#they're allowed their anger and resentment and feelings

[homosociallyyours]

Watched the final part of the VPR Reunion and wanna state my grossly unpopular opinion right out loud in the village square: I *do* feel bad for Raquel and I *don't* think Tommy Flip-flop has gotten nearly enough of the blame in this whole scenario.

And i kinda feel like in 10 years if anyone is bothering to look back on this, there will probably be a lot of "it was a different time, you can't blame anyone for being harsh on her" talk. I reject that shit right now.

[just-null]

Kokichi, similar to Noritoshi in the sense that they're analytical and kinda tsun, but that's mostly it. This is another Megumi and Noritoshi situation where, on the surface, they appear to be very similar, but you squint and realize they're extremely different.

Whereas Noritoshi isn't as bold because he still holds remnants of pride, Kokichi is just shy about it since it's so new. He won't back down from it, just hesitate.

[Long ass rambles under the cut! + bonus doodles.]

When referring to shyness, Kokichi leans into the awkward and stiff type. There's always confusion and slight fear in his eyes when he's experiencing something new or romantic. He doesn't want to mess up, but if he does, he just hopes it works in his favor.

Being born in a body where he was under constant pain and stress, someone touching him was the last thing he wanted. He'd never known the loving touch of another because the heavens decided he wasn't allowed to.

After meeting you, that yearning to be next to you became too much. To hell with his restrictions. He'd to do whatever it takes to be able to be with you even if he had to sacrifice others to do it.

In retrospect, he feels like he should've done it sooner. Being touched or even grazed doesn't feel like his skin is falling off anymore.. Plus having both arms and working legs is always a good thing. It's new and odd, but not terrible. His mind never once wandered back and regretted those he's thrown under the bus because why would it?

Unfortunately, when his body was being healed, Mahito made him healthy.. and that's all. Knowing Mahito, he'd leave Kokichi to struggle with catching up to the rest of his peers by working for his own stamina, weight, and strength from square one. Though Kokichi isn't complaining much about it. He'd still take this rather than being stuck in that god forsaken tub for a second longer.

He used to hate being fussed over because of his illness. He prefers to do things on his own and now he can. Yet, Kokichi still gets pitiful looks on other's faces when he's too weak to carry something. It makes him want to spit at them, he can use Mechamaru to do his heavy lifting for now. He doesn't need a beefed up body to do it.

Unless you're the "beefed up" one fussing over him.. He doesn't mind it when it's you. In fact, Kokichi feels grateful when it's you, endeared even. He never feels belittled or pitiful when its you.. Only you.

Judging by how he treated panda for having the ability to interact with others in person despite being a cursed corpse, Kokichi has a number of insults and creative verbal abuse he's ready to spew out once someone tries getting a little too close to you. Scratch that, he's rude in general to those he isn't familiar with.

Kokichi has a lot of anger for those he deems ungrateful. What do you expect from someone who thought he was gonna rot in a bathtub for the rest of his life to do? Not harbor resentment? Luckily, he holds just as much, if not more, love for you who he's unbelievably grateful for!

Your affection is so odd to him, a new experience that he never knew he could grow to yearn for. It's not terrible, quite the opposite. It's so wonderful he can't get enough. Every time you're around, he wants to have at least one hand on you at all times. Doesn't matter where, just as long as he feels you're around. Safe to say, he's extremely touch starved.

Oh how Kokichi would drop everything for a walk with you. He'd use every Mechamaru he had just to make sure no one disturbs either of you. Murder is just a side effect if they get too persistent. He just wants to spend time with you!

Though he likes walks, he still gets out of breath easily. Walking is nice, but he still needs time to get used to it. Offering to help will only cause him to lean against you, it's not too difficult, he doesn't weigh much for better or worse. He loves when you lend him a hand, it's just another reason to get close to you.

When you part, it's only natural that Kokichi gifts you a little trinket he made. Rejecting it will only reward you with the most devastated frown, so just accept it. If you get rid of it when coming home, it somehow always finds its way back to you? Destroying it will lead to Kokichi giving you another one.

Yes, it follows and watches you, but it's just to keep you safe! Who knows what could happen. Whether or not the little trinkets are subtle, all depends on how you reacted to him asking if it was alright to know your location at all times when he's not around. Kokichi is understanding if you're not okay with it. He'll just make his gifts extra subtle so you wont know he's watching.

He just wants to be by your side constantly, even if he's not able to be there in person. Watching you through a screen gives him a sickly familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it's better than not knowing what you're doing. He can even pick up little things about you this way for when he sees you next time! This is nothing but a win-win in his mind even if others beg to differ.

Kokichi never felt blessed. Not once since the day he was born, not until he found you. You who he feels is truly a gift from the heavens. You who he would give up everything to have. In a way, Kokichi is delusional. He sees you as the reason he got a heavenly restriction. It was as if other worldly forces tried to keep him at bay from pursuing you, but you're also the reason he broke his restrictions. He now has the body he wished for thanks to you, his drive, his motivation, his purpose, his love.

[extra shit]

Kokichi’s so fucking low key about being a chuunibyou. you're telling me he named his mech after an anime he watched. half his attacks have ultimate or ultra in the name.. HE MADE A FUCKING MECH. Your ass can't tell me he didn't watch anime while growing up and got inspired to make it a reality. He probably watched Evangelion or something.. Woah, anime dates with him where he makes your favorite creature and uses it to his advantage.. woah.

[Bonus Kokichi verbal abuse]

[yourlittlebunnyy]

try again -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: after a fight in the Night Court, Y/n seek refuge in the Spring Court where she finds a old lover again.

warnings: ofc none

w/c: 5k

enjoy🎀

"Are you telling me you want Feyre to destroy an entire Court-of allies against Hybern, dammit-just because of a love affair gone wrong?"

Right now you don't care much about the consequences your words will cause you, and you certainly don't care that you are raising your voice to the High Lord of the Court of Night. Rhysand merely stares at you with glacial violet eyes, his stern face painted with total indifference. Here is the one you hate: not your friend, but the High Lord. The one who reserves glances of superiority for you and makes you feel stupid every time you open your mouth. But it is not he who answers you, but rather Cassian, always the first to put Rhysand before everyone, before even himself.

"Speak more respectfully to your High Lady." You cannot stop your face from contorting into a grin. The concept of High Lady was invented by Rhysand and has no real value, you think, now they're going to resent Tamlin for that too? Besides the fact that Feyre has no political experience, hell, she wasn't even a Fae until recently, how do they expect her to lead a Court?

Mor, as usual interested in putting straw on the fire, speaks in a honeyed voice, "Are you still pining for Tamlin, Y/n? We thought that time was over." You feel your cheeks go flaming with anger. You want to respond, but Azriel, always the pacifist in the countless confrontations you've had with your friends, gets in the way. The blonde doesn't seem to relent even when the winged male tells her to stop, and your face shifts to Rhysand, who sits in his study chair settling more comfortably on the backrest, enjoying the show. There's no point in arguing, you think. You roll your eyes, and under everyone's gaze but without saying a word, you leave the room.

You love your family, but sometimes they really seem dumber than a goat. You are not a High Lady, no, and certainly your job does not include ruling a Court, but you know perfectly well too that whatever Feyre is doing is wrong. But you don't blame her: Rhysand can be persuasive, and probably the destruction of the Spring Court was more his idea than the Feyre's, he's still attached to events that happened five centuries ago.

You just don't understand, given the delicate period Prythian is going through, why tear down an entire Court. One more ally against Hybern. And above all, mixing politics and personal conflicts? Never a good idea. Not to mention Mor, and Rhysand's attitude. And... everything. You are tired, and with a sigh you walk out of the huge building and down the main street of Velaris, taking more time to think. Normally you would have winnoved in your apartment on the edge of town, but you feel the need to blow off some steam.

Too bad your little walk doesn't help, in fact. Seeing people so carefree and naive makes you see red, because they have that chance, and the rest of the Night Court doesn't. You've always tried to push the issue, trying to get as many women and children into Velaris as possible, but Rhysand has always been very firm about the rules. Slowly you realize that maybe they are not friends, or even family, as you allowed yourself to call them years ago. You don't share their choices, their ways, their governance. You don't share any thoughts. But you are stuck. Where could you possibly go?

You arrive home and the first thing you do is undress and prepare a hot bath. Once you are done, with only a towel you head into the small kitchen, determined to make yourself some tea and take a tonic to sleep, exhausted from this day.

At your table you find Azriel. That's right, you had forgotten that you now share an apartment with him. You greet him by calling his name, and he looks at you curiously, almost worriedly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you're not quite sure how to answer. Normally you are not so unhappy, but today's fight hit you hard. It has opened your eyes. Feyre, here for so little, is already more important than you. Not to mention how they make you feel inadequate and stupid, as if your opinion doesn't count for anything. You don't respond, not trusting your voice, and simply shrug. Azriel gets up and takes the tea-making supplies from your hands.

"I'll do it." He says kindly, and you murmur a thank you, and decide to get dressed in the meantime. When you return from your room, tea is poured into a steaming mug on the table.

"Two teaspoons of sugar, just the way you like it." This brings a smile back to your face, and you begin to sip the sweet liquid careful not to burn your tongue. "You can tell me what's going on, you know."

You think about it for a while before answering, but eventually decide that you have nothing to lose. "I don't want to be here anymore." Azriel looks at you surprised.

"Do you mean... in this apartment, or...?"

"No. I want to leave the Night Court. I don't want to work for Rhysand anymore, I'm exhausted." You sigh, and tears sting your eyes. Azriel looks at you sympathetically.

"Don't you feel at home anymore?" You shake your head, and are glad you confided in him. If anyone can understand you, it is certainly Azriel. He nods, silence takes over, and the only sound is the jarring sound of a teaspoon used to stir the tea, hoping to cool it slightly.

"Maybe you should leave, then." He says simply, his tone serene. You did not expect such a reaction, but you are grateful for it. A bitter laugh shakes your shoulders. "And where?"

Azriel shrugs. "Everywhere. Anywhere you want." I suppress his words by really considering it.

"What about Rhysand?"

"I could... help you." He says finally, and his words mean so much to you right now.

"Would you really do that?" He merely nods. "I ... thank you."

Not long after, the tea now cold and the cookies you kept inside the drawer now gone, the plan is decided. You will contact an old friend at the Spring Court, and ask her for refuge.

Azriel will accompany you to the edge of the Spring Court, helping you carry your things and offering emotional support.

"Are you sure this is the right choice? Feyre..." You nip his speech in the bud with a hand gesture. You've thought long and hard about where to go. But you have no contacts besides this friend in other Courts, and despite your history with Tamlin... you can do it.

"I'll come and see you, you know."

"I hope so."

"Will I ever know what happened between you and him?"

The question leaves you speechless, your body stiffens and you freeze for a moment, but you are quick to recover. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"We loved each other. But then... Amarantha came and..." You don't say more than that, you don't explain further, but Azriel understands and doesn't ask questions.

"So...we'll see each other, yes?"

"Sure. I'm counting on it, Az." And with a final hug, you turn and enter the Court of Spring without looking back.

The first few weeks proceed slowly, but positively. You get up in the morning when the sun is already high in the sky, a warm breeze caressing your legs as you step out onto the small balcony with hot tea warming your hands. Your friend had to leave shortly after your arrival, and she will be back in who knows how long, leaving her home all to yourself. By now you have built a routine: you wake up and sip the sweet drink, you read until lunch, you cook, and in the afternoon you take care of chores. But your favorite activity so far has definitely been going to the local market. It is so different from how you remember.... And yet so much the same. The air of fear you felt because of Amarantha has ceased, though a small trickle of it remains because of Hybern. The stalls overflow with fruits and vegetables of all kinds, colors and scents. It makes you smile with familiarity every time you pass by.

Today you woke up determined to make some treats, but you are missing some ingredients, forcing you to go to the market. You quickly slip into one of your friend's clothes, and grab a picnic basket on your way out the door smiling. There is no doubt that you are happier now.

"Hi, honey! What can I get you today?" Alyna, a delightful female with whom you have bonded a lot these past weeks, greets you cheerfully.

"Hey, Aly! Um, could you make a mix of all the fruit?" You ask quietly, and the fae is quick to give you whatever you need. You admire the way she fiddles with her hands, but at the same time she's conversing with you-she's really good at everything, you think.

"So how are you finding yourself?"

"Great, really great. I'm really happy with my choice." She smiles at you as she helps you arrange the food in the basket. "I'm glad about that. Come see me for tea once in a while!"

"Of course, how much do I owe you?"

"Oh, dear, but don't worry!" After further insistence, she allows you to leave her a couple of gold coins. Much more than she actually needs, but she deserves it.

You opt to take another tour of the stalls before heading home. One in particular catches your eye, the colorful clothes too beautiful not to be admired. You are so busy running the pink fabric under your fingertips that you hardly recognize the voice next to you. Your body seems to do so before you even realize who the male next to you is. But then it's clear as day: the crisp, rainy, earthy scent, so unique and delicious.The blond hair and the broad warrior shoulders. It hasn't changed one bit. Your whole body is stiff, but you take a deep breath. You prepared for this moment; you knew you would see him again sooner or later.

Things between you and Tamlin did not end badly, but neither did they end well. It wasn't even a relationship you had: you barely had time to get to know each other and fall in love before Amarantha yanked him away from you. You suffered a long time for something that never even happened. But you know there won't be another chance like that: Tamlin has loved, no-loves Feyre with all of himself. He has moved on. And so have you, of course. But he will forever remain a crack in your heart.

The merchant's voice brings you back to reality. "Miss, are you interested in the dress?" You look at her wide-eyed, confused.

"Excuse me?" The sound of your voice makes the male, who has remained unaware of your presence until now, turn around.

"I was asking if you were interested in the dress."

"Y/n?"

"I, um. No, thank you. Sorry for wasting your time." Your tone is confused, you feel Tamlin's gaze burning your skin as he approaches. You feel his presence all over you.

"Don't worry, dear." The merchant walks away, leaving you alone with him.

"Y/n... what are you doing here?" For the first time in fifty years you allow yourself to look into his eyes, and it's as if the world is falling apart and rebuilding at the same time.

"Tamlin..." Tears wet your eyes as you try to show strength in front of the male you loved so strongly before. And who has now lost his mind for another female.

"What are you doing here?" The anger in his face, in his voice makes you take a step back.

"I-I ran away. I didn't fit in, and an old friend offered me to stay with her here." He lets out an annoyed snort.

"Of course, they didn't send you, did they?"

"No. I--there's something you need to know, Tamlin, about Feyre. I'm not in the habit of getting involved in matters that I don't-" He doesn't even let you finish the sentence.

"Feyre and I are just fine, and I won't let your Court get in the way one more time."

"No-"

"No, Y/n. You made your choice half a century ago when you chose him over me. Now I am making my choice. You better get out of my Court, you are no longer welcome."

And so, as he came so suddenly, he goes away, leaving you standing there like a fool. You compose yourself as best as you can and set out on your way home, tears flowing freely down your cheeks in the meantime.

You didn't bake anymore. As soon as you returned, you took a hot bath and a sleeping tonic, which has now become your trusted go-to solution. You woke up a few hours later, in the middle of the night, the effect of the tonic wearing off. Thoughts invaded your head, and it was only after hours of tossing and turning in bed and the sun coming up by now that you decided to write a letter to him. You get up and grab a pen and paper, your hands trembling with excitement. You cannot let Feyre find out about this, or your whole plan will be blown. You wish you had Azriel by your side to give you advice.

Dear Tamlin,

I apologize for making such an impetuous introduction to your Court, and especially without official notice. I wanted to let you know that I no longer work for the Night Court and have left of my own free will, but I have some important things to discuss with you, and they concern the security of your Court. I hope you can understand, and I hope to see you soon so we can talk about it. In case this does not happen, I hope to get you permission to reside in your territory, and I warn you not to trust those close to you.

Best regards,

Yours, Y/n.

With a sigh you close the letter and don't even wait for the sun to fully rise: you leave the house with a light cloak to cover you from the cool breeze and take the letter to the nearest village messenger.

The reply comes sooner than expected. It is simple and informal, and you sincerely hope that everything has gone according to plan and that it is not a trap set by Feyre, or worse, Rhysand himself.

Meet me at the market this afternoon after lunch.

Tamlin.

You reread the small sheet of paper a hundred times before getting ready. A way of nostalgia invades your senses one by one, but you chase it away violently. You don't have time for this. You must help him save himself and save his own court before it is too late.

"Y/n?" Tamlin notices you first as you wait for him at the same stall as last time. You turn quickly, so fast that you lose your balance and risk falling, but the male has quick reflexes and catches you before that can happen.

"You haven't changed a bit." His wry comment lightens the air around you, but it weighs down the burden in your chest that you feel. However, you do not give it away. You are here for a very specific reason, and you don't even know how much time you have left. You cannot be distracted by events that happened years and years ago.

"Tamlin." You greet him. "I'm here to warn you." You don't reveal everything right away; you're still trying to figure out if he would be willing to believe you or not. You know it's not easy for him. His expression turns cloudy, but he invites you to continue. You send down a knot in your throat before you speak again.

"It's about Feyre. I-I know it's hard to believe, but she didn't come back to you. Rhysand appointed her as High Lady, and you let her into your territory as a spy for the Night Court. She will destroy you, you can't-. you can't-we can't afford that in a time of war." You talk so fast that you stumble over the words occasionally, not stopping to breathe even once. Tamlin is almost tempted to invite you to breathe and explain more calmly, but your words cloud his eyes with anger.

"You... you-" He cannot even find the words to tell you after such a revelation.

"No, you have to believe me. Maybe-let me show you." Your tone is almost pleading, and at this point there would be no point in denying it to you. Tamlin knows you: you may have chosen him fifty years ago, but you have never been a liar.

You show him everything you can. It's been a long time since you've entered his mind, and the feeling is so familiar that your heart tightens. You focus on what you have to show him, and you don't think about it. After what seems like hours, you get to the last fight that happened with Rhysand, and when you get out of his mind his posture is slumped, tired, exhausted. You feel sorry for him, just as Mor had said, and you feel sorry for everything he seems to be feeling right now.

"Is he really ... so much better than me?" He finally asks, and it's not what you expected. You want to hug him, to tell him that no, absolutely not, never, never could Rhysand be, but you hold back.

"No." You just say, searching his eyes with yours, but not finding them. His face is low, probably trying to hide what look like ... tears, from the people in his Court. "Tamlin..."

"No, no...it's all right. I'll send her away now, you can stay as long as you like." The answer should make you happy, but it doesn't. His tone is so pained that you yourself begin to cry. You find it very ironic, how you are crying for him but he is probably crying for another female.

He leaves without saying a word to you. Just like last time.

Months go by. The war against Hybern has been fought and you haven't seen Tamlin once again. You have not taken part in the fighting despite your training. You do not feel like seeing such death. But you know that the Spring Court did, and it was also thanks to them that Prythian won against Hybern.

Azriel has visited you a handful of times since then, and he has always been very apprehensive and kind to you. No one yet knows where you ended up, and you will never be more grateful to anyone than him for keeping quiet.

Your dear friend has also returned, and together with her you have managed to find a small apartment in the nearest village, allowing you to take more part in the social side of your life.

It feels strange to return to the market once the war is over. A feeling of peace and total relaxation fills the air and feels surreal to you. You are not used to it, but you welcome it with open arms.

"Hey, honey, how are you?" Alyna, who has become one of the closest friends you have, asks you.

"It's such a nice day today, it's better than usual, or is it not?" You say lightheartedly, a big smile makes its way onto your face. Not just because of the war, you realize. You've finally managed to build a life for yourself away from the people who were giving you misery. Only one small question mark remains in your life, and that is Tamlin, but you realize there is not much you can do about it. You wonder why you still can't get over him after all this time. Is it the same for him, too? Surely not. Surely he will feel what you are feeling now, but for another female. The thought alone is capable of hurting you, but you drive it away, focusing on the figure in front of you.

"Yes, finally the burden of war no longer hangs over Prythian, I would say. Would you like some coffee?" And how could you say no.

When you get home in front of your door you find a letter. It comes from the Court, but it is not Tamlin's handwriting. It is an invitation, you realize when you open it, you have been invited to a formal ball to celebrate the end of the war.

You are delighted, this makes you a citizen in your own right, but you are also weirded out. From the invitation it appears to be a formal ball, and although you were an emissary long ago, at the Spring Court you are nothing more than a simple peasant girl, who like everyone else gets her food from what she produces, why would you attend such an event? More importantly, will the Night Court participate?

You put the countless doubts to rest with a bath and a sleeping tonic.

The next morning, you head to the village with one goal firmly set in your mind: you need an elegant and appropriate outfit for the Spring Court. All the formal dresses you own clearly belong to the Night Court, and although they are beautiful and elegant, by the time you have tried one on you have realized that you would not be comfortable. And also, if others will be present you want to show them that you are now no longer part of their Court. That this is your home, and you are happier than ever.

You walk into an old weaver's store that you've been to a couple of times before and you've always been comfortable.

"Y/n! What a pleasure to have you here, what would you need?" The female greets you warmly as always, and you reciprocate with equal affection.

"I would need a dress for a dance. Something simple but nice." The Fae squares your figure with watchful eyes, and you can almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"Try this on."

After a whole afternoon spent inside her cuddly little store, and no less than three delightful new dresses, you finally manage to get home. It seems almost out of place to have three such exquisite and expensive dresses in your hands in such a tiny, bare apartment, but you were unable to say no in front of such beauty, such art expressed in fabric. You go to sleep with still a broad smile on your lips, perhaps in spite of everything you would not have minded going back to the court events.

The next day you wake up and instead of your usual reading, you do household chores, since you were supposed to be in the Spring Palace in the evening.

You gather fresh eggs and feed the animals, pick various fruits from the trees, and finally take a nice refreshing bath. You spend the afternoon getting ready, and just as the sun is about to set, you transmute in front of the Palace.

The feeling that overtakes you is ... it makes your stomach clench in agitation. It has been more than fifty years since you set foot in its home, but it has not changed one bit. The gardens are immense and full of sweetly and delicately scented flowers, the hallways are filled with gold and riches on every side. A Fae you don't recognize at the entrance to the ballroom asks you for an invitation, and you cheerfully hand it to him.

You don't immediately feel comfortable when you enter, and you make your eyes roam all over the room looking for the familiar figures of the Night Court, but you meet no one. In fact, no one from other Courts seems to be present. Your eyes wander again and again, until they meet those of a tall, relaxed-faced male. Tamlin. He sips an amber liquid from a gold-decorated glass as he talks happily with Lucien. Oh, how you've missed him, too.

When he notices you, he seems to take his leave and you stare at him as he crosses the entire room to join you. Your heart beats so fast that you are sure he can hear it as he gives you a slight bow and takes your hand, laying a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He leaves you the spot where he placed his lips almost thrilling.

"Y/n, you are stunning." He says, smiling gently at you, and the way he acts confuses you a little. You don't want to be anyone's spare tire. But at the same time, it ... it's all so much the same, it's as if 50 years had never passed. You've been hoping Tamlin would compliment you, after all the effort you put into fixing your hair, face and dress, and now that he does -- you're confused.

"Thank you, Tamlin. To what do I owe your invitation?" You decide to be direct.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk about." He moves causing you to step forward in front of him, lays a warm hand on your uncovered back, and guides you to the banquet full of treats, away from the center of the room. "Help yourself." You don't serve yourself, despite all that food being extremely tempting, but instead you wait for him to speak. He sighs. "I wanted to thank you. For your warning. If she had carried out her plan-I don't even know if this Court would have stood."

"Of course, Tamlin. From my side I wanted to ... apologize." No apology was planned, but you owe him one.

He shrugs, dismissing the question with his hand.

"That's okay, I hope now that it's all over ... we can keep in touch. If you'd like to come to these kinds of events." You don't answer, but your smile speaks for you. You don't dance together, but it's the beginning of something wonderful, something that already happened a long time ago.

After almost a month, another invitation arrives. It is a dance where the other Seasonal Courts are also invited, so it will be even more exclusive, fortunately you still have two more dresses and most importantly, there will be no Night Court.

You quiver and are even more agitated than last time, you feel like a little novice girl. You avoid drinking any more coffee in the morning, not wanting to increase your nerves even more than they already are. You again spend the whole afternoon getting ready and transmute once more in front of his palace, the honeyed scent of flowers welcoming you just as you remembered. Your heart begins to beat wildly. You enter the hall and your eyes automatically land on Tamlin. You missed him, you realize.

"Y/n! Good to see you." The blond-haired male once again makes his way to join you. "You look as lovely as ever." His eyes burn on your figure, bolder than last time. He hands you a colorful drink and you gladly accept it.

"You look lovely too, Tamlin." You sip the pink liquid in the glass, a sweet and sour taste invades your mouth. "It's delicious, what is it?" You ask charmed. The male chuckles.

"Something new from the kitchen, but I don't know what it is either." He seems to hesitate a bit, but finally speaks, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Do you want to dance?"

Your knees almost buckle. "My pleasure." You say all too quickly. He holds out a hand to you, and after placing the glasses on a nearby table, you direct me to the middle of the dance floor, all eyes on you.

You dance in silence all evening. One dance turns into two, then three, and then into a whole night. When the music ends by now there are only a few people left, you are sweaty and out of breath, but you are happy. As happy as you've ever been. Deep laughter shakes your body, finally infecting Tamlin as well.

"I haven't danced in a long time." You say once you've calmed down, almost as justification for your behavior.Tamlin merely smiles at you. You head to the banquet and he hands you a large glass of water, and you are eternally grateful. You drink it down in one gulp.

"So...see you, Y/n?" He asks you uncertainly. You nod smilingly.

Only a handful of days pass when a letter arrives. But it's not a formal invitation, no. You recognize Tamlin's handwriting and can still smell him in the air. Has he been here? You quickly return and toss the basket full of crops at the doorway, eager to open the envelope with trembling hands.

Dear Y/n,

I would have liked to tell you in person, but I couldn't find you at home. I hope it's okay to have asked your friend for your address. Be ready tonight after dinner.

Yours, Tamlin.

Your body freezes before rejoicing in laughter coming from your heart. You get right down to business: do your usual routine, bath, hair, and finally your dress. You don't wear an elegant one, but a simple, typical Spring Court dress that Alyna gave you. You do sweet braids and don't wear makeup, but use your favorite perfume. Your favorite perfume. Someone knocks on the door at dusk, and it only takes a few moments for you to open it.

"Hey, Y/n." His eyes linger all over your body, he runs his tongue over his lips, and you can't help but stare.

"Hi." You greet him simply, a shy smile on your lips and slightly rosy cheeks. It's a date, you realize.

"Thank you for accepting."

"Did I have a choice?" He chuckles, then shakes his head.

"Of course you did. But I wanted to take you somewhere." He smiles at you. He holds out his hand and you grasp it, one moment you are in the doorway of your apartment, the next you are on a meadow covered with pale flowers and a cool stream. You look around in wonder. You had missed these places, so much that you didn't even realize it.

"It's... it's gorgeous." You comment in amazement. He nods, the stars reflected in his eyes giving him a poetic air. You would like to touch him now more than ever.

"I would have liked to have had more time, with you." He says after what seems like an eternity spent staring at you and nothing else. You nod, step forward, and he does the same. The warm breeze ruffles your hair, and you make to raise a hand and fix it, but he is quicker and moves a strand behind your ear. Just as he did one night long ago, and countless other times.

"Tamlin..." He shushes you with a kiss. It is sudden and leaves you breathless. It takes you a couple of seconds to recover and reciprocate with as much passion, as much feeling. You both pull away reluctantly, your breath heavy and your cheeks flushed. You can feel her heart beating incessantly, in the same rhythm as yours.

"I've been wanting to do this ever since I saw you again." He says and makes you chuckle, because it was exactly the same for you. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much." You answer and kiss him again. And again, again, again.

You have been denied for fifty years and now you don't have enough, you want to take back the time you lost. You must eventually break away one more time, making you moan in frustration.

"Let's try again." He says with his lips still resting on yours, your breaths mingling together.

"Let's try again."

[writerthreads]

How to write lovers to enemies to lovers: a step by step guide

By Writerthreads on Instagram

Strong initial attraction

Begin by introducing two characters who are deeply attracted to each other. Show their chemistry and connection, giving readers a reason to root for their relationship. This makes the transition to enemies so much stronger.

Conflict or misunderstanding

Introduce a conflict, misunderstanding, or external factor that drives a wedge between the characters. This should be significant enough to make them enemies or at least create a strong rift in their relationship. Examples could be competing for the same job/role, being on opposing empires, and more!

Build emotional tension

As enemies, the characters should have strong emotions, whether it's anger, resentment, or hurt. Explore their emotional turmoil and how this affects their actions and decisions. Do the characters miss each other secretly, or do they fully hate one other?

Character development

Show how the characters grow and evolve during their time apart or in conflict. Each should have their own personal journey and realizations.

Forced proximity or new common goal

You could bring them back into each other's lives through a situation where they're forced to spend time together or work toward a common goal. This could be due to circumstances, work, or a shared interest.

Slow reconciliation

Let the characters slowly rebuild trust and friendship. Highlight the gradual thawing of their feelings and the rekindling of their initial attraction. Show open and honest communication between the characters, addressing the root of their conflict and misunderstandings.

Internal struggles

Show the characters' internal conflicts as they battle their lingering anger or resentment and the resurfacing of their romantic feelings.

Shared vulnerabilities

Reveal the vulnerabilities and insecurities of both characters. This can help readers sympathize with their struggles and hopes for reconciliation.

Love and reconciliation

Eventually, as they work through their issues, allow them to rekindle their love and passion for each other. This should be a satisfying and heartfelt moment.

Remember, it's essential to create well-developed, relatable characters and a strong plot to keep readers engaged throughout this emotional rollercoaster. The lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers arc is hard to tackle, but authentic character growth and compelling conflicts will make for a captivating romance story.

[letteredlettered]

Hi!! Out of curiosity, which MDZS character do u think about the most and why?

The answer is, without a doubt, Wei Wuxian.

Part of what makes WWX special to me is he feels really archetypal and yet the archetype doesn't actually appear in most of the western media with which I'm familiar. The archetype may be super common in eastern media or perhaps, more narrowly, Chinese media, but my point he feels singular to me and therefore interests me, and I'm familiar with mostly western media. The comparisons in this post are all comparisons to western media, since that's what I'm familiar with, and I tried to pick popular examples so that people would understand what I mean.

Wei Wuxian is a protagonist who does bad things. Very bad things. We see that in plenty of western stories, but it's less common in western fantasy. That is, you can read a million stories about professors sleeping with their students and making a very bad muck of their lives; you can watch Breaking Bad and The Sopranos, but more often in western fantasy you're going to have a Good Guy who does good and Bad Guys who do bad.

But, okay. There's certainly a significant portion of western fantasy in which no one is a Good Guy, and everyone is a little corrupt: Song of Ice and Fire, Interview With the Vampire. Wei Wuxian feels very different to me than the protagonists of these media, because Wei Wuxian is trying to be the Good Guy. He's well-intentioned. He is willing to stand against all of society to defy corruption and protect those who are weaker than himself. That kind of protagonist isn't very common in the kinds of "dark" genre fiction that are about the corruption of humanity or the political intrigues of society. If they exist, they're usually martyred and disappear from the narrative because they are too good for this world, too pure.

But the point of WWX is that he is not too good; he is not pure. He is good; he is brave; he is righteous; he stands up for the little guy--but he is also over-confident in his own ability. He overreaches. And people die because of it. Lots of people. And then, after he accidentally murders people due to losing control, he goes mad. The Nightless City massacre occurs not due to an accident but because WWX is careless and angry. He kills a lot more people then.

I will say that western fantasy is full of characters who turn to "the dark side. The threat of "going dark" has become, in fact, an integral part of most portrayals of the hero's journey. But in the media with which I'm familiar, when someone does go dark, they become the villain. They are not allowed to live, or if they live, they must still be vanquished. Star Wars is a quintessential example: Luke Skywalker is tempted by the dark side but resists; he is the hero. Darth Vader is tempted by the dark side and gives in. Even though he turns back at the end, he must still be eliminated.

Of course, there are plenty of villains who reform in such stories and then manage to survive. I think you could say that once resurrected, WWX is reformed in this way. He knows he lost control. He knows he hurt people. He's very sorry about it, and while he still has a drive to put his hand in to help others, I can't imagine him coming to the point where he would lose control again, and I also do not think he has the kind of anger or resentment that would allow him to be so careless and wanton with his cultivation again.

So, in this sense, WWX holds the place of a reformed villain, like Zuko or, say, Angel, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. One thing to note about both of these examples--Zuko is shown to be "on the dark side" because of the family and culture in which he was raised, and also, he was a child. Angel was "on the dark side" because he didn't have a soul. That is, the excuses for why these reformed villains were ever villains at all exonerate them to some extent.

Meanwhile, WWX was a villain because he was full of himself. Like, it's still understandable why WWX was a villain: he sacrificed all the power he had for someone he loved; he still needed power to protect his own life when he was being tortured, and this took him down a dark path; he needed even more power to help the world fight corrupt fascists; he was villainized by society even before he became an actual villain because that society feared and desired his power; he was literally ostracized and rejected by his own family for doing the right thing. But in the end, it wasn't like he had no other choice when he caused the death of JZX. He didn't feel like he had another choice to save the Wens, but if he had not been so over-confident in his ability to control himself, JZX would not have died. And while I find the massacre at Qionqi Pass maybe excusable considering the pressures WWX was under, WWX goes mad after that. Also understandable, but there is no way in which the massacre at Nightless City is excusable. There's just no way to say it wasn't his fault.

Okay, but there are some reformed villains in western fantasy who really were villains because they just made some wrong choices. They were arrogant like WWX, or they were petty and small, or they had a sucky childhood but nothing that should've led them into darkness. These characters do exist, but I find them few and far between (and I will fully admit here that maybe I just haven't read enough western fantasy to come up with enough examples). When they do show up, they are not usually the protagonist (Snape); they more often play side roles.

And the point with these guys is that they did bad things because they were not well-intentioned. Their intentions change, and therefore their moral alignment changes. But WWX was always trying to do good. It's only at the very end that he is no longer trying, and he loses his mind partly because all of his efforts to do good have flown up in his face. I just feel like I never get to see someone who was honestly trying to help people so earnestly, and fucks it up because he was trying to do too much. The closest example is Xie Lian, and I think we can all agree Xie Lian never becomes anything close to a villain.

However, now comes the trait that really does make WWX different from any other protagonists I've ever read, and most I've seen on screen: he is all of the above, a reformed villain who was well-intentioned throughout his descent into villainy, who doesn't brood.

Everyone I mentioned above--Zuko, Angel, Snape--are all very serious people who are consumed by their pasts. If they're not dour or bitter, they're still unable to be light-hearted or carefree. Meanwhile, WWX is the definition of light-hearted and carefree. He has a lot of regrets and some guilt, but he really doesn't dwell on it. Like, he fucked up. He died. How else can he atone? He knows he can't make it up to the people he hurt. Might as well move on and not get in their face about it.

In general, WWX's personality is unusual for the kind of hero he is. While it's true that the wise-cracking, smart-talking hero is a staple of western fantasy (Iron Man, Spider Man), these aren't the kind of heroes who can make the serious mistakes that WWX makes--or, though they do make mistakes that lead to the deaths of countless bystanders, they are never really confronted with the enormity of those crimes. I know that some people will say that WWX is not confronted with them either, that his crimes are not dealt with seriously enough in the text. I admit that I was very surprised that WWX blames the death of JZX on JGY during the final showdown in the temple. In the end, however, I think there are enough questions about whether WWX is actually a Good Guy that the story of MDZS seems quite different than, say, many western superhero stories, in which yes, superheroes do bad things and make mistakes, but are still ultimately our heroes.

But the other thing about WWX's personality that is unique for such a protagonist and also further distances him from heroes like Iron Man is this: WWX is pathetic. He's allowed to be pathetic, on quite a few occasions. He pretends to be a child. He pretends to be a damsel in distress. He purposely harasses and teases others in a way that is actively annoying to them. He's laughable. The closest parallel I can think of to how deeply WWX is willing to abase himself and annoy the fuck out of others in Deadpool, but the thing about Deadpool is that he is ultimately comedic. You know you're going to laugh if you're reading a Deadpool comic or watching one of his movies. Also, while Deadpool is a badass, need I remind you that WWX is the most powerful and the most feared person in the entire world, perhaps in all of history. The fact that WWX is as powerful as he is and still throws himself on people he likes and pretends to weep is only matched by Luo Binghe, but LBH is different in that his willingness to be pathetic is a tactic of manipulation. Meanwhile WWX is pathetic for fun; he likes to annoy people; he's ridiculous; he's laughable.

He's also lovable, but imo, like Deadpool and like LBH, I don't think we're always supposed to find him charming. We're supposed to recognize that these characters sometimes go too far for a joke. We're supposed to be annoyed at times, at least imo.

But in the end, we are supposed to like WWX. We're also supposed to feel really sorry for him and sympathize with him for what he did. He's an enormous woobie, while at the same time he massacred thousands and then laughed it off. Who does that? Who does it like the Yiling Lazou? When you add in the fact that he's super gay, but all his gay fantasies consist of farming and eating Lan Wangji's cooking and talking about fishing and keeping house, I'm just left asking, Wei Wuxian, who the fuck are you? Who the fuck can match you?

This is why I spend so much time thinking about this character. I can't actually wrap my head around him, and frankly, the way MDZS is told doesn't help. MXTX actually does not really get into WWX's head very much once he starts his path of demonic cultivation, and while we get some insights as to what is going on with him through flashback and his dialogue at the time, I am still somewhat in the dark about why he made the choices he did.

The only character I've ever encountered who even comes close to WWX is Spike from BtVS, and WWX is still on another level.

Lastly, I'll say that the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is another thing I have never witnessed in western media. It is so complex and interesting to me that I could make a whole post on it, which is why even though the answer to your question is by far Wei Wuxian, if WWX didn't exist, Jiang Cheng would win this question by a landslide.

[profound-imagination]

Before You Go - Fenrys Moonbeam

A/N: I’m so freaking proud of this fic I hope you love it! Also I’ve tried my hand at a lil smut so please feel free to give constructive criticism!

T/W: Maeve, Smut, Vision of Maeve & Fenrys, Angst, Death - I think that’s it! Let me know if I’ve missed any!

W/C: 5K

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

100 Years Ago:

“You did what?!” You seethed at the White Wolf who was looking anywhere but at you. “I swore a blood oath…to Maeve.” The words hit you like a physical blow and tears lined your eyes. “Why…why would you do that?” You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. He looked at you then, his face shuttering as he took in your unshed tears. “For Connall, the things she makes him do, Y/N, I can’t, I can’t allow it.” You sighed, heart breaking as you looked at the Male in front of you, your mate. Not that he knew, if he did he hadn’t told you, just like how you hadn’t told him. “He’ll resent you for taking his place, Fen, he came to visit, while you were gone with your elite force, he seemed happy.”

You’d grown up with the twins, your parents serving under theirs but there was always something about Fenrys, something that pulled you in. They were five years older than you and you’d put it down to a school girl crush. Connall hated it. He didn’t speak to you for 2 years after he confessed his feelings for you on your 18th birthday. You had just looked helplessly at his twin and he had known then, had understood there was something unspoken between you and his brother. It infuriated him. Connall had always felt lesser than his twin, who was favoured by their father and now by you, it seemed. “I can’t let her have him like that, Connall deserves a true and pure love, not this.” You scoffed, “What, so it’s better for you to be her whore instead?” You spat, his eyes hardening at your words, “Tell me, will you be allowed to leave her chambers? To be the warrior you always wanted to be or will you be leashed to her bed like the dog that you are?”

Anger rolled off of him in waves as he took a step back from you, “That’s enough.” He said quietly but you were so past trying to understand his reasoning. “Maybe he loves her, Fen? Did you think of that?” He scoffed this time, “Even if he does, she doesn’t and won’t ever love him back, she’s incapable of it.” You put your hands on your hips, “So what now? You’ve come to say goodbye? Tell me I’ll never see you again?” His face softened as your voice cracked. “You’ll see me again, but yes, I came to say goodbye.” Anger was still coursing through your veins as you said, “You better go then, your shackles on her bed are waiting. Goodbye, Fenrys.” You turned and walked away, you didn’t look back.

85 Years Ago:

The first ten years without the twins, without Fenrys, had been hard. You’d lost your parents to one of Maeve’s many wars, the twins' parents only just making it back themselves. They had taken you in, despite the fact you were an adult and your own parents had left you more than enough. It was like their mother knew this would be the final blow for you and she refused to let you fall into your despair. She’d moved you into Fenrys’ room, “So you’re here when he comes back,” she had said, “A mate's presence heals most things, even if they're not physically here.” You didn’t know how she knew nor did you ask at the time as you crawled into his bed and slept for days.

Fenrys sent everything he was feeling down the mating bond unknowingly. You could stop him from feeling your feelings which you’d been actively doing since it snapped for you but you couldn’t block his. The hatred, the anger, the sadness, the submission, the pleasure. It made you physically sick. Sometimes, when his emotions were particularly high, you saw it all as well, through his eyes. You’d never forget that first time.

Maeve on top of him, her naked form grinding in his lap. “What’s the matter little pup?” She taunted from above him, “Performance nerves?” He was panicking, you could feel the panic coursing through him, the dread that if he didn’t perform she’d bring Connall in here instead. She scraped her nails down his chest, “You really are pretty for a dog, Fenrys.” She crooned, rolling her hips again, “I can help you enjoy it and perhaps eventually you’ll learn to enjoy it on your own.” She leant forward and kissed up his neck, her canines scraping as she went, disgust shot through him as one hand wrapped around his throat and the other slid towards his cock. “Enjoy it.” She whispered seductively in his ear, “You want me, Fenrys, you want this.” She sucked on his earlobe and the disgust started to dissipate, replaced by lust. “You want to fuck me, to satisfy me.” She continued as his cock stiffened in her hand. She dragged herself up his body, until she had a leg on either side of his head. “Go ahead pup,” she crooned, “eat.”

You witnessed the whole thing. She had ridden him until she was satisfied and when he was spent she sent him away like he was nothing. The last thing you saw when Fenrys opened her chamber door was Connall on the other side, betrayal like nothing you’d ever seen written across his face. You’d thrown up until your body had given out and you moved out of his room and his parents house the next day.

This went on for ten years until you’d had enough, you couldn’t take it anymore, feeling what he was feeling, witnessing it. You had amassed the funds your parents had left you and ventured to Doranelle, for an audience with the Queen. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress as you waited to be called into her throne room. Fenrys was here and nearby, you could feel the bond coming to life and singing that its counterpart was close. A guard approached and nodded for you to follow him, so you took a deep breath and did just that. It’s for the twins, you told yourself over and over again as you rounded the corner and took in Maeve sitting upon her stone throne, two wolves sat either side, one white, one black, both of their ears shot up and their eyes widened as they took you in. A white tailed hawk sat above her right shoulder, a massive Osprey sat above her left. In one of the alcoves close to the throne stood the biggest male you had ever seen and another male with golden hair and tattoos.

“You asked for an audience?” Maeve asked, her voice sounded bored and uninterested. You bowed as low as you could before speaking, “Yes your majesty, thank you for granting my wish.” You said, your voice sounding stronger than you felt, she waved a hand for you to continue. “I have come to ask if you will allow me to buy the wolves out of their servitude? They are needed at home but of course majesty I understand they are of great importance to you so I offer all that I have, including myself, in their stead.” Maeve tilted her head in consideration. Connall was staring at his queen, but Fenrys, Fenrys was staring at you, a sadness in his eyes, a desperation telling you to take back your offer and run.

Maeve tipped her head back and laughed, she laughed like you had told the best joke she had ever heard and as quickly as she laughed, it ended. The Fae Queen leveled you with a look, “No.” You stepped forward, Connall bared his teeth and let out a warning growl that shocked you to your very core. “But, I-“ the Queen cut you off, “I said no, like you pointed out, girl, they are of great importance to me and this one,” she said, placing a hand on Fenrys’ head, “He pleases me ever so well, so no, girl, I’ll keep them both, leave.” Your mouth dropped open and Maeve sighed, “Lorcan, see our guest out.” The giant of a male stepped towards you and Fenrys whined his protest, “Hush, pup, get upstairs.” Maeve commanded and you were escorted out with a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’d made everything worse for him.

A knock woke you from a fitful sleep. You hadn’t even made it to your bed, you had passed out drunk on the sofa and you winced as the wine bottle rolled off of you and smashed on the floor. You’d deal with that in the morning you decided as you stumbled to the door and flung it open. A fae male with long silver hair and face tattoos stood on the other side, along with the golden haired male from earlier. “So she’s sent you to kill me then?” You asked as you turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving the door open for them to follow. “Drink?” You asked, pouring yourself a whisky and sliding the bottle and two glasses over to the other side of the table where they now stood. “I won’t fight you for my life,” you told them, “There’s nothing left of it anyway.” You said gesturing around the house.

The silver haired one snorted as he took in your home, “Wow, you really aren’t doing well without him are you?” The golden haired one hissed as he elbowed his friend, “Rowan!” He scolded. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m Gavriel and this is Rowan, we aren’t here to kill you, we’re here to help, sort of.” You raised an eyebrow, “Help? With what?” You questioned, “You feel him don’t you?” Rowan asked, “We can teach you to block him out, so you don’t feel him if you’re too much of a coward to tell him he’s your mate.” You crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re an asshole.” You told Rowan, Gavriel nodded his agreement, “An asshole I might be, but I’m trying to help you, do you know what she would’ve done if she realised what you were to him, to both of them?” You shrugged, “It isn’t fair that they are chained to her like that, it’s not fair to any of you, loyalty should be earned, not taken.” Gavriel sighed, “Let us help you.”

So you learned from them, well, from Rowan mostly, over an exhausting couple of days. Gavriel kept himself busy fixing whatever needed fixing in the house and tidying up so you had somewhere presentable to live. “Oh and one more thing,” Rowan said as they turned to leave that evening. He turned, producing a letter out of his satchel and you instantly recognised the scrawl on the envelope. “Keep those shields up, Y/N.” He said before walking out the door. Gavriel smiled kindly at you, “For what it’s worth, I think he regrets it, leaving you, everyday.” You sighed, “I was so mean the last time I spoke to him, I was angry and I didn’t mean any of it.” You said quietly, “I think he knows that too,” Gavriel said, “but I’ll make sure to tell him.”

You smiled at him softly, “Why did you both come to help me?” You questioned, Gavriel glanced outside and then back to you, “Rowan’s pregnant mate was murdered & I walked away from my mate and child because of the fear of Maeve, we don’t want the same for Fenrys, we’re quite keen on the pups and somethings Y/N, somethings are worth fighting for.” With that, he took your hand, kissed your knuckles and left.

You slid down the front door, pulled your knees to your chest and ripped open the letter Rowan had given you. There was such anger in Connall’s words, at you, at his brother. But there was also sorrow and a plea for you to never step foot in Doranelle again.

You spent the following weeks wondering if you’d be betrayed, but no one ever came for you.

50 Years Ago:

Gasping quietly you dropped the dishes you were washing in the sink with a splash, the bubbles splattering up your apron. You threw open the door to Rowan and the tall male you hadn’t met yet. “What happened?!” You snapped as you took in Fenrys hanging between them. “Move!” The tall male hissed as they shoved past you, “Clear the table!” Rowan commanded, panic seized you as you swept the table with your arm. “What happened?!” You snapped again and Fenrys groaned as they placed him more gently than you’d expected on the table. “He’s been testing the leash, stupid boy.” Your eyes snapped to the tall male, “Sorry, who the hell are you?” He didn’t even look at you as he grunted, “Lorcan.” You looked back down at Fenrys, “She did this to him?” Rowan looked at Lorcan who shook his head but Rowan answered you anyway, “Connall did.” Anger flooded through you, “Connall?!” Fenrys let out a wet, labored cough, “No,” he croaked. “She commanded it,” Lorcan drawled, “But he didn’t seem to hesitate or fight it.”

You watched quietly as the two warriors worked on Fenrys. Your entire body was tense. Fenrys had passed out 30 minutes ago, a blessing you supposed, that he couldn’t feel what they were doing as they were putting him back together. A shadow outside the window caught your eye and you stalked out the door. “You’ve got some nerve.” You spat at the Black Wolf who was sitting at the tree line of your property. “How dare you turn up here?!” With a flash the Black Wolf was a Male prowling towards you. “He’s my brother, I need to know if he’s okay.” You scoffed, “You did this to him!” You exclaimed, stepping up to him. “I didn’t have a choice!” You rolled your eyes, “They said you didn’t even hesitate or try to fight the order!” You watched Connall’s eyes shoot over your shoulder and then back to you. You felt Rowan at your back. “Are you here for you or for her?” He asked, his voice tight. “For him.” Connall snapped. Rowan nodded and beckoned him to follow. You huffed and followed the two males into your home, the tang of blood in the air.

They’d moved him to your bed when they’d patched him up. You had sat next to the bed, back rigid. Your eyes watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Around 3am his eyes cracked open, finding you instantly in the darkness, “Am I dead? Is this heaven?” He rasped. You rolled your eyes, “No, you aren’t dead, they brought you here.” He nodded weakly. “Where are they?” He croaked, you handed him a glass of water, “Lorcan and Connall went back, Rowan’s flapping about outside.” You told him and he huffed a laugh then winced. “Stop it.” You scolded him.

You’d brought him some food and stuck your head out the door to let Rowan know he was awake before returning to Fenrys. “How are you feeling?” You asked, “Why are you doing this? Helping?” He asked at the same time. “Because it’s you and I’m an idiot.” You muttered quietly. “It was stupid of you to come to Doranelle.” He said, “I’m not sorry.” You snapped. “Your brother nearly killed you today, he didn’t think twice about it, he just obeyed.” Your voice cracked and tears welled up in your eyes. Fenrys sighed, “It’s the blood oath, he didn’t have a choice.” You gave him a scathing look, “Get some rest.” You said, voice sharp and you turned to leave. “Hey?” You turned to face him, he held his hand out towards you, “Come here?” He asked, patting the space next to him. The bond was screaming at you to do so, to join him, to not leave him injured and alone in your room so you caved and crawled in next to him. “You know I love you right?” He asked into the darkness of the room. “Yeah, I know.” You answer, heart cracking because you knew he didn’t mean it how your entire soul craved him to mean it.

Now:

“What are you doing here?!” You span at the sound of his voice. “Fighting? We got the call.” You gestured at the battlefield that surrounded you. “You can’t be here!” He snarled, “Well I am! You snarled back. “Pup! We’ve got to go, you can fight with your girlfriend later!” Rowan shouted as he landed next to you, “Hi, Y/N.” You smiled at him, “Aedion is injured, get up to the battlements and see where you can help.” Rowan told you, you nodded at him and took off, Fenrys shouting after you.

You clung onto Aedion, tears in your eyes as Gavriel stepped through the gate. You’d grown to love Gavriel, he’d visited you every time he traveled past your home over the years, always stopping in for a cup of tea, you had your suspicions that he was reporting back to Fenrys but he’d become your friend either way. “Let him go, Aedion.” He fought against you, “He’s doing this for you, the only thing he feels he can do for you.” So the two of you watched as the Lion of Doranelle stood his ground as the gate shut him out.

It was over. It was won. You’d watched from the battlements as Fenrys delivered the killing blow to the tyrant Queen. Had watched them morn Gavriel from the outside while you quietly mourned the Wolf that was no longer with you. Aelin had approached you in the garden one evening, as you sat amongst the flowers, watching the sun disappear, talking to Connall as if he could hear you. “You’re staying.” A fact, a demand from your Queen, not a question. You looked up at her and she smiled, “Rowan’s not so good with the secrets.” You laughed as he huffed behind his wife. “He’ll need you.” You gave her a kind smile, “I doubt that, but if it’s what you wish for, your majesty, I will stay.” She gave you a look that said she knew she was right and turned to leave, “Actually, with your permission, there’s something I’d like to do.” Tears welled in Aelin’s eyes as you told her what you wanted, Rowan approached and smiled and put a hand on your shoulder, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” He said, Aelin nodded her agreement.

Fenrys found you a week later. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, approaching you in the Royal Graveyard of Terrasen. You were knelt in the dirt, hands covered in it. Flowers surround you, Zinnias for remembrance and goodness, Yellow Carnations for friendship and gratitude, Violets for faithfulness and devotion, Anemones for protection and sacrifice and Daffodils for rebirth and hope. “He mentioned you had become friends over the years…” he trailed off, realising that it wasn’t Gavriel’s grave you were kneeling in front of. You looked at him over your shoulder, and then moved aside to reveal a gravestone, that simply read:

Connall Moonbeam

Brother

Friend

Beloved

Black Wolf of Doranelle

A raw, broken sound left Fenrys as he crashed to his knees at the sight of his brother's grave and you were there, next to him, holding him. “I thought it would be nice if we had somewhere we could talk to him.” You told him quietly as he sobbed into his hands. “He visits me in my dreams, the first time was the night he died. He came to me and told me what had happened. That you needed me. I set off the next day to find Aelin, to help however I could.” Fenrys fell into you, sobbing into your neck. “He kept me safe, when I slept rough, he’d tell me to wake up, to move.” You kept talking as Fenrys calmed slowly, “He had things left to say to me, we both cried as he told me he’d loved me once but he knew, had always known I’d belonged to his brother, that I had to find you, that you’d need me, that after everything, he’d get me to you safely, the last thing he could do for you.” You ran a calming hand down his back, “He had a message for you, he said he loves you, more than anything, he forgives you for everything and he’s sorry for his part, he said that it was meant for you, the dagger, but it was too far and he couldn’t allow it.” Tears were running down your face by the time you finished speaking. “If I could change it, if I could take his place so he could be here with you, I would, in a heartbeat, Fen.”

Fenrys remained quiet for a long time after you had told him everything. He clutched your hand like it was his tether to the earth. Finally he looked up at you, his onyx eyes meeting yours and you saw the exact moment he felt it too, the bond. You watched it wash over him, watched him figure out what it was he was feeling. “You…you’re…” you nodded at him, “Yes, I am.” He blinked, “How long have you known?” He croaked and you let out a humorless laugh, “A long time, Fen.” “How long?” He repeated, “Since before you swore the blood oath.” You admitted, “You’ve known for over 100 years that we’re mates and you never said anything?!” You opened your mouth to reply just as Rowan and Aelin approached, “We’ve all known Boyo, it was fairly obvious.” Aelin elbowed her husband. “You’ve done a wonderful job on Connall’s grave, Y/N.” She said, “I’m sorry I never got to know him.” She said to Fenrys, wrapping him in her arms. “He’d have loved you.” Fenrys mumbled and you and Rowan laughed your agreement.

Over the following weeks Fenrys started coming around more and more. Getting to know you again he’d said. You’d cried as Aedion swore his oath, took his birthright and Fenrys had laughed at you, wiped your tears and held your hand for the rest of the ceremony. “Dance with me?” He asked as the Coronation Ball went on and on. You smiled up at him and took his had, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor and into the first dance. Your body fit against his in the best of ways and from what you felt, he knew it too. It was on your third dance that he seemed to throw caution to the wind and his hand left your waist to cup your face as he brought his lips down to yours. It was like the world had gone silent. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as his kisses descended down your neck. “Let’s get out of here.” He spoke against your neck, “Please?” You begged him. He smirked at you as he pulled you towards the doors.

The two of you only made it a few corridors at a time before you were swept up in kisses and touches again. By the time you were halfway to his room, you realised, he was carrying you, your legs wrapped around his waist, dress up around your hips, his hands on your ass, groaning at the feel of it, of the feel of your teeth against his neck. “Fuck it.” He growled three corridors away from his room as he pinned you against the wall with his hips and pulling the top of your dress down. He groaned as he took in the sight before him and ground his hips into yours causing you to moan. He lowered his head, kisses starting at your neck, trailing down to your chest where he worshiped each breast and nipple, the sensations causing you to writhe against him.

“Can you be quiet for me?” He asked, pulling away from your chest. You nodded eagerly as he sank to his knees, anticipation tightening in your stomach as he threw your legs over his shoulders, his head disappearing under the skirts of your dress. Kisses began traveling up your legs, “No underwear?” He mumbled more to himself than to you as his mouth neared to where you wanted it the most. His tongue licked a broad stripe and you jerked at the sensation, letting out a loud moan. “What did I say about being quiet?” He teased as he head appeared from under your skirts before going right back to where it was before. Your fingers scrambled for something to grab onto and settled for the of your dress that was covering his head as he sucked on your clit, waves of pleasure zinging up and down your spine.

“Please, please, please” you were begging as that familiar coil started to tighten in your stomach. “Please what?” He asked against your clit, the words vibrating beautifully. “Tell me what you want love?” He asked, nipping at your thigh. “Make me cum, Fen, please I’m so close.” You whimpered as he started his minstrations again. Two calloused fingers pushed into you and you threw your head back into the wall, his lips still sucking at you. “Plea-“ your begging was cut off as his fingers curled and hit that perfect spot and the coil in your stomach snapped and you and the world fell apart as your orgasam ripped through you. He kept going, drawing it out as long as he could.

His smirk was feline when he emerged from your dress and set your shaking legs back on the ground. You threw yourself at him so hard he stumbled back into the opposite wall as he caught you. You began attacking his neck with kisses, teeth scraping along his throat as you pulled his shirt out of his trousers and tried to undo the buttons. “Take me to bed. Now.” You breathed against his ear and he froze. Completely froze. His arms dropped away from you and his whole body was ridgid. You pulled away from him, realising quickly what had happened and your heart threatened to disintegrate at that haunted look in his eyes.

“Fenrys?” It was like he couldn’t hear you. Whatever memory of Maeve he was reliving had trapped him and you weren’t sure how to get to him. You had just began to panic when Chaol and Yerene walked down the hallway, “Get Aelin, now!” You snapped at Chaol as Yerene stepped towards him. “Don’t!” She stopped dead and looked at you. “I don’t know what he’s reliving and how he’ll be when he comes out of it, you’re with child.” You said more gently and she nodded in understanding, “Go with Chaol, bring Rowan too!” She nodded as she ran to catch up with her husband. “Fen, please, come back to me.”

Footsteps rushed down the hallway and then Aelin was there, Rowan next to her. Lorcan behind him. Chaol and Yerene behind him. You knew you didn’t fit this picture, this group. So you watched, back against the wall Fenrys had just had you against as the Queen of Terrasen pulled your mate back after you had failed to do so. His eyes cleared and darted around the hallway, he smiled down at Aelin and Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. Lorcan, Chaol and Yerene departed back to the ball as the Queen and King spoke with their Emissary, their friend & you turned and fled. You had done that to him, you were no better than Maeve.

“I don’t know how to do this.” You sobbed, “I don’t know how to be what he needs.” The gravestone didn’t answer. “I wish you were here, Con.” You told him, “It’s not right without you and I keep messing everything up.” You let out some more sobs as Fenrys’ haunted face flashed through your memories again. Twigs breaking behind Connall’s grave had your head shooting up & there he was, your White Wolf. “I’m sorry, Fen, so unbelievably sorry.” You told him as he prowled over to you.

He approached, studying you and your tears, then licked a great stripe right up the side of your face, which caused you to snort in disgust and then laugh. Fenrys huffed out a sound that you assumed was as close to a laugh as he could do as a wolf and then he curled himself around your back, and a contented rumble left his chest as you leant back on him. “I’m sorry I put you back there, I’ll be more careful with my words next time.” You said quietly. He huffed again, nuzzling his face into your side, a feeling of warmth, thanks and understanding filled your chest and you knew it was him. “Can we stay out here with Connall tonight?” You asked, he nodded and put his head down on a massive paw, leaving the other for you as you curled up into his fur. “I love you, Fen.” You mumbled sleepily, “I have for most of my life.” You felt the moment he shifted, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, “I love you too.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

Connall Moonbeam smiled down at the sight of his twin brother and his best friend, curled up together by a grave that he was not in. It didn’t matter, they had honored him with it anyway. They continued to honor and remember him for the rest of their lives, especially on the day their son was born and they gave him the name Connall Gavriel Moonbeam. Gavriel clapped a hand on his shoulder as he walked away from him, into the arms of the mate he’d been missing for so long. Connall smiled down at his brother and his family one last time and followed Gavriel and his mate into the light, there would be no more dream visits, he had nothing more to offer his friend, besides, he’d see them both again some day.

[stitcherofchaos]

Kidnap Fam vs Earendil and Elwing controversy: Regarding the twins

Maybe I’m too practical-minded, but I see a lot of people either supporting or exaggerating kidnap fam, hating it with all their being, or ignoring the whole ‘love grew between them’ to translate into ‘emotional manipulation, hatred, resentment… etc (being anti-canon)’. I’ll respect opinions, frankly, I really could care less about them, but it does get irritating when people throw canon away for the drama (I certainly get annoyed when extreme pro-kidnap fams fans make it all sunshine and rainbows as if it wasn’t a difficult time or situation).

By the way, I can and will say that the twins can feel emotions, they are allowed to do that. Resentment and love can exist at the same time (for only a period of time) but one or the other must fade in order for the other the linger. One has to be consumed in order for the other to burn.

But just a thought, Elrond and Elros could love all of their parents equally, no more, no less than the others. One became a healer and the other, a king, I think they came to understand their foster father(s) and their bio-parents’ decisions.

(Ay maybe I just suck at emotions and all this feelings stuff and have no idea what I’m tolkien about)

And I’m not trying to call out or bash anyone!

I saw (and wanted to share) the quote,

“if your anger burns the furnace in your soul your whole life, you will be forever cold in the grave.”(I’m paraphrasing, I can’t remember the exact quote)

I cannot imagine Elrond or Elros being resentful to the point were they are vicious or unforgiving, whether it was towards Elwing, Eärendil, Maglor, or Maedhros (I really don’t think he was involved too much but if you swing that way).

I don’t want Elros to be cold in his grave, and I certainly don’t want Elrond's fëa to be burning for the rest of his immortal life.

Then I also had the thought, 'if the Fëanorians had never committed the third, worst, kinslaying, then Elwing would have never flown the Silmaril to her husband and they would have never gotten the help of the Valar.'

I personally headcanon that it was Eru’s work at hand to have Maglor raise Elrond and Elros. Think about it, what if they were spoiled in an alternate universe? What if something worse had happened to the twins? What if? What if?

What if they didn't become who they were meant to be if it wasn't for who they were raised by?

By the way, I read LOTR, I know Elrond refers to Eärendil publicly as his father and he makes no mention of Maglor. I analyzed this in three ways. 1.) Elrond must keep (the memory of) Maglor closed off, locked in his heart rather than talking about him more. 2.) It would've caused drama in his realm and in the counsel. 3.) Elrond really doesn't care, his father is his father, that's it. Zip. Maglor raised him, but Maglor is gone now. In a way, Eärendil is more present than Maglor in Elrond's life by the third age. Elrond can physically see the star, but he can't see Maglor.

I see it in the third way mostly. Eärendil is Elrond father, biologically, so why would he do this "My 'real' father" BS? It just seems like a waste of time. Tolkien probably didn't want to confuse anyone since the Silmarillion couldn't be published with LOTR.

Remind me of that quote from Yondu, "He may have been your father, boy, but he wasn't your daddy." But I really didn't want to refer to that quote considering Peter and Yondu's relationship is not the best example to compare this cluster of daddy issues to. Nevertheless, there is a point to be made in that statement. There is a difference between relation in regard to Nature vs Nurture, and the effects of it.

I guess the whole point of this post is, the fandom tends to take canon lore to the extreme or over analyze things to the point where they're just projecting. Trust me, I've been there, done that. I've learned my lesson (I think) and I wanted to share what I've learned.

Also (this is purely opinion) I don’t think Maglor was manipulative about anything, in the book, he just didn’t come off that way, for as little as he appeared, he actually seemed to be pretty optimistic (*regarding Eärendil) and honest (*the debate with Maedhros). He didn’t try to excuse himself or get the twins to pity him. Maglor raising the twins was out of pity/mercy, yes, but love grew (like what Tolkien said). He probably educated them on the facts and encouraged them to form their own opinions, whether that costed him their love or not. Maglor did have the more accurate moral compass compared to his brothers (in the end of the book!- Put down your pitchforks Maedhros stans!), especially if he knew that the Silmaril was better beyond their reach than where the enemy can also reach it. It was an accurate moral compass, although not a big one.

Argue, agree or disagree, or discuss with me! I want to hear different perspectives or opinions on this matter.

[yapperina]

still finding the voice for rafayel, but the dynamic he has with you is brimming with untapped potential to get so weird.... tearing my hair by the fistfuls rn

especially if we're talking about arguments/fights. boy can it get ugly. considering how rafayel behaves around anyone else, it's clear that he's always soft and belly-up for you, forcefully shedding all the cold and anger and whatnot. so if it's you who throws the first punch (metaphorically of course) it flays him open instantly and whatever happens next is cornered animal lashing out. i don't think rafayel has a good control over himself around you at all actually, everything is just too raw and painful

and if it's him starting the fight, he gets carried away too fast because it's just so easy to finally allow himself to justify whatever hurt and resentment he's carrying around after lifetimes of loss and promises unfulfilled. sure he knows none of that is the fault of current you and usually he tramples these thoughts before they're even fully formed, feeling all kinds of rotten for having them at all, but with the lid off it overflows instantly and he's dragged by the current.

which should make you indignant and all, but every single time, no matter how hard he lashes out, you still somehow end up feeling like you've got a hand around his heart, a squeeze away from bursting in your grip, and can't ever shake it off

you make each other bleed so easily i just think it's neat...... i should go fuck myself now i guess

[explosionshark]

Au where Faith comes back to sunnydale in season 5

okay okay i've thought about this

it's a prophetic slayer dream that kicks it off - faith dreams buffy is going to die and she decides then and there she has to go to sunnydale to stop it. she informs angel who reluctantly gives his blessing and then she busts herself out of prison and heads back to sunnydale

obviously faith's motivation is this is a confusing mix of wanting to make things good with buffy, a sort of lingering subconscious suicidal death drive, and a genuine desire to be a Good Slayer for once. buffy can't quite understand what her angle is, but season 5 is a volatile time and buffy's struggling to handle everything on her plate so she can't actually refuse any help from another slayer

in a way, buffy's resentment towards and anger at faith allows her to accept help from faith more readily than she can from riley, her actual boyfriend. she doesn't feel guilty throwing faith out in the middle of the glory stuff. faith, also, kind of relishes being a meat shield a little - it's penance, right? she still resents buffy a little for using her like this so easily (unlike how she treats her ugly fucking boyfriend), however, she's also grateful to be used by buffy at all (unlike her ugly fucking boyfriend) TOXIC YURI

faith is very interesting to have around for joyce stuff because of the intersection of her guilt over the hostage-taking and threatening + her own dead mom issues + her desire to help buffy, genuinely. i think faith privately, secretly approaching joyce to offer to help while she's sick (clean the gutters, do the laundry, wash the car, basic things) to try and make amends because she doesn't know what else to really do is a compelling idea. also i think faith's potential interactions with dawn and tara over mom stuff here are SO interesting

MESSY relationship-wise. spike hates riley. faith also hates riley but wants to avoid him over the uhh body swap magical sexual assault. riley is a terrible fucking boyfriend this season. spike and faith are being absolute freaks about buffy and want nothing more than to kill each other with hammers. buffy wants everyone to shut the fuck up. faith and buffy's entire relationship would be built up gradually over the fact that faith is there and she's consistent and she's not actually asking for anything from buffy or even trying overmuch to prove something to her, she's literally just trying to help her and with everything else around her crumbling, i think buffy would end up really responding to that. idk what really happens with spike besides getting sidelined super hard. faith kicks the shit out of him over buffybot. he fucks off to reno. who gives a shit.

i actually have an outline for an s5 fic but currently that au is at war with my s4 au and i can't do them both, so they're both in stasis rn.

[purple-obsidian]

I'm back in your inbox again. Hello 👋

Been thinking about your ak jason todd and you've mentioned that his men know about her. They're intimidated by him and for good reason. But, hear me out, is Jason still working with scarecrow in your story?

Maybe Scarecrow is looking for the weakness in what seems like the arkham knights flawless armor. Maybe one of Jason's men isn't so loyal, or maybe scarecrow uses fear gas to get it out of them.

But I'm thinking how badly Jason would react if the reader was even in the slightest bit of danger or even vaugley threatened by scarecrow, even in passing. (Or slade, or even one of his men.) I think there'd be a bullet involved before the sentence is even over. Cause no matter how he treats her, she's still his person.

hello my friend! <3

in my little au, my fics 'say it back' and 'let go' happen just after the events of arkham knight, so jason is no longer working with scarecrow. i imagine that gotham is still a wreck, and jason hasn't yet transitioned to being red hood. so he's 'found' himself enough to have helped bruce in the end, but he's still harbors a crap ton of resentment and anger towards him and the others, and is still not above using lethal violence against those he thinks deserve it.

in my mind, this time period here is extremely tumultuous for him as he struggles to redefine and analyze what his goals and plans are now. like, if you're familiar with ATLA, i liken it to prince zuko getting physically ill after letting appa free. a sort of crisis of his self image. joker spent so much time convincing jason over and over how batman left him, abandoned him, telling him that bats was the enemy. and jason believed it, but when push came to shove, jason didn't exact his revenge. this turmoil inside of him, along with the unprocessed trauma of jokers multitude of atrocities, is what fuels a lot of his anger and unpredictability. his hired men are left over from his militia, he kept a handful of his most trusted guys on his payroll to help solidify his authority in gothams underworld. however, in my version of events, jason and reader were reunited back when he and scarecrow were still working together.

so, back to the original question. if earlier on, scarecrow had found out about reader, [and you're right, he had to trust some of his men to help keep her safe, so they could of had the info squeezed out of them. or maybe they were loose-lipped and talking shit, who knows.] no way crane could've resisted the temptation.

i think we can all agree that jason would use lethal force to protect reader. his own sins against her be damned, just because he's treated her like shit doesn't mean he will allow anyone else to threaten her or even touch her.

if it were dr. crane trying to use his fear gas on reader, jason would kill him on sight. no questions asked.

if it were someone less dangerous, like one of his militia getting too comfortable with reader, i see a possibility of him taking his time. we saw in 'let go' that he has some dark urges inside of him to hurt others the way he's been hurt. don't know if he'd actually have it in him to brutally torture someone, but if reader was injured, assaulted, or seriously harmed, who knows.

an important thing, though, is that i think jason would feel guilty after. not for killing them, not if they hurt his person. he'll be able to live with that just fine. but anything that prolongs their suffering i think he would feel remorse for, later on, when he's had more time to heal. more than anything, it will scare him to look back on it and know he's capable of such evil.

there would be a rare moment of vulnerability between jason and reader after he's eliminated the threat and can check and make sure readers okay.

if reader were suffering from fear gas, he would take her somewhere private and hold her close, not letting go until the toxin is out of her system, even if it's hours. most likely blaming himself the whole time and triggering him to spiral further down his path of self-hatred.

in the case of his militia men, they would be knocked out, and jason would get reader to safety asap. if reader has severe injuries, he may chance setting foot in a hospital, even though it reminds him of arkham. if the injuries are less severe, he would probably lock her up somewhere safe while he 'takes care' of the perpetrator, later returning to reader with bloody hands and eyes full of fear.

no matter the outcome, poor jay would be extra protective over reader for a while, second guessing who he trusts to leave her with and who is vetted enough to guard his safehouse when she's inside.

gahhhhh you're making me want to replay the games to brush up on the lore. its so tragic, jasons story. my heart hurts for him.

i would apologize for such a long-winded, unorganized response to a simple question, but i know you're just as obsessed as i am 😈

xoxo sid

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Tw: Parent trauma stuff, a vent post because damn my mommy and daddy issues are flaring up during my exams

Yves will talk to your parents for you.

As much as he wants to have you solely rely on him for your emotional, physical, and spiritual needs, he isn't selfish enough to deprive you of the experience of having a healthy and loving relationship with your family. Or at least, have a successful reconciliation with them and move on from the hurt.

He knows that people with good bonds between their initial caregivers would go on to live longer, happier, and have an overall peaceful mind; something that Yves wants you to receive. And it's something he could afford for you, why wouldn't he let the love of his life have something wonderful like this?

Yves already knew your history, the fights, the tears, the anger you held for your parents, and their refusal to admit their wrongs. But he wants you to confide in him organically, he doesn't want to force such a change in you. So he waited, stayed by your side, and observed, allowing you to slowly warm up to the idea of using him as a diary.

He would listen with no judgment, engulf you in a cushion of comfort and solace as you cry in anguish over the painful feelings you harbored for your parents. Yves would stay silent, cuddling you if that is what you needed and pressing soft kisses on your head whenever you're overwhelmed with your emotions. Only when you've calmed down, will he gently pry.

He has to dig through layers of resentment and agony, ignoring the red herrings and false wants. No, you do not truly want your parents to die a horrific death for what they did or didn't do for you, that's not your ultimate desire; try again. It doesn't matter how difficult it gets, Yves already knew the answer but you don't. He's trying to get you to realize what you actually need.

And you just wanted to feel loved, heard, seen, and protected for once by the adults who were supposed to teach you how the world works. You don't even give a damn if they gave you a sincere apology or not, all you needed was their acknowledgment that they were imperfect, you wanted their willingness to change, and them to be there for you while there is still time left. You wanted them to look at the mirror and see all the ugly parts they've been pretending not to notice, just like how they've been holding up a mirror against you all your life and nitpicking on all your flaws no matter how inconsequential.

You wanted to move on. Not alone, but with them. But they're stuck in the past, prickly and resistant to improvement. And it appeared to be a herculean task for you to do alone, an impossible mission, even.

Yves will absorb all of it with a sympathetic gaze, stroking your hair as you lay against him, completely drained of energy yet free from the burden plaguing you for years. Perhaps even decades. He will thank you for exploring this topic with him, it has taken a toll on you. But to heal, is to feel.

He will review all the information he has gathered on you, your family, and their dynamic, past and present. He will assess if this bond is salvageable or mangled beyond repair; Yves isn't going to blindly play family counselor, he knows there are just some relationships that aren't worth saving or not feasible to exist. If it's the latter, he will focus more on enriching your life to dull the pain of the past; it will no doubt always be there, but it will shrink with the joy he nourishes you with. At the same time, Yves would be cursing your family with a taste of his wrath, making the option of death appear to be a more merciful one. You wouldn't know what he did, but all you needed to know is that they're absolutely out of your life.

However, if the relationship is still viable, just severely damaged, Yves would do anything in his power to mend it. Just like how he would sew up holes in your clothes or fix any of your items that are broken with his excellent craftmanship, he would execute a plan to rebuild the bridge they charred.

They still cared for you, but they chose the wrong way to show it. Or they had their own demons to deal with which unfortunately roped you into a hell that you shouldn't have been in. Or that's just how they were taught by their own caregivers and they didn't know anything outside of it. As long as there is that weak pulse of genuine parental care and love for you, Yves will do anything to resuscitate it.

With his vast wealth, he could easily eradicate issues stemming from financial pressure. With his near infinite contacts, your parents have no problem getting the means to survive another day with their disease- they could even receive a cure for it. With his influence, their perpetrators could finally be brought to justice. With his shrewdness, Yves would orchestrate occurrences daily to teach them valuable lessons and correct their viewpoints. He would only make himself known if it's necessary, otherwise, your parents may think they're on a lucky streak or finally maturing as adults. Or if they're superstitious, a sign from a higher power to reach out to you and talk.

However, Yves wouldn't let them open the conversation with you just yet. They have to prove themselves, that they could pass his discrete battery of tests. Even if they did well, Yves would enact one last checkpoint: he would personally pay them a visit and talk.

The atmosphere must be calm, but not too lax to the point your parents feel comfortable disrespecting Yves. It has to be polite, warm, and cordial, but not too much lest they fail to subconsciously perceive what a threat Yves could be. There must be discipline, on both sides, no exceptions.

Yves have already taken their hunger, thirst, and sleep levels into consideration. The temperature, the smells, the humidity, the lighting, and the hormones present in their bloodstream on that day as the smallest variable could throw his entire plan off. As a failsafe, he would prepare cups of their favorite hot beverages and tea-time snacks laced with drugs that would allow him to control the situation better. It will have no adverse effects on their health, it will only serve to influence their mind however Yves sees fit. But he really didn't have to go this far, they trusted him to the fullest as Yves always had their best interest in mind. They're quite fond of him too, so it would be a difficult feat to shake him off their good graces.

It started off with a light-hearted conversation about general topics, just to ease your parents further and to fully prime them for the transition to heavier ones. Some discomfort was expected, maybe they tried to change the subject or divert his attention to something else, but Yves is unwavering. He would be gentle, yet firm. Using his body language and even minuscule actions such as picking his cup up without drinking from it to manipulate the situation. Implicitly reminding them who is in charge of the entire scene. It's almost like a spell, they couldn't bring themselves to leave even if they had a history of running away at the first sign of discomfort.

Yves will hear what they have to say. It's nothing he hasn't heard or seen before, this is only to give the illusion of a fair playing field. But his intention was never to take anyone's side, but to give you what you wanted out of your parents.

Once they're done, Yves would take a sip out of his tea. He would then lay out your deepest feelings toward them, the rage, the sorrow, the push, and the pull. Perhaps they were neglectful without intending to, money was tight and they had to put food on the table. Maybe they went through worse and resented you for having a better childhood than they did. They dismissed your hardships as something trivial, and sent a message that you just weren't that important.

You felt like you were never good enough under their outrageous expectations, you felt like their love was conditional and your worth was tied to what you could do for them. You felt betrayed because they broke your trust by telling your relatives your secrets, you felt like they only had you because everyone else was having babies and they succumbed to peer pressure. You felt discarded when they both divorced, or they remarried and had children outside. You felt less important than their booze bottle. Your views don't matter, only the opinions of others do. You were forced to be another parent for your siblings: children you never asked for. You felt unloved, you felt unwanted, you felt abandoned.

He made sure to speak in a language, pace, and tone they understood. It will be absolutely direct, with no room for misunderstandings and Yves would be happy to clear up anything over and over again.

It's difficult. It's frustrating but achievable. He has to keep a poker face as they try to deflect, defend, and twist. And for each attempt for them to escape these strong revelations, Yves would have something to counter it and ground them back to Earth. No one can leave until Yves thinks the outcome is satisfactory. Let the room flood with tears, let their voice go hoarse from yelling, it doesn't matter to Yves, he has his eyes constantly on the prize.

Eventually, he gets what he wants out of this meeting. Your parents would be as exhausted as you when you first vented to Yves about your relationships. They're finally accepting that they're also human with the most hideous of faults. And also accepting that they have the capacity to change for the better before it's too late.

They passed. His final test, they passed.

He would end the discussion, scheduling another meeting but with you this time. The dates he chose are very strategic, as a confrontation too soon or too late will render their 'training' ineffective.

Yves wouldn't be in the room, at least not visibly. He still has eyes and ears to watch over you, but his conceivable presence will affect the process. It has to happen without his obvious coaching, but Yves has the ultimate control.

You will be tense and they will be on edge, so he ensured that both sides are sufficiently groomed (with or without knowledge) before commencing.

It could take anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks for you and your parents to get on the same page, going through most, if not, all five stages of grief. It is a death of the past, and the birth of the present, after all.

His green eyes will be staring at the screen intensely, having his ears carefully listening to every single detail. Yves would be working tirelessly to puppet the stage, nothing is done unintentionally; not even that one green leaf that blew past the mildly smudged window. Everything happens for a reason, and that reason was Yves's puppetry.

In the end, he would succeed. You and your parents would break down crying, holding each other and promising to do better while they could still feel what it's like to breathe. Due to the tremendous emotional toll it has on each other, Yves expected that you will experience aches on your body. You would receive nightly massages from him.

Slowly but surely, things will change. Yves encourages you to call them as much as you can, likewise, he would encourage them to contact you too. Dinners, lunch, and brunch with everyone would be frequent. You would have the family that you deserved, but never gotten.

And Yves would smile, joining in pictures and conversations between you and your parents. Enjoying the quality time he gets to spend with you.

Your father would sling an arm around his shoulder, while he gracefully crouches down to his level. Your mother would grin and have her hand holding you by your arm as the entire family looks into the camera lens.

Yves is also happy to receive the blessing to experience the domesticity of a nurturing family he never had.

[yanderes-galore]

I see nothing for Demon Slayer yet so maybe a platonic concept of Tanjiro and Nezuko with their sibling Darling? They can be human or a demon like their sister, either way is fine, thank you! :)

I can do a concept with this, sure! This is mostly just me dropping small HCs and ideas like usual, hope you enjoy :) It's a bit short as I only had one big idea in mind and struggled on how to flesh it out? They're pretty docile (for the most part).

Yandere! Platonic! Tanjiro + Nezuko with Sibling! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Violence, Isolation, Murder implied, Blood, Clingy behavior, Gaslighting in one line, Smothering siblings.

Regardless on if you're human or a demon the two are incredibly protective of you.

You, Tanjiro, and Nezuko are the only surviving members of your family.

As a result you three are very close.

You've all been through enough.

It's not like your two siblings are weak, either.

Tanjiro is a Demon Slayer and Nezuko is a demon with flaming blood.

They are more than capable of protecting you, really.

As expected of the siblings they rarely leave your side.

During the day Tanjiro helps to protect you.

Meanwhile during the night Nezuko steps in to help too.

When it comes to platonic yandere siblings they primarily act isolating and protective.

They aren't cruel though.

Just... smothering.

Tanjiro is incredibly caring towards you and his sister.

He always asks about how you're doing and is very understanding if something is bothering you.

Nezuko is protective and clingy to you, often grabbing at you for affection while making small noises.

She loves you just as much as Tanjiro does and feels happy/calm when you're around.

The two do their best to help provide for you and care for you.

They even try to keep you out of trouble when they can.

Even if you can hold your own as a Slayer or demon, the two would rather keep you out of demon fights.

When you insist you can help, Tanjiro is adamant on you staying out of it and Nezuko appears very worried.

The two are hard to hate/resent.

They mean well... but that's no excuse for isolation, is it?

The two would never hurt you thankfully.

No, they mean to give you the best care they can offer as you are a trio.

It's just they tend to no allow outsiders around you and get rather violent when demons come into the picture.

Tanjiro and Nezuko are fine when someone they trust interacts with you like Inosuke and Zenitsu.

Yet there's certainly a line.

The moment someone starts thinking they can flirt with you or pry you away from them?

Then they step in.

Tanjiro is usually really calm and kind.

Although... he's still capable of anger... and that cold glare of his is a warning.

He finds it quite rude that someone can just waltz in and act such a way with his sibling.

How sleazy.

Nezuko is a similar way, the normally cute demon snarling when you show slight discomfort.

The two don't like forcing you to do things.

They want you happy as your siblings, yet they do make an effort to be the only ones you interact with half the time.

If not all the time....

The two are primarily harmless if not suffocating.

They don't usually like to use lethal force to get what they want.

They're both primarily ones for manipulation, often deciding to guilt you into listening to them as your siblings.

Lethal force is strictly deserved towards demons/people attacking you.

But most who aren't demons know better.

Your two siblings feel more like bodyguards at times.

They're overprotective and judging of those around you.

Yet if there is no issues the two go back to being your caring siblings.

It's probably a good thing these two are primarily docile as long as they have you beside them.

The last thing you need is to witness Tanjiro and Nezuko covered in the blood of... someone for daring to take you away from them.

Things only ever go downhill when the two fear they can lose you.

As I mentioned before, if you planned on running off with someone the two aren't standing for it.

In their eyes the only family and comfort you'll ever need is with them.

Why would you want to leave your only siblings anyways?

Why do you blame them for locking you away from everyone else?

They're just being good siblings!

All you need to do is relax and let them hold you... everything will be okay, won't it?

You never saw them harm anyone... it's just in your head.

They promise they'll protect and care for you as family should...

Just as long as you don't leave them for someone else.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, hope you're having a good day/afternoon/evening. Do you write stuff about Hellboy? If yes, could you plesase do gn!verytall!reader x Nuada, where he takes a dislike on them, but somehow catches feelings, but he can't and will not accept that and reader don't know why they're locked in their dungeons and just wait for their death. Nuada has a goal: eliminate all humans. However, he doesn't know if he should include reader. If you're not into Hellboy, forget I asked anything. I like your prompts by the way.

What’s up with me and liking these kinds of characters…I guess we’ll never know. 🦦

It probably wasn’t your smartest move in separating from the group to pursue a lead in finding prince Nuada on your own because whatever delusion you were riding on at the time that made you think that you stood a chance at besting him. A man who’s movements were as fast, swift and as fluid as a cold breeze.

It might as well be considered a death sentence to fight Nuada on your own. Something you should’ve taken into consideration for as soon after your brief one sided fight, which had Nuada dominating for most of it. But instead of delivering the killing blow with his lance, Nuada had decided to take you as a prisoner and had you flung into one of his dungeons until you friends come to retrieve you or for death to greet you first; So while you waited for either outcome, you began trying to find creative ways as to entertain yourself.

Meanwhile Nuada was finding himself to be at odds with himself over his resolve but mostly over you, a pathetic, greedy, hollow human being. No better then the others in his eyes and yet Nuada found his feelings of resentment, anger and anguish he held towards the human race, having dwindled the moment your eyes met his as he held his lance closely to your throat. Nuada knew that he could’ve finished you off like he had done to countless others but why were you the one to make him falter, to question his resolve, his purpose and cast an ember of warmth within his heart?

What made you so special in comparison to the others, whom he had so easily had snuffed the lives from? Why was it that throughout your fight did he not take full advantage of your openings, your weaknesses then and there? Nuada was given so many golden opportunities to rid himself of yet another filthy human, but something deep down inside was telling him to not bring you any more harm than he already had. Naturally Nuada assumed it was some magical trickery that you possessed in order to mess with his mind, however it was documented that you had no such gifted ability like Liz; You were just an ordinary human like any other who thought they couldn’t do no wrong, while simultaneously standing by and doing nothing to bring about change in the nature of your people.

This only proved to piss and confuse Nuada even more. You were rotting in his dungeons and yet you still manage to haunt his mind like a ghost. Hell he could visualise you so vividly and so real within his own head, making sure to get every feature of yours right, that he could almost reach out and actually touch you and be able to feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips, feeling your muscles move beneath his touch, followed by your sharp inhale at the unsuspecting contact from him.

You distracted Nuada from what he felt was most important, form what he set out to do and he wasn’t one to leave any unfinished business, not when he was close to achieving his ultimate goal in eradicating all mankind, so much so that he could practically taste it on his tongue. However there was a slight problem with that, for if he were to eradicate all humans, that would naturally include you in that; The one human who had made a home within his unwilling heart and he didn’t know what to make of it because once again he was heavily conflicted, for his heart had grown to find some semblance of enjoyment within your company, much to his dismay.

‘How could I have allowed myself to become so weak!’ Nuada hissed to himself as his once relaxed hands became fists within a blink of an eye. ‘My head and heart have both betrayed me with their conjoined weakness towards that..human.’ He adds bitterly, adamant in even uttering the word human. It felt both vile and wrong to Nuada in naming those who’s inherent greed and corruption had put him in his current position; He felt as though he was doing a disservice to his own people for feeling any kind of way towards the enemy, and yet his heart couldn’t help but become more and more intrigued by you.

Had things played out a little differently just what would your relationship with him be? His heart would wonder aloud.

They’re a human, you fool! There will never be a relationship between them and us, for we’d only end with a knife within our backs. Nuada’s mind would reply, not wanting to ever show an ounce of weakness towards the enemy, not when he was so fucking close to finishing it.

It was within your human nature to be cruel, to lack empathy, kindness and compassion and yet Nuada felt an uncertainty in whether or not he wanted you dead with the rest of humanity. Would it be considered hypocrisy if he were to keep you alive while everyone else is dead? Maybe but he would deal with the consequences of his actions for a later date.

For now he had to confront you about how you’ve made him feel recently.

[lick-me-lennon22]

How they'd comfort you after you've been betrayed by your friends

(requested by anon, who's recently experienced something that would be difficult for anyone to cope with 💘 I hope I'm able to provide you with some comfort during this rough time 💕)

John

when you share this news with John, he reacts with a mix of empathy and righteous indignation

he is gutted for you and vengeful, channeling his protective instincts and offering to confront the betrayers on your behalf

he recommends some of the outlets he uses to handle his anger (most of them aren't exactly healthy, but he means well)

he suggests writing a song together as a form of catharsis, spouting silly lyrics full of jabs at your "friends"

John would plan a date and take you out to the pictures to see a nice feel-good film

he records your favorite songs and some affirmations (as well as a few silly jokes) on cassette for you to listen to on particularly rough days

You know what? Screw 'em. You're too good for that kind of nonsense. You're a gem and anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve a spot in your life. It's their loss - not yours. Those so-called mates don't know what they're missing. And if you need me to kick some arse on your behalf, just say the word.

Paul

when you explain what's happened, Paul invites you to vent your frustrations over a few drinks or a cuppa

he adopts a gentle and reassuring tone, validating your emotions and reminding you of your strengths

he reassures you that what happened isn't your fault and that you've done nothing wrong

Paul would offer to arrange a small gathering or cozy night in with some friends and the other lads, complete with homemade food and lighthearted conversation

You invested a lot of trust and time in those relationships and you don't deserve to be hurt in such a way. It's beyond me how people can be so cruel, especially to someone as wonderful as you.True love, true friendship, they're built on a foundation of honesty and respect. Chin up, my dear. You're a beautiful soul with so much to offer. They're missing out on something truly special.

George

after you divulge what you've just been through, George shows you to a secluded spot - one where he often meditates - so you can vent in the privacy of nature and without feeling judged

has to tamp down his own frustration on your behalf - he knows people can be pretty unreliable, and he wants to guide you towards growth instead of resentment

he offers a reflective and philosophical perspective, telling you to have patience with yourself and set boundaries that honor your worth

he reminds you that sometimes these painful experiences can serve as catalysts for profound growth and self-discovery, and that karma has a way of taking care of things

George suggests exploring creative outlets and introduces you to some literature that will foster healing and help you take on a different perspective

Betrayal cuts deep, but it also reveals the true nature of those around us. You're not defined by the actions of others. The right people will be drawn to your radiance, and you're better off without that drama in your life. Trust that the universe has a way of aligning things in your favor and know that you're worthy of nothing less than genuine, unconditional love.

Ringo

as you vent your frustrations to Ringo, he offers a listening ear and shoulder to lean on without judgement

he provides constant reassurance and reminders of your worth and strength, making sure you know that the behavior of your "friends" says a lot more about them than it does about you

he tells you to focus on the present moment and emphasizes the importance relationship of self-care when it comes to healing

he'll lend his help with practical support such as running errands and helping with daily tasks, allowing you space to recover and take time for yourself

Ringo would suggest a spontaneous day trip or adventure to lift your spirits and create new memories

I know you've had a bit of a rough go lately, but you've got me to lean on. And I'm here to listen, to comfort, to support you in any way I can. You're strong, you're resilient, and you've got a whole lot of love to give. Rise above it - keep shining your light. Life's too short to give those pricks any more of your time. You're a treasure, love, and don't you forget it.

[sukimas]

The primary difference between gods and youkai in Touhou is of course that gods inspire awe rather than disgust. I've discussed this before.

Now, the differences between yuurei and youkai might be a little more difficult to pick up on, especially when a lot of them are spawned from similar circumstances (rejection, betrayal, othering.) Yuurei of course die from those circumstances while youkai don't really. But much more importantly, in terms of Touhou, yuurei were hurt, and remain hurt. Their existences are quintessentially defined by their suffering and regret; vengeful spirits are defined by unending anger, funayuurei by their own drowning, common yuurei are simply humans who weren't buried properly and thus cannot pass on. They both suffer and cause suffering.

Youkai, meanwhile, are beings that were initially defined by rejection. This may have caused them to hate and resent humanity at first, but they're not supposed to do that (see Eiki's lecture to Medicine); a youkai cannot survive off of that sort of notion. Youkai are nigh-universally (barring some very unwell- and I do mean physically unwell here- exceptions) happy with their current situations. They exist to cause others to feel fear, rather than feeling it themselves. They do not attack humans because of a desire for vengeance. They attack humans because they enjoy it; because they are defined as beings by enjoying the exercise of their own power, because they pass their curses onto others instead of being cursed themselves.

I think that this a key insight to understanding a fairly large number of youkai. In particular, some of the underground ones; Parsee enjoys being able to inflict jealousy even though she's often jealous herself, and Satori loves the ability to read minds even though she's hated for it. The reason that Koishi closed off her heart was because of rejection from other youkai, not from humans!

It's also key, though, to understanding the youkai that interface with the outside world. Mamizou has every right to look at humans with hatred and allow her life to be defined by it; they destroyed her home while she was there, they terrorized her into Gensoukyou. And yet she loves hanging around with them in Gensoukyou, even though she secretly dreams about how the humans of the outside world scare her. She loves exercising her superiority over them, too: "Ho ho ho!" and all that.

Yukari is similar; though she has plenty of reason to despise humanity, she... doesn't.

She resents their abandonment of things they don't need, certainly, and plots to take it all back. But she doesn't hate them. They're her funny, dear, pathetic creatures.

As with Mamizou, her relationship to humans is simply one of predation and exploitation. A youkai who misses the noise of the city. A youkai who adores violence, even when she has nothing to prove; there's little reason to talk how much she loves the scent of death in front of Okina (who can always tell if she's lying) and Sumireko (who would surely just think it was cool, rather than fearing her like she'd want) if she intends to play a role.

If anything, she hides that violent side around humans she needs to trust her. Compare her initial conversation with Reimu to those she has with Marisa and Sakuya; only when talking to the shrine maiden, who she needs to not see her as a threat, does she not bring up murder.

...Of course, I'm getting away from myself a bit. But Yukari ultimately sees humans as lesser than she is. They are not something to "take revenge on", because there's no reason to take revenge on something that gave you the greatest gift of your existence. (Other youkai we get the internality of seem to see them similarly) They are something to take advantage of to make her own life better. If it happens in a way that's ironic considering what happened to her, well, all the better; but that isn't what defines her. What defines all youkai is that they hunt humans. Nothing more, and nothing less. Without that, they would not be youkai.

Contrast Mima; though she's less developed than our dear current vengeful spirit, her raison d'etre is "to take revenge on the entire human race". Until she has accomplished that, she cannot rest; this is quite literally preventing her from dying, and once she achieves it, she will be at peace. She needs to do this; it is the very purpose for which she was reborn. What defines vengeful spirits is their desire for revenge. Nothing more, and nothing less. Without that, they would not be vengeful spirits.

So.

Youkai are differentiated from vengeful spirits in that they exist to prey on humans, rather than to take revenge on humans. They do this because they pass on curses to others rather than be cursed themselves. The method of choice for youkai barring those with more spiritual requirements for sustenance is to kill and eat humans; those with more spiritual requirements still often kill humans (and do eat some part of the human; whether it be magical power, fear, or jealousy.) They are defined by consumption and exploitation; they have become the powerful, rather than the powerless, and enjoy this ability to exploit. Youkai who do not enjoy this kill themselves.

Yukari is a youkai; one whose interface with the world is quite physical. Just look at her. She is made of eyes and hands. Therefore, the method she utilizes for exploitation and consumption must thematically be quite physical as well. She happily sees herself as a youkai of this nature, too.

For all of the above reasons, it's completely thematically incoherent for Yukari Yakumo to not kill and eat humans with enthusiasm.

[jellybean-supreme]

My Soulmate (Dabi x reader)

Description

This story depicts the struggles of a young person, Y/N, with a difficult past and the unexpected bond with a villain named Dabi, who reveals a softer, protective side towards Y/N. The story incorporates themes of trust, vulnerability, and the complexities of relationships, creating an engaging narrative. While the story ends on a hopeful note, the characters' journey of growth and healing is left open-ended, allowing readers to imagine how their relationship will develop further, potentially with Y/N becoming a villain as well or Dabi undergoing a redemption and change of heart.

Story starts here :

“You’re telling me my soulmate is some bottom tier hero?” Dabi sneers. He throws you to the ground. “I’ll erase you like everything else.”

But the moment his flames erupt from him, he can’t seem to hurt you. It must be the soulmate bond. Your name has long been burned off his flesh, but your souls are intertwined.

*Touya Todoroki* written written across your arm like a curse. Your soulmate mark. Dabi wants to rip it off of you. The name had hardly been *his*, why do you get to have it?

“Soulmates.. are a curse,” he snipes at you, clearly still seething. The air between you and Dabi is electric with tension. You can feel it in your core, the fire within him, that you should be afraid. But you aren’t. You can see beyond the hate. You can see the Touya within.

"Soulmates... A curse, right?” You murmur, studying all the staples on his face. “How many times did you try to scrape that off?” You ask, referring to your soul mark on his flesh.

He grits his teeth in response. You can’t blame him. He probably hates your name. A constant reminder of the life he didn’t have.

"Enough times to know it hurts like hell," he retorts, his tone cold. He crosses his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the topic at hand. "Soulmates are for the weak. They're the chains that hold you back."

He seems to loathe himself for being bound to another person, for being bound to *you*. He sees it as a weakness, a restriction.

"If I'm that bad, I'll leave and never bother you again," you say, wishing he'd reconsider. We'd both die in so much pain eventually because of being apart for too long. All you've ever wanted was to feel loved and have someone you can rely on. You've always thought that person would be your soulmate, but you guess you were wrong. You wonder if he'd ever think of you when he'd eventually sends you away.

Dabi's face is unreadable as he listens to your ultimatum. A part of him wants to push you away, to sever the connection between you two, and never see you again. But something within him hesitates, a small glimmer of hope, a flicker of desire for compassion that he long thought extinguished.

He wants to say something, *anything*, but the words catch in his throat. It's as if he's struggling with inner demons, torn between his anger and resentment and a suppressed longing for companionship.

"I have a suggestion before you send me away or tell me to leave. How about we spend a week together, get to know each other or see how it'd be? I'm suggesting only a week because then you don't have to spend such a long time with me, like a month or something, because I know I'm already a nuisance to you." I tell him my suggestion. He will probably not agree, like he said I'm just a weak hero who is nothing but useless to him.""

Dabi's eyes narrow as he considers your proposal. A week. He could handle that, right? He could deal with you for a measly week. And besides, what harm could it do to spend time with his so-called soulmate, especially after he’d already been saddled with you?

"Fine," he says finally, his voice cool. "We'll spend a week together. But don't expect me to suddenly become some sappy romantic."

I nod and give him a small smile. "Thank you, I know, I don't expect anything."

Dabi scoffs, clearly sceptical of your attitude. "Don't thank me. I'm only doing this because I want to prove to you that soulmates are pointless. You'll see, eventually."

Despite his harsh words, there’s something almost melancholic in his tone. Perhaps somewhere deep down, beneath the layers of trauma and resentment, a glimmer of longing.

"Maybe to uou they are useless, but I want someone who I can have who will never hurt and love me with all my flaws." I mutter back to him.

Dabi rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your idealistic notions. "Flaws? We're both damaged goods, sweetheart. Do you think I'll magically heal you? We're broken, and that's never going to change."

Despite his scepticism, there's a hint of vulnerability in his voice, a small crack in his tough exterior.

"I don't think you'll magically heal me. I just hoped we'd be there for each other when needing someone to rely on. That's what I hoped for when I found out about soulmates." I tell him

Dabi lets out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Rely on each other. Hah. You really have no idea who I am, do you? I don't need anyone to rely on me. And I sure as hell can't rely on anyone else. You're setting yourself up for disappointment, doll. Love and all that crap is just a waste of time."

He turns away as if trying to shield himself from your hopeful gaze.

"That what you believe, I'll believe my 'romantic crap' until the day I die." I reply to him.

"Where are we going? Where do you want to spend our week? I'm not doing any hero work. So I'm fine with anything." I ask him.

A hint of amusement flashes across Dabi's face at your stubborn determination. "You're really not backing down, are you? Fine. We’ll see how much your *romantic crap* holds up at the end of this week."

His smirk is sardonic, but there's a flicker of grudging respect in his eyes, and his expression softens just slightly.

"As for where we're going? My place. No way I'm staying at some crappy hotel or something. And, of course, no hero missions."

I nod, following him to his house, I'll get my clothes from my house tomorrow, I think to myself.

Dabi leads you through the alleys and backstreets of the city, his steps swift and confident, his eyes constantly vigilant as if wary of any possible danger. As you follow him, you can't help but notice the way his every movement is calculated, his body tense, as if anticipating an attack.

Finally, he stops in front of a relatively nondescript apartment building, the facade blending in with the row of other apartments around it. Without a word, he keys in the access code and pushes open the door, gesturing for you to follow him inside.

Dabi's apartment is as cold and sparse as the man himself. The living room is devoid of any personal touches or decor, the only furniture, a single, worn leather couch, and a small coffee table. The walls are bare, the windows covered with thick black curtains casting the room in perpetual shadows.

The kitchen is barely larger than a broom closet, with a small fridge, a single counter, and a gas stove. The cupboards are mostly empty, save for some instant noodles and a few canned goods, suggesting that Dabi doesn't do much cooking.

The bedroom is even more austere. A single bed in the corner, a small dresser, and a single metal rack. The room is so devoid of personality that it's as if no one has lived here in decades. The only splash of colour comes from a single, faded picture propped up on the dresser. It's a picture of a young boy with white hair, smiling and holding a ball. Despite his youthful appearance, there’s a darkness in his eyes, a sadness that seems to pervade every aspect of his being. This is Touya Todoroki, Dabi's former self.

"This is it," Dabi says finally, gesturing around the apartment. "Home sweet home. You can have the bed, I'll take the couch." He takes a seat on the couch, folding his arms across his chest. "So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie? Or maybe chat about how much you think love is wonderful and perfect?"

"I'm fine with either one, though you'll be sleeping in your bed, I'm not going yo be kicking you out of your bed just so that i can sleep comfortably." I tell him a stong tone.

Dabi's eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and amusement at your insistence. "You really are stubborn, aren't you?" he muses, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No way am I letting you sleep on that piece of junk couch. I wouldn't be able to sleep in a comfortable bed knowing you're out here being uncomfortable. Besides, I don't need much sleep."

"That's a shame then because you'll be sleeping in your bed whether you want to or not." I tell him. I won't be able to sleep even if I were to sleep on the bed, I'd wake up screaming or crying because of my nightmares. So, there's no point in trying.

Dabi lets out an exasperated sigh, realizing he's not going to win this argument. "Fine, fine. If you insist on being so stubborn, I'll take the bed. But don't come complaining to me if it's uncomfortable." He leans back on the couch, pretending to pout. "Just don't expect me to tuck you in or anything."

"Good," I say with a smile, completely ignoring his last sentence.

"So what do you want to do?" I ask him. It was about 7 pm at night, it was really pretty outside, I could see the moon and the beautiful stars through Dabi's circler window.

Dabi's gaze follows yours to the window, and for a moment, he looks almost contemplative. "How about a walk?" he suggests. "I know a good spot that's secluded. We can talk and I can make some food if you're hungry. It won't be anything fancy." He shrugs, seeming to struggle with the idea of actually spending time with you.

"That's be nice, no need to worry about food thought ill.make something when we come back if that's alright with you." I tell him as I follow him out the door to the spot he's talking about.

Dabi leads you through the city, avoiding the busy streets and opting for the quieter alleys and side roads. He seems to walk with a purpose, his steps sure and calculated, as if on a mission. Eventually, you arrive at a small, secluded park, surrounded by towering trees and blanketed in shadows.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and flowers, a stark contrast to the bustling city sounds that seem worlds away. The stars wink above, their light reflecting off the surface of a small pond in the centre of the park.

"It's beautiful," I say quietly, being in aw.

Dabi nods slightly, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily. "Yeah, it is," he replies, his tone neutral. Despite his indifference, there's a flicker of something in his gaze as he looks around the park. Something almost reminiscent, as if he too can appreciate the beauty of the place.

He seems tense, on edge, as if expecting something to jump out and attack. But the only sound is the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the faint sound of water lapping against the banks of the pond.

"Come on," Dabi says, breaking the silence as he starts walking towards the pond. The moonlight reflects off the water's surface, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Dabi stops beside the pond, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?” He mutters, almost to himself. "It's one of the only things that makes me forget, even for a moment. Not the heroes, not the villains, just this quiet." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the night air.

I nod, sitting next to him on the bench. "You don't have to be so tense," I tell him.

He seemed to calm down after a while. We started asking each other any and every question that came to mind, nothing to personal though. Neither of us was ready to talk about the deep stuff, like our parents, our siblings, or our past.

Dabi nods, seemingly appreciating your concern. "Force of habit," he mutters, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

The conversation flows easily between you two as the night deepens. You ask each other questions about your favourite colours, your favourite places to visit, your favourite foods. Simple, lighthearted topics. Nothing heavy, nothing that would scratch the surface too much. Despite the casual subject matter, Dabi seems less tense now, his guard slowly lowering as you continue to talk.

As the night wears on, the conversation starts to deepen, veering into more personal topics. Dabi opens up about his love for old music, and you learn that he has a secret passion for collecting vintage vinyl records. You confide in him about your own struggles with hero work and the constant pressure to be perfect. For a moment, it feels like you both are just two ordinary people sharing a quiet, intimate moment under the stars.

As the conversation continues, Dabi's facade starts to crumble even more. He seems to be enjoying the conversation, enjoying the chance to talk to someone who isn't constantly trying to fight or kill him. Despite his efforts to keep up his cynical front, there are moments where his true self shines through. The Dabi who craves companionship and understanding beneath all the layers of pain and anger.

Slowly, the conversation shifts gears again, moving into more serious territory. The tension in the air grows thicker as you both begin to open up about your pasts, your families, and the events that shaped you into the people you are today. Dabi shares snippets of his life with his family, the abuse he suffered at his father's hands, and the deep sense of betrayal and abandonment he felt when he was left to rot. Hearing Dabi's stories, his voice cracking with emotion as he tries to stay composed, touches a cord in you.

Because you had and still have to experience the abuse of your family, tho you don't tell Dabi that you're still being abused and forced to do this you don't want to do.

As Dabi's stories of his family life unfold, your heart aches at the familiar pain he's expressing. Your own experience with abuse in your family comes rushing back, a fresh wave of pain washing over you. But you keep your own secret close to your chest. You don't want Dabi to know that you're still experiencing abuse, still being forced to do things you don't want to do. You don't want pity or sympathy. You just want to be understood.

Dabi is lost in his own pain, too consumed by his own trauma to notice the pain in your eyes. He continues to share his story, the words pouring out of him as if they've been waiting to escape for years. And as he talks, you sit there, listening silently, your own pain festering inside of you, threatening to bubble over.

Dabi pauses for a moment, his eyes locked on the pond's shimmering surface. He's quiet for so long that you wonder if he's done sharing. Then, without looking at you, he whispers, "I'm sorry." The apology surprises you, coming out of the blue. You glance over at him, and for a moment, his veneer of nonchalance slips, and you can see the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

"There is no need to apologize," I tell him as I gently put my hand on his shoulder.

Dabi stiffens for a moment at your touch but then relaxes slightly under your comforting touch. His gaze flicks to your hand on his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, you can see a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Something fragile and fragile and broken that he has probably been shoving deep down for years.

"I'm sorry for burdening you with all this," Dabi mutters, almost to himself. "For putting all this heavy stuff on you. It's not fair." His voice is softer now, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.

"Dabi, look at me. There is no need to apologize. I don't want to hear those words out of your mouth again." I tell him, not wanting him to apologize for telling me what he feels.

Dabi's eyes flicker up to meet yours, surprise flashing in his gaze. No one has ever said those words to him before. No one has ever told him not to apologize for his pain. But the raw sincerity in your voice seems to reach him, and he gives a slight nod. "Alright," he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. "No more apologies. Only honesty."

You exchange a moment of silent understanding, the moment charged with a new level of intimacy. And then Dabi turns back to the sky, his gaze tracking the stars above. You can see the weight of his past still clinging to him, but there's also a sense of... release. As if sharing his past with you has lifted a small portion of the weight off his shoulders.

"How about you?" Dabi asks suddenly, breaking the silence. "Do you have any traumatic life experiences you want to share?" There's genuine curiosity in his eyes now, the first hint of vulnerability you've seen since meeting him.

"Nothing that compares to your pain. What i experienced could have  been worse." I reply to his question, lying straight to him. Though it was the truth to me, I believe others' problems are bigger than my own, because me being abused and r@ped is not important to me, that its happening to someone else is my problem.

Dabi frowns slightly at your dismissive reply, sensing the lie in your words. "That's bullshit," he mutters, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. "Don't downplay your experiences. Your pain is as valid as mine. Don't act like it's nothing."

"It could be worse, Dabi, so it's not that bad."

Dabi's frown deepens, the anger in his voice turning to mild frustration. "That's bullshit, Y/N. Don't do that. Don't pretend like your pain doesn't matter just because it 'could be worse'. Pain is pain, and if it's hurting you, it's worth talking about. So drop the act and just be honest," he says, his tone a mix of annoyance and concern.

You look at him with suprise. No one has ever been like this with you. No one has seen through your lies and seen your pain as something that matters. You just nod and start telling Dabi everything that happened and people have done to you. You told him about how your parents punish you when not being perfect. How the people you were supposed to call your family r@ped you and whipped you for their own pleasure. How your mother did nothing to help you through any of this, she in fact joined them in torturing you. And how they would lock you in the closet for weeks without giving you anything to eat because of your low ranking. You never wanted to be a hero, you wanted to live a happy life with the love of your life in a little cottage in the woods away from everyone and everything, with your lover and your children playing in the mud, ot in the trees together, that's all you ever wanted in your life, to be happy with someone. But like everyone says life's a bitch and then you die. There were so many times I thought I was going to die, and after this week with Dabi. I most likely will.

Dabi's eyes widen in shock and anger as you recount your stories of abuse. His fists clench tightly, the veins in his arms straining against his skin. Fury and rage burn deep in his turquoise gaze, his jaw tightening as he struggles to contain his emotions.

As you finish speaking, a deathly silence settles between you. The atmosphere is thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of the pain you both share. Dabi's breathing is shallow, his body rigid as he tries to grapple with the information you've shared.

"Y/N...." His voice is low, tinged with a mix of pain and anger. "Why.... Why did you let them do all that? Why did you let them get away with it?" His eyes search yours, a mixture of confusion and frustration. "Why didn't you fight back?"

"I already tried, it didn't work. I told the police I showed them everything, the scars, the videos, anything and everything to get them arrested. The police didn't believe me, though who would believe a child. After I tried that, I knew whatever I did to try and stop them, it wasn't going to work, so I just stopped. "

Dabi's anger flares at your answer, his jaw clenching tightly. "The police," he mutters, his voice full of contempt. "Of course those useless assholes couldn't do anything to help." He growls, his fists clenching so tight, his knuckles turn white.

"They were supposed to protect you," he spits. "They were supposed to help you, and they failed. They failed miserably."

"But you didn't deserve that," he continues, his tone growing softer, more vulnerable. "No one does. No one deserves to suffer like that, especially you." He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek with a touch that's surprisingly tender. His thumb traces the outline of your cheekbone, a touch that's gentle, almost affectionate.

You flinched at his touch at first, but after a few seconds, you leaned into his touch. You wished you could stay like this forever. You felt safe. He made you feel safe. You wished that he wanted you as a soulmate. You didn't want to force him, so instead of making him feel uncomfortable, all you did was just lean into his touch a little.

Dabi freezes for a moment as you flinched at his touch, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But then you lean into his touch, and his eyes widen slightly, a hint of surprise mixing with something more tender. He can't remember the last time someone showed him physical affection like this.

He leans a little closer, his other hand gently cupping your other cheek, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern on your skin. You can see the conflict in his eyes as he battles with his emotions, the fierce anger and protectiveness warring with the vulnerability and affection.

"I won't ever let anyone else hurt you, alright?" Dabi's voice is low, a fierce whisper. "You won't suffer like that ever again. Not under my watch." He leans his forehead against yours, a rare moment of openness and vulnerability from the cold, aloof villain. And in this moment, even though he doesn't say it, you can feel a deep sense of protectiveness and possessiveness from him, a need to keep you safe.

You nod. You wondered if that meant that he would let you be his soulmate if he'd et you stay after this week was over. You wished and hoped he was telling you the truth right now.

"We should probably head back, it getting late," you tell Dabi, eve though you didn't want to leave. You check the time. It was 1am, and you both had been talking for over 6 hours.

You get up, not waiting for his answer, you grav his hand and help him up and start to walk back to his house. You don't let his hand go, though.

Dabi follows you silently, letting you lead the way. He doesn't pull away from you or try to break the contact. Instead, he allows himself to be led back to his house, the warmth of your hand in his a comforting presence.

As you walk, Dabi's mind races, conflicted. His entire life, he's been alone, pushing everyone away to shield himself from potential heartbreak. But as he walks beside you, holding your hand, a part of him longs for something more.

Finally, you reach his house, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the vulnerable atmosphere you've shared. Dabi hesitates for a moment, his hand still holding yours. He glances at you, and you can see the flicker of a smile at his lips, a momentary crack in his usual facade.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice a low rumble. "For listening to me. And for sharing your own stories too." The words are filled with a sincerity that surprises even himself, as if he's not used to expressing gratitude.

"I'll be here for you until the day you don't want me here. And there is no need to thank me, i should be thanking you for listening to my problems, when you arleady have tour own." I tell him as we walk to bed.

Dabi's lips twitch at your words, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He hadn't expected you to offer your support unquestioningly, had assumed that everyone would eventually turn their back on him. But despite his disbelief, a small flame of hope sparks within him, warmth spreading in his chest.

As you head to bed, Dabi remains silent, the gravity of your promise settling heavily on him. He wasn't used to people being there for him, but now, with you, the promise of companionship and understanding felt like a lifeline.

Once you both get into bed, Dabi's mind is still racing, the events of the evening replaying in his head. He turns to face you, the light from the moon filtering in through the curtains casting a silvery glow across your form.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do. But then, driven by an inexplicable urge, he reaches out, gently touching your cheek. His fingertips trail across your skin, his touch whisper-soft, almost reverent.

"Y/N," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. His gaze flicks to your face, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort, any hint that he's overstepping your boundaries. But all he sees is acceptance, understanding, and a flicker of something deeper.

Unable to resist any longer, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a hesitant, gentle kiss.

You kiss him back, if someone where to tell you that your soulmaye who didn't want you this moring kissed you and accepted your problems, and promised to keep you safe you should have laugh at them. But now all you can feel is happiness, as you bothe pull away Dabi pulls you closer to him cuddling you close he whispers in your ear. " I'll never let you go. I will protect you no matter what. And I might finally see why you love this romantic soulmate stuff."

Dabi's words, whispered in your ear, send shivers down your spine. The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion, it's a side of him you've never seen before. Dabi, the intimidating villain who always kept his distance, is finally opening up, showing you a flicker of the man beneath the scars.

As he cuddles you close, holding you tightly in his arms, a sense of safety envelops you. His body is warm and solid against yours, a protective shield against the cruel world outside.

Hours pass as the two of you lay entwined together, the moon casting shadows on the walls as it travels across the night sky. Dabi's breathing is now slow and even against your hair, his grip on you loosened but still possessive.

You watch him sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a soothing sight. A sense of contentment envelopes you, a serenity that you hadn't felt in a long time. For once, you feel safe and cared for, your soulmate's presence a balm for the traumas of your past.

As your eyes start to flutter closed, you allow yourself to drift into a deep, peaceful sleep, wrapped in Dabi's embrace. The gentle rise and fall of his chest is a lullaby that eases you into dreamland, and for the first time in ages, you feel a sense of protection and safety that you've always yearned for. The horrors of the past seem a little farther away, and the present moment is filled with the warmth of your soulmate's presence. With Dabi by your side, everything feels better, more hopeful.

The End