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monimccoythings · 6 months ago

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Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

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You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal.

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

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Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

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As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

“Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks.

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

#wolverine x reader #logan x reader #james logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #x men x reader #x men

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 6 months ago

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CYOA

You know what screw it, I wanted to finish chapter 59 today but I feel horrible and it's just not going to happen so for now you can have this completed scene under the cut with my great affection love love peace peace feel free to react as it'll make me happy etc. etc.

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Friday 18th March, 2022, 07:57 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

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James Potter: i think it's pretty amazing that you and beatrice know the exact date that you first met when you were two

Lily Evans: Lollllll Hello to you too

James Potter: although idk how sirius would react if we knew and i suggested celebrating that hello, also beautiful hello beautiful is what i meant to say

Lily Evans: Suave of you.

James Potter: i'm only just having my first coffee of the day, alright? give me five minutes and i'll be on my game

Lily Evans: I suppose I can allow you five minutes. We didn't always know, but my mum's been journaling every day for most of her life, so a few years back we did a little detective work and it turns out she'd written about my first day at Little Tots. We've done something for our anniversary every year since, but she's blown my gift out of the water this time around.

James Potter: why, what was your gift?

Lily Evans: I bought her a ladyship. She's Lady Beatrice Booth now. Officially. Incredibly it only costs £30 and you get a tiny plot of land in Cumbria with it. I gave the pack to her housemate to leave out today so she'll get a huge kick out of it when she gets home later.

James Potter: how ironic is it that you got her a ladyship and i was looking into getting her canonised earlier

Lily Evans: Lol why?

James Potter: because i really really really liked that video, evans

Lily Evans: I see. I see. I see. Not embarrassed about you having seen that AT ALL. Although I suppose I don't have a right to be embarrassed when I've seen all of your childhood photos, do I? It was probably about time that you saw some of mine.

James Potter: what would you have to be embarrassed about? you were an adorable child i loved watching you grow up on an instagram reel with, inexplicably, flo rida's musical accompaniment

Lily Evans: Lollllllllll I know that probably seems like a weird choice, but it was our go-to dance song when we were eighteen. And on that note, I was a very awkward teenager, as you've now seen.

James Potter: almost everyone on earth was an awkward teenager and the ones who weren't awkward peaked in their teens, so think of how they've suffered since then although i guess sirius is the exception anyway you say you were awkward, but fifteen year old me would have been DESPERATE for fifteen year old you's attention

Lily Evans: Oh, you say that now.

James Potter: no i would have been and i wouldn't have gotten it because as we've previously established i was a prick when i was fifteen so if i'd gone to school with you i still would have been a prick, but a prick who wanted your attention and did all manner of stupid things to get it i would have driven you mad

Lily Evans: Twenty-seven year old you wants my attention and I've not been driven mad over it once, to be fair.

James Potter: twenty-seven year old me has much improved with age and is more deserving of it you however have been a delight your whole life which i now have visual proof of hence i'll be calling your best mate saint lady beatrice from now on

Lily Evans: I wasn't a delight my whole life, I promise you. As a child I was a precocious little shit who thought she knew everything and couldn't be told otherwise. That's why I got into so many scrapes, doing stupid, dangerous things because I couldn't just listen to my mother when she told me "no, Lily, that's dangerous." I was like a working class Peppa Pig, honestly, no wonder my sister couldn't hack being around me half the time. So you're not the only one who has much improved with age. And fifteen year old me would have had a massive crush on fifteen year old you, BELIEVE me.

James Potter: oh really?

Lily Evans: Would I have let you know about it? Absolutely not. But it still would have been there.

James Potter: you mean like the crush you've had on me this whole time?

Lily Evans: I already have to get you back for some nonsense you pulled yesterday, Potter, so I'd advise you not to pile on and add this to the list.

James Potter: lollllllll

Lily Evans: I'm serious!

James Potter: oh i'm sure you are to which i say go on then do it

Lily Evans: I will do it.

James Potter: you go right ahead i can handle it

Lily Evans: You're being very cocky right now and while I can't pretend I don't like it, it'll also prove to be your downfall later.

James Potter: we'll see, we'll see

Lily Evans: We will see.

James Potter: whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart

Lily Evans: I think the fifteen year old you has taken over the controls in your head, mate.

James Potter: he probably has, yeah but what can i say he's really chuffed about your crush on me

Lily Evans: You mean the crush you've decided I have that I haven't confirmed?

James Potter: right, yeah, of course, clearly i'm the one in the wrong here still sleeping in my bed, are you?

Lily Evans: I have to go do a work thing now.

James Potter: oh, sure, that old excuse

#sarah's choose your own adventure fanfic #sneak peak #is this the closest thing to a direct confession I've written yet?#answer: yes

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evans23 · 2 months ago

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RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 7 - QUIET WISHING [A2]

Pairing : Colonel Brandon x OC

Summary : The Colonel is ready to move on and to taste the delight of happiness, but your secret weighs too heavily on your shoulders.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Sadness. Depression. Mention of Abortion.

DECEMBER MOON : Part I

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

Colonel Brandon's heart was beating to a new rhythm. The rhythm of happiness at having found someone who seemed genuinely interested in him and not in his fortune, his title or his domain. You made him smile. Better yet, you made him happy.

He still remembered your father's face when he had asked him for permission to court you. The poor man had not believed it, you whose sharp mind had scared away more than one man, here was one of the richest and most respected men in the county interested in you and did not seem put off by your intelligence which sometimes bordered on insolence. But he also feared that Brandon wanted to take advantage of you.

"My daughter... She is not like the ladies you usually frequent in the salons, Colonel," your father had told him.

"Exactly, I don't want a lady who just smiles and sits idle while spending my money," Christopher had replied in his deep voice.

"She... [Y/N] is already 28 years old and has never been... courted or proposed to... that should... worry you," your father had suggested.

Christopher had found your father's concern cute. He had recognized in him a man worried about your well-being. He had reassured him of his intentions and your father who could not miss your annoyed and pleading look had said yes.

But at already 38 years old, Christopher did not want to spend months and months playing the game of convenience. He wanted to marry you quickly.

And you too, for your part, did not want to wait any longer to leave your father's home for the safety of a husband. But the happiness you had of being courted and loved by a man like him was tainted by the fear you had that he might one day know.

"[Y/N], is everything okay ?" Brandon asked you, looking genuinely worried.

You jumped slightly before smiling at him, your mind returning to the inside of the carriage that was gently shaking you on the bumpy road.

"Yes, very well, I... it's just that this is the first time I'm going to go to the Jennings and Mrs. Jennings... she's invited me often but I didn't feel like I belonged there..."

That wasn't really all that was bothering you but you didn't want to tell him the truth. If Christopher didn't believe you, he didn't show it, too busy admiring you in the wool coat he'd given you before you left, a coat that fit you and would keep you warm all winter.

The Jennings welcomed you warmly. He already knew that Christopher was courting you and although Mrs. Jennings' insinuations had made you uncomfortable at times, the day had been pleasant. But you didn't feel entirely at home in this world. You didn't know all the rules of etiquette and you were always a little slouched, a position reinforced by your feelings of inadequacy.

"You'll learn," Christopher said kindly when you confided your doubts, "I'll help you and if you wish, I can have a governess come and see you every day. But [Y/N], I'm not asking you for anything, you know that, right ?"

You nodded gently, grateful for what he was willing to do for you, to help you integrate into his world.

That night, lying in your bed with Henry by your side, covered with several blankets to counter the cold wind that was seeping in through the gaps in the windows, a dull anxiety invaded you. What you were doing was wrong. You were going to make this honest and sincere man suffer who didn't deserve it, a man who wouldn't even look at you anymore if he knew the truth, if he knew who you really were.

12 years ago

You were sixteen years old and you were considered one of the most beautiful girls in your village. Your long brown hair that you rarely bothered to style like a real lady, your soft and delicate face, your big green eyes, your natural kindness and your intelligence made you a rather singular person. You had few friends and the boys didn't really look at you, intimidated that you could hold a real conversation.

But you didn't care, you were still so innocent about things of love. You had a simple life with your father, a man who gave you more freedom than any other girl in your village could have dreamed of having.

No one looked at you except him. A lord's son, no less than that who had noticed you one day at the spring festival that was organized every year thanks to the kindness of his father. This year the old lord had not been able to come and it was him who had come. Tall, elegant, dark-haired with a nonchalant attitude, he had immediately caught your eye. He didn't look like anyone you knew. Nobody. And you didn't look like any of the ladies he rubbed shoulders with either. Why he had noticed you among all the others, you don't know and you would never understand, but it had been the case.

He had spoken to you to talk about the weather. He was charming, disarming too. He wasn't flattering and his sincerity had made you waver, giving rise to a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

That evening, when you returned home, you couldn't forget the smile that lit up his face, but you knew that you couldn't expect anything from this meeting. You were just grateful that he had been kind enough to speak to you, to treat you as an equal.

Except that you had seen her again. Once. Twice. Three times. And he had ended up admitting to you that if he came back to the village so often, it was to see you. Each time, he had a little gift for you: a drug, a silver brooch, a handkerchief embroidered with his initials, gifts that you kept preciously in a wooden box hidden under your bed. Not to mention the dozens and dozens of letters that you exchanged, hiding them in the gap of a stone wall on the edge of the village that secretly kept your correspondence while the other went to get the letter addressed to him. The drawer of your dresser was filled with the languorous words that he wrote to you every week.

"We could leave," he had told you one day.

"Where would we go ?"

"Anywhere. We'll get married in Scotland and then... We could go to America. Or this new land that he calls Australia. They say that there everything is big and everything is wild. We would be free to be what we want."

He kept telling you that your difference in status, in rank, was of no importance and he insisted a little more each time that you leave. And soon, he had infected you with his dreams of escape, of distant landscapes and of a future where conventions, social statuses would not exist.

Back to the present

"[Y/N], will you come with me to the Christmas party that the Jennings are organizing the night before ?"

Christopher was standing in your living room, his hands nervously playing with his hat while your father prepared tea in the next room, Henry at his side hoping to see him drop a biscuit.

"I... I'm not sure I have my place at such an evening," you answered, your cheeks blushing slightly.

You knew that the Jennings would receive prestigious guests, accustomed to the codes of this kind of evening.

"I will stay by your side the whole time," Christopher promised.

You looked up as your father came back into the room, nodding vigorously behind Christopher to urge you to say yes.

"Very well," you murmured.

The Colonel smiled, a shy smile on his lips, the same one that always made you melt.

"If you agree, Mr. [Y/S], I could take [Y/N] into town to buy her a dress for this evening."

"There's no need..." you began but your father almost immediately interrupted you to give his consent.

As you walked side by side, you could feel the eyes of the evil tongues who whispered about the fact that you didn't have a chaperone. Christopher didn't care. After all, you were practically his fiancé and at your ages, there were many other things to worry about. Besides, he was a man of honour, he would never have touched you before making you his wife.

But those whispers tightened your throat, taking you back years.

11 years ago

After a year of dreaming and hoping, you had abruptly learned the truth from a maid at the manor where the man you loved lived. He was engaged. Engaged to a woman of his rank.

"Is it true then ?" you had asked him when you had seen each other in your secret place, far from the eyes of the village.

"[Y/N], I... I am from an important family. I must honour my name."

"You promised me! You told me that our difference in status meant nothing, that we would run away."

"I shouldn't have let you believe that, it was a mistake."

"William," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

"[Y/N], it was a dream. A beautiful dream, but you have to wake up now."

And he continued like this, in a cold voice, pretending that everything you had experienced, shared didn't count, was nothing.

"I'm leaving the region at the end of the month. I'm going to Wales. The wedding will take place there and we will settle in one of my father's properties. I'm sorry [Y/N], but you are intelligent, you must have suspected that all this was only ephemeral."

He stroked a lock of your hair, then he turned away and left without a backward glance, leaving you alone with your sorrow, your broken heart, your body in pain.

You fell to your knees, crying silently. You stayed there for a long time, hours. It was almost dark when you finally returned home. You felt empty, betrayed, in another world, so much so that you hadn't even heard your father's remonstrances.

The next day, you burned everything: the letters, the gifts, you wanted to erase him entirely from your existence. But it was too late. He had already left an indelible mark on you.

Back to the present

A lump in your throat, you listened to Christopher talk to you about the future. Children he hoped to have with you.

You had to tell him. He had to know what you had done 16 years ago. You couldn't let him believe that you were a young virgin saved for her husband. You had to tell him everything. But once again, you were too cowardly to do it, promising yourself once again that tomorrow, tomorrow you would talk to him.

But you didn't, the days passed, you kept your secret, your regrets, your remorse and your guilt with you. But on this December 23rd, Christopher did something you didn't expect.

He came to your house without you expecting it. Your father was busy at the Hawthorne's. He was preparing the tables and the decorations for their Christmas reception. However, you didn't hesitate to let Colonel Brandon come home. You knew you had nothing to fear with him, and besides, your four-legged companion would protect you if necessary.

Christopher stood in front of you, a little nervous. He felt a certain resistance in you, but he hoped that what he was going to ask you would break down your last defences and that you would teach him to understand your silences and your sometimes shifty glances.

"[Y/N], I wanted to ask you something," he began, pacing back and forth.

You were sitting by the fireplace, your heart pounding.

"I love you. With a deep and sincere love."

Your breath caught in your throat as he stopped in front of you, his hands crossed behind his back.

"I don't want to wait any longer. I don't want to waste any more time. I know I want you in my life. You touched my heart when I thought it was no longer possible."

"Colonel Brandon," you said, emotion choking your voice somewhat.

Christopher looked at you surprised. You only called him that in public, never in private, not since he asked you to use his Christian name.

"I..."

You couldn't continue. Sensing your hesitation, he took your hands in his, so strong, so powerful.

"I know I'm not perfect. I'm not the most handsome man in the kingdom, and my past has been filled with pain and regret. But I'm grateful to God for making me endure all of this. Thanks to it, I learned to recognize a true soul."

"Christopher," you began but he stopped you by raising his hand.

"I would like us to go to the Jennings' party tomorrow night as your fiancé and for you to allow me to tell my best friend that you have agreed to become my wife."

You turned pale. As if he could sense the tension emanating from your entire being, Henry came to rest his head against your leg. You absently took him on your lap, your eyes wide.

You looked up to see the hope in Christopher's, and you felt sick. You put Henry back on the ground and stood up abruptly to walk away.

"[Y/N]," Christopher said softly.

He didn't understand. What were you doing ? You weren't like Marianne, you couldn't be. He had thought he saw in you what he had been looking for for so long, and here you were about to break his heart, like all the others.

"I can't," you whispered.

His words were like a slap in the air. Brandon took a step back, hurt.

"Why ?" he asked firmly, "was I just a game to you ?"

"No ! Never ! I... Christopher... I..."

Tears welled up in your eyes and you bit your bottom lip until it bled.

"[Y/N], explain yourself. I want to know," he commanded.

"I'm not what you think I am. You deserve a much better woman than me who is worthy of walking by your side."

"[Y/N], I don't expect you to be perfect. But I want you to be honest."

"Honest... I wish I was, but I'm afraid you'll never look at me again."

"[Y/N], what do you mean ?"

Christopher felt worry rising in him. What could you possibly be hiding ?

"I... you'll probably despise me after this, but please, don't tell anyone, ever. I'm telling you because I owe it to you. What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have given you false hope, but please, Colonel Brandon... Christopher... keep my secret, I beg you."

You were crying for real now. Christopher helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water.

"Despising you ? Never. What could you have done that was so bad ?"

His tone was soft, his gaze worried. You hesitated for a split second, then spilled the beans.

"There... many years ago, when I was only 16 years old, I let myself be seduced by a young lord. He... he was insidiously sweet and he made me a thousand and one promises. He promised me a bright future, dreams that I would never have dared to imagine, but...

11 years ago

"My dear, you haven't stopped throwing up for three days. We should really call the doctor," your father had told you tenderly.

"It's not necessary, Dad. We don't have much money and I'll get better soon, there's an epidemic in the village. I probably caught it when I went to sell our apples to Mr. DeGardener."

Your father had nodded, even if he remained worried about you. But you knew you were lying. You weren't sick. It was worse than that.

Two months ago, William had taken you to his house in secret. A magnificent home like you had never seen before. His parents were away, traveling to Scotland with three-quarters of the servants. He had let you in discreetly, under the noses of the few servants still present.

He had taken you to his room, kissed you on the cheek, forehead, nose, mouth. Up until then, nothing more than what you had already done. He then went down your neck and one of his fingers had gently lowered the collar of your dress to place a kiss on the top of your breasts. Out of breath, you had let him do it.

He slid his other hand along your leg, raising your dress up your thigh to place his hand under your drawers, and there again, you had not pushed him away. You knew what was going to happen, you were not as naive as you seemed... well, at least you liked to think so.

Several times, he had asked you if you were sure, if you wanted him to stop. When he had unbuttoned your dress, when he had slid it down your body, when he had removed your wool socks, your undershirt and one last time, before his hands slid your drawers down your legs

And after you had whispered "yes" to him one last time, he had laid you down on his bed and had taken your purity, your innocence, your entire body.

You obviously couldn't tell your father this, but there was one person you could confide in. You knew she wouldn't judge you and she would never tell him again.

You had waited until the next morning, for your father to leave for work to leave him a note and you had left for your grandmother's house. She lived in a modest house a little outside the village, nestled at the end of a path lined with old twisted trees that filtered the autumn light, making their foliage almost unreal.

With bruised feet and a fragile mind, you had timidly knocked on the door, your shoulders weighed down by an emotional fatigue that devoured you more than anything else. Your grandmother had come to open the door. When she saw you, her face had lit up with a toothless smile. Her white hair was tied up in a strict bun and her face, marked by the years, was marked by a little more worry when she saw you with red eyes and a defeated expression.

"Grandma, I didn't know where to go," you had said, bursting into tears.

She had immediately pulled you into her arms. You still remembered her scent of lavender and wood and for the first time since William had abandoned you, you felt safe.

She had led you to the fire and while she made tea, you had unpacked everything. Absolutely everything, while your grandmother had sat in her old, worn armchair, a blanket around her shoulders, listening to you without saying a word.

"My dear," your grandmother had finally said at the end of your story.

"I loved him, Grandma. And I believed him when he said he would marry me," you had said in a hoarse, almost inaudible voice.

"I know, my dear. But you are not the first young girl to be taken in by the sweet promises of a young man in search of pleasure."

"He left me like I was nothing. Like we had nothing in common and all his promises were nothing but wind," you said, crying even harder.

"You're no less precious, [Y/N]. No one needs to know what happened, it's yours," your grandmother had said wisely.

"Except... Oh, Grandma ! I'm expecting his child !"

Your tears had redoubled, almost choking you as your throat was so tight.

"There is no forgiveness for girls like me. I'm lost and when the whole village finds out, my father's name will be sullied."

The old woman had immediately stood up to hug you.

"No one needs to know. You made a mistake, that's true, but that doesn't define you. Neither you nor your worth. It's what you do from now on that matters," she had said firmly.

"What am I going to do, Grandma ?"

The old woman thought silently for a moment, her fingers clenched on the armrest of the chair you were sitting in.

"I... I'm going to go see your father..."

"NO !" you cried.

She silenced you with a look, the same kind of look she used to make you understand, when you were a child, that you were getting a little too insolent.

"I'm going to tell him that I'm not doing very well and that I want to go on a pilgrimage to talk to God. He'll tell me that I'm too old and I'll tell him that's why I want you to come with me, to watch over me."

"Where shall we go, Grandma ?"

"I know a place where we can help you."

"Grandma, you're not judging me, are you ?" you asked, consumed by guilt.

She took your hand in hers and squeezed it with all her strength.

"My poor little darling. You carry a weight that is far too heavy for a young girl, but you are not the first young woman to let a man abuse you. Listen to me carefully, this secret will be ours and you must never, ever let it define you or dictate the rest of your life, understood ?"

You didn't answer and she squeezed your hands a little tighter.

"Understood ?" she asked again with more force.

"Yes," you breathed.

"Good. I'm going to take you to a small, remote convent run by sisters who are rather... let's say more caring than others. They'll give you a choice. Either stay there until you're delivered and they'll then take care of your child, entrust him to a good family who can't have one or..."

You saw her hesitate and you raised a questioning look.

"Or what, grandmother ?"

"Or some of them know... they know how to make angels."

Your breath hitched. You knew what she meant.

"It will be your decision, [Y/N], but know that no matter what you decide, you will do what you believe is right and I, I will always love you just as much."

She hugged you again, whispering to you that anyone who dared to judge you would know nothing of the weight of the human heart. And a week later, you found yourself in this convent, surrounded by sisters who were not as caring as promised, who had made disparaging remarks to you under the disapproving gaze of your grandmother, but despite the sermons, one of them had created an angel and you had returned home as you had left, at least in appearance. But the specter of your guilt, you knew, would never leave you.

Back to the present

"It was supposed to be the best solution, an end, but it was only a beginning. I woke up after days of fever, weakened, my body bruised and my heart... my heart completely empty," you said without even trying to hold back your tears.

Christopher looked at you, his features serious but his eyes not devoid of compassion. He had listened to you from start to finish without interrupting you.

"That day, I lost my faith and my dignity. You see, Christopher, I am not what you think. I am not pure. I am just a slut who... who made an angel out of the child she was expecting. I am not worthy of you, of your love."

A heavy silence fell, broken only by your sobs. Christopher crossed the distance between you and took one of your hands in his. You tried to pull it away, but he stopped you.

"Please, Colonel, don't tell anyone. My father never knew, nor did anyone in our village. This secret belonged only to my grandmother and me. Today, my grandmother is no longer of this world, I am the only one carrying this secret. Please, please, keep it to yourself, I only revealed it to you so that you understand why we can't be together," you said in one go.

"[Y/N], look at me" he asked with authority.

You timidly looked up, afraid to see anger in his eyes, but you only saw love.

"I don't despise you. All I see is a young woman who, far too young, had to go through hell. But you came out stronger. And today, you don't have to carry that burden alone anymore," he said in a soft voice.

You shook your head violently, ready to protest, but he stopped you.

"You have survived much pain, much suffering that few could have borne," he continued with unwavering compassion, "and you are still here, standing before me, strong, fighting. It takes a strength that I can only admire, not despise."

"But I am not pure. I am broken," you whispered.

"And me too, life has broken me many times. But I got back up every time, like you. Life is like that. We all carry our burdens, but they shape us. You are not broken [Y/N], you are like a reed. The wind wanted to break you in two, but you only bent for a moment before getting back up."

His words resfelt like a balm on your bruised heart and for the first time in a long time, you saw hope and the possibility of finally letting those old wounds heal.

"I don't deserve you," you said weakly.

He squeezed your hand a little tighter as if to anchor you to reality.

"You deserve all the love in the world. And I love you. I love you as you are, for who you are. No matter who you were, what you've done. And if you're ready to accept me with my own demons, then I promise to love you, to protect you and together we will build a future far from the ghosts that haunt us. A future where there will be only hope, happiness and you can always lean on me."

You probed him as if to make sure he wasn't playing you, but you saw only sincerity and love on his features.

"[Y/N], do you agree to be my wife ?" Christopher asked softly.

"Yes," you said between sobs.

He held you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. When the front door opened, he quickly stepped back.

"[Y/N], what's going on here ?" your father asked, looking at Christopher suspiciously.

"Dad..."

"I asked [Y/N] to be my wife and she agreed," Christopher answered for you.

Your father's face might have made you laugh if you weren't still reeling from the confession you had just made.

"Well, that's a surprise," he finally said, sitting down heavily on an armchair.

The Colonel took his leave, not without kissing your forehead tenderly, almost possessively before taking his leave.

The next day, he picked you up for the evening at the Jennings, a ring between his fingers.

"It belonged to my mother," he told you as he slipped it onto your finger. "And now, it's yours. And you're mine," he said as he kissed your temple.

And you left for the Jennings, you wrapped in the wool coat that Christopher had given you, he had the biggest smile you'd ever seen on his face. And in that dark night where the cold bit your cheeks, you let yourself go against him when in the carriage, he wrapped his arms around you to warm you. But it wasn't so much his arms that warmed you as the promise of a future that you had never dared to hope for before. And silently, you thanked the heavens for having heard your quiet wishing.

#alan rickman #colonel brandon x female oc #colonel brandon x reader #sense and sensibility #rickmas2024 #evans23

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brazilian-vampyra · 7 months ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I'LL TRY TO FIX YOU

(english)

⿻ contains dark themes, if you don't feel comfortable, don't read it — ♡ ᵎᵎ

⿻ warnings: depressed!reader x killer!toji, strong language, blood, violence, mentions of past traumas ⤵

slowburn, sex, l-bomb, oral, toji smoking pot, lots of tears, age gap (toji is +30, reader is in her 20s), fem!reader, toji helping the reader to overcome this difficult situation — ♡ ᵎᵎ

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 was not always easy, you suffered a lot at the hands of others and were abandoned in an orphanage when you were a child. And it didn't take long for a family to adopt you.

But your rainbow was painted gray when you realized that family wouldn't give you the love you deserved. An abusive family that always puts you down. Even though they are rich and give you all the best, they neglected you all the years.

They didn't listen to your outbursts, they belittled your insecurities — and even increased them and caused many of them — and put you down when they could.

When you were around 13 years old you developed depression, and that feeling of sadness consume you day after day, becoming increasingly debilitating. This sadness and emptiness couldn't be normalized, but how were you to know it couldn't be?

You had no parameters and no family support.

With this lack of love and attention, you didn't have good relationships. You have fallen into the clutches of inhumane partners, that gave you crumbs of affection, and as a result you went through several toxic situations, leaving you alone all the fucking times.

Had God abandoned you? Could everyone live well but you would never have your happy ending?

Life was unfair, raw and fucked.

After some time with this emotional imbalance, death started to seem like a good thing. Maybe the best choice.

It was then that the crisis began, as well as the self-harm. The years of suffering accumulated scars on your skin, which became more covered every day by sweatshirts and jeans, as well as dark circles under your eyes.

You had already tried to end this suffering several times, but none of the ways worked.

━━ Am I too weak even for this? — you questioned yourself in a whisper between tears after a failed attempt.

Your parents were considerably powerful people in the commercial world, perhaps they got money in a dirty way and ran some nasty scheme to accumulate those digits in the bank account.

Since your childhood, you would hear suspicious conversations in the room, with strange people in meetings over cigars and expensive wine. The mansion had many security guards, it even looked like they were the president and the first lady of the country.

You never understood the reason for this excessive security. What were they so afraid of?

One night, you were wrapped in a blanket, lying in bed and looking at the wall while thinking about nothing. Your mind was as empty as the bottles of champagne they popped on the weekends.

Maybe this would be a good time to end this once and for all. Then you walked to the balcony of your room, which overlooked the backyard, and felt the cold breeze kiss your sad face.

You sat there and looked at the floor. It was very high. Tears began to flow down your face unconsciously, you felt incapable even at that moment.

That's when you heard a strange noise coming from the garden.

Then everything was silent again, it was okay, it shouldn't be anything you need to worry about.

After a few minutes, you heard a loud, terrified scream coming from your mother on the first floor, and then the sound of gunshots. It made you look back and wonder what could be happening.

In less than a minute, your bedroom door opened and you flinched in fright.

There was a peculiar man, you had never seen him in your life. Tall, muscular, dark hair, green eyes that made him look like a natural predator, black clothes, scar on his lip, skin covered in blood, a gun on his waist and he was holding something that looked like a sword with a chain.

Your tearful eyes met his cold gaze, and you felt a chill run through your body. Maybe it was the cold of the night breeze, or the fear of this stranger, but you didn't want to think about anything else and immediately jumped.

In an almost supernatural way, the stranger had crossed your vast room in a second and was now on the balcony. He grabbed you by the waist mid-air and pulled you back.

It's not possible that you were going to die at the hands of a stranger when you finally found the courage that was missing in you.

You began to struggle in the stranger's muscular arms, but he was too strong and was pulling you away from the balcony. The iron smell of blood was filling your nostrils and you felt like vomiting.

━━ Let me fucking jump, take your dirty hands out of me!

He didn't say anything, and he didn't even make an effort to keep you quiet. When suddenly he pulled something out of his pocket like a cloth that was placed on your nose and you started to feel your eyelids get heavy.

You didn't see much and you didn't hear much either, but you opened your eyes slightly and saw how he carried you in his arms like a bride, dodging the corpses of the security guards on the ground, the result of the bloody scene he caused.

The next day, you woke up.

You were in a considerably comfortable bed in a dimly lit room. The dark curtains hid the light from the cold day outside, but you could hear some car horns, the sound of an ambulance, a motorcycle accelerating, sounds of the avenue.

When suddenly, a male voice was heard outside the room, followed by another male voice.

━━ Why didn't you kill the girl too?

━━ The ad asked for her parents' heads, not hers.

━━ Are you going to babysit a grown woman? I'm not judging but I didn't expect that from you.

━━ I know how to handle myself, Shiu. Don't worry.

And then a door closed, probably the main one and the other man left. It was then that you heard the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway, until the doorknob turned and that muscular man from yesterday entered.

You closed your eyes and tried to hide it, but it didn't work.

━━ You don't have to pretend to be asleep.

You slowly opened your eyes and noticed that he was wearing gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt. That skin was no longer stained with last night's thick blood.

Instead of saying anything, you remained sullen and quiet, like a helpless animal.

━━ I’m Toji Fushiguro.

He offered his hand to you, and yet reluctant and uncertain, you decided to hold it and shake it. The skin on his palm wasn't as soft as yours. It was calloused, a little harsh, the hands of a blacksmith.

━━ You didn't kill me yesterday, you just killed my parents. Why?

━━ By the look on your face, I must say I did you a favor.

━━ You're a hitman, aren't you?

━━ I think this is kind of obvious, but yes.

He went to the window to open the curtains and let in the gray daylight.

━━ Why aren't there bars on the windows?

━━ 'Cause this isn't a kidnapping, perhaps?

You found the man's actions quite strange and the way he was reacting to you.

━━ Look, why don't you get up and go down the street with me? We’ll go to the market.

He grabbed a pair of all stars and placed them next to the bed before leaving the room. You noticed it was yours, and on a chair was your backpack. Had he prepared a backpack with your things? That's weird.

You accepted what he had said and put on your sneakers, before leaving the room. He was in the apartment's kitchen, near the counter, taking out his wallet and keys.

━━ Here, have a glass of water first.

He took a bottle from the fridge and poured water into a glass for you. You took it and so you went to the market.

It was so strange to be on the street now, and that giant man seemed to be your bodyguard. How long has it been since you were outside? Depression has made you give up on leaving your room, so going for a walk was very weird.

On the market everything went well, it was much more normal than you had imagined. He didn't leave your side for a long time but it wasn't like he was suffocating you with his presence.

At a certain point he went to the fruits and vegetables area.

━━ I'm terrible at choosing these things, would you like to help me?

You helped him choose the best. For someone with a physique like that he was very lost on how to buy this kind of healthy food. Then you went back to the apartment, and he started taking some things out of the bags.

━━ Can you bathe alone or do you need help?

You didn't respond, what response should you give?

He sighed.

━━ I'm going to assume you need help. C’mon.

He led the way, heading to the apartment's bathroom. It had a bathtub, shower, a good-sized mirror, grayish stone sink, black carpet that absorbs water.

Toji bent down next to the bathtub and turned on the taps, so it started to fill. You took the opportunity to start taking off your clothes, even though you were embarrassed. First you took off your black hoodie.

He turned back and noticed that your arms and thighs were in a sad state. Your skin was wrapped in white bandages, completely stained with blood.

After all, you were alike in something. Both of you wore black clothes to hide the blood. Him for one reason, you for another but with the same purpose.

━━ After the bath I'll take care of it.

He rolled up his sleeves and dipped his forearm in the water to make sure it was at an ideal temperature for you. You then got into the bathtub, sitting down slowly and after taking off the bandages.

The water made it burn a little, and although it wasn't bleeding like before, your dermis was exposed with crimson marks.

━━ These cuts are deep…

That's what he said, before picking up a brand new bottle of shampoo. It smelled like honey.

━━ I know…

You felt ashamed of yourself for being in this situation. When did you get this bad?

He remained silent, after seeing how you shyly hugged your knees. You felt the honey-scented shampoo being poured onto the top of your head, then he could massage your scalp with the strong pads of his thick fingers. It was the most peaceful bath you've ever had in your life. There was a strange man — maybe not so strange after all — washing your hair, while putting liquid soap on your hands so that you could wash your body by yourself.

At the end of the bath, he took a very long, dark gray towel and asked you to stand up. Toji rolled you up like a package and took you out of the bathtub, placing you standing on the rug.

━━ Can you dry yourself? I'll get the medicine and your clothes, I'll be right back so I can take care of this.

You nodded and began to dry your body carefully. It hurt a lot and you had to do it carefully, patting it lightly with the soft fabric of the towel. And soon he was back. You felt so useless, you couldn't even clean yourself properly.

Within a few seconds, Toji knelt in front of you and grabbed a pair of panties for you to wear. The man's strong, calloused hands slid the fabric up your legs, carefully moving up until he could finally dress you. He also handed you a random blouse that he had gotten from your closet yesterday and you got dressed.

━━ I'll start with the thighs, okay? It will burn a little.

With that said, he took some medicine and started applying it to start cleaning the cuts. It burned a little, but it was bearable, even though you grimaced and suppressed a groan.

━━ I know it hurts, I’m sorry.

You endured the pain and so he cleaned the deep cuts on your thighs, applying antiseptic spray before wrapping them in white bandages again. Now he had gotten up and was cleaning your arms so he could repeat the process.

After this whole process, he combed your hair gently with a blue comb that was in a bathroom drawer. You were showered, completely clean, with new bandages and your hair smelled good.

That afternoon Toji tried his best to make you some good food. He wasn't much of a cook, as he didn't have much time for it and didn't even care about eating healthy. But he sautéed some vegetables and greens, along with some pieces of tender meat, and used olive oil.

Even though the kitchen was a little far away, he could see that you were sitting on the sofa in the living room, silently, looking at your bandages. Yeah, you looked like a mummy now with that brand new tape. And your empty eyes were between looking at your arms and thighs and looking at the huge window that overlooked the street.

━━ C’mon. Open wide.

He said, holding a white bowl in his hands and using a fork to feed you.

━━ What do you like to eat? I can try to do whatever you like.

━━ Good question.

It's not that you developed an eating disorder during depression, but you definitely no longer had an interest in food. You ate, but you ate less because the food suddenly became uninteresting. You only ate for the sake of eating, you no longer had the happiness of eating sweets, for example, you only ate on "automatic mode”.

It was as if you couldn't taste the acidity of a kiwi, or the sweetness of a papaya. The bitter taste of unsweetened coffee, or the tenderness of meat cooked with potatoes. Suddenly, food became just food, everything with a universal flavor like bland, edible pasta.

He was well aware of your depression, and he knew he would help you.

After that day, you started living with Toji in that apartment. The place was very clean and considerably large; well maintained. He took care of you, until you were able to shower yourself, feed yourself and many other things. Not to mention that he had also noticed the way you looked sad at your cuts with that white bandage, and that's why he always bought different bandages at the pharmacy.

Some were teddy bears stamped, others dinosaurs, even some little hearts. Somehow, he just wanted you to feel more comfortable in your own skin.

He took you out for ice cream, walked in the park, let you put whatever you wanted in the grocery cart, bought you new clothes and everything. You also got to know Shiu Kong, who "monitored" you sometimes when Toji needed to work.

The killer was still afraid that you would freak out and throw yourself out of a window.

This man slept on the sofa in the living room, which was actually a sofa bed. He always preferred to leave the bed in the room to you, even if it was a double bed but he wanted you to have your personal space. After all, it was a difficult stage in your life, and you were in the process of healing.

Your cuts, which were deep, were finally healing, leaving scars on the skin. Your dark circles were disappearing and your face was getting more colorful again, becoming healthier and brighter.

After a few months, you were much better than before. Not completely healed, in fact it was far from it, but you felt like you were slowly coming out of rock bottom.

Toji Fushiguro and you hardly spoke to each other. You only spoke the essentials, but it wasn't in a strange way that didn't make you create intimacy. And every time he arrived after a murder you were already in the warmth of your covers, in a peaceful sleep, late at night.

However, this time you were awake, as you had gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You heard the key turn in the door handle, and saw him enter immediately without turning on a single light. The iron smell of viscous blood entered your nostrils.

━━ Goodnight.

━━ Goodnight. I didn't mean to wake you…

━━ It's okay. I was awake — you said. ━━ Are you fine?

━━ Don't worry- oof. I’ll be fine, go back to sleep.

You looked for the switch and turned on the light in the living room, seeing what you already imagined. The blood stuck to the fabric of the shirt on his body, and made you notice a wet spot right next to the rib. You sighed when you saw him like that, you had never seen him hurt during all this time. The frown remained on his face, as if he was incapable of feeling pain, but you knew it was really sore.

━━ Hm… you can… take a shower and come back. I’ll wait for you here.

Apparently the older man had understood what you meant, and oddly enough he didn't complain or question it. You already knew where the first aid kit was and some other medicines were, so you took the white suitcase from a closet in the bedroom and went back to the couch. Toji didn't take long to shower, and apparently he had taken a cold shower because his skin was refreshing, and you smelled a very peculiar perfume. A woody perfume, striking with some notes of something expensive.

It was there that night that you saw him shirtless for the first time, wearing only black sweatpants and leaving a large part of his ripped body exposed. There was a huge cut on his rib, but he was calm, as if he didn't feel anything.

He sat on the sofa and you started cleaning it very well so that it didn't get worse.

You poured some alcohol on the cut, and it remained motionless. It must have burned a lot, but you couldn't tell if he didn't feel it or if he managed to hide it very well.

━━ You know you could be in bed right now, don't you? — his harsh tone of voice was already familiar. ━━ You could be having your princess sleep.

━━ You always took care of me. Is it hard to let me take care of you?

He said something like "hm" and decided not to answer the question, keeping quiet and letting you finish taking care of that wound. In the end he practically whispered a "thank you" and you were minimally happy with that, going to the bedroom again to finish your night's sleep.

A few weeks passed and you were getting a little closer, maybe tending to his injuries was enough for him to understand that at the end of the day, you were similar. One night you woke up crying after a horrible nightmare, and Toji came to your room to comfort you. The man sat in a chair next to you so you could go back to sleeping peacefully in that huge bed.

Well, you didn't say anything else about that night, and maybe it wasn't necessary.

One night when he didn't have any work, he was on the living room balcony, smoking something that wasn't an ordinary cigarette. The peculiar aroma entered your nostrils and you could recognize: he was indeed smoking pot. Sitting on a small sofa there, enjoying the night breeze and watching the city lights in the distance in the dark. You shyly approached, and he noticed how you looked.

━━ Come here… — he patted where you were supposed to sit, right next to him. ━━ I won't bite.

Somewhat awkwardly, you approached and sat down, watching him bring the cigarette to his lips and inhale the smoke.

━━ Toji…

━━ Hm?

━━ Can I ask you something?

He nodded.

━━ That night... why did you save me?

━━ Because the deal asked for your parents' death, not yours.

━━ But you wouldn't gain anything by saving me…

He finished releasing the thick smoke through his lips and a slightly uncomfortable and heavy silence fell between the two of you. Fushiguro looked up at the starry sky for a few seconds before sighing and speaking again.

━━ You know, girl. When I looked into your eyes that night, I saw myself.

You remained silent, trying to understand.

━━ When I was younger, people threw me into a pit full of curses as punishment… that was the damn day I had to learn to be strong. I was fragile, innocent and people made me cry a lot.

What a sad story. You never imagined that someone like him had gone through something like this.

━━ With this scar here — he pointed to his own lips. ━━ I became who I am today… — powerful words. ━━ And looking into your eyes, somehow I saw the same look I had. The same look of trauma, sadness, disappointment…

A few tears were gathering in your eyes.

━━ Fuck, I mean I couldn't understand why people who were supposed to protect and love me were hurting me so much. And in your eyes I could see myself.

Well, he talked more than he should have and shut up once and for all, but his eyes widened, as he heard a crying sob and looked at you, watching two tears running down your cheek perfectly. You weren't crying because of sadness, after many years you were crying because of something good. Although you couldn't identify this feeling very well, was sure it was something good.

Had he felt connected to you somehow? Did he understand your pain?

You had finally found someone as broken as you, but who hid it and played strong, so that you could rebuild yourself.

Instinctively Toji opened his arms and made to hug you, but he stopped himself because he didn't know if you would be comfortable with that. His look of hesitation was like a request for permission, and without even thinking you fell against his strong chest, crying into his white t-shirt, as his strong arms wrapped around your body weakened by tangible emotions. He hugged you tightly and remained silent, allowing you to cry in peace.

How long has it been since you received a hug?

Even more of a hug like this, comforting and true. The kind of hug where you can feel the heat of the person's body and feel safe and protected.

━━ Why do people always hurt me, Toji? Why? — you said, sobbing.

━━ Because empty and futile people need to hurt people around them to increase their ego and pretend to fill the void — he brought a hand to your head, lightly stroking your hair. ━━ Idiot people will always want to hurt amazing people. But look…

He distanced himself a little and cupped your chin lightly with his thumb, making you look up, eyes bathed in sadness.

━━ That night I held you, and I promise I'll never let you go.

Those were the most sincere and pure words anyone had ever said to you. You didn't care if they came from the mouth of a man who got blood on his hands, he was honest with you.

Suddenly, looking into those beautiful green eyes you felt a strange attraction. And apparently he felt it too, because he hadn't taken his thumb off your chin and was looking at you with complete compassion. You sighed heavily, your eyes teary and shyly brought your face closer to his. That was what Fushiguro needed to be able to bring his face closer to yours and finally touch your lips with his.

His lips were warm and soft, and you felt his scar but it didn't bother you, it was just different.

Toji then slid his tongue across your lips slowly, and you gave in. Now your tongues were touching and you brought your shaky hands to his face, while more tears rolled down your cheeks. You were crying with happiness knowing you were savoring a kiss, it wasn't just any kiss like all the others in your life, this one was real. He felt your nervousness and held your shaking hands, making you feel the warmth of his, as he put them on his shoulders so you could get some support.

It wasn't a needy kiss, it was slow. But certainly intense.

It was then that your relationship with Toji became more serious, more sentimental, more romantic. Now he slept with you in bed, hugging you so you felt safe, or bringing you to his chest so you could enjoy as a pillow. Your cuts were already well healed but the scars would remain on your body forever and were evident. That was horrible, you bitterly regretted having cut your flesh in moments of anger and sadness, but there was nothing you could do at that time, especially without support.

Some nights, he would come back exhausted after executing a few kills, and all he needed was to collapse into your arms and rest his head in your lap. Despite his size and strength, he was still a little fragile.

And he knew how to be delicate.

Proof of this was when the kisses became too intense and evolved into sex. I mean, he always tried his best to control himself and let you take your time. Fushiguro didn't want to pressure you into anything, he didn't want to take you to bed right away.

Giving yourself over to him was certainly one of the best decisions you had made.

That night, he gently held you in his strong arms and covered you with kisses so you could relax and enjoy the moment. You had already fucked a few times with some idiots but all of them were without much desire, just done for their please. But with Toji it was different, completely different.

You were sitting on his lap while you kissed intensely, moaning against each other's mouths and he took off your blouse, making your bare chest rest against his, which also no longer had any fabric inhibiting it. The man leaned you back a little and took the opportunity to kiss your arms, especially your scars. Goddamn, he was so fucking gentle.

The delicate kisses went to your chest, radiating tremendous heat through your body. So was that desire? The real desire?

He kissed your breasts and sucked them eagerly, causing some popping noises throughout the room along with your moans. He groaned against your skin and a trickle of saliva connected his lips to your nipple as he looked up.

━━ So soft…

Suddenly, you were already lying on the bed and he was kissing your thighs, caressing your scars. The thin fabric of your panties was already completely soaked by that liquid desire that dripped down your sex. Your legs were thrown around his strong shoulders as his hot kisses were dangerously close to your most sensitive spot.

━━ I’m probably all fucked with those scars…

You ended up leaving that comment on the air and Toji licked your clit through your panties, making you moan loudly.

━━ My love, sex is not a show. We don't have to be perfect all the time…

He placed a kiss over the thin fabric and then slid his huge hands around your waist, lowering and finally removing your panties. When you were completely naked, you felt a little ashamed, yes, but not that horrible feeling of wanting to cover yourself immediately.

Toji watched you as if you were a work of art; and to him you really were.

━━ Let me just take care of you, okay? Let me do my best for you…

The words spoken in a hoarse tone entered your ears and that was more than enough for you to enjoy this fantastic feeling.

Toji simply devoured you with an immense desire, and you squeezed his hair at times to be able to control your own body due to the stimuli. He held your thighs with his big, strong hands, squeezing a little so he could rub his face more against your wet spot just like his nose rubbed your clit. While he was eating you out, he grinded his hips against the mattress looking for some relief, ‘cuz those panties were so damn tight, his cock was throbbing.

For the love of the gods, he was splendid, simply perfect.

And besides giving you so much pleasure with his tongue, he also held your body tenderly that night, fucking you in the most affectionate way possible. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder and placed a small kiss on your ankle as he held it close to your thigh and was grinding his hips against you. Fushiguro's moans were profane, as profane as the image of him naked and slightly sweaty reflected in the dim light of the nightstand lamp.

The messy dark hair, the striking scar on his lip, the striking green eyes… wow, that's a sight to behold.

You couldn't tell if that was for the best, or if it was him fucking you in missionary, keeping your legs tightly crossed around his strong hips, as he was just feeling your warm pussy milking his cock while he intertwined his fingers with yours against the mattress. He kissed you in a way that took your breath away; that was a needy kiss.

You came like never before in your life, you had never come so hard like this. And this man did it effortlessly, just by touching you in the right spots and making you scream and beg for more.

Okay, that was a night to remember.

You were now officially his girlfriend. And you had finally found someone who could rebuild you while giving you the opportunity to put the pieces together to understand the complex puzzle that he was. Every day he surprised you more, and made you feel truly loved, truly wanted.

He kept buying you clothes, washing your hair with your favorite shampoo, taking you to amazing places and giving you affection. Especially liked lying in bed with him and putting your hand over his, which was much bigger compared to yours. That hand that caressed your body and also killed people for money.

Two mentally broken people who finally intertwined fingers and decided to walk this path of life together. This brings a reflection. The romance between a murderer and a suicidal is intriguing, isn't it?

He would kill for you. You would die for him.

[...]

𑊁📂 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: random idea i had on a sleepless night, forgive any grammar mistakes.

XOXO little bats, kisses that taste like type o negative 💋

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x female reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fanfic #toji fushigro x reader #toji headcanons #toji angst #hades vampirona 🤸🏻‍♀️#hades writes

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rachetmath · 1 year ago

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Pyrrha: Hi you must be Alyx.

Alyx: Yes.

Pyrrha: Well I just want to talk to you about something.

Alyx: I mean sure but what-

Pyrrha: Not what. It’s who. You know Jaune Arc?

Alyx: I mean y-

Pyrrha: You know the Rustud Knight? The one you betrayed? Who you poisoned?

Alyx: Well I can- *attempts to run*

Penny: *blocks her path*Nope. All attempts of escape are at zero right now.

Alyx: You can’t be serious.

Penny: As the current generation would say," Oh yes bitch. Try me."

Alyx: Okay I may have wronged him a little bit.

Lewis: A little? You completely poisoned him.

Alyx: Lewis you are not helping.

Lewis: At least like Jaune I was trying. But you never listen.

Alyx: Look I understand but what’s the big deal? He got back to Remnant.

Pyrrha: Why?! Why did you do it?

Alyx: I mean… well… I… um….

Pyrrha: Alyx, understand, you have two deadly women on both sides of you. If you don’t give us a good explanation well…. I guess we’ll finally see if you can fall from heaven.

Alyx: Well I saw this vision and I didn’t like it.

Penny: Understood, what was the vision?

Alyx: Um… I *whisper* don’t remember.

Penny: You what?!

Alyx: I don’t remember okay?!

Pyrrha: What vision? Who’s vision?

Alyx: I don’t know. The writers didn’t give me anything. I saved him though. That counts, right?

Pyrrha: No. He just survived.

Penny: Plus your ‘help’ could give him problems down the road.

Alyx: Like what?

Me: I mean the fan base speaks for itself. I mean the guy hasn’t been in Remnant for years it’s going to be kind of hard for him to readjust. Not only that he has to recover from years of isolation, PTSD, trauma, and because of you he might as well also be having trust issues. Not only that he had to leave another friend behind. You and the Ever After might as have shattered him

Alyx: Oh Oum.

Pyrrha: Yeah. Oum can’t save you. Penny.

Penny: Way ahead of you.

Alyx: Wait you wouldn’t hurt an innocent black child right?

Pyrrha and Penny: ………..

Me: Alyx you heard the saying, “Equal rights equal fights.”

Alyx: Let’s say I don’t.

Me: No matter your race. No matter your sexuality. No more matter your gender or age. You made a choice to do what you do. And as a result of said choice you must face said consequences. Weither they be good or bad. Basically you may be a kid but you were grown enough commit murder. And as such-

Pyrrha: You have this coming.

Alyx: *crying* I’m sorry. I just wanted to home. Jaune had no idea how. So I did what ever took. And then the Cat betrayed me and I died. Please? Don’t hurt me!

Summer: Come now ladies. I know you’re both upset but-

Pyrrha: Ms. Rose! Shut up!

Summer: I’m sorry? Who are you talking to?

Pyrrha: You are a nobody. You have been irrelevant for a while now. You left your daughters and died. Your daughter ain’t shit. Your team is still disbanded even after you died. You might as well be an afterthought at this point.

Summer: Said the girl who’s only job was to run away.

Pyrrha: I went out in a blaze of glory. I proved myself. What the fuck have you done?

Summer: Um.

Penny: Friend Pyrrha I know I have no rights to talk.

Pyrrha: Damn straight. You suffered more than myself. All you had to do was live. Instead, you traumatized my man. He just got over me too. Why would you do that?

Penny: Okay, I’m sorry. But, he’s going to be fine now. Let’s just let her go. And we pray he gets better.

Pyrrha: Fine. You're lucky Alyx.

Alyx: Thank you. But I am sorry.

Pyrrha: Shut up. Oum damn. If this story continues he better get stronger and kill Cinder. Because this is stupid. I mean how much trauma does one guy need? How he is not a villain? I mean, come on, he can’t be like Yuji, he doesn’t have skills like that.

Penny: Well friend W-

Pyrrha: If you say her name I will end you.

Summer: Okay woah, it’s been nine volumes why are you mad about this?

Pyrrha: One; he deserves better. Two; I prefer your daughter or anyone else than her. Three; she’s fucking useless. And four; it took him being an old man for her to start liking him. Fuck that bitch.

Summer: Well like said, if you stayed alive then-

Pyrrha: If you stayed alive maybe Qrow would have stopped drinking. If you stayed alive maybe your baby daddy wouldn’t be in a state of depression. Maybe if you stayed alive you could help your daughter learn how to control her eyes and be less useless in fighting the Queen of Grimm.

Summer: That was uncalled for.

Pyrrha: Move along side character.

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby alyx #penny polendina #pyrrha nikos #summer rose #qrow branwen #weiss x jaune #weiss schnee

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lamemaster · 2 months ago

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Elves/Valar suffering from FOMO

AN: Mindless little ramble to decrease my fomo of Valinor lol (Should this be in an interview format? I messed up)

Intro:

Another quest has taken root in the lands of Middle-earth. With the elves gone, this one falls squarely on the shoulders of the mortals of Arda.

This, however, is a sore point for many inhabitants of the Blessed Realm.

No, of course, they don’t want to be involved. They’re far too weary, far too old for such things...

(Lies.)

✨Glorfindel ✨

The Balrog Slayer is so not weary enough to skip praying for a third respawn. Like a movie franchise that never disappoints or Mariah Carey in winter, Glorfindel was made for Middle-earth. When another quest stirs on the horizon, he’s the most restless elf of them all.

Just send him already. Please.

Until then, he’ll be sitting in a bleak corner, chewing his nails and staring dramatically into the void, waiting for the next adventure to come his way.

💅🏻Thranduil💅🏻

This elf is not an adventure Barbie. He’s a full-time drama queen.

Thranduil, the sassiest king of the elves, deserves to know what’s happening across Middle-earth. As one of the last elves to leave, the thought of missing an opportunity to stir up trouble for any hero is an unbearable woe he’s forced to endure.

🔥Feanor🔥

He was supposed to have the ultimate revenge arc. But no. Instead, he’s been robbed of his moment. Blud died in the next chapter. Burnt to crisp lol.

Feanor is insanely jealous of Bilbo and Frodo for completing their grand adventures, and so he powers the entire Hall of Mandos’ electricity with the sheer force of his annoyance.

If there’s another quest with a dark lord on the rise, expect his metaphorical knickers to be in a twist.

🤛🏻Tulkas🤛🏻

This one doesn’t need an explanation. He’s the Vala of War.

Tulkas lives for that “found family” feel. Also, any chance to scare the ever-living daylight out of the corrupted ones? Sign him up. He hasn’t thrown a tantrum yet about being kept from the chaos, but it’s this close.

It's been damn long since the War of Powers people!

⚓Earendil⚓

An adrenaline junkie at heart, Earendil has been suspended from quests since his first and only one. He’s salty about it.

Worse still, like Hurin, he’s stuck watching all the fun happen without ever getting to participate. At least he got a brief serotonin boost when Galadriel sent a little bit of him with Sam. Small mercies.

👱🏻‍♀️Galadriel👱🏻‍♀️

She just wants to be the cryptic, mysterious lady with her magic mirror. Is that too much to ask?

Slightly peeved when Goldberry takes the limelight. Tries to act unbothered, but deep down? Hurt AF.

🐩Finrod🐩

Our sweet Nom aspires to rip wargs to shreds by day and play music for men by night. He’s the ultimate golden retriever of the Eldar.

Don’t leave him out of the group gatherings. Please. He’ll pout.

🔨Aule🔨

With most of his Maiar getting corrupted, Aule has seriously considered moving his headquarters. Not for the first time.

It’s not just to be closer to his little smith babies (the dwarves). Okay, maybe a little. But mostly? He wants to finally craft some good freaking rings. Because no, Mairon, an all-powerful ring with vanishing engravings is not enough.

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #the valar #glorfindel #galadriel #finrod #thranduil #Aule #earendil #noldor elves #Tulkas #Feanor #silm crack #silmarillion headcanon #middle earth

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comfortless · 11 months ago

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He definitely has a complex about being considered middle aged. Me personally, I see him as one of those guys that tell you they're a couple of years younger than they actually are, in the beginning, cause be feels too old for someone younger and (in his mind) 'cooler' than him.

I feel like joining the army at such a young age must've made him feel like an adult way too soon, and maybe back then he must've felt superior like 'All the people my age only care about love and having fun, I'm way too mature for those silly things'. (Could be a copping mechanism to deal with the fact that he wasn't getting love anyway, and wasn't included in all the fun his peers were having. Rejecting those things altogether are a way to take back control and make himself feel better, he's too busy becoming a real man anyway). But now that he's older he does feel like he missed out on things, and regrets not being a silly teenager when it was acceptable and expected at that age.

He makes me think of that one Yves Olade quote that goes like "I thought so many things & never said a single one aloud. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry. I could have devoured anything and still have been starving." When you get no love from your parents is one thing (still hurts) but when you get cast out in other social circles also, it makes you feel bitter like nothing else on this earth. It creates this feeling that you're the one that it's being inadequate for even daring to want connections to other people and you begin to resent people and yourself for wanting to be around them. There's this shame that settles on top of your chest when you want love but you feel like that's the cause of all your suffering in the first place, like you're doing it to yourself. This reminds me of another quote : "in front of my mother and my sisters, i pretend love is cheap and vulgar. i act like it's a sin- i pretend that love is for women on a dark path. but at night i dream of a love so heavy it makes my spine throb- i dream up a lover who makes love like he is separating salt from water." (Salma Deera, "salt"). I feel like this might apply to younger Konig, when convinced himself that love is for weak man to protect his poor heart. But now that he's older and has the money, the position and the body of a real man he needs to get a taste (just a small one, just once) of what he had missed out on in his youth. He finally feels deserving enough to attempt to have real intimacy with someone, not just quick hookups that leave him more hungry.

FEEL FREE TO NOT ANSWER THIS I'm just in a silly mood and had to psychoanalyse my babygirl real quick. Also, sorry for my English =))

how could i possibly just leave this in my inbox, anon?! this is all so correct…

thank god he wears that hood, because even on the field the sun isn’t hitting him too much - (he thinks) he can pass for early thirties. not that any lady who takes an interest in him is really considering his age much anyway, it’s always the shy “how tall did you say you were, again?”s or “what is your real name?”s that are telltale signs of interest. they ogle his build, the accomplishments he will prattle on about given the chance, the haunted look in his eyes and the strange lilt to his voice, the scars and lines only make him look cooler. if only that wasn’t such a rare treat.

he’s just in his head about things always. he missed out on the sweet, awkward dates: the mutual rush of adrenaline from holding someone’s hand for the first time, sneaky pecks in the schoolyard, passing notes and calling throughout the night. he never got to experience having his parents drop him off at the theater to take some girl from class out or… hell, even getting to go with a friend who wasn’t gossiping behind his back. König’s never gotten to live like any other, normal person, he’s been denied that since being birthed into a world that did not want him as much as he did not want it.

so, of course he’s bitter. he’s horribly bitter even now when things have finally started to fall into place for him. he’s got a stature even Adonis would be nervous around, a savings account so stocked he isn’t even sure what to do with the money, an impressive title, his own place, a car, and some of the soldiers even consider him a friend. he gets invited out every now and then, doesn’t mind downing jäger and listening to his men talk about their current affairs: what women they’re seeing, or how their children are, where they plan to go on leave. he takes to living vicariously through them. he even finds it fit to lie, pulls up a picture of some random woman every now and then to boast about how he made her come undone on his bed last leave with a stupid laugh. the truth is that no, last leave he bought a nice fleshlight, took a thirteen hour depression nap, maybe went on a long hike and had a film marathon on his own.

having a woman show him any interest immediately activates some self-destructive behavior: he’ll hound her (screw double texting, it’s moreso in the dozens. little “miss you”s and stupid accusations he immediately wishes he hadn’t sent), either withdraw into himself if he even feels slightly abandoned or become even more intense and clingy. no one’s ever loved him, not properly, so how is he supposed to know how? if his own parents hated him, then who is going to have the patience and understanding to teach him? his approaches are almost childish, the way he goes from boyish and giddy to closed off and pitiful. /: and the self-loathing only amplifies during these times, because my god he should be more disciplined than this by now. all that being said, i do think he would settle and be as well-behaved as a neglected bull could be if he feels his affection is being reciprocated. he just needs time (and a good therapist).

squealing at the poetry and how much thought you’ve put into this message. <3

Yves Olade is sooo good to quote from for him! i think that “You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me.” suits him just as well, especially when it comes to the trepidation and fear amidst the sparks of him finally, truly having someone be selfless and loving with him.

König in love is a very special topic to me!! there are so many different ways this rabid dog could take to handling it and by and by he always seems to choose the most aggressive / uncanny approach, held back by a leash that no one’s ever thought to untie, constantly growling and leaping at anything that gets too close just to simmer down to whimpering and begging the second he’s pet just once!!

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alalaya2 · 1 year ago

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Tim Drakes Sleeping habits save the earth

10 the Crows are coming

In Celtic Mythology Morrigan is either Three sisters or one Goddess with Three Forms the Triplicate goddess. First there is Badb the Crow she is the foreshadow of the carnage to come in war, next is Nemain the havoc of war, and then there is Morrigan the Phantom Queen herself she is Death and Victory of battle. The truth of the Infante Realm is that it’s just a ‘Genetic Quirk’ on her mother’s side of her Family to have Three forms. Clockwork’s were three different ages, she had forewarning of war, war on the battlefield and when the war is won. If Pala Gotham hadn’t been Cursed, she would show her other two forms as well. As it was Morrigan was covered in Crows feathers she could Feel the stir of the battle Brewing in the air.

The Realms seem to be holding its breath the normal ebb of the Ectoplasm was stilled. This part of her was the part that knew things before they happened. It was the part that told her that she would fade and come back. It was the part that told her that her children would suffer, and it was better than the alternative. Normally this part of her would bother her but not today. This was going to be a battle worth it, normally war is not something that she looks forward to she is a Ghost, and a Goddess. The Fighting part is never a big issue, in fact she loved a good fight. It’s the Carnage, the loss of family and life that she doesn’t like.

This Battle, there were no large grey areas. The GIW were the ones in the wrong and everyone that mattered knew it. In the last 200 years there was only a hand full of groups that really deserved the beating they received, not all the individuals mind you, but the group as a majority did. The Nazis were such a group of leaders that deserved the thrashing they received. Morrigan Bared her teeth in anticipation at the injustice being corrected. It was time to join her daughter and with their reunion her curse would be broken.

Gothemites like the Celtics of old were part of the reason there were sayings like ‘Fuck around and you will find out.’ Lady Gotham got her Temperament from her after all. As she stepped through the portal that would take her to the spot ever one would be meeting at, she knew The Green Lanterns and the Justice League were going to start a Riot.

Fright Knight had offered the use of a portal to get to them to Earth faster he was happy to see his father, but he wanted to save the young king first then he would Celebrate the return of his family. A Pre reunion fight would be a good way to start the Celebration, plus His sister would kill him if he started the party without her. About 50 Lanterns were ready to come with him. If they took too long to contact them the guardian would send more, and earths government would fall under their rule until a new world government could be created. Phantom would not be happy if things went that far, and Fright would eat his helmet if they couldn’t handle the upcoming fight before they got to that point.

He was looking forward to seeing how his sisters Knights would handle the fighting back before she had been Cursed, she had been one of the best fighters in the realm and was the first in line for the throne. If Parish had not taken out their father and Pala was injured when she fought him, she would probably be the Queen of the Infante Realms. As it was she would only accept the best of the best her people had to offer.

Pandora gave him a knowing look “I am looking forward to see how my sisters have progressed with their fighting skills as well I think they will take out more than your families Knights.”

Fright huffed “like my sister would choose weaklings as her Knights”

Pandora Smiled slyly “A wager then, my sisters have better fights you take me on a date your Knights fight better than my living sisters I’ll take you out.”

Fight Knights Sputter is echoed by Clockwork and Frostbite in the Ghost Zone. Fright Knight Straighten up and Bowed to Pandora “I’ll take your wager on one condition I would like to use this fight as our first courting Fight together.” He gently reached out to take one of her hands and squeezed a little.

Pandora squeezed back and Grind showing all her sharp teeth “I accept!”

“Finally it only took you two over a thousand years to get your shit together” yells Lazarus as he throws his hands up in exasperation. “You to have been Mooning over each other I was going to help Clockwork with his Matchmaking if you had taken any longer.”

The new couple Flinched Clockworks Matchmaking planes did work but they were not fun for the people who were involved.

Fight cleared his throat a little in embarrassment “The portal is Ready lets talk about this later” He shuffled a little not taking his hand off Pandora's.

Lazarus Smiled at his son knowingly but didn’t say anything.

The Bat Clan were fascinated as Lady Gotham and Alfred worked together in a terrifyingly competent way planning how to take out the laws and the GIW. Congress, Judicial and President Puck Velasco to Repeal the law as the were looking at the largest Revolution gathering in America since its beginning. President Nightingale had a team going though all current laws to make sure nothing else that would cause problems. It was going to take a while as there were a lot of Laws, and the UN was not going to let something like this slip through for any Country on Earth as the Anti-Echo Acts were breaking Galactic law.

With each moment getting closer, all the teams moving to take out every GIW building. Lady Gotham Seemed to be getting stronger less gaunt and her gray skin looking less chalky. Gotham had always had a muggy feeling in the air, it was always there Night or Day, Hot or Cold, Rain or Very rarely Sunshine it was fading. The Gotham Knights were on edge from it as they had Grown up with the feeling for most of there lives. Bruce had enough “what is going on?”

Dora blinked in surprise and looked up from the plans she was reading at Gotham. Her jaw drops in surprise “her curse has broken.”

This causes the rest of the clan to really look at her “How?” asked Bruce.

“No Idea” Dora’s face became predatorial “she is healing fast she should be fighting fit by the time we are ready to leave. Before she was cursed, she was the top fighter of the realms. This is going to be so fun.”

Gotham Smiled “Yes, it is I can Finally give my knights the full protection I have never been able to give them before. I’ll be at half strength by the meet up time it will take me a few months before I am back to full strength, but I’ve only been about 5% power for the last 200 years.”

Bruce Blinked again “That explains some things.” The Clan looks up at the portal opening in the Cave it was go time!

Previous. Ao3 Next

#danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #dpxdc #ghost king danny #danny fenton #dc x dp #red hood #alfred pennyworth #hal jordon #justice league #green lantern #fright knight #dp clockwork #frostbite

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inkyclone99 · 1 month ago

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• Bloodied Heartstrings / Michaelis Bros AU •

Completely sane not even slightly odd AU

I don’t. Even know where to begin with this one.

I guess. Maybe like. Ok. I have this DioJona fic called Bloodied Heartstrings on ao3. It’s about Jonathan being revived as a woman by Dio, giving JoJo the body of a woman during SDC (JoJo in that is a trans lady but is still figuring it out)

This fic is kinda like how I like my taste of DJ. It’s fun with all the lil alts it has. Trans lady Jona supremacy. Dio is the ally

Anyway there is a lot here including the crossovers. Kuro makes some sense but I’m aware Star Wars is one hell of a stretch. So under the like Imma explain. It’s a LOT.

Ok. Let’s start from the very beginning.

Yes. The Joestars and Phantomhive are related. But it’s pretty distant enough they know each other but not that close. Claudia and George are cousins.

Mary Joestar is alive and well, because she is a vampire. Yes. She was turned by her own purchase, the mask. And when the carriage crashed, she got in a primal instinct of hunger due to all the blood, and to protect her son, she ran away. (And I hc she was the one that brought the star birthmark to the family, which is very convenient for the Joestars)

Now here is where crossover starts to kick. Dio is not Dario’s son.

He is Sebastian Michaelis’ son.

Eleanor (maiden name Michaelis) Brando married Dario, but she later on was sold by him to work at a meeting…said meeting of a cult. One that summoned Sebastian.

Out of everyone, he chose Eleanor cuz she was the purest (which in his vision, would make her more fun to corrupt and taste). She had very standards wishes, but the third one…she wanted a child.

She was over the age of a young maiden, and she was never able to bear Dario’s child. But she always wanted one.

So, for that, Sebastian gave her his child, later named Dio (because Sebas thinks he is so funny)

Sadly when Dio was 9, Eleanor got deadly sick, and by that point, Sebastian had no idea he had fallen in love with her, he didn’t understand those feelings. All those years with this odd family, he was never able to corrupt the nice soul of Eleanor Michaelis. So, when he devoured her soul, it tasted like splendidly sweet chocolate, which he hates to this day.

And sadly, he abandoned Dio after that. (Shame on you Sebastian) Dio was raised by Dario after that and we know how that goes.

JoJo canon goes JoJo canon, same old same old, Jonathan doesn’t know his gender yet all and all, marries Erina, gets killed by Dio

George II and Lisa Lisa get together, have Joseph, he dies and she disappears

Battle Tendency happens but with a twist: Caesar lives! And he and Joseph marry (don’t worry about homophobia world). Later they ask Suzi to be their surrogate and they have Holly!

Also to clean Joseph of being a cunt, Josuke is not actually a cheating baby…he is a accidental threesome baby. (CaeJose are bi4bi what can you do, lucky Tomoko)

Then my fanfic happens. BHS. Which, I KNOW, it’s not done yet I’m so sorry I’m so slow with it. But believe me, I have the end perfect in mind and I’m gonna spoil it. Sorry

Anyway, after being awaken (he never actually slept in the coffin) in “modern” times in Egypt, Dio revives Jonathan with a body that he always deserved, of a woman (who yes it’s Giorno’s shitty mom).

Fanfic happens fanfic happens they get together they fuck Jona gets pregnant.

Then, spoiler warning.

SDC happens. Dio was almost killed by Jotaro, but Jonathan got in the way and stopped everything (it will be cooler when written down trust)

No one dies too all Crusaders are fine. And it’s an awkward travel back to Japan

Because Dio does have a cure that doesn’t involve killing him and possibly Jona. The stand arrow

The stand arrow awakens Holly’s stand fully. Then Joseph is informed of a lil boy in Japan suffering the same thing as Holly. Realization hits the poor bastard and he sends the arrow to cure the boy

Also…yeah. JotaJona happens. Hear me out. They are so distant and at this point just not really related it’s FINE AJSBSKSNSKSJSKSJKSKSKS

I just really love this ship ok and I don’t have anyone else that I like to ship Jotaro with that much.

But first Giorno is born. He is actually a trans boy here just doesn’t reveal until later. Which is funny, cuz Jona was the last one to discover and understand too. And now she goes by she/her fully.

After some convincing and lil dates JotaJona also get together. Technically DioJotaJona Ofc but Dio and Jotaro still don’t really like each other. But they love Johanna (her new name), so they accept each other like a sitcom. A love triangle without the bottom one would say.

Then Jolyne is born, the most perfect descendant of Jonathan Joestar there could be in canon, is now her daughter. It’s poetic to me <33

And some time later the gen Z Jocelyn is born form DioJona. She is my lovely oc <33 more about her soon promise.

Now going to the Phantomhive fun. Grandpa Undertaker / Claudiataker canon. He hit that.

Anyway canon goes canon goes until the end cuz we have no clue how Kuro will end (though I’m certain it will end with Ciel dying as a child).

Here Undie is defeated and R!Ciel dies Fr this time. O!Ciel covers up saying he was an imposter. Then, he marries Ran-Mao (I have a fic about it, the only fic on ao3 without creepy Lau in the mix)

It’s my rarepair don’t judge me

Sebastian becomes merciful, letting Ciel have a full life before taking his life (he became a softie).

So, Ciel and Ran-Mao have twin girls: Claudia and Rachel. My girly Claudia becomes the Queen’s guarddog when Ciel is incapable of action, and Rachel goes on to have a family.

Years pass and nowadays we have Shiori Genpō. Yes. From the weird Kuro live action movie. She is CANON. And the current head of the Funtom company. (Also dating her maid who is descendant of Mey-Rin and Bard)

Oh and who is that plague doctor mask shinigami with oddily familiar eyes and hair color? Mmm I already spoiled enough here.

Ok. Now.

How the fuck Star Wars fits in this SHIT

Because like. JoJo and Black Butler. Odd. Sure. But somewhat fits in the same universe without contradictions. Mainly with Phantom Blood. (Jack the ripper being multiple killers would be canon here. JoJo Jack is the copycat)

But STAR WARS?

Isn’t that just the tism hyperfixation bullshit at it again?

…yes. But I also have an explanation to it…kinda.

Ok so. Earth is in the SW verse, but it’s SUPER distant from the Known Regions. Barely anyone knows about it and traveling there is almost impossible.

It is possible though, for supernatural beings.

Sebastian can travel around with portals he can create himself. It’s simple and fast.

After Ciel dies at 90s around of age, Sebastian has a lot of feelings to deal with. His love for Eleanor, his care for Ciel that allowed him to live longer…he needs to rediscover himself being more than a soul eating demon.

So, he travels around the galaxy.

Knowing new places, going in adventures, becoming a bounty hunter for funsies, stealing lightsabers and using them like child’s play without the need of the Force

One day, he meets Jango Fett. And Jango is SO IMPRESSED by this fuck ass Weirdo that he invites him to be a trainer in Kamino.

Sebastian goes why not and goes. But because of his abilities, the kaminoans are interested in using his blood to create an enhanced clone soldier, along with other blood donors for the rest of the experimental clone squad.

Sebastian, who is very conflicted with his humane feelings, accepts it. And even if the clone child only has like 10% of his blood just for his enhanced senses, he sees the clone child as his son.

And that son is Hunter.

Sadly, the kaminoans forbid him of interacting with Hunter, because of attachments and bs. While the other boys’ blood donors don’t give a shit, Sebastian does, and sneaks in to have some time with baby Hunter all thanks to Omega, who Hunter later adopts.

During the battle of Kamino in TCW, Sebastian protects Hunter and his brothers from the droids, and then…he disappears. He goes back to Earth.

Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave Hunter if he returned to him after That Day. He’d steal Hunter and raise him for the mistakes he did.

Yet. He once again abandoned a child. Because he lives in conflict.

Years later, after SDC ending, Sebastian reconnects with Dio (it’s VERY HARD as it SHOULD be), and then contacts with Hunter again (who is less hard Ofc, actually Sebas was his idol even without knowing their relation)

And there we have it. Ofc when it comes to Hunter the AU differs depending on which ship and kids I have with him lol. But the Earth part is mostly the same in all.

…so. Yeah.

There we have it. My fucking, weird ass AU. I know it’s a lot. It’s strange. Some would say bizarre. But it’s my baby AU.

I love it. I will most likely reference it a LOT. I might pin this too.

So. Yeah. Lol. Now you have context for my other post with Dio and Hunter lol

ALSO SUPER IMPORTANT FACT: Sebastian is Japanese (Yuta Furukawa) so both Dio and Hunter are hafus hehe

16 notes · View notes

izubabes · 9 months ago

Note

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!! I just read your Koko x Inui!Reader work and it's a ✨masterpiece✨ Am I crying? Yes. Am I still in love with this psycho Koko? Definitely. Why? Don't know. But am I in love with your work? Absolutely!!!!!

If it's possible, may I please request Koko with fem!reader who also lost her lover (I dunno, Shinichiro, for example? Yeah, he's muuuch older than them, and the reader knew that he would never see her as a woman (more like a sister, but he’d still say smth like “yeah yeah you'll get older and I'll marry you”), but she still loved him (puppy love and stuff)). However, if Koko’s still obsessed with Akane, the reader moved on;she cherishes the memory of her first lov, but she became older and realized thing that she wasn't understand when she was younger. So with her help (it's not like she fell in love with him when they met, it's just cuz of their similar situations she decided to kinda help(?)Inui pssst Inui) , Koko see other side(?) of this type of “love”.

I still want a happy ending for him. I mean, he's such a sad (maniac, nonetheless) character, but I believe that he does deserve true and mutual love. We all had our “first loves”, puppy crushes, older crushes and stuff. I was “in love” with my brother’s friend (he was like 5 years older than me lol, and I was like 9?He also told that he will marry me and stuff, but it was like when your dad/borther promises you the same; cute and childing memory). But I think when you couldn't confess before your pass out/move on/start date someone else, you would have a feeling as if something isoff/the story does not have an ending. I don't think that even if Akane were alive, it would have changed smth for Koko. I still believe that he’d move on sooner or later. But hey, it's only my opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️

I just truly want him to be happy and feel genuinely loved.

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐌𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭.

What a mystery it is — this emotion we call grief.

Shinichiro’s luck with women was always a comical one, never being able to snag a date, let alone have a girlfriend. He reached rock bottom as soon as he heard one of Manjiro’s childhood friends proclaim, “I’m Shinichiro’s future wife!”

“I’m too old for you,” He politely rejected, giving your head a gentle pat as a form of acknowledging your feelings. His heart ached at the fact that a girl was finally confessing her feelings for him but most likely under the guise of a childish crush. Something you would grow out of as soon as you matured enough. “You should give the other boys your age a chance. Manjiro and Keisuke have been fighting over who’s going to marry you.”

Shinichiro was amused at the way you violently shook your head at the prospect, quickly becoming defensive and pleading your case to him. “I may be young but I swear I’ll grow up into a beautiful lady. I can cook, I can clean, and I can take care of my siblings.”

He sighed, lighting up a nearby cigarette to help cope with the insanity he was suffering though at the moment. “Y/N, I don’t want a housewife. I want you to grow up and find the right person to fall in love with. I'll be just peachy seeing you fall for the right person.”

“Mama helps me out right now but she says I’m practically a mini adult.” You protested with your hands on your hips, glaring him down as he just shook his head at you.

“Sweetheart, you’re 13…” Shinichiro shudders at the realization of how old he's gotten. Another hit of his cigarette settles in his lungs, easing his racket of a mind. “I’m 23. There are so many things wrong with what you're asking of me.”

“In five years, I will be old enough to marry you. Wait for me until then, I know you’ll still be single!”

“Uh, ouch.” Shinichiro’s pride was bruised by how confidently you had rebuked his answer. He could sense a prick of annoyance begin to crawl up his spine. Your answer wasn't meant to be malicious in the slightest but it sure struck a nerve. “Y/N, you’re not thinking straight. You’ll get over this little crush in a couple years and it’ll be a silly little joke between us.”

“A joke? You think my feelings are joke…?” You said in a quiet voice as your heart fell to your stomach. The weight of the world was coming crashing down on your childish delusions. “I love you, I really do!”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Don’t get upset, I’m just being honest with you.” Shinichiro’s words come off more harsh than he intended, made apparent by the streams of fresh hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“But… But! You promised… Shinichiro, you promised to marry me!”

Shinichiro’s gaze switched from the motorcycle to the blubbering mess who was turned away from him. Seeing your tears made him reconsider how harsh his words would have came off. His cigarette falls to the ground, embers burning out as he glanced over at you. “What the— Don’t cry, Y/N.”

Mikey trailed in as soon as he hears the sound of loud and pronounced wailing coming from the shop. He lazily glanced between you and Shinichiro as the lollipop in his mouth swished from side to side. “Bro, what’s wrong with Y/N?”

“I-I don’t know! She just started crying!”

“Shinichiro’s being mean! M-Mikey, your brother’s being mean to me!” You wailed, tugging on his shirt as he lightly shook you off.

Mikey grinned as he placed his arms behind his head, watching the chaos unfold before him. His mischievous eyes were still focused on his older brother’s distressed face. “This is why you’re never getting a girlfriend…”

Shinichiro groaned, shooing away Mikey as he attempted to settle down your incessant outburst of melodrama. “Y/N, look at me. Stop crying, yeah? I wanna tell you a secret, just between you and me.”

“W-What?” You sniffled.

“There’s my pretty little lady,” Shinichiro smiled, thumbing away the waterworks with his oil stained hands as he left some streaks of it on your face, not like you minded much. “No more tears, okay? When you’re older we’ll get married, yeah?”

You sniffled, wiping away the lingering droplets before staring up at him. “Promise?”

Shinichiro held up his pinky extending it out for you to reciprocate the action. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I think the twenty rejections have gone to his head,” Wakasa interrupted, crunching down on the lollipop lingering in his mouth. He glanced between his friend and the young girl in front of him, scrutiny in his eyes. “He’s preying on middle schoolers now. Call the cops.”

“Shut up, Waka. You have no idea what we’re talking about!” Shinichiro immediately backtracked.

“Shinichiro, that’s sick.” Benkei shook his head at the ongoing conversation, gently pulling you away from Shinichiro’s arms before inspecting you for any sign of harm or injury. He gave Shinichiro the same judgmental glare as Waka before turning to glance at the girl right in front of him. “Did he hurt you, Y/N?”

Before a decent explanation could be made by you, it had appeared that you had run off to tell your friends the seemingly positive news. You shouted at the top of your lungs, “Emma! Shin said he would marry me.”

Takeomi walked in after you had sprinted past him through the shop’s back door, glaring down his captain with a menacing smile. “Am I high or did she say what I think she said? Better have a decent excuse, Shin.”

“Big bro’s farts stink like hell, Y/N." Mikey interjected, becoming amused with the way you always accepted Shinichiro's false promises without a second thought. "Oh, I bet he only said that so you would stop crying.”

Mikey had never received a more painful punch in his life, knocking him straight in the jaw as you ran back inside to tattle on your best friend.

“Shinichiro! Manjiro’s being mean to me. He keeps saying you're not gonna marry me!”

Soon after, the unexpected news of Shinichiro's death crashed on your body like a bucket of ice water. You refused to eat, sleep was no longer a priority, school was no longer a necessity. A piece of you had died along with him, a piece that would leave a gaping hole in your heart, a piece of yourself that would never come back.

“Big bro would have wanted you to have it,” Mikey said quietly, onyx irises devoid of emotion. “Take care of it, okay?”

Shinichiro’s chain necklace, the one you always fiddled with as a child. The one you always loved hearing clink against his neck as he worked on a motorcycle. It was yours now. The necklace found a new home upon your neck, the frigid metal weighed heavy on your collarbones, it would serve as a constant reminder of the love you held for Shinichiro.

No one ever told you the difference between love and grief.

The visits to Shinichiro’s grave became less frequent though your feelings for him were still tucked away in the folds of your heart. Shinichiro Sano was once the iridescent sun and you were his precious little moon, orbiting his ethereal presence as if he were the only celestial body in existence.

“I’m in high school now, Shin. I wish you could see how much I’ve grown,” You sighed, hugging your knees to your chest as you spoke to the shining tombstone. “Bet you’d wish I was still begging for your attention.”

“Manjiro and Emma are doing well though we haven’t spoken in a while. The Black Dragons have changed, Shinichiro. More than when you were around. I wish you never left us…”

Inui Seishu was someone you would never would have expected to become friends with. He held the first-generation Black Dragons with high respect. You had previously spotted him hanging around S.S. Motors along with the other delinquents Shinichiro often housed. Kokonoi Hajime was someone who tested your patience with every breath he took, he loved to tease and get under your skin with a snaky remark. The two reminded you of a cat and dog duo, one who's constantly at the other’s throats.

“I made a new friend; I’m sure you remember him. His name is Inui, basically sees you as a god.” You chuckled, "He hangs out with Waka and Benkei sometimes. Oh, they're doing fine too..."

A shaky breath escapes your quivering lips, the childhood memories of the time you all spent together come flooding in like a tidal wave. “It’s time for me to grow up, Shinichiro. You said I needed to find the right person to fall in love with, right?”

Except you’re not sure how to do that nor how to even begin on that journey.

Your soft steps echoed the graveyard as a warm gust of breeze enveloped your body as if to reassure yourself that you were making the right choice. “This is goodbye, first love."

You peered up at the sunset, sparing it a gentle smile as you continued on your path. “Shinichiro, wherever you are, you’ll live in my heart forever. I’ll always remember that smile of yours… too bad it was your last.”

Koko can’t seem to remember when days started turning into weeks, into months, into years. When the fine lines of separation between Seishu and Akane began to blur into one person. It was fascinating how his grief had him groveling in a rut of searching for a glimmer of happiness. He never realized how low he had fallen until he kissed Inupi’s sleeping figure in the library’s silent corridors. He swore it was Akane who welcomed his anguished lips to lie upon hers. He swore it was her who was resting against the windowsill, basking in the comforting embrace of the sunshine pouring in through the glass.

What have I done?

His sleepy lids fluttered open, he glanced up at the evening sky, gentle streaks of golden light dance across the scattered clouds, hinting at the vibrant display yet to come. The air is calm, and the world seems to hold its breath, savoring the tranquil moment as day slowly gives way to night.

Kokonoi groggily reaches out to the figure next to him, his fingers brushing against the other person’s arm. “Akane?”

He was instead greeted by your teasing voice, a slight snippy tone as you get firm with him as he wakes up. “Good morning, Your Highness. It’s about time you woke up.”

“It’s not very good if you’re here,” He muttered as soon as he realized who exactly he was talking to. What a joke. “Were you watching me sleep? I knew you were a freaky girl, been telling Inupi since the day we met.”

“Remind me again why I even bother with you, Koko…” You snapped, shaking your head at the attempt to insult you. "I'm not the one who sent some cryptic ass text telling me to meet you here. You were the one I found asleep in the middle of the field."

He chuckled at the remark, sticking his tongue out just as he always did when being smug. “Lack of a brain, clearly.”

The summer air was thick with moisture, each breath feels heavy, laden with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. The humidity wraps around everything, making the world seem slightly softened and hazy. Beads of sweat form quickly, tracing lazy paths down foreheads and necks, as the heat lingers even in the shade. The atmosphere is thick, almost tangible, carrying the distant hum of cicadas and the occasional rustle of leaves in the still, sultry air.

One question weighed on your mind, escaping your chest before you could think clearly. An inquiry that desperately needed an answer, no matter what kind of potential rift it would cause for either of you. “Koko, have you ever been in love?”

“Yes,” He paused for a moment, tilting his head and closing his eyes in deep concentration as he pondered on how to answer the question. “She was beautiful,” Kokonoi said, cutting through the momentary silence. “I wanted to marry her. Hell, I was going to marry her but—“

“Who’s Akane?”

Kokonoi realized you heard his muttering as he was asleep on the grass.

“Life never works out, does it?” A cold laugh escaped your lips, “I lost my first love too."

Kokonoi is aware of the fact you are an open person, he’s never witnessed the endless void in your eyes as you begin to relay the story of your lost lover. The empty shell you became as soon as the words began to depart your mouth. What a soulless sight.

It reminds him of himself. He hates it.

“We both promised we could marry once I was older. Now I’m beginning to realize how naïve I was to think it would work out.”

“Seishu told me about his older sister. She reminds me of Shinichiro, did you have a chance to confess to her?”

“That’s none of your damn business. Everything I do is for Akane," He admitted. “It’s the only way I can atone for the sins I carry.”

“Do you think that’s fair to Seishu?” You questioned, leading the conversation into dangerous territory. Kokonoi perked up at the drop of his friend's name, narrowing his scrutinizing gaze at you. It was like you knew which aggravating buttons to push with an expert hand, slowly setting the stage for an argument to brew and burst out. “Pushing him away because you believe that you deserve to suffer in his place. That’s a bit selfish, don’t you think?”

“What do you know? You’re just a stupid little girl who can’t get over the ghost of someone who’s never coming back!”

“You’re just a scared little boy who can’t face the fact that he deserves to make his own choices! Are you so far gone that you'll do anything for the sake of money?!” You fired back, frustration beginning to cloud your mind as the argument escalates further and further. “The Kanto Manji Gang is going to ruin you, Kokonoi."

“It’s my life, isn’t it? Quit acting like you own me." He griped, slapping away the finger you had jammed into his chest.

You scoffed, shooting him a pained glare as the knot in your throat tightened with each syllable that escaped your lips. Koko reflected so much of your grieving self that it was painful to stare at him straight on. “I’m not going to speak for Akane, but I know Shinichiro would hate me for using his memory as an excuse to make myself miserable! Let the dead rest, Hajime. It’s the least we can do for them to able to move on peacefully.”

Kokonoi has never received such an enraged response from you, nor has he ever witnessed you shedding tears over a fight. “Some days are more difficult than others, I understand that. I can function normally until the band aid over my heart is ripped off once again and I’m just a pathetic crying mess.”

Kokonoi can picture himself at home, destroying his belongings and wrecking his room in a fit of relentless rage.

“40 million... I'll make that money even if I die."

Kokonoi can picture himself receiving the phone call from his best friend, anguished sobs echoing across the line as he delivers the bone-chilling news he never wished to hear.

“Akane... She’s dead."

He can picture himself inside the hospital room, looming over Akane’s lifeless body. Bandages covering the unsightly burns across her body. Even in death, she was such a beautiful sight despite the injuries that consumed her entire being.

“I’m sorry, Akane! If only I had more money…”

Koko wishes he could be freed from the guilt of losing his best friend’s sister. Freed from the urge to chase at a fleeting shadow. Freed from the need to atone for his past self's shortcoming and unfulfilled promises.

“I walk into Mikey’s house sometimes expecting to run into Shinichiro,” You sighed, laying back in the grassy area of the ground. Kokonoi’s gaze traced your gentle features, admiring how well they reflected with the sunset’s glow on your skin. He can sense a subtle aura of longing radiating from your body “I always expect to see him waiting for me in the old bike shop.”

He can barely stop the suppressed confession from escaping his lips as soon as he blurted it out. “I kissed Inupi because I wanted to believe that it was Akane who was sitting there."

Surprisingly, you say nothing in response. Simply accepting it for what it is.

"I tried going out with Mikey for a while thinking he could make up for Shin. We both realized it wasn't healthy for either of us." You know he isn't seeking a response, instead someone who could find common ground. “Moving on doesn’t mean we’re leaving the people we love behind us. It means we have to live for ourselves, we get to choose our own paths, we write our own stories.”

You sighed, standing up and brushing away the debris lingering on your pants. The guilt of arguing with him earlier continued biting at your conscious, beckoning for you to reconcile with the boy. “It’s late, I should be heading home soon. I’m sorry for raising my voice at you, Hajime. I was trauma dumping, totally uncalled for.”

He nodded his head in response, choosing to acknowledge you passively rather than with words. Kokonoi could sense the iron-clad walls surrounding his heart beginning to cave in, threatening to tear apart his remaining composure. The years of pent-up grief was starting to bubble up and escape through the tattered seams of his soul.

Y/N has always treated me as friend even though I never considered her more than a nuisance.

Koko trembled, tears rolling thickly down his face, stinging his cracked lips. His hands twisted around each other as if he could press the worst of his feelings back into his skin. “Y-Y/N?” He croaked.

You immediately abandoned your thoughts, rushing to his side. “Koko? What is it? What’s wrong?” Your voice was sharp with concern as you scrutinized Koko any sign of something amiss.

Hesitating, Koko shook his head, his mouth opening and closing before opening again. His quivering voice could barely be heard from above a tiny whisper. “Could you just… hold me? Just for a minute?”

The request was bizarre but the anguished expression consuming his features sent your mind into overdrive. It was as if he would split into pieces if you weren't there to hold him together. He resembled a child crying out for their mother, desperate to be reassured that everything would be okay, he was safe, he was fine.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” You pulled Koko in, enveloping him in your arms, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other rubbing soothing circles into his back. You were quiet for a moment before you spoke, soft and gentle, “You know, it doesn’t have to be for just a minute. I’m here for as long as you need me.”

Koko is unable to understand how someone as compassionate as you can exist. Despite the constant banter you two have shared over the past year, you always treated him so well. He admires the way you’re ready to hand out your infinite kindness without expecting anything in return. He’s forgotten that there are people in this world who could care less about money or what he can offer to them.

There are people in this world who are the walking definition of a guardian angel. People who are there to listen and guide others when they've lost themselves, Koko stumbled upon that epiphany as soon as he became vulnerable with you. No expectations, no need to return the favor, it did not feel transactional to him like his other dealings.

“I’m not a good person. I don’t deserve comfort,” Koko mumbled into your shoulder. He was speaking more to himself than to you, finding a way to cope with the influx of manic chaos rushing through his veins. Your embrace was more than enough to calm his nerves though he cursed himself internally for allowing himself to be so weak in front of you.

The pure vulnerability of being able to indulge in another person’s care was something Koko thought he would never experience. Life served him the worst hand of cards, the only way to survive was to outsmart the system by creating his own.

“Regardless of whether you’re a good person or not, people don’t become better by treating themselves badly. And you don’t have to earn my kindness or ration it like it’ll run out. You already have it, as much as you’ll let me give you.”

You both stood like that for much longer than a minute.

"To be honest, I tolerate you better than most. You can be nice to have around, sometimes." He admitted, thinking you deserved some shred of his kindness in exchange for the temporary sanctuary you provided.

"I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me, Koko. I should record that, say it again!" You rolled your eyes playfully, holding up your cellphone as if you actually wanted to follow through with your plans.

Koko rolled his eyes at the suggestion, choosing to stick his tongue out as a response. "Don't push your luck, Y/N. This won't happen again."

"Hajime... It's time for you to live your life the way you want to."

“I will," Koko affirmed. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Meanwhile, Inui sighed from the sidelines, making note of the way you avoided his gaze as if it would change how easy it was for him to read you. He noticed the sheepish smile on your face and the subtle rosy tint on your cheeks but decided to spare you the embarrassment of explaining as soon as you approached. "How did it go?"

You cleared your throat, a tiny grimacing smile soon replacing the bashful expression. "Better than expected. You should reach out to him before 2nd Gen Toman faces Kanto Manji, I would hate see either of you get hurt."

Inui shook his head, returning a pained smile "You've done enough, Y/N. Koko needs to figure out the rest on his own. Want me to walk you home?"

"Thanks, Seishu." You answered but continued to politely decline his offer. "But I have to catch up with someone in a bit. I'll see you around okay?"

"Right, get home safe then. Message as soon as you make it back."

Soon enough, the sight of a familiar tombstone comes into view, a pair of fresh incense sticks and a pack of his favorite cigarettes adorning the gravesite. Waka and Benkei must’ve paid a visit right before you arrived. "Hiya, Shin. Guess what? I think I found someone to fall in love with. He's rough around the edges in some ways but I can sense that he has a warm heart. Sure, he gets on my nerves and can be too cocky for his own good, but he has some redeeming qualities.”

A tiny grin dances across your lips as you fiddle with the hem of your sleeves. “You know, it may be too soon to call it love but we’re starting off as friends… that’s a nice start, right?”

It’s quiet, so painstakingly quiet that you swore you could hear Shinichiro’s voice being carried through the wind. The graveyard was desolate considering the late hour. Call it wishful thinking, a side effect of long term grief or pure and utter delusion but the words strike like a resonating chord in your heart.

'I’m proud of you, Y/N.'

The graveyard feels a little less lonely tonight.

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anika-ann · 2 years ago

Text

Pomiluj me (Love Me Tender) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; standalone (NOT a part of this medieval AU)

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 10k 😁 best possible division if needed is at the first divider

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers and his brothers in arms are returning home after having tackled an unruly creature terrorizing the people of Starkerbürg. Upon encountering an injured woman, Steven offers to bring her – carry her, truly – back to her home. How could he deserve a knighthood if he left a woman in distress to her fate, after all?

But not everything it as it seems. And love blooms in the most unlikely of places.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, tons of fluff, himbo knights in BBC Merlin style (long live the legends), knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Title from the song which inspired the story, Pomiluj mě (Love on Me/Love Me Tender)...tumblr cannot handle an “ě “in their title 🙃 Lyrics, translation and link here, you’ll find a few lines in the fic as well - truly recommend. DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

A/N/2: AO3 says this is my 100th work (as posted here anyway) and I’m brushing 1,680k of words written according to the counter. Which… whoa. And it’s almost six years since I first posted a marvel fic 🥺 Enjoy!

Alone, you only wander in the dark Chased by the cold I shall light up the torch you’re guarding

Should I be worried about you That all you do is take When are you coming back to me?

The cavalry moved rather slowly.

The noble men appeared a far cry from the polished image known from books, even as they had attempted to wash in a river. They reeked of battle, smoke and blood still; and the drying blood in their wounds was just as red as that of ordinary men, the scent of sweat and fear having seeped into their clothes and armour. And yet, their vests carried the sigil of Starkerbürg with pride, signaling the knights’ dedication to the protection of their kingdom.

With only horse left, they truly might make a pitiful sight, certain weariness to their step; but an air of victory and camaraderie made for a picture of life instead. Laughter sounded between the group, a joke thrown around here and there, a tease about a wound each of them suffered, particularly the youngest one. Despite those, true concern for their new friend, Sir Parker, could be read in their eyes. He was the youngest to ever been dubbed in the history of Starkerbürg; it was no wonder the good men assigned him the role he would have played had the bond they shared been one of a blood family. The youngest of brothers was as much made fun of as protected, since he was eager to prove he deserved the honour to ride with the knights of Starkerbürg just like any other. Now he sat on the horse in front of Sir Barton, the eldest, as they made their way back after successfully ridding the kingdom of a horrific creature: the chimera had been believed to only exist in old tales until it brought terrible and painfully real suffering to the people of the west of the kingdom and so the king’s loyal servants were tasked to ride at dawn five days ago.

“Alright, alright, let us leave the poor lad,” Sir Barton said, patting the young Sir Parker on his shoulder a little too hard. “He shall do better next time.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder gratefully, having started to feel not humbled, but humiliated.

“Yes, yes, we should let him be,” Sir Maximoff agreed, side-eyeing the two riders mischievously. “We should talk about how you moved like an old lady.”

The collective ooooooh and chuckles might have as well come from a group of children, rather than grown men, causing Sir Barton to glare at the cheeky lad he called a friend.

“Old ladies are wise and worth of respect, Maximoff. You could learn a thing or two from them, as you had learned from me,” he scoffed, feigning offence. “Do not forget who taught you how to swing a sword, kiddo.”

“There is a point in what Clint is saying,” Sir Wilson hummed good-naturedly, raising his eyebrow at Pietro in challenge.

“Maybe. Does not change the fact he’s grown seven years older since then, while I have grown seven years more mature.”

The explosion of laughter following his statement was louder this time.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Sir Barnes snorted, elbowing his best of friends, Sir Rogers. “About as mature as this one was when he used to pick his battles with guys twice his size, eh?”

Sir Rogers, Steven to most, only smirked, speaking up for the first time in a while, since his thoughts were far far away. “Should we get technical, we all took up on an enemy twice our size only yesterday morning.”

“Oh?” Sir Barton feigned surprise. “Listen to the guy. He might tell you what brought the monster to its knees next – an arrow straight to its eye. Remind me, Maximoff, whose crossbow it was that fired it?” he asked pointedly, grinning down at the man walking by their horse, earning an eyeroll.

“Did it even have knees?” Sir Lang questioned, “All I know is that it was a nasty, nasty thing.”

“Nastier than Hydra? Cut off one had, two shall takes its place? I truly believed that was only a legend…” Sir Wilson said, a visible shiver of disgust shaking him.

“Not sure we can compare the two… maybe Barnes or Rogers could, huh?” Sir Maximoff suggested.

Steven’s face darkened; he did indeed remember the hydra creature very well for it nearly cost his best friend his arm. The scars still littered Bucky’s skin, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder; Gods had blessed him enough that his ability to use his arm remained intact, even as its appearance did not.

As for the strange chimera they had slayed yesterday… it was true that Steven had gotten more familiar with it then he would have liked. He could recall it with uncomfortable clarity: its foul breath smelling of death on his face, feeling as if it had seeped deep into his very bones when he had finally thrusted his sword through its heart. He could still hear the clang of teeth near his neck, a near death sentence.

No, he would rather not compare the two. He would rather not think of either of the creatures at all.

“Why us, Maximoff? Because I nearly lost my arm to the former and my best friend to latter? No thanks,” Sir Barnes hissed, face turning ashen as well.

Steven instinctively reached for his friend, squeezing his arm, casting a concerned glance as he was torn away from his own dark memories.

“Buck…”

“Are you jesting? Sir Rogers was incredible,” Sir Parker cried out excitedly, having four of the knights groan, for Steven’s bravery – or idiocy, should anyone ask Sir Barnes, truly – was all the youngest knight had been talking about for the majority of their journey, causing Steven’s cheeks redden under his beard, sense of pride and satisfaction battling the terror of the memory. As for the remaining knights, well; while they did not diminish Steven’s important contribution of delivering the fatal blow, they had grown annoyed at the constant babble.

“Sure he was, kiddo.”

“Oh yes. They should probably knight him. Oh wait-“ Sir Wilson said, causing the men to laugh.

“Yeah, a set of deadly teeth perhaps three inches from his throat? Let him have all the glory and Princess Morgana’s hand too,” Sir Barnes grumbled, sending his friend both a proud and irked glance.

A sudden rustle of leaves and a woman’s yelp followed by a thud caused them all fall silent and turnbattle-ready in a split second, snapping in the direction of noise.

However, there was little need for caution. Their intruder barely appeared dangerous: the peasant woman observed them with wide eyes and forehead scrunched in pain, blossoms of common elder, spilled all around her like precious silks of a gown instead of the worn fabric of the simple shirt, shawl and ankle-length skirt, speaking thousand words of what she had been doing until she had fallen. Her fingers were clutching at her left foot, a clear sign of her ungraceful landing. The tree was by no means tall, but that should not mean the fall was what they could call comfortable.

For a moment, the group of knights stood frozen, rendered speechless as much as the poor woman who found herself face to face with not one but seven of the crown’s most loyal servants.

Steven, perhaps the kindest of them all, was the first to snap from the shock of an unexpected disturbance of their journey, releasing the grip on his sword, never having drawn it from its sheath. He took several long strides to the young woman, instantly capturing her attention.

“My lady, are you quite alright?” Steven inquired, gently as he realized his large frame, accentuated by his armour, might intimidate the poor sweetling.

And yet. Just as the question left his lips and his gaze met hers, he was the one rendered mute all of sudden.

Steven had never seen anyone more clearly, he was certain; and just as sure he was of the fact that no woman could ever hope to encompass sincerity and beauty in her eyes only as the one he was facing at the moment.

Her smile was but a shy little thing, pain masked by gratitude for the knight’s care. He was a handsome one, of robust built but with delicate lines to his face, bright blue irises with a speckle of green, plush lips framed by a short beard; distantly, she imagined his wide shoulders would barely fit the doorframe of her cabin – of her hut, truly. She found the imagery enticing, almost as much as the gentle tone he had spoken with despite his giant frame.

“’Quite aright’ seems accurate, sir. I am not hurting much beyond my left ankle,” she admitted, even as her source of discomfort was evident from her hand still covering the affected area.

Steven’s brows furrowed slightly in worry, yet he made no move, spoke no words, even as his lips parted. Instead, his eyes roamed the woman’s face, searching and fascinated. It was the silence which prompted his comrades to enter the interaction.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sir Wilson asked as he stepped forward – a movement barely acknowledged as the woman did not shift her gaze from Steven still.

“Wobble, perhaps,” she said, the corners of her lips briefly turning downwards. “Could perhaps one of you assist me? I should be most grateful for your chivalry.”

Sir Barnes could scoff at the absurdity of her wording; even as she suggested she would welcome anyone’s aid, her fixation on Steven was ridiculously evident. It almost scared him, how steadily she watched him; even as ladies’ interest in his best friend’s company had increased significantly along with how Steven’s muscles had grown, the way this woman observed him… unsettling him for some reason.

“Oh! We should borrow you the horse for a while-“ Sir Parker – bless him, the youngest and the purest of heart of them all – cried out, soon silenced by a more sombre voice of reason of Sir Barnes.

“Kid, you lose your leg should you put your weight on it now. Believe me, I have almost lost my arm to the same foolishness.”

“…oh.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should support you and walk you to your home,” Sir Barton suggested nonchalantly, preparing to dismount the horse. “The most experienced one of us, perhaps?”

“Truly? Is that so, Clinton?” Sir Wilson questioned as he eyed him, his tone carrying wryness of a man who would not care for nonsense – unless it was one that could earn him a great deal of fun. “Why you?”

“I have a pair of very well-working eyes for one,” the older man uttered, causing sir Maximoff to snicker silently.

“So do I and yet I would never offer!” Sir Lang opposed as soon as he understood the meanings behind Sir Barton’s words. “Must we remind you how inappropriate that would be, since you have a lovely wife and three kids at home?”

“And a knee that knows a rain is coming at least two sunsets ahead?” Sir Barnes added for honestly, the foolishness of Sir Barton’s idea battled the one of the youngling’s.

“Ugh, alright then. Spoilsports.”

Sir Maximoff, unsurprisingly, grinned and shrugged as he stepped forward. “Ah, well, fellas, it seems-“

“I can do it. I can even carry her.”

Sir Barnes sighed, an involuntary reaction to best of comrades choosing this moment to snap from his reverie. Speaking of foolishness.

Not once had Steven’s gaze left the beautiful woman since the very moment he had laid his eyes on her, almost as if he was drawn by ancient power whose pull not even his virtuous heart could resist. The pull had been literal too; while the movements had been subtle, step by step Steven inched closer to the woman, now standing barely three feet from her, way too close even as he had been the first to spring forward.

Sir Barnes would be amazed and certainly more than amused at his friend’s antics, had it not been for the fact the scene was as fascinating as disconcerting. For a myriad of reasons. Beginning with-

“You are injured as well,” Sir Wilson noted pointedly.

Sir Wilson appeared to be the only of the men aside from Sir Barnes who had not lost all reason in the midst of all of them having acquired an expression of awe and smugness. In all fairness, the reaction of the knights was nothing short of understandable, for Steven, Sir Rogers, who had kept from many women who had been rather literally battling for his attention, seemed enamoured all of sudden. And of all creatures, enamoured by a beautiful, yet the most ordinary of women. He appeared if not utterly lost to the fabled love at first sight, then certainly lost enough to abandon all reason.

“Oh no, if you are severely injured, I could not possibly-“ the woman resisted, gathering her skirt in attempt to stand up as if to prove she was considerably less inconvenienced by absence of aid than it had originally appeared.

Naturally, her efforts were doomed to failure – and just as naturally, Steve had been there to catch her, promptly supporting her weight. She had barely caught herself, one palm flat against his chest, the other on his bicep, lips parted in silent surprise; and much to the amusement of all knights, in awe of his strength.

Sir Rogers was certainly not the only one of the pair who appeared smitten.

“Thank you, good Sir.”

“Sir Steven Rogers, my lady. I should be happy to aid you,” he pronounced, the words ‘with anything’ unsaid but clearly implied as he helped her straighten up as much as her own injury allowed. “I have not been injured severely. Worry not.”

Needless to say, Sir Barnes would argue; bruised ribs, several cuts, more so when one of them sat right above his brow, should be considered severe enough not to carry a woman in his arms… particularly when these injuries were coupled with a heavy blow to the head. Before, Sir Barnes had not been sure how strong of a hit Steven had taken, but now, seeing how absent of any common sense Steven was-

Ah. His best friend was being quite himself, now that Sir Barnes thought of it.

“…so we are to ignore there are at least three better candidates whose ribs are not bruised or-“ Peter muttered in low voice to his companions, all but earning a warning slap to his healthy leg as Sir Lang gently shushed him, himself charmed by the romantic ballad-worthy scene in front of them.

“Seeing as she does, I suppose we do too,” Sir Maximoff scoffed lowly, tilting his head to side as he observed his comrade, suddenly frowning, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And so does he. Is he alright? He looks… strange. Has any of you put something in his water?”

“You are saying this as if you were not as miffed about him being chosen by her as I am,” Sir Barton huffed, sourness turning into humour at the other man’s misery.

Pietro’s gaze torn away from the pair, their downright love-sick gazes suddenly difficult to watch; it almost felt as if by looking at them, they were prying on an intimate moment. Pietro thought it curious, for he had never had any issues of laughing loud at the displays of affection his fellow knights had offered in the Tower tavern for everyone to see, but he did not want to examine it too hard. He could find joy elsewhere once they had made it to the city, with no shortage of ladies no doubt willing to offer comfort to the heroes of Starkerbürg.

“He is one lucky bastard,” he sighed, patting the horse’s neck, preparing to take off.

“And lucky he might get…” Sir Wilson sing-sang quietly, causing the group to laugh as their gazes once again appreciated the almost palpable spark between the unlikely couple, exchanging knowing glances as the woman gasped when Steven sneaked his arms under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms with ease despite his gear weighting him down.

“Alright, it is settled. We are certain you are safe with Sir Rogers…” Sir Barton called out, entirely ignored by the pair who instead kept observing one another without as much as a blink, as if they could not bear losing even a fraction of the precious time they were given. “For he is-- they are not even listening to me, are they? No one cares about me anymore, I truly must be getting old-”

Sir Barnes sighed again, realization dawning to him; one he should never share with his companions, but one he would for certain inquire about later when Steven returned to the castle.

“We shall move then,” he muttered, beckoning others towards the road, not before sparing the couple a last slightly disapproving glance.

He feared not for his most precious friend’s safety; he only feared for his heart, too big even for the impressive size his body had grown into since his early days as a weakling. At the moment, it was his mind Bucky feared for, since it almost seemed feeble under a spell of a beautiful woman. A spell no one dared to break.

As the group walked away, each of their steps was uncharacteristically silent; until they believed to reach enough of a distance to have a boisterous laugh about Sir Rogers no doubt to be rewarded for his chivalry. The sound bothered not the pair as they smiled at each other softly, the woman’s thumb brushing over Steven’s sternum, covered by worn chainmail.

The simple touch seemed to reach his soul; his breathing, having already eased since he had first caught her, cleared completely, the ache in his bones gone. The woman’s smile widened, silently prompting Steven to start walking. He was not one to hesitate, his feet moving almost of their own volition.

“You are not obliged to carry me,” she said, a teasing note lacing her gentle voice. “I slowed the landing enough. It is nothing but a bruise.”

Steven shook his head, appearing as if he was barely holding back a grin. “But I must, my lady. It is my duty as a knight of Starkerbürg.”

She pursed her lips, one corner lifting in a smirk.

“Oh? Is it so, my good sir? Hm... speaking of knights of Starkerbürg, Sir Rogers,” she emphasized, a playful spark appearing in her eye, “your friends act like children.”

Undignified for a knight for certain – yet who was he to diminish the already scraped reputation of men who truly unsubtly jested about him taking advantage of the very woman in distress he was to help – Steven snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

“But Samuel might not be wrong…“ she said, voice equally full of amusement and promise. “Set me down, Steven. You must be tired.”

Tired he was not. Not ever since he had met the woman’s eyes moments ago and recognized their beauty and depth as familiar. But who was he to deny a lady?

And a lady she was, for all she was and was not. They might have jested about it together, but in Steven’s mind, she was precisely that and nothing less, no matter what any half-wit of this kingdom would think. Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, his heart thundering in his ribcage in anticipation as he focused on the sounds surrounding them.

Content with only gentle whisper of the wind and songs of robins for a company, his worn hands cradled the woman’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, heart trembling when she leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his palm.

In return, the tips of her fingers ghosted over his brow, the nasty cut closing at once, without a single sting of pain. She focused on that aspect often, even as she knew he would try and not as much as flinch for her benefit, much like he had not when she healed his ribs earlier.

“Thank you. They must be far enough now, I am sure,” he whispered, stepping closer so their bodies aligned and nearly merged in one. “Do not hide from me, bosorka moja. Let me see you, beautiful.”

Her smile turned a little coy, even as her soul sang at his sweet words. Steven was quite a master of compliments; but not a shameless flirt or a rake. What he said always came from heart; that beautiful, beautiful heart he had sworn belonged to her and never made her question it despite their situation.

“As you wish, good sir,” she whispered, fingertips sliding down his cheekbone, repairing the darkening bruising in their wake, before she turned focus on her own transformation. “Close your eyes, love, release me for just a moment.”

With a sigh of disappointment – but eager to oblige – Steven lifted his hands an inch, missing the lovely heat under his touch at once, and let his eyes slide close. Soft light caressed his skin, flickering behind his closed eyelids as her features shifted, her cloaking spell dispersing.

Steven did not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he allowed himself to open his eyes again just as the glow was dying out, welcomed by the sight of his beloved in her true face. The spell she had casted changed her features but a bit, only enough to protect her from those who would still hunt her upon mere suspicion of her being a magical creature. She appeared just as human as before; but should a half-wit still nursing grudges against magic even century and half since its dark side caused people to suffer ever recognize her as anything else… Steven did not wish to imagine what hell would have been raised; even as it would have been one he would fight to death against.

Indeed, she appeared human even in her true form to most, Steven assumed. Yet, to him, she appeared almost ethereal; she always had. From the very moment she had walked into his life and took his world by gentle storm, slowly nursing him back to health day by day from multiple wounds which would have been his doom. She had risked her own life in process, revealing her talents to anyone, let alone a knight of Starkerbürg, but for a good deed, she had barely even hesitated.

Beautiful, powerful, brave and endlessly kind; and now, by the blessing of gods, even as Steven failed to be a proper gentleman, his.

He let his fingers slide into her hair, tilting her face up to feast his eyes on her features, heart humming pleasantly as only a person who owned it could make it hum.

It was clearer than the skies that she felt just the same. Drawing him close, not waiting for his prompting, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers, sweet and healing. No cut was there for her to fix, but it appeared that whenever she kissed him, even with no magic involved as she had claimed, Steven’s often weary soul was lifted.

He followed her lips, earning a hearty chuckle but no protest, a hand on his nape as her fingers curled in his hair as well.

“Bosorka moja,” he said softly against her lips before tasting them again, greedy for every stolen moment, every stolen kiss she was willing to give him.

And she would give him a lifetime, much like he would give his own to her.

But there was not a single reason to do it right where they stood. One more peck to his lips and she escaped his arms sneakily, only to grab at his hand with both of hers, tugging him down the now familiar path.

“Come, rytier moj.”

And so he followed her, without a word of protest. He would follow his heart anywhere.

Their destination was by no means far, they were in no rush. Unbeknownst to Sir Barnes, his thoughts had been precisely on point – the pair of lovers cherished every moment spent together, may it be walking with purpose or wandering.

This day, they chose the former, the hut soon appearing in a barely-there clearing among the trees. Steve’s lips curled in a smile on instinct as despite the humble outside state of the tiny house, he knew what he would find upon entering with his love and lover by his side. A home. Not only hers; theirs. A safe space for their love.

As soon as they entered, the air smelling of herbs and dried meadow flowers, ones he had picked and gifted her the last time he had escaped his knight-bound duties, hit his nostrils and widened his smile. It was met with her own, soft and welcoming, heartbreakingly beautiful; ache echoed in his heart, its emptiness present for the past few days without her suddenly dissolving into nothing.

He brought her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her, so they could begin their routine.

From the mountains Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay your armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

Wind from the mountains

Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay my armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

You made your way to the pot, a simple curl of your wrist lighting up a fire to heat the water for tea. Steven’s gaze followed you as he stood by the door, blindly unclasping his belt, putting away his sword and chainmail. He had no need for weapons nor armour in his home; vulnerability in this house was no sign of weakness, but one of strength. It was a privilege he took upon proudly as you were blissfully aware.

Then, you ruminated through your dried herbs in search of chamomile and lavender, even as you knew the exact placement of every single item; once you heard Steven lose his armour and step forward, you looked over your shoulder, offering an unassuming smile – despite assuming quite a lot from the many encounters you had shared before.

“Tea, my love?”

Like clockwork, like the most beautiful habit, you barely got the chance to speak the question before he stood behind you, fingers cradling your chin, angling your head further to meet your lips again, an indulgent smile tasting indulgent smile as neither of you ever believed a tea was to be served. Not yet at least.

Where your first shared kiss after days of being apart tasted of longing, relief and soft smiles, this one tasted of feelings much more primal. Your breath hitched in the briefest surprise at the intensity, yet you responded in earnest, shifting to accommodate his large body, your hands finding purchase of his broad shoulders as soon as you spun around. He rewarded your cooperation with enthusiasm; you yielded to his force with a breathy laugh once he allowed you to retrieve the air he so lovingly stole from your lungs.

“No tea then?”

A hand previously grasping at your hips wrapped around your back to pull you to his chest, three steps leading you to walk backwards until your back brushed the makeshift table, Steven’s lips as urgent as sweet, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin, each breath tickling your lips.

“Would rather drink from your lips, love,” he whispered to your mouth, the only chance for both of you to breathe in before his lips returned. His hold tightened to ground you against his advances, trapping you in a cage of love you could have easily escaped should you wish; yet, you only withdrew for a moment, a cheeky retort on your tongue as your need for him grew with every touch.

“That could be arranged, I believe.”

Glancing up, you were met with his darkened eyes, his hand firm as he held onto your jaw; and yet, his thumb caressed your skin gently, the desire blending into softness and amusement at your bold demeanour. You lifted one corner of your lips in a smirk, gasping when his mouth possessed yours again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, his arm still holding onto your waist – the only thing keeping you from practically laying on the table, his hips pining yours against the hard surface, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Now there was a thought; Steve’s weight rendering you weightless as he’d coax peak after peak from your body laid on the dark wood as an offering to Gods at an altar…

The very thought, however, was fast to dissolve as Steven’s hips rocked into yours, allowing you to feel the outline of his burning need, having you clutch at his shirt as friction teased your throbbing core. He swallowed the needy noise he elicited from your lips, fingers slipping under your shirt, thumb pressing into your skin just above your hipbone as to guide your movements.

You shuddered upon his lips travelling down the column of your throat, teeth grazing skin alongside the hem of your shirt above your collarbone; your hands began their own quest over the hard planes of his body, appreciative of his truly impressive physique. Steven’s fingers roamed as well, caressing and squeezing, your given name but a breathy whisper when his fingertips stroked the underside of your breasts.

You nearly missed his words due to the blissful sensation, but you had heard the silent plea spoken so many times before there was no mistaking it.

“Dance for me, my love?”

Your swollen lips curled in a playful smile as his fingers carded through your hair, kiss brushing your cheek and jaw and finally your mouth again.

“Oh? Is that what you wish for, lover mine?”

His gaze followed the patterns his fingertips whispered over your face as if they were brushes painting the most precious canvas, a curious contradiction to his eager kisses and hardness.

“Would you hold it against me?” he inquired in a hushed voice, stealing yet another kiss from your waiting lips, his nose gently caressing yours before his gaze bore into yours with intensity again, “that I wish to see something so beautiful and so alive after a battle?”

The amusement slipped from your face, features softening as your heart sored at the subtle confession. The knights of Starkerbürg were full of jest and gestures so great they might border on insanity when situation allowed it. Their bravery was a thing of legends, as much of a legend as the thing you knew they had gone to fight days ago and were only now returning, having bested a mythical creature much more vicious and deadly than yourself, crushing life with not more than one bite to a man’s flesh.

Yet, for all their heroism, even knights, even the most precious of them all – even your Steven – felt the disarming fear of death itself, cruel and all too powerful. You would be always be more than willing to remind him of the power of life for a change, until you’d release yours with your last breath.

Ad so the answer was no – no, you would not hold it against him, whatever he would ask. Never him.

Standing on your tiptoes, framing his face with your hands, his whiskers and already messy hair ticking your palms, you told him as much, sealing your deal with a kiss.

Easing his grip, he allowed you to push against chest, easily giving in as you lead him to walk backwards until his calves hit the frame of your bed. He sat down obediently and you leaned into him, stealing another brief peck.

“Please, bosorka moja,” he pleaded once more as your forehead touched his, taking a moment to breathe him in, reminding yourself that both you indeed were still alive; and thus, such victory should be celebrated with joys life itself provided. “Dance for me, my love.”

Smiling, you placed a finger over his lips to shush him at last, gliding several steps back, mischief appearing in your eyes as his own followed your every movement hungrily, more so when you slipped out of your shawl, the shirt far from brushing the waist of the skirt suddenly hanging low on your hips, providing Steve with a silver of skin of your stomach.

There was no music but the howl of the wind carrying the occasional note by chaffinches and dunnocks and rustles of leaves. Yet, an old old melody echoed in your heart, guiding your movements and filling you with power and confidence of all witches that came before you and enchanted men into giving away their kingdom without as much as a fleeting thought, surrendering their strength and their hearts, all that only to be blessed with a single sinful glance, a single touch of magic as old as humanity itself. For a single drop of passion.

You could feel it fill the air, the longing and thirst for life and body, your lover’s eyes turning dark, hypnotized by the simple swirls of your wrists above your head, at your sides, following every slide of the back of your hands over your ribs, over your bare skin, his visceral need to replace your touch with his own. Drinking in but the smallest motions of your hips, breath hitching at the briefest tilt of your head back or to side, his lips tingling to attach themselves to the exposed skin of your throat, to taste, to suck a bruise. The force with which his fists curled into themselves seemed to ignite sparkles in the air, bringing a sensual smile to your lips as you let your eyes slip shut, feeling the energy hum louder when you moved closer; a sweet thunder within you, within Steve, all around you.

The thud of Steve’s knees on the floor came with his hands grasping your hips; needy but not firm, only to feel the slow movements of your hips and allow you to continue swinging freely. You released a breath, head tipping backwards as Steve’s hot lips found the now burning skin of your stomach, nosing his way up an inch at a time, beard tickling, an open-mouthed kiss following and causing you to shudder – with pleasure, with overwhelming power.

“Steven-“

“Keep dancing, bosorka moja,” he hummed into your skin with a pleased smile, teeth grazing over your belly button as if to distract you from his rough but deft fingers slipping under the waist on your skirt, inching it lower and lower until it hit the floor. Cold air brushed over your bare core, Steven’s lips trailing to the junction of your thigh, his smile growing wicked. “I shall help you dance.”

The very first flicker of his tongue over your pearl had you stutter in your movements, a whimper leaving your lips as Steven’s fingers dug deep into your flesh of your sides and thighs, a wordless warning not to cease the dance he had pleaded for. With a shudder of a breath, you willed yourself to continue, naturally rocking onto his hot tongue as it swept over your weeping core with indulgence, stars flashing behind your closed eyelids at the contrast of the slick muscle to the scrapes his beard left behind.

“Steven-“

“Shhh,” your lover whispered, the sound gentle and teasing at once, the pleasant vibration against your sensitive flesh causing your fingers to find way into his hair and grip, only earning another appreciative hum. “Keep dancing, love.”

And so you did. Leaning into the affection so willingly offered, you succumbed to a different kind of dance. Fingers flexing in Steven’s hair upon a particularly smart swirl of his tongue, breathless praise, calls to Gods and desperate pleas for more more more spilling from your lips. Meeting his ministrations without shame; guiding him, opening up for him as the liquid fire of pleasure spread through your veins, turning into an inferno when you found your thigh on his shoulder, completely out of your doing, an instinct to chase relief – but thoroughly appreciated as Steven’s arm circled your bottom, pulling you impossibly close and loving you deep enough to set you on fire entirely.

You let the primal hunger consume you as you climbed to your peak, crying out when you reached it, head spinning from the intensity; waves of bliss washed over you, body pliant and relaxed. You shrieked when you suddenly found yourself losing your footing, for a brief moment frustratingly empty and cold; and then you were spread on the table, your lover’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, burning blue gaze swallowed by lust firmly set on your face as two thick fingers entered you, latching onto the last aftershocks of your peak. You reached a second high with dizzying speed, unable to tear your gaze away from your giving – and so, so wicked – lover. Gods could possess you at that moment and you would have not felt as if you ascended to such heights as you had while indulging on Earthly pleasures with him.

A soft trail of kisses and pets soothed you as you came down, a breathless chuckle bleeding into a sob when you noticed few of your possessions floating in the air, your magic quite literally having exploded outside of you.

Steven’s lips curled into a smile against your jaw and then you were tasting your essence – as well his much-satisfied grin – on your tongue, revelling in the warm weight of his body covering yours. It seemed your Steven had a few magic tricks up his sleeve too, mind-reading being one of them. You smiled into the kiss, using your grip on his hair to pull him even closer. He could never be close enough; and as he stood between your spread legs, his hard bulge brushing against your bare core, his lips and hands eager, you were certain he felt just the same.

“So beautiful for me,” he whispered to your mouth before retreating, darkened eyes sparkling with lust and pride as well as affection.

“And yours,” you hummed, fingers raking through his beard appreciatively, chuckling when fresh hunger flashed in his pupils. Oh how possessive your knight could be… how much joy it brought you to tease him. “Should I show you?”

A breathy yes was your only answer and so you gripped his shirt, using the fabric for leverage to you sit up. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his garments, gliding over his stomach, your magic flowing freely and healing whichever injuries you had missed earlier.

Easily ridding him of his shirt and pants in between sweet encounters of lips and shedding your clothes as well, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a faint whisper of ‘bed’ enough to have him pick you up without protest; on contrary, with quite the enthusiasm since his hardness throbbed when you led him to sit down with you in his lap.

“Missed you… love you… need you,” you confessed, his breathy voice echoing your sentiments as your lips brushed over every patch of his skin in reach, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him inside you, bliss surrounding you both when you finally sank yourself down his length in one fluid movement.

You rested your forehead against his and simply breathed, living in the moment of utter bliss; a different kind, not the almost primitive one, no, not the wild one. This moment belonged to serenity. Sharing air and warmth with your lover, tender hands appreciating the wide planes of his muscles, strength radiating from flesh and soul alike. And love. Always love.

As if he was able to read your mind once more, his lips sought out yours, a declaration of love indeed, simple, honest and unyielding. His thumb gently traced the pattern of your tattoo, its ink reaching from behind your ear over the side on your neck, a swirl over your left collarbone and spreading over your shoulder. I love you as you are, for all you are, his touch whispered even as no sound left his lips. And even if you felt no shame for your nature, your Steven’s acceptance caressed your soul as did his diligence; not once he had forgotten his ritual of reminding you that with him, your existence was not merely tolerated – but adored and celebrated. When you first understood the significance of this habit of his, tears had stung your eyes, kissed away before they could roll down your cheeks.

“Ľúbim ťa,” you had breathed out then, a love confession in the old language, and ever since, you had not failed to say it once in response to his gesture.

Then, rough fingertips carefully followed the line of a fine silver chain carrying a tear-shaped indigo sapphire, a token of affection usually hidden from plain sight, protected; a promise of faithfulness even as you remained unwed. You had no need for gemstones, but you understood its importance, the significance of the gesture; it made for your heart warm and safe upon its possession and for Steven’s heart lighter a pound of the burden of your circumstance.

Your circumstance was not one of the simple ones, a forbidden love one might say; in which you were the only forbidden thing. Forbidden to even live, let alone love or be loved; an abomination to some. A magic wielder, no doubt seducing the most honourable with her dark powers, for what other reason could be there for him to take liking in you? It mattered not that there was less than a little true to it, that your bond was of much purer nature, as common and as human as the blood you drew from your own veins to cast protection spells over your beloved. True did not matter. Should you reveal your relationship now, Steven would have been painted a victim; and you would have lived no more.

An easy circumstance yours was not at all; but your dedication to each other was to conquer all troubles. And in the meantime, you shall have moments of serenity and of passion, of you and him.

The smallest shift of Steven’s hand pulled from your thoughts, breath hitching when his fingers slid an inch lower, brushing over your nipple. Your hips buckled on instinct, drawing a groan from your lover’s lips, a grip on your bottom encouraging you to move.

Who were you to deny pleasure to you both?

Smiling, you withdrew, index finger covering Steve’s lips as he tried to follow, a discontent furrow to his brow. You tilted your head, thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“Would you like me to dance still, lover mine?” you inquired teasingly, his disapproval at your actions wiped away in an instant, replaced by fire in his eyes.

Gentle flames of affection battled those of desire, his warm palm caressing over your lower cheeks, before he snapped you impossibly close, causing you to gasp – and to question who it was who had the upper hand here. Your hand fell to his chest, his heart beating wildly under your palm, an answer of its own.

Both then. It seemed you were both on top and simultaneously under the other’s thumb. Such a beautiful thing.

“Would you, bosorka moja?”

Your smile grew, lips attaching to his once more and planning to remain for as long as possible, first careful rock of your hips the first step to reach for the stars – together this time.

“Oh Steven… for my honourable knight? For you, my love? With pleasure…”

An absent smile played on Steve’s lips, his fingers running up and down your arm, appreciating the softness and warmth of your skin. An air of comfort and contentedness hovered around you as he held you close, fast asleep in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as if the very sound of his heart against your ear lulled you to peaceful slumber.

Despite the sweetness of the idea, Steve felt his brows furrow in concern. While as he was perfectly happy to serve as a pillow for his beautiful lover, aware there was barely any greater expression of trust than a shared sleep, worry seized him for this occurrence was beyond rare. He once asked whether your incredible magic was an effortless as you made it seem, met with a weary chuckle and a kind, if a little condescending smile and a confession that if seen weak, your kind would have been an easy prey. Having understood he had taken your answer as a testimony to the lack of trust you had laid in him, you had also admitted that while the teachings of your ancestors had been deeply ingrained in your instincts, part of your reluctance to show your weakness to him was precisely what weighted his conscience just now. You simply could not be bothered to make him fret too much.

The fact you had let sleep take you alone was truly worrisome and Steve pondered just how exhausted you must have been. Even as the fresh memory of your breathless pleas for more and the cries of pleasure as you rode him till you both tasted heaven were nothing short of precious to him, he could not but wonder whether he was taking too much; your magic healing his wounds, your body a sanctuary to his love and fears.

Perhaps he had. But who could ever blame him?

Steven had never known a woman like this – unafraid to give, just as unshy to take; one or the other, but never like this. He had fallen for you and had fallen hard, body and soul. Yes, should anyone call him selfish, they would not be wrong, because Gods, did he take what he craved and lusted – and yet. Yet, every moment with you felt ethereally right as your still unconscious form drifted closer, almost as if you sensed his thoughts and wished for them to evaporate. And so far, they always had, dissolved in your easy smile when you refused his offer and plea to come with him; to bring you to the castle with him so he could give as well, give more, provide and protect and worship you in his home, your new home, true home where you would not have to hide in the middle of the woods like some sort of an abomination.

It is not the time yet, my love. It will come, you would always say, washing away his guilt with a sweet kiss and a promise. One day. One day I shall come with you and we should be unabashedly happy with no fear, free to be you and me.

He had let your words and touch sooth him, always; but not today. Your body having melted into his had his protective instinct flare up, determination set in his very heart. He should convince you today, to make you his and him yours as two people in love deserved. He shall make an honest woman of you in the eyes of the whole kingdom at last. It was what you were worthy of, for you were worthy of anything and everything. And with you… he believed he deserved the same. He could not stand it anymore. Parting ways with you, only to hope for your next stolen moment to come the very minute after he had left. He could no longer bear you existing so close and yet so far out of his reach.

No, he shall convince you today, insist more than ever. He wanted this, he wished for nothing more than to lay to sleep like this every night, with you. You deserved it. You deserved the world and he shall lay it to your feet, for his honour and his benefit at once.

Any other day, you would have berated yourself for having fallen asleep; but knowing the changes your body was going through, weariness settling in sooner than it used to, it only brought a smile to your face when you found yourself waking to Steven’s tender fingers carding through your hair.

The night was slowly falling. Wandering the woods in darkness would have been an unnecessary risk for anyone, even for a skilled knight with your protective spell over him; your lover was more than aware of it and still, you could tell it pained him to bring you out of your slumber nevertheless. It was no feat to kiss his guilt away, smiles adorning your faces, noses caressing, hands wandering, nearly leading you back into the clutches of lust.

He sat patiently on your bed now, half dressed as you took your blade, his eyes following your every move with more attention than ever as he absently sipped chamomile tea; he found himself deep in thought, such was obvious. It was not difficult to guess where his mind had trailed off to, for it had always been the same.

His voice was soft when he spoke the words, a soft wrinkle on his forehead as your cut your finger and stood between his spread legs.

“Come with me.”

A sad smile played in the corner of your lips as your heart fluttered at his plea, one he never failed to deliver, even as your sigh must have sounded weary every time.

“I cannot. Not yet.”

Steven was no half-wit, which was more than could said about many of the people of Starkerbürg. He knew precisely why you could not come; why you never could, at least not yet. Magic was still forbidden – as if it was a choice, as if one could choose to stop breathing and still live – hated for the pain and destruction the dark twisted witches and sorcerers had once left in their wake, misusing magic to spread fear and suffering. It was not just that all magic wielders were still paying the price for what their ancestors had done. It was even less just that you, not having done any harm unless you needed to escape imminent danger to your life, should live a hermit life, too far from your love and lover. Yet it was how times were, still.

But you were no fool either. You could feel Steven’s uneasiness growing heavier every time he left without you, for it went against his very nature, against the need to keep you close, to hold you, to love – to protect you from harm. You had no doubt he would lay his life for you. You could not allow him to do that, not when the time was finally growing near for your love to be cherished as any other, time for your kind to be free. You must not lose him to rushed foolishness. He was no longer only yours to lose.

“I would protect you,” he promised, steely conviction in his husky voice.

As sweet as the sentiment was, you could not but smirk, a knowing gaze reminding him that should the situation require it, you could very well protect yourself, even as your true gift – the one special talent every magic wielder had, naturally developed with barely any practice – was of the healing kind. Should you truly wished, you could burn villages with terrifying ease; gods knew sorcerers and sorceresses had done this and more with a single snap of their fingers.

Steve took no offence in your teasing gaze; but the determination in his own remained unshaken as you begun to draw the protective symbol over his sternum.

“The time is yet come for people to understand the blessings of magic again, for its light to outshine the darkness it had sowed,” you reasoned, as much as it pained you. “The time shall come soon, I promise. It is simply not today, my love.”

Long fingers circled your wrist, gentle but firm, having you cease your movement, your gaze meeting the brilliant blue roaming over your face.

“I miss you. All days, all nights. I-“ he paused, licking his lips, a shadow of hurt passing over his face. “Don’t you?”

Your heart soared, a sigh leaving your lips. Steven was not easy on you today; but your conviction and determination was just as strong as his. You had to be brave and so did he. A few days longer, that would be all you needed. The right time would come. You were certain of it, even as it was nothing but a whisper of intuition in the back of your mind. Wait, the voice said, the time grows near, but you must wait.

“Do not do this, rytier moj,” you scolded Steven, letting gentleness seep into your voice. “It does not suit you. You must know I love you. I miss you too. And I worry. All days. All nights. Therefore…”

You wiggled your fingers, Steven’s shoulders sagging as he released you, an exasperated pout to his lips – unjustly adorable – as you resumed your work. You smiled widely despite your unnerving circumstance; he would give you anything and everything. The knowledge of this, having been reminded by every little gesture, every word he spoke, made for the warmest feeling in your soul.

Content with your handiwork as you drew the last spiral, you had to swallow a chuckle when Steven’s brows furrowed in confusion, head bowing, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar pattern. A triskele instead of a simple two-headed spiral. A symbol speaking more words than your knight could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, you supposed.

“It’s different.”

Shrugging, you withdrew your hand, calling to your magic to finish the ritual.

“You always draw two spirals connected…” Steve continued, eyes growing large and curious.

“I do”, you agreed softly.

He observed you, intrigued. He had once said he might not understand your power, but he swore he would always try. He would not dare to question your rituals, but you could almost feel how fast his thoughts whirled in a frantic search for an answer. The ritual had remained the same, always, countless times, over and over… why would you steer from it today of all days? What was its significance? What had changed?

Oh Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven… if he only knew.

“You always say it is about love. The unity of us. You and me,” he said slowly and you nodded, unable to contain your joy any longer, eyes surely glimmering.

“Yes. Our love, you and me. Unity of two.”

His eyes, roaming your face in silent question still, suddenly widened, flickering down and snapping back up as the realization dawned on him, leaving his lips slightly parted.

You simply shrugged, a chuckle shaking your chest, while guilt already began to gnaw at your conscience. You should have not told him, not yet. But how could you have kept it for yourself? How could you have denied yourself a little indulgence, even when knowing nothing could change just yet? You simply wished to see him learn your sweet secret, yours and his, even if for a moment, see he was equally elated.

Your knight did not disappoint you, not that you believed he ever could. His face was a perfect blend of shock and delight, radiating joy and hope and shame and sadness in equal amount as he stammered, shaky hand reaching out to carefully brush his fingers over your belly showing no signs of the treasure growing inside yet.

“You- are you—are we? Oh gods-“ And then, as you predicted, his expression shifted in an instant, determination taking deep root. “Then you must come with me. Allow me to take care of you, to-“

Satisfied and aching at once, you promptly shushed him with your still bloody finger to his lips. A single tear rolled down your cheek; a testimony to happiness, reassured anew of your lover’s goodness and dedication to you. To your family. The wonder, the glimmer of hope and the conviction in Steven’s expression would stay with you till you could grant him his wish.

“The time has not yet come, my love. I share your joy. And your worry,” you whispered through the tightness of your throat, even as a smile adorned your lips. Your finger drew a small cross over his mouth despite the pain it caused you. You had had your moment – and that had to be enough for now. “I am sorry, rytier moj. But you shall not remember this, not yet.”

Before he could as much as take a breath, you withdrew your hand, the symbols on his chest and lips disappearing with a soft glow. Disoriented, your knight blinked, steadying himself by the hand on your hip even as he remained seated.

With a shaky inhale you composed yourself before he could, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his lips, fingers raking through his hair. His hand cradled your jaw, adoring.

“Be careful,” you spoke against his lips, earning another small peck.

“Always.”

You retreated with a huff, shaking your head as you went to find an ointment you knew his friend would soon need.

“You speak as if I did not know you, Steven. A basilisk chimera’s teeth three inches from your throat, I heard? Careful indeed.”

His smile was sheepish as he rose to his full height, tying the top of his shirt before reaching for the garments you had so hastily rid him of earlier.

“I always try. The idea that should I fail, I shall never see you again… it can be quite a motivation,” he sweet-talked, succeeding just a bit in softening your exasperation.

Perhaps the vision of him dutifully putting on his armour, making his frame appear even larger – and protected – calmed you further.

“Well, Steven, try harder,” you snipped, pressing a tiny pot into his hand, earning a raised brow. “And take this to Peter, the wound on his leg was already turning foul. And this…”

You reached for a salve you had prepared for when a wave of nausea had taken you by surprise, dipped your finger in the dark substance and carefully patted it over Steven’s brow where his cut had been. You did not expect Steven to feel nauseous – after all he was not the one carrying a new life under his heart – but the colour was convenient. A cut healing so rapidly would have casted a dangerous suspicion on whoever he had interacted with – or worse, on Steven himself. You could not have that.

He observed you softly as you tended to him, adding a small tap where a bruise had begun to form earlier on his cheekbone. He did not utter a word until you were satisfied with your work. Once your hands fell to your sides, his own framed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth again, a bittersweet goodbye.

“Always so meticulous and careful… always so good. Taking care of me, of my friends…” he mused, breathing you in one last time, hovering, hesitating more than usual. Almost, almost as if your spell had not worked and he still knew. As if he still knew precisely what he was leaving behind this time. “Take care of the person most precious to me too? Until I come back again?”

There might be two of those for you now, you thought, the memory of his delight flashing in your mind, bringing a smile to your lips as you nuzzled into his touch and kissed his palm.

Looking up at his face, you echoed his own reassurance. “Always.”

With one last kiss and hearts as heavy as light, you declared your love to each other. You walked him out quietly, watching him disappear between the trees, his gaze turning to you several times, always finding you standing at the doorstep of his true home, a tender smile on your lips.

Once he was out of sight, you released a sigh, hand settling over your belly, a tear stinging in your eye despite the corners of your lips having been turn upwards.

Yes. The time was yet to come for the people to see again the blessings of magic. For now… the blessing of love already bloomed and it was enough.

Očaruj mě - Bewitch Me (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

Ochraňuj mě - Protect Me (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this one

Complete masterlist

Yes, I’m mixing symbols, I know… do I care? Nope.

Terms of endearment/addressing used from Slovak language: bosorka moja = witch mine rytier môj = knight mine ľubim ťa = I love you

Thank you for reading!💕 I wrote it in between really difficult exams in the ocourse of two months and it needed a LOT of editing afterwards too, so... feedback is, as always, appreciated 🥰

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #medieval au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #lemons #pomiluj me #anika ann

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holdmytesseract · 2 years ago

Text

Royal Visitors

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N feat. baby Narfi & Ella

Summary: Odin and Frigga come to visit the newest member of the family - baby Narfi. But things don't always go by plan, right? Especially not, when Ella comes home with her uncle Scott in tow...

Warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff! slight thirst? 👀 baby things and a lot of humour! scott being a dork. 😂

Word Count: 4k

a/n: @fictive-sl0th asked me, if I would write this - and of course I couldn't say no. 🥰 So well... Here you go! I hope you, my wonderful friend and everyone else likes this! 🥰

I'd also like to dedicate this story to @smolvenger . I hope this little, funny fluff piece can conjure a smile on your face. 🫂

Baby Fever Crew: (Let's try 'em tags again! I hope it works! ☺️) @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @eleniblue @vbecker10 @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @lokisninerealms @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lou12346789 @kimanne723 @coldnique @lady-rose-moon @acefeather2002 @aagn360 @mostclevermiss @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @chennqingg @anukulee @lokiforever

Peeps who I think might be interested in this as well: @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @evelyn-kingsley ☺️

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Babe, when are your parents going to be here again?" You asked your husband, while cradling the tiny boy you squeezed out of you a mere week ago in your arms; breastfeeding him. Loki turned to face you; stirring the cup of coffee in his hands. His hair was positively a mess. He was wearing nothing but black boxershorts and a matching black and very stained tank top. The dark shadows underneath his eyes were the result of the lack of sleep he suffered from the past days. Having a newborn again and a six-year-old wasn't easy for him, nor for you. Especially for him, though, because he made sure that you got as much rest as possible; still needing to recover from the not so easy-going birth.

"Umm..." Loki checked the time, "In about... two hours." and took a sip of his coffee. "Alright. I have to get ready then. Take a shower, put on fresh clothes... Probably even brush my teeth..." Loki gave you an incredulous look, before he made his way over to where you sat at the dining table; passing by the kitchen counter. "You can do that, my love, but first..." He reached for the dozed off baby in your arms, "You are going to take a much-needed nap. Unless I'll have to fear that you are going to pass out in the shower - which wouldn't be good." and took tiny Narfi - who had himself curled up in a fetal position, in his strong, muscular arms. "And I am going to look after this little man, yes?"

You blinked; tired brain trying to process his words. "But... But babe... You only just got up from a nap, because Narfi woke you... You need rest, too. After all, you watched him almost the whole night and morning. Plus, you helped Ella getting ready for primary school. I can't ask you to look after him again, while I-" The god had heard enough and successfully shut you up with his lips on yours; kissing you gently. "Darling... This goes without saying. Of course, I am doing this for you. I'm your husband. We are partners. A team... And this little prince here is my son as well. Not just yours. I am his father and I have the responsibility to look after him as well - just like you. But the decisive and important difference is, that you carried him for over six months within your womb; keeping him safe and sound. You birthed him - which was very difficult, nerve-wracking and exhausting. You deserve and need the rest. I can see when the mother of my children needs a break - and I'll not let it happen that you pass out because of exhaustion. So please... Take a nap."

You were stunned. Utterly touched by Loki's words.

Blue eyes looked deeply into yours, while he shifted Narfi, so that he could intertwine a hand with yours. "Please." He added; gently squeezing your hand.

You felt how your emotions got stuck in your throat; eyes becoming teary. "Oh Lokes, I... I don't know what to say, I..." You stood up; moving to wrap both your arms around his waist. "Thank you, baby. I love you so much. You are the best. I couldn't have wished for a better husband and father." The god smiled; kissing you once more. "I love you, too, my goddess. And now off with you. I want to see that pretty ass in our bed now. Get some rest."

While you laid down and slept in only after a few minutes. Sleeping like a log; Loki took care of the newest addition to his family. He carried Narfi around a little longer, to make sure that he stayed asleep, before he laid him down in the crib - which stood inside your shared bedroom. Then he went to the living room and decided to help you out a little more; folding some laundry. Mostly onesies, rompers, bibs and burp cloths. Unfortunately, it was a very... Let's say tiring task, and so the god slept in as well; cuddling the onesie he was about to fold. The cup of coffee he had consumed was not helping him to stay awake; failing - and perhaps it wasn't the best idea of him to cover himself up with a soft, warm and inviting blanket. Therefore, that nobody was awake now and watched the time, two hours flew by within the blink of an eye and it came how it had to come...

The Bifrost opened up in the middle of the living room with a rather loud 'wooosh' - but it didn't bother all sleeping members of the family at all. Everybody was way too tired to care. Even Narfi slept through it.

Odin and Frigga appeared; standing now where the rainbow light once was. They both noticed immediately that it was awfully quiet. No Ella who came running excitedly up to them... No you, who greeted them warmly, nor their son. Not even the coos and cries of a newborn could be heard. Nothing. Just entire silence.

The couple exchanged a look. "No welcoming committee?" Asked the Allfather almost sceptically. "You did tell our son that we would come at this time of the day?" Frigga nodded, "I did, dear." and finally started to look around. It didn't take long for her to find her son - deep asleep on the sofa; snugly wrapped up in a blanket. She smiled, "But perhaps they were victims of a higher power." and tapped her husband's arm gently; making him see. He huffed. "What are we going to do now?" "Let them rest and come back later." Odin shook his head. "Dear wife... As you should know, I am a king. I have a kingdom to rule and duties to follow. I don't have the time - unfortunately," stated the king and approached the sleeping Loki.

"Son. Wake up." No reaction. Odin cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Loki!" It helped. The god ripped his eyes open and literally jumped up. "Yes, Sir, I'm awake, Sir!" He almost shouted; blanket falling around his ankles and the onesie hanging messily over his shoulder - just like his hair. Again. Loki was definitely completely out of it; caused by Odin, who ripped him so 'harshly' and sudden out of his deep slumber.

While Frigga placed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling like a maid, who had heard the newest gossip, Odin was rather shocked at his son's messy appearance. Sure, he had a newborn child, but where was his royal behaviour? "Son..." The Allfather started, shaking his head. "What in the nine realms are you wearing?" Loki blinked; was still trying to properly wake up and looked down himself; seeing the stains on his top - which undoubtedly came from Narfi, and that he was basically just in underwear. Oh.

Swallowing hard, he quickly scrambled to get away from the sofa - and the blanket, and snapped his fingers; letting his seidr correct his outfit. "A-Apologies, father, I-" Frigga lifted a hand and placed it on the now black shirt clad chest of Loki; interrupting him. "Don't be, my dear. We understand." She gave him a heartwarming smile, which calmed the god down. "Thank you, mother." Frigga nodded and cupped his cheek for a moment, before she let go.

"Where is your wife and daughter?" Odin questioned Loki then, looking around. "Oh, um, Ella is out with her uncle Scott. He shows her around his father-in-law's superhero suit laboratory and Y/N is sleeping. She's been very exhausted." Loki had no other words to describe his father what his daughter was doing. How should he explain this? The Pym particles? That they were able to shrink you or grow you to the size of Asgard's palace? Right… He couldn't.

Odin frowned; was visibly confused. "What by the holy roots of Yggdrasil…?" Yeah… Exactly, Loki thought. "It's science, father. That's a complicated Midgardian thing." Frigga again just giggled, while Odin huffed, "Such foolery. I'll never understand those Midgardians." and shook his head. "Now, may we move on to the reason why your mother and I made our way here? We wish to see our newest grandchild, don't we?" The Allmother rolled subtly her eyes at her husband's behaviour, but nodded; giving her son a smile.

You and Loki hadn't told his parents yet if you were having a boy or a girl. Both, you and him agreed to keep it a secret and surprise them. Actually, you wanted to do it together, but when Loki saw you sleeping so peacefully and soundly; wrapped up in your oversized cuddle blanket, he didn't have the heart to wake you up. So, Loki tiptoed over to the little crib and slid both his big hands underneath the small body of his son, in order to lift him up in his arms. Narfi stirred; scrunched his little face. "No, no, no, don't wake up, little prince," Loki whispered; rocking him gently. "It's all good. Daddy just wants you to meet your grandparents. They are beyond excited to meet you." The god continued to whisper to the infant, while he carried him towards the living room.

"Mother, father..." He announced his return with a smile. "It is an utmost pleasure for me to introduce you to your sweet, little grandson - Narfi." Frigga gasped as she laid eyes upon the baby; eyes starting to get clouded by tears. She was visibly happy.

While the Allmother gasped and tried to hold back her tears of happiness, Odin let out a loud, uh, shriek of happiness. It almost sounded like a battle cry; causing both Loki and Frigga to flinch. "A boy! A boy! Finally another man in the family! An heir to the throne! A new ki-" The Allfather cut off his own sentence, as he saw the bombastic side eye his wife was giving him. She was clearly not amused by his reaction. Odin cleared his throat; giving his son, who was looking quite a bit confused at him a nod, before he reached out a hand and clapped him forcefully on the shoulder. "I-I meant great, my son. Producing such strong and healthy children."

Loki - and Frigga were both still not quite convinced by his choice of words, but either way, Loki knew that his father was happy. That he was proud of him and his kids - and that made the god smile. "Would one of you like to hold him?" At this question, Odin got surprisingly excited. "I definitely wish to hold my grandson! May I?" Loki blinked; smiling, "Of course, father." and handed Narfi carefully over. The king looked down at the newborn; the softest of smiles twitching at the corners of his mouth. "He's a broth of a man, son. But why is he still in his Jotun form?" "Oh, uh, he just hasn't learned to shapeshift yet. Ella could do it immediately, but Narfi's got more of my Frost Giant genes and needs a bit more time to learn," the god tried to explain. "Ah, I see."

"Shall we have a seat?" Loki continued; gesturing towards the sofa. Both royals took the offer and sat down. Odin handed Narfi then over to his wife. "He is truly a wonderful, sweet little boy, my dear. You can be proud." Loki smiled; eyes fixated on the still sleeping infant. "I am, mother, I am - but I am even more proud of Y/N. The pregnancy, all that happened while she was pregnant and the birth itself were anything but easy and she did so great; worked so hard to bring him into this world." Frigga - and even Odin nodded; agreeing. "Indeed she is, Loki. Without a doubt one of the strongest women I know."

You had been asleep for a good while now, but your motherly instincts had tickled you awake. A sleepy gaze on the alarm clock, standing on your bedside table told you, that you had slept for almost three hours now. Three hours and Narfi didn't wake me once? You thought; felt the said motherly instincts kicking in.

Rubbing the remaining sleep from your eyes, you yawned and got quickly up; walking over to the crib - only to see that it was empty. A wave of panic and fear rolled over you, until your hazy brain told you, that Loki was with your baby; causing immediate relief to wash over you.

Making your way to the bathroom then; you heard voices coming from down the hall - and suddenly you remembered. Odin and Frigga wanted to visit you! And you slept through it. Shit. Quickly closing the door behind yourself, you took a pee and tried to make yourself look a bit more... presentable. We spoke about the king and queen of Asgard... They were royalty. After checking yourself in the mirror, you decided to join 'the party.'

The first thing you saw when you stepped inside the living room, were three adults, who had their gazes fixated on little Narfi; laying in his grandmother's arms. He was awake; cooing and gurgling - definitely being the main attraction and superstar.

You smiled; stepping closer. "Seems like the little prince met his grandparents already." At the sound of your voice, every head turned to face you. Loki was, of course, the first to react. He got up and walked over to you; gently placing both his hands on your hips. "Darling. As I can see, sleep has released you from its powerful clasp?" You nodded; smiling softly at all the love and affection Loki gave you in this moment - despite his parents presence.

"And as I can see, have the king and queen already met our little prince," you replied; standing on tiptoes and gazing over your husband's shoulder. "Indeed, darling. Apologies. I meant to wait for you, but you slept so peacefully... I didn't want to wake you." "It's okay, babe." You reassured him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, before you stepped past him - out of his embrace and approached your son, Odin and Frigga.

The Allmother handed Narfi quickly over again to her husband and stood up; opening her arms. "Y/N, my dear," she said, pulling you into a hug. Frigga was - without a doubt, one of the sweetest and kindest souls you knew. "How are you feeling? I hope you could recover a bit?" You smiled; hugging her back. "I could, yes, thank you. I still feel tired, but it's way better." "Oh, that is very reassuring to hear."

You then greeted Odin as well, who was very enthralled with your little baby boy - just like everyone. You sat down on the sofa then - in between Loki's legs; leaning against his chest, with his arms loosely wrapped around you. Narfi quite enjoyed all the attention he got. Just like being held and carried the whole time, so it was no wonder that he slept in soon again.

After a little while, 'the party' got even bigger... Scott returned Ella back home - and of course she had asked him to visit her little brother as well, to which Scott couldn't say no. And perhaps Ella forgot, that her grandparents were on a visit already...

She gently opened the main door, having learned that she must be quiet in case Narfi was sleeping and tiptoed inside the apartment. Loki had practically enchanted the door knob, so that Ella could make her way inside her home without knocking or taking a key with her. She was already a big girl, but watching over an important key was perhaps a too big task yet. So, whenever she wanted to go back inside, the doorknob turned into a doorhandle for her.

"Come on, uncle Scott!" Ella quietly, but excitedly called out; holding the door open. Scott grinned at her and sneaked inside; walking on his tiptoes. After Ella had closed the door again, they both sneaked down the hall - like agents, on their way to find her parents and brother. "I hear voices, Agent Ella. I think your brother might be awake." The little girl had to suppress her giggles. "I think that too, Mr. Ant-Man. It comes from the living room, so we should go there." "Alright. Lead the way, Agent."

Getting closer, the hushed voices got clearer - and suddenly Ella realised. "Ohh..." "What is it, Agent Ella? Have you been hit?! Is there an enemy close?!" Once again, she had to suppress her giggles. "Nooo, Mr. Ant-Man. But my grandparents are here. I could hear grandma Frigga talking." Scott's eyes widened. "Ohh... So you've got very royal visitors today?" "Uh.Huh. But that's okay. I'll take you to see Narfi anyways. Let's go, uncle Sc- I-I mean, Mr. Ant-Man."

Together, they reached the living room. Ella peeked around the door frame first; analysing the situation. She saw how Narfi was laying in Frigga's arms, while she fed him a bottle. Odin sat beside her - just like you and Loki. "Mr. Ant-Man, we're clear!" Ella turned and whispered to Scott, "All right, Agent." before she peeked around the corner again. "Hi mommy, hi daddy, hi grandma Frigga and grandpa Odin!" The little girl chimed happily, causing everyone to look at her with a smile. Scott, being the dorky and funny guy he was mimicked Ella. He peeked around the corner above her, smiling as well. "Hi Y/N, hi Loki, hi Ella's grandparen- I-I mean greetings, your majesties!"

Ella giggled like mad at her uncle Scott's funny behaviour. She adored him - without a doubt. You had to suppress a giggle as well, while Loki rolled his eyes. And Odin and Frigga? Well, they were quite a bit taken by surprise and confused. After all, they didn't have a single clue who Scott was...

"Hi princess, hi Scottie!" You answered, giving them an amused smile. "Laing, what are you doing here?" Asked your husband, visibly annoyed by the friendly Avenger. Scott wanted to answer, but Ella was the one who did. "He brought me home, daddy, from our expo- No, uh... Expola- Exploration!" "Exploration? That sounds quite exciting, if I may say so," chimed in Frigga, while she still fed the bottle to Narfi. "What did you explore, sweetie?" You asked. Scott didn't tell you what exactly he wanted to show Ella. Just that he was going to take her to Hank's laboratory - and you trusted your friend, of course. After all, he was a father, too.

Ella smiled, grabbed Scott by the hand and pulled him after her inside the living room. "He showed me his friends!" "His friends?" Questioned the Allmother. Loki, though, had already a guess. "Oh norns..." He whispered under his breath. "Uh.Huh!" The little girl let go of Scott's hand again, in order to greet everybody. Hugging you, Frigga and even her grandfather; pressing a smacking kiss on Narfi's tiny, chubby cheek and lastly running into her father's arms. It was the hug that lasted the longest - and everyone understood, because all knew that Ella was a daddy's girl. It hadn't changed and probably never would.

"He showed me his ants!" She announced proudly and happily then, causing Odin's eyes to widen. "Ants?! That mortal showed you ants?!" "Yes, grandpa Odin. Scott has sooo many of them and they are so cute and friendly!" The girl explained; totally ignoring Odin's confusion and aversion. "That is ridiculous," the Allfather whispered under his breath, while Ella talked away; earning another side eye from his wife.

"Well, that sounds amazing, sweetie!" You said, giving your daughter a good feeling - and Scott, too. "Scottie, would you like to sit down, have a cuppa coffee?" You then offered; smiling. Loki wasn't amused, what his eyes told you immediately, but you didn't care. Scott was your friend - and definitely Ella's friend. The man with short black-brown hair smiled, nodding. "I'd love to!" "Great! On my w-" You wanted to stand up, to get Scott that cup of coffee, when Loki leapfrogged you. "I'll get our favourite insect a cup of coffee, love." You blinked; were a bit surprised, but nodded. "Alright, babe, thanks."

While Loki was away, you decided to put Narfi down and lay him inside his crib, since he got quite a bit whiny and fractious. After all, there were suddenly a whole lot of people here, directing all their attention on him... Perhaps it became a little too much for the newborn now. So, you took Narfi in your arms and carried him back into yours and Loki's bedroom.

When Loki and you were away, Ella pulled Scott over to the sofa; making him sit down between her and Odin - and the Avenger was visibly excited about this. After all, he sat beside a king! A real king! An excited, hyped grin was painted on his face, as he slid closer towards the Allfather. "So, uh, Mr. Odin - your majesty, Sir..." Odin turned his head slowly; facing him, but he was definitely not quite as amused as Scott was. "How is it to be a king? It must be so freaking awesome and- Oh ma gosh... Is that gold?" He saw the buttons who kept his robe attached to his tunic. Odin wasn't wearing his armour today, since he was on this family trip, but nevertheless was he dressed royally. "Real gold??" Odin nodded; confirming Scott's assumption. "Wooow... And... And that robe..." The black-brown haired man continued; grabbing a fistful of the king's red robe. "What awesome kind of fabric is that? Some kind of cotton mix? It isn't polyester, is it??"

Odin wasn't very pleased about a mere Midgardian touching his robe. "No, it certainly isn't." He hissed and gave it a tug, to pull the fabric straight out of Scott's hands. "It is fine Asgardian silk." Scott's eyes widened and he smiled even brighter; absolutely not caring that the Allfather didn't like what he was doing. "Wow! That's so cool, I swear!"

While Odin became more and more annoyed with every passing minute; Frigga and Ella were having a hard time to suppress their giggles.

Later on, when your guests had left and Narfi was fed, you decided to take a bath, in order to relax a bit. Loki let you, of course; was more than happy that you took time for yourself to relax.

Now the god was laying on the sofa, wrapped up in a soft blanket with Narfi sleeping on his bare chest, as Ella made her way inside the living room. She was already dressed in her pyjamas; ready for bed. Loki saw her tiptoeing inside the room and smiled. "Hey there princess," he whispered; already shifting a bit. He knew what was coming and therefore lifted the blanket. Ella smiled her brightest smile, causing the proud dad's heart to skip a beat. She hopped on the sofa, crawled underneath the blanket and cuddled close to her father and brother. There needed no words to be exchanged. Just love. Loki wrapped his free arm around his daughter and dipped his head to press a lingering kiss on her head.

The three of them just laid there and enjoyed the cuddles. No words were spoken, until Ella decided to change it.

"Daddy?" "Yes, princess?" "Can I visit uncle Scott sometime again?" Loki smiled. He and Laing probably weren't best friends, but Ella adored him, so why denying her that? "Of course you can, Ella." "Really?" She quipped excitedly; blue eyes shining. "Really." "Yay!" Loki chuckled; the vibration of his chest causing Narfi to whine subtly - and Loki stopped immediately. "Apologies, little prince."

The conversation died down then, until Ella spoke up once more.

"Daddy?" The god hummed in response. "I invited uncle Scott to come to Asgard with us." Loki blinked; was quite a bit shocked. "You... You... What? Why?" "Because he wants to have a robe like grandpa Odin has." Loki grimaced; not amused by this idea. Oh norns...

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