air.

“Alright, MK,” his head perked up at the call of his name, “you have zero knowledge of any type of fighting.”

He deflated at that.

“Which makes it easier to incorporate my style onto you.”

He instantly inflated back up.

“If there is one thing I have learned in all my years of fighting is-,” he vanished from view and both kids scrambled forward to escape being surprised from behind, only to be startled when they found their heads being gently pushed down from above and they were once again sprawled out.

“Be unpredictable,” he cheekily stated as he landed back down.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re going to be falling down a lot,” MK said as he lifted his face off the grass.

“I have a feeling you're right,” Mei muttered as she laid flat on her back.

“Like I said, welcome to your first class my unruly disciples,” he gave the most shit eating grin, “you have a lot to learn.”

[calicocatwrites]

Ass, Titty, Or Thighs?

Word Count: 1,970

Warnings: Talk of titties and ass, kind of a given, a little bit of swearing in Bakugou and Shinso’s.

Headcanon: Do the BNHA boys prefer ass, titties, thighs, or magical answer number 4?

Characters: Iida, Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya, Shinso

Author’s Note: Just my take on this idea, of course you can have different opinions than me, this is just what I think!

Tenya Iida:

This is a titty man.

Hear me out with this one.

He looks respectfully, obviously, this is Tenya Iida we’re talking about, but just the way they move has Iida in a different state of mind.

His favorite subject is jiggle physics (I will take myself out-).

Like, how do they move? Does it hurt? Fascinating, truly.

He doesn’t care what they look like, as long as they’re on you, the person he loves, he’s happy.

You’re watching TV in your dorm room when Iida furiously knocks on your door. Pausing your show, you get up and open the door for him.

“Hey, Iida! You need something?”

He quickly glances around your room, as if checking if someone is there, and stutters out his request.

“Ms. Y/N, i-is it ok if I may ask y-you a question I’ve prepared?”

Not seeing any harm in inviting him in, you gently crack open the door a bit more, gesturing for him to enter. Iida gladly takes the invitation and darts into your room. You sit back down on your bed, expecting him to do the same. However, Iida carefully stays standing, looking down at you. Silence starts to take its place in between the two of you, and you finally speak up.

“So, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

“U-uh, y-y-eah, right. I w-was just wondering if I could a-ask you a question about-”

He cuts himself off, almost as if choosing his follow-up words very carefully.

“A-about your… chest area.”

Now it’s your turn to blush, although not nearly as much as he is. At this point it looks like he’s melting from sweat.

“Uh, yeah, you can, is something wrong?”

“N-no! I-it’s just that I w-w-was wondering i-if they work as… comfort. The tissue in breasts is noted to be much more flexible than average, and I assumed that would lead to them being s-softer than average, but does that mean that they hurt? I’d like to test my theory, o-of course not with my hands or anything! That would be extremely disrespectful and as Kirishima would say, ‘unmanly’, but maybe there’s… another way?”

It finally clicks.

“Iida, are you trying to lay on my boobs?”

“P-p-precisely.”

Laughing, you bring him over to lay down as he wanted, and unpause your show.

Katsuki Bakugou:

So we all unanimously agree this is an ass man, right?

If we’re all in agreement, I’ll continue.

But yeah, Bakugou just screams ass man.

He always has a hand in your back pocket when you go places, or stares at your ass when you’re wearing shorts (or even when you aren’t-)

Just like Iida, it’s jiggle physics, astounding.

He’ll buy you clothes that are specifically to show off your ass-

You get ready in your outfit, Bakugou wanting to take you to a new restaurant close to campus. It wasn’t anywhere fancy, just a sushi place, so you didn’t get dolled up or anything, just some leggings and one of Bakugou’s hoodies. You call over to Bakugou, checking if he’s ready to go, and when both of you have your shoes on, you take off to try some sushi.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, Bakugou instinctively goes to put his hand in your back pocket, something he always does when you’re out. However, you opted to wear leggings, something comfortable and easy to throw on.

“Y/N, back pocket, not there, what the fuck?”

“I didn’t wear jeans.”

“Well how is everyone supposed to know you’re mine?!”

“Babe, I’m wearing your hoodie.”

“Other people don’t know that’s my hoodie.

“Katsuki, your hand is literally on my ass.”

“Well you didn’t wear something with back pockets, where else am I supposed to put my hand?!?!”

Eijiro Kirishima:

t h i g h s

This man is the actual definition of a thigh man.

He lives for your soft thighs as opposed to his super muscular ones, you just balance him out perfectly, he loves you so much.

He loves laying on your thighs, in between your thighs, with his hand on your thighs, your thighs literally only exist to be perfect and for him.

Oh and the way certain pants compliment your thighs, he would literally buy you anything you want.

Constant thigh compliments, also little kisses on them.

You and Kirishima are just laying together in his dorm, you leaning on Kirishima's shoulder, watching videos pop up on Kirishimas For You Page. Suddenly, as if TikTok knew exactly who Kirishima was and what peaks his interest, a trend came up with a guy in between his girls thighs. Next video? Yep, a girl in between her girls thighs. As soon as the videos came up Kirishima looked at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes you or anyone else on Earth had ever seen.

“Babe! Pleaaaase???”

“Not right now, baby.”

“Y/N, I’m four times stronger than you, this isn’t really up for discussion anymore.”

“KIRI-”

Before you know it, Kirishima has pinned you face up on the bed, and laid his head in between your thighs, snuggled up like a little baby in a crib.

“Kiri, I want to have a blanket on my legs, y’know.”

“Then put one on, I can’t be suffocated by sheets if my breath is taken away by your beauty.”

He’s not budging, and will probably fall asleep like that.

Shoto Todoroki:

The next three boys are ‘magical answer number 4’ boys.

This, my friends, is a hand man.

Ah ah ah, hear me out. He loves comparing hand sizes because it makes him feel loved, no matter if your hand is bigger, smaller, or the exact same size, he just likes the feeling of bonding in a loving way.

He loves hand-holding and painting nails (yes, he lets you paint his nails, he also likes painting yours), little hand actions.

He absolutely adores tracing your hands, the outline and any scars, freckles, or crevices. He likes his hands traced as well.

It’s just such a sweet, innocent action.

You and Todoroki are just sitting in his dorm, eating cold soba he got dropped off at the house. You have little trays and are eating on his bed, just talking about whatever comes to mind. Suddenly, Todoroki finds a fitting topic he wants to talk about.

“Your hands are really nice.”

It’s a weird thing to come up with out of the blue, so you just casually dismiss it, a quick ‘thank you’, and more bites of food. Todoroki isn’t really ok with you just ending the conversation like that though, so he takes a more forward approach.

“Y/N, can I hold your hand?”

“Shoto, I need my hands to eat.”

“No, you only need one hand.”

Realizing you aren’t gonna win this battle, you slowly place your hand near him, which he swoops in and takes almost immediately. He starts tracing the outline and shape of your hand, then your wrist, then any scars or freckles, then any little crack or crevice in your hand, sometimes going over your knuckles.

“Shoto, are you going to eat your food or just look at my hands all day?”

“My food will be fine, not like it’s going to get cold, it’s cold soba.”

Yeah, he goes for the later of your suggestions.

Izuku Midoriya:

Ass? Nah. Titty? Nah. Thigh? Nah.

Tummy.

Midoriya loves your stomach, no matter what it looks like, no matter the size, or if there’s scars there, it doesn’t matter.

He likes to pepper kisses all over your belly, and holds you around your waist whenever he can.

He likes laying on your stomach, and falling asleep like that (more than he likes to admit-)

It’s just a beautiful thing, and he loves your belly so much.

You decided to wait for Midoriya in his dorm to surprise him, he went out training today, so you thought it would be nice to see him when he gets back, even if he is tired and desperately needs a shower. Finally, when he’s half an hour late and you’re about to call him to make sure he’s ok and safe, Midoriya stumbles through the door and into his dorm, where you lay on his bed, patiently waiting for his arrival.

“‘Zuku, you’re back, finally! I was getting worried.”

“Y-Y/N! Hey! Y-you should’ve told me you were here, I would’ve finished training faster.”

“Oh, it’s ok!”

Midoriya walks over to his bed, and, exhausted from training, gently flops onto his bed, placing his head on your belly.

“Um, baby, do you want me to move so you can lay on the bed and not… on me?”

“Hm? No reason to, I’ve got my favorite pillow right here, u-unless this bothers you! Then I can totally get up and relocate.”

“No no no, it’s fine, Izuku. Just go to sleep, you’re probably tired from training for such a long time.”

Midoriya gently closes his eyes, and you carefully play with his hair, petting it every so carefully, like it’s a glass vase tilting on an uneven surface, a wrong move and everything breaks. After a while, you hear soft snores coming from your boyfriend, and decide it’s probably best if you fall asleep too.

Hitoshi Shinso:

Kind of a stretch, hear me out.

Eyes man.

This man absolutely loves your eyes. No matter the color, shape, whatever, he just loves eyes.

How they seem to light up when you’re excited, and how they look in that one specific kind of sunlight that makes the whole world shine like gold and bronze.

He loves holding eye contact and doing your eye makeup, even if it looks bad.

Eyes are the gateway to the soul, and Shinso strongly agrees with that.

You and Shino are out at the park. The sun hasn’t quite started setting, but it will soon, in about a half-hour. Shinsou took you out to have a picnic, where he bought ramen noodles and cake and sushi for you guys to eat. Unbeknownst to you, he also brought black eyeliner, makeup remover, and a little gold eye makeup product. Granted, he had no idea how to use them, but maybe today he could learn. After you’ve both eaten, the sun is starting to set, making the whole world almost as beautiful as you, he whips out the cosmetics and explains his plan.

“Y/N, I want to try doing your eye makeup. Can I?”

It takes a good amount of time to process his request, but you agree and let him give it a shot. Laying down, he carefully crawls on top of you, pulls out the eyeliner, and focuses only on your eyes. As much as he wants to pay attention to the eyeliner applicator, for a brief moment he gets caught up in how beautiful your eyes look in the light, and slips up.

“Shit, I messed up.”

“It’s ok! Just take some makeup remover on a Q-Tip and try again, babe.”

After a couple slip ups, he finally gets the eyeliner and the little gold shimmer on your eyes, and brings you up to your feet so you’re both standing.

“Wow, you look incredible.”

“Thank you, Shinso, you look great too.”

He pecks your cheek, packs up the picnic, and you two are on your merry way, Shinso excited to look at your eyes again and again, grateful to call you his significant other.