#where did this sudden burst of talent come from???

[thecomfortable]

LEOPRIL MOMENT!!! I am spiralling fr fr

Click for better quality! Me when I impress myself with my own talent/lh

Bonus: Alternative Colouring.

[l1tw1ck]

Thunder

Bottom!FTM Cloud Strife x Top!Male Reader

⛈️ Word Count: 1,799 ⛈️

While out on a mission, you and Cloud get caught in a sudden thunderstorm, forcing you to find shelter for the night until it stops. But after a couple days, there aren't any signs of it letting up

AFAB Language Used | I had writer's block and got bored so i decided to finally continue playing final fantasy. I stopped like 30 minutes in to write this fic at 12AM. i put down the game (temporarily! i love it) after the section 8 stuff so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies, just needed to take advantage of this burst of motivation

CW: Rape/Non-Con, Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Frottage, Teasing, Creampie

You peek outside the window, or what was left of it, of the broken down building you're in then turn to Cloud. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night.” Lightning strikes to reinforce your words. “Think you can handle it, pretty boy?”

“Stop treating me like a rookie.” Cloud sighs. “And stop calling me pretty boy.”

“It's hard when you look like an adorable little kitten.” You smile.

He rolls his eyes and looks around for burnable items.

“It's like watching a lion cub hunt and gather.”

“I can't wait for this night to be over.” He groans. “How about you do something useful, captain?”

“Like what, kitty?”

Cloud grips the damp piece of wood in his hand in annoyance. “Like maybe finding things to keep the water out of here.” He tosses the wood aside.

“Sure.” You stretch.

The two of you worked together to make the old building livable for the night and went to sleep thinking it’d be over by morning.

Cloud wakes up to the loud sound of thunder and sighs. He sees you leaning against the wall. “It's still raining.”

“It sure is.” You chuckle. “We might be here for a while, kitty. Unless you want to run out and somehow dodge all that lightning?”

The two of you are way too far from the base to even consider doing that. The job pays well but not enough for Cloud to not be annoyed with this sudden detour. “I better get a bonus for this.”

“Of course. You could get paid even more if you did me a little favor.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“About 60,000 gil plus your bonus pay.”

“What is it?” He asks, attentive.

You smirk. “Since we're gonna be stuck here for who knows how long, I think it’d be nice to do something as a…pastime of sorts.”

“Stop beating around the bush.”

You motion for him to come over. He rolls his eyes and gets up. “I know you're talented in so many ways,” You grab his wrist and pull him close to you. “And I wanna see if you're talented in this way too.”

He pushes you and steps back, his cheeks red. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.” You laugh.

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

The sun set and the sky continued to pour. Then days passed. You rationed food and managed to find other edible things to keep yourselves alive but the situation isn't all that great for you. You're still functioning, but just by a small margin.

The two of you were able to collect rainwater to drink and help yourselves clean up. Cloud insisted on doing it upstairs so you wouldn't watch him. You promised you wouldn't but you were lying.

As time went on, it was getting harder and harder to keep it in your pants. Your mental state started to get a little wonky thanks to your body not getting all the nutrients it needs. You couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted him, especially since it was better than thinking about food. It got to a point where you couldn't even fall asleep.

You look at Cloud’s sleeping face, studying the slight movements in his facial muscles as he dreams. The soft glow of your lamp allows you to properly see him despite the darkness. His chest slowly rises and falls. You know if you made an attempt, he’d wake up, any good soldier would. But it's getting hard to control yourself. Being in such close proximity with him is driving you mad. You hesitantly, and very softly, touch his shoulder. He doesn't react. You poke his cheek. Nothing. You pause.

You trace your finger down his chest and to his pants. You carefully unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn't seem to notice you pulling them down. You take in a small breath. You're so nervous it feels like there's a hole in your chest. You remove his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace. You gulp as you start to see his pussy. Light blond tufts of hair beautifully surround his soft, pudgy cunt and his t-dick. You look at him. He's sleeping peacefully. He must be more tired than usual tonight.

You gently pull his underwear down his ankles and place it on the end of the blanket he’s laying on. You carefully spread his legs and slot yourself in between them. As you begin to free your aching hard dick, you start to feel a little bad. You tell yourself to give him a huge bonus after this. You gently rub your cock along his pussy, knowing you can definitely get off just by doing this. You don't want it to hurt, at least not too much, so you decide not to penetrate him since your luck would probably run out if you tried to prep him properly.

You bite down on your lip. The view is making you feel dizzy. Your ears drown out the sounds of the thunder storm and focus entirely on Cloud. On his soft, gentle breaths and the squelching sound of his wet pussy, aroused by your cock pressing itself against it. Your heart starts to pound louder, ruining your focus on Cloud.

You let out a breathy gasp as you begin to feel your climax approaching. Your eyes flicker over to his face, watching to make sure he's still asleep. You don't know how you’ve gotten this far but you're no longer so sure that you’ll be able to stop here. Your movements stutter as your cum splatters on his body.

“Cloud..” You whisper. His lack of reaction emboldens you to keep going. You move back and slide your middle finger inside his cunt. Squelch. It sucks it in with ease, and same with your ring finger. You slowly open him up while using your free hand to jerk yourself off. He twitches. You pause and look at him before continuing.

You eventually decide to stop and finally get to the good part. You gently lift Cloud’s legs and position the tip of your cock in front of his entrance. You take your time easing into him while constantly checking if he's awake.

Once you're finally fully inside, you take a couple minutes to take everything in. You're in serious disbelief but way too horny to be concerned about it. You know that, at this point, if he wakes up, you’ll be able to overpower him.

You slowly thrust into him, happily indulging in the wonders of Cloud Strife’s pussy. You gently caress his t-dick, smiling when you start to hear him whimper. “You feel so good, Cloud– ‘s like you were made for me, to tempt me..” You murmur, gradually picking up the pace. “I didn't think it’d be so easy…”

“Maybe you're not even asleep. No properly trained soldier would sleep through something like this…I wonder if you're enjoying this. Getting off on me assaulting you in your sleep like a slut.” You notice his cheeks starting to turn red. A chill runs down your spine as you start to get a feeling your assumption is correct. “You like this, Cloud? Letting yourself get taken advantage of? Does it feel good getting treated like a cocksleeve?”

He whimpers, his cunt squeezing you.

“I know you're awake. Answer me.”

His eyes flutter open, his face flushed and deliciously seductive. “It– it feels good-!” He moans.

“Good boy.” You grin. You never would've thought Cloud would be into something like this. You roughly pound into him. He cries out in pleasure, feeling his orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside and you're gonna take it like the good kitty you are.”

“Ye- yes–!” He shuts his eyes, squirting on your dick. His mouth hangs open as the aftershocks hit him. He smiles dreamily as he feels your cum flow inside of him.

You stop and catch your breath. “Did you reject me hoping this would happen?”

Cloud nods softly. “I didn't think it would…but I wanted it to.”

…..........

He pushes you and steps back. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.”

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

Cloud climbed the semi-intact stairs and explored the second floor of the building. There wasn't anything noteworthy inside but it did give him much needed privacy. No room to lay down but he didn't need to anyway.

He walked behind a wall to hide himself in case you decided to follow him, and unbuckled his pants. He stuck his hand down them and gently caressed his t-dick. He always knew you were attracted to him, it wasn't like you were hiding it, and he pretended that he hated it. He loves your pet names and the lustful way you look at his body. Part of him hoped that one day, you’d just force yourself on him and claim him like a prize. He didn't think it'd ever happen but he never got tired of fantasizing about it. He hoped he'd have some sort of opportunity for you to finally make your move.

He'd imagine you cornering him in the locker room showers and covering his mouth to make sure no one finds out.

Cloud sneakily rubs his sensitive nipples against the cold wall tiles as you enter him. “Shh, this is what you get for being such a tease.” You spank him, your cock forcefully entering his pussy. Cloud shivers at the sounds of your heavy breathing. He can tell how aroused you are and how much you love his body. He rolls his eyes back as you stretch him wide open, his own heavy breaths making him feel lightheaded.

Or he’d imagine you giving him an ultimatum and forcing him to submit to you in exchange for keeping his job.

Cloud fakes a look of disgust as he stares at your rock hard cock. He looks up at you then back at your length, hesitating before enveloping it in his mouth. “There you go, Cloud, finally doing what I hired you for.” You praise him. He shudders at the thought, his pussy throbbing with need. “This is what you should be doing, not out on the battlefield but here, pleasing me.”

He looks up at you, trying to look angry. You smirk and push his head down, forcing him to shift his focus back.

His latest fantasy was about being trapped together. He hoped that something would happen to keep the two of you together for a long time. And he’d tease you even more to frustrate you. Then you’d finally do it.

He didn't think that exact scenario would actually play out.

[fall0utmind]

Medical Leak CH11

Hiiii, it's been 2 weeks. I am so sorry. @myanmardoesnotexist how do you do it?

Lil life update, I got a new job just before I started this and it is pretty demanding so hence the slow updates. Also I got a new tat today wooooo!!!!! Also it's 11pm. I stayed up to edit this so now it is bed time lol

ao3

Anyways- here's ch11 - Valentino's POV of the last few chapters.

Let me know what you think!! It really keeps me going :)

Love y'all <333

A burst of air finally broke free from him when Marc crossed the finish line. Valentino had held his breath, his lips pursed into a thin line, throughout the entire and now his lungs were screaming at him. He tried to tamp down the smile threatening to break free, fearing it being caught on camera. Despite his best efforts, a surge of relief struck him; it was a twisted gratitude that Marc was finally on top again. A restoration to where he should be, as Valentino’s equal, his greatest rival. It was easier to feel all he felt for Marc when they were both legends of the sport; it made him feel more normal about being decidedly not normal. Being in love with Marc was a difficult pill to swallow, with years of bitter feuds and rivalry between them. When had it become love? Valentino did not know, but this was easier when he knew it could not be hero worship from Marc’s side, not when he could match Vale stride for stride. It made his craziness (his obsession) easier when the man he was obsessed with was simply so talented- a phenomenon in his own right.

The TV hanging up in the garage replayed back the clip of Marc crossing the line and celebrating, Valentino catalogued every second. The image cut to the Gresini garage where Dovi, Dani, and Jorge hugged in celebration. Surging jealousy snaked through Valentino as he caught the warmth in Dovi’s eyes which never strayed from the screen, his full attention captured by Marc and a small, pleased smile growing on his face. He clamped down on the possessiveness - he wanted but couldn’t have. It hurt more than he would have liked to admit. He desired every part of Marc- physically, and emotionally. And yet it was not Valentino who Marc had chosen, because he had realised too late and fucked it up beyond repair, and now he was fighting an uphill battle just to get Marc to look at him. It was a shock when he found the screen showing his own face staring back at him once more, his eyes devoid of emotion apart from the small creases in his forehead. The picture had moved on before Vale could change his expression.

Vale watched as Marc pulled up to the number one spot and leapt off his bike; he examined the natural way Marc threw himself into the team’s waiting arms- like he belonged there. Valentino tried to quash the rising sadness; it was his own fault that he was not there like Jorge, Dani, or Alex. When he was younger, he was always taught that envy was an ugly emotion, he hated that it fit him so well. Envious of the way Marc could match him on the bike, of the way that he could come back after a bad spell and still be so good. But most of all, he hated the way other people were allowed to stand by Marc’s side whilst Valentino wasn’t.

He wanted to leave. He stayed for the podium.

The top step was made for Marc. That’s what he decided, watching the younger man dance and sing, glowing in the evening sunlight. Vale couldn’t look away, completely enraptured by his ethereal beauty. Because at the crux of it all, Marc was beautiful, in both looks and personality. He was gorgeous. Valentino felt a sudden burst of want. He tried to shake it off.

(It didn’t work)

Instead, he had continued to stand, mentally capturing the way Marc looked after so long away from winning, the tangible relief rolling off of him. His eyes are wide and bright, dancing with happiness and humour. He looks glorious, otherworldly, like the sun. Valentino was scared to look in case he was blinded but was somehow unable to focus on anything else. Marc caught his eye, Valentino smiled until Marc ripped his gaze away, looking burnt but also more alive than he had in years. Vale didn’t think about the way Pecco and Enea got to sling their arms across Marc’s shoulders as they celebrated. He didn’t think about how Marc should be his to hold and to celebrate.  

(He did)

Pecco had been giving Valentino the cold shoulder since the previous night, barely acknowledging him that morning and ignoring him after the race. Luca was the same, although with less ignoring and more overt anger. Overall, it meant that there weren’t too many of his riders to debrief with post-race. He wasn’t sure when the boys had become so fond of Marc, whether it was over this weekend or before. A small part of him hated it, not knowing what was going on and feeling as though this strange, new thing had occurred without him even realising. Somewhere within him, he acknowledged that he didn’t want to share Marc; it was easier when the boys were ambivalent and he could have Marc to himself. Bez was the only one still talking to him (albeit slightly out of pure loyalty rather than wanting to), and even he looked somewhat uncomfortable whilst doing so. Vale supposed it was difficult to ignore someone when they were your boss and the owner of the team you rode for. But Marco had always been steadfast in his loyalty to Valentino, that was more apparent than ever. But if Marco’s allegiance was cracking ever so slightly after last night, then Vale had royally fucked up. Not that Valentino didn’t know this already, as uncomfortable as it was. It was painfully clear that he had a lot to fix.

*

Valentino walked back to his motorhome before the podium celebrations finished.  His brain was fixated on making a plan to get Marc back. It started with pulling on every media contact he knew in Italy to find out who the hell had gotten hold of Marc’s medical records. He tried desperately hard to push down the guilt threatening to engulf him. He had started all of this, he had lit the flame for the fuse. Now he had to make it right. A few phone calls later, anyone who had even glanced at the records, or written one word, was out of their job. He would make sure anyone else involved had all lost their jobs by the end of the day. He didn’t bother hiding who was on the other end of the phone. He also made sure it was very obvious who had done it. The message would become very clear, if you valued your job in the motorsport press industry, don’t fuck with Valentino Rossi or Marc Marquez.

His fans (or so-called fans) would be harder to root out. He didn’t know when they had turned against Marc, whether it was a slow change or a sudden surge of hatred post-Sepang. Either way, he drew a blank about how to fix it, it's not like he could threaten his fans. He sat in silence for some time, wracking his brain for ideas, only distracted by the alert Chime which sounded from his phone. A text flashed up on the screens, reminding him of his upcoming media.

It hit him like a train.

His relationship with Marc and the hatred which followed occurred in part due to what Vale said to the media. Surely if he publically supported Marc, his fans would change too. There was already some change, he had witnessed it in the last few months. Marc moving to Ducati and befriending more people on the grid appeared to make him more loved than ever. Even though many people still hated him, many loved the charismatic man who couldn’t lose without a fight. This weekend was a testament to both.

He jumped out of the chair and practically sprinted out the door. Valentino’s heart ached as he heard the loud cheering from the direction of the Gresini garage. He slowed down to a jog as he neared the media centre and caught his breath outside. Once he entered the building, he hovered for some time, pretending to watch the MotoGP riders who were taking to the press. Blessedly, Marc wasn’t there, presumably he had already done his media commitments for the day and was celebrating with his team. He watched as Franky and Bes spoke about their races, a sense of pride rising that his boys were doing well. There were a lot of long looks being sent his way, journalists curious about his presence or itching for an interview. He played up his disinterest a bit, waiting for the perfect opportunity. It came not long later when a familiar reporter waved him over. He approached under the guise of friendliness, offering pleasantries rather than an exclusive. It didn’t take long for them to ask and Valentino pretended to oblige with a winning smile, just this once.

They asked him exactly what he had expected. An analysis of Pecco’s performance, how it feels to no longer ride but to be at a race as a spectator, a comment on his own team's performance. He felt the journalist pause after the last question and raised his eyebrows in encouragement, hoping it would be what he wanted.

They asked about Marc.

Valentino launched into a tirade of praise, shocking both the interviewer and himself with his honesty. He found himself reflecting on Marc’s amazing seasons and meaning every word. Marc was a generational talent, one of the greatest, able to hold his own against some of the best riders of the time. Yes, he raced hard and yes he was sometimes an idiot on track but God, he was good.

He made a decision then and there, he might as well go all in and apologise too. So he did. The guilt had been eating him alive all day, so he dug deep and let some of it show. Marc was the strongest person he knew, this weekend only confirmed it. Maybe he could learn something from the younger man this weekend. An apology would be a start; he knew it wouldn’t be enough, but it was something- it made him feel lighter. He thought that the poor woman on the other side of the microphone looked 5 seconds away from fainting. He smiled and walked away.

*

Valentino found Luca after the celebrations had died down. Slipping through the pit lane towards the Honda garage felt remarkably similar to a walk of shame. He accosted Luca as he was packing up with the team. The glare that Luca sent him told Valentino exactly how his younger brother felt about seeing him. Exasperation didn’t even begin to cover it. Alas, Valentino still dragged Luca to the side, ignoring the dramatic huff his younger brother exhaled.

“How do I make it up to him?” Valentino asked, a pleading note to his tone.

Luca rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about stupid people. Valentino scowled and Luca relented.

“Talk to him, Valentino. You hurt him so you have to apologise. Make it up to him and for God's sake tell him the truth.” Luca grumbled, clearly frustrated at Valentino. The older man frowned in thought.

“How do I do that though?” Valentino questioned. It looked like Luca had to physically restrain himself from reacting. He turned away and exhaled loudly before turning around and pasting a fake pleasant smile on his face.

“Frankly, Valentino, it is a miracle you have gotten this far in life. You are meant to be charming and good with people. Surely that skill does not go out the window as soon as you’re within 5 feet of Marc?” Luca protested. He fell silent for a second, seemingly considering the words he said.

“Actually, scrap that, you’ve always been an idiot around Marc. I don’t know Valentino; you have to figure this out yourself. Get down on your knees if you have to don’t give me that look for God’s sake, I don’t mean like that. I mean you might have to plead, to ask for forgiveness. God knows you deserve it for what you did to him. Just don’t fuck it up again.” Luca growled.

Valentino felt like he had been slapped in the face. It was always interesting when someone said exactly what they thought to your face, and clearly, Luca had reached the end of his tether. Valentino glowered slightly as he recounted the words- he was not an idiot around Marc. He just sometimes forgot himself or got distracted. Or said the wrong thing. Or ended up screwing it up so bad that he might as well just continue to fuck it up than try to fix it. And-

Okay, maybe Valentino did have a tendency to forget his brain when it came to Marc. But it wasn’t his fault. He lifted his head to argue with Luca but by the time he’d worked through his thoughts, Luca had gone, fed up with his brother's antics. Valentino sighed, making a retreat to his motorhome to sulk until he came up with a better idea.

He spent a long time scrolling through social media, finding videos and photos of Marc winning from every angle and trying to cement a plan to seek forgiveness the didn't involve a blowjob. He tried not to let the bitterness engulf him when he saw who else was celebrating with the team. Gresini always posted their ridiculous celebrations online; Valentino secretly loved it. Marc looked happier than Vale had seen him in a long time, even as he was held and sprayed with champagne.

(Valentino refused to confront why he had spent 5 minutes re-watching that video alone, it had nothing to do with how gorgeous marc looked, restrained and soaked, his clothes sticking to his body.)

*

It had taken quite a bit of begging and bribery to find out where the Gresini team were heading to celebrate. He had tried Pecco with no luck, and Fabio had practically laughed in his face. He didn’t even bother with Alex or Dani or any of the others. In the end, it was Bez who had told him, shifting from foot to foot and refusing to meet his eyes. Valentino could only bring himself to feel slightly guilty at persuading the younger man to tell. He reasoned that Bez probably wouldn’t have cared two days ago, so what did it matter? He ended up joining Bez on the way to the club, having found a white shirt he deemed smart enough to work and a pair of black jeans. It would do.

Pecco rolled his eyes when Bez pulled Valentino over to the boys; Valentino smiled guiltily and bought them a round of drinks to make up for it. It kept them happy enough. He skirted around the room for the first 50 minutes, keeping his eyes out for a sign of Marc. He tried to avoid too many other people he knew, not wanting to draw attention to his presence.

When Marc did walk in, he was laughing, his face alight as he talked animatedly with his brother. His eyes flicked around the room, seemingly taking in the club’s deep crimson decor and ostentatious elegance. Valentino tried to blend into the background and remain inconspicuous but then he looked at Marc properly and all rationality fled him. Cazzo, he had clearly been oblivious to what he had missed out on for the last 13 years. Marc was dressed in all black, contrasting beautifully with his tanned skin whenever the strobes flashed and illuminated him. He wore a black button-down with the first few buttons undone, showing off a silver chain that caught the light and dipped below the shirt and across his chest. Black jeans hugged his ass and strong thighs before flaring into a wider leg. The red lights fell across his pretty face, illuminating his cheekbones and casting shadows across his jaw. Valentino knew he was staring, his jaw was practically on the floor. He swallowed, trying to break himself out of the spell.

His eyes followed Marc across the room and stuck as he draped his body across the bar. He tracked the brothers moving across the floor towards the table which Gresini had commanded. But he tore his eyes away when Dovi smiled at Marc, refusing to watch something that would inevitably cause him to get angry. Instead, he pulled away, strode back over to Pecco and the others and offered to buy another round.

An hour later, Valentino found himself surrounded by his boys, still stone-cold sober. He desperately needed a drink but refused to be inebriated for this conversation. Instead, he watched as the boys got progressively tipsier, and kept an eye on Marc when he thought no one was looking. Bez was halfway through a long-winded explanation of the latest cute thing Rubik had done when Vale spotted his opportunity. He excused himself from the group, ignoring Bez’s pout and Luca’s groan as he pushed through the crowd, following Marc. Valentino wasn’t surprised to see him surrounded by the older riders, as he had been all weekend. It appeared they had made themselves into Marc’s security personnel for the time being. He froze as he watched the group, the way Marc had settled into it; it made Valentino feel out of place in a way he rarely felt.

His stomach soured slightly as he observed how close Marc and Dovi were. It only got worse when Dovi plastered himself over Marc. The group were engaged in what seemed like a lively conversation. Interestingly, Jorge was holding Dani in a very non-platonic way, which wasn’t exactly news to Vale but also it took them long enough. He shuffled a light closer. When he was eventually in earshot and tuned into their conversations, he couldn’t prevent his face from scrunching up in disgust.

The blatantly flirting was one thing, but talking as if fucking Marc was something that he was allowed. And the comments that Marc was loud in bed, followed by his lack of denial. Vale baulked, he tried desperately to claw at the memories which he had repressed for so many years. Images of Marc moaning under him, once, just once, years ago. Right before Valentino had slammed the door shut in panic and left Marc heartbroken. A long time before Vale realised that Marc’s love was not unrequited. And now Andrea was the one who had Marc. The man hadn’t even won a Premier class championship, Valentino had seven.

The group before him fell silent, Dani had noticed him first. Awkwardness rolled off of Valentino; it was not a common emotion for him, more comfortable with the sour bitterness accompanying it. Marc catalogued every inch of him, from his face, which Vale desperately tried to school, to his toes, where he shifted uncomfortably in his shoes. He returned the gaze, feeling numb inside.

It took a lot of effort not to hit Dovi when he answered Valentino’s plea before Marc could, telling Vale on no uncertain terms to get lost. It made his blood boil, building within him until he felt ready to explode. But he couldn't do that, not in front of everyone; it wouldn’t be fair to Marc. He exhaled harshly, trying to calm his irritation and leaving without a second glance. All the while, he was trying to calm the anger rising inside of him. How dare Dovi act like that. Who did he think that he was speaking on Marc’s behalf and making decisions for him? Vale bit his tongue, stopping himself from storming back over in a fit of jealousy. He didn’t know where this was coming from. The sudden notion that he wanted Marc, wanted to cover him in marks and let the world know who he belonged to. It was like ever since yesterday the feelings of love were building; Marc was reeling Valentino in and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was snowballing out of control, an avalanche of emotions and desperation. Valentino needed Marc viscerally. He wanted the soft morning and the heated nights. He wanted Marc whimpering underneath and to know what Marc’s face looked like after an hour of teasing. He needed to know how Marc looked when he was tied to the headboard, his abs flexing and arms straining. Valentino was rapidly realising that he not only wanted the insane sex but also the sweet romance and pure devotion of true love. He wanted to cook his mother’s recipes for Marc, to buy him flowers, and to race around the ranch with him.

Valentino was so fucked.

He scampered away with his tail tucked between his legs and his mind racing with dirty thoughts. Thankfully, he quickly found the boys again; they wisely said nothing concerning his mood (he hoped they hadn’t been watching). He huffed out a breath when Pecco returned from the bar with a decent pour of whiskey for him, shooting him a thankful look. He tried to nurse the drink, but one soon turned to two and before long ten. Once he was suitably drunk, Valentino took to wandering around the club, letting himself be dragged into the throws of other teams who were out celebrating. It turned out that a lot of the MotoGP personnel had reason to celebrate tonight. Or maybe it was because Italy was closer to home for most. Either way, Valentino grew progressively drunker as he was passed around between acquaintances. He didn’t mind it much; it was easier to be around people who knew the sport than the usual sponsors or stakeholders. It felt less like an act when it was mechanics and engineers who knew Vale from Yamaha rather than Valentino Rossi, MotoGP legend and millionaire.

By the time he had done the rounds and extricated himself from the Ducati team (he had avoided them until he couldn’t leave it any longer without seeming rude), it was later than he would have liked. The group of academy boys had lost numbers at some point, with only a couple of them now loitering where Vale had left them. He scanned the room and mentally calculated where they all were. Franky was still hanging around the younger Marquez; they had spent much time together tonight, much to Vale’s surprise. Luca and Mig were by the bar, nursing their drinks sensibly. According to his brother, Pecco and Bez had disappeared long ago, with Celin following soon after. Despite searching the room rather intently, the younger members of the academy weren’t easily found. He spotted Bez’s wild curls first and was drawn to their group dancing amongst the throng of people writhing in the centre of the room. Shock coursed through Vale when he caught a glimpse of short brown curls and tanned skin. There, encased in Pecco’s arms, was Marc.

(which, firstly, what?)

Marc, who Valentino had thought was with Dovi- but considering how the boys (his boys) were touching him, Valentino was beginning to reconsider. Marc looked delectable in the low lights of the club, swinging his hips to the beat. Marco was pawing at him as if he couldn’t get enough, which was shocking enough without adding Pecco to the mix. Valentino stared, watching the glistening beads of sweat dripping below Marc’s shirt collar, visible even from this far away. It made his mouth run dry as he desperately tried to swallow.

For some inexplicable reason, Bez and Pecco kept touching him, their hands on his hips (Bez) or sliding down his shoulders (Pecco). The latter leant in to talk in Marc’s ear, prompting the older man to tilt his head and then lean back against Pecco to laugh obnoxiously. Before Marc could reply, Marco had pulled him away from Pecco by his hips, forcing them into the same space to dance; Marc was grinning. Something suspiciously like jealousy clawed at him, but he was unable to shift his attention. The temptation to make Bez and Pecco ride 20 extra laps at the next ranch session was itching at him.

He stared as they danced together, unashamed of his hot gaze. He knew Marc could tell that someone was watching by the way he kept glancing around the room, but he never caught Vale’s eyes. Cele's familiar mop of hair eventually appeared over Marco’s shoulder, causing Bez to shift his attention away from Marc and towards Cele, who instantly clung to him, as usual. Valentino observed in interest as Marc made a comment which made Pecco light up with laughter. Bez craned his neck towards Marc, who had managed to break free from his grip and said something that Valentino was too far away to hear. Marc’s face dropped in confusion as he inclined his head at Bez. Vale frowned, he preferred it when Marc looked carefree and happy. Before Valentino could even register what had happened, Marc was stalking across the floor, away from a concerned-looking Pecco and a bewildered Bez. Vale looked away but not before seeing Pecco gesturing to his friend and talking rapidly with a scowl on his face.

Holding himself back from following Marc immediately was harder than he would have liked, but Vale managed to wait a whole 10 minutes before he stumbled after Marc into the smoking area. It was only once the cooler night air hit him that he realised how drunk he was. Slotting himself up against Marc was probably not his smartest idea. It was however smarter than sinking to his knees at Marc’s feet and begging for forgiveness. Because apparently, Valentino was no longer above that. He felt flayed alive as Marc's round eyes stared back at him, his mouth agape.  He was begging without even consciously thinking through the words, a swirling mixture of intoxication and desperation spilling out of his mouth.

He kept his gaze fixed above him as he rambled, cataloguing the younger man’s appearance. Marc always looked gorgeous but he was particularly perfect at this angle, with Vale on his knee before him. He thought about blowing Marc until he cried, he would refuse to stop, even if he begged. He wanted to know how Marc tasted Valentino choked on the thought. He needed to get back on track, to convince Marc to give him a chance. The truth spilling out of his mouth was slightly horrifying; he would inevitably regret it in the morning, but he was too desperate to stop. Guilt ate him alive, chewing him up from the insight. It was his fault, his fault that Marc was almost destroyed, his fault that Marc almost died. It made him want to rip his hair out.

When Valentino learnt that fucking Uccio had gone behind his back and fucked things up even more, anger engulfed him. It was a heavy concoction of incandescent rage and betrayal. A mixture of anger at himself for all he had done and rage at the people who had made it worse. It was accompanied by the slicing pain that Valentino now knew Marc had faced over the past ten years. It was gut-wrenching. Knowing that he had screwed up so badly was difficult to face. It was about time that he accepted his responsibility, rather than doubling down on an old feud and refusing to let the wounds heal. He was enraged at his best friend’s actions but looking back, he could see the profound influence Uccio’s words had on fueling the fire over the years. The same fire which had burnt Marc so badly.

When Luca stuck his head outside, Valentino was almost thankful to no longer face Marc’s too-honest eyes. The distrust in Marc’s voice when he questioned Luca stung, but Valentino probably deserved it. He clambered to his feet, allowing himself to be thrust into Franky’s arms whilst Luca talked to Marc in hushed tones.

(He wasn’t sure when Franky and Alex had arrived, which was baffling).

Softness engulfed him as he heard Marc laugh, delighted to see him smiling again. He wasn’t sure when he became so soppy, maybe it was over time that Marc had wormed his way into his heart, despite it all. Eventually, Franky dragged him away, much to Valentino’s disappointment. He wanted to watch Marc laugh more, to see his face almost split in half with joy. He was handed off to Luca soon after. Everything that happened afterwards was a blur; he remembered a car journey and Luca putting him to bed. After that, it was just soft sheets and dreaming of Marc's pretty smile and big hands.

*

Waking up the next morning wasn’t fun. His memory was blurry at best and completely incoherent at worst. The last thing he remembered was being rejected and rudely turned away by Dovi. He thought he remembered a rough floor beneath his knees but he also had hazy thoughts of Marc in his bed and that clearly hadn’t happened. He just hoped he hadn’t done anything too embarrassing.

He downed a glass of water in the kitchenette of his motorhome, taking some ibuprofen alongside it. He had to check that the garage was packed before he could leave. Thankfully, it was Italy, not too far from home. He grabbed a pair of sunglasses before he left and kept his head down as he walked the paddock. Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked up just in time to see a familiar face shutting the door of Marc’s motorhome. Nausea rose as he recognised Dovi’s soft expression and he quickly hurried away, determined to leave this place as soon as possible.

It didn’t take too long to wrap up, but by the time he headed back to the motorhomes, he was feeling far too tired. He blamed that on what happened next. When he saw Marc, looking beautiful despite his obvious hangover, he froze. He was honest, far too honest, and he accepted the offer to go inside, which was probably his first mistake. He knew he wasn’t subtle, his eyes flicking to Marc's lips, and scouting out the motorhome interior; he just hoped Marc was too hungover to notice. Valentino wanted to kiss him. A chorus of mine, mine, mine was playing in his head like a broken record. But Marc wasn't his, he knew that.

Valentino steeled himself, he could be polite and civil. He didn’t need to let the cracks, which were steadily widening, show. He told Marc the closest variant of the truth which he could choke out and was stunned at Marc’s amused reaction. He thought he might have died, or even that he was still dreaming as Marc kissed him. He wasn’t strong enough to resist, nor was he above pleading for more once Marc stepped away. How they descended from kissing to arguing so quickly, Valentino didn’t know, but it was very on-brand for them.

Marc was furious that Vale didn’t remember, probably rightfully so. But it raised Valentino's hackles, being accused of weakness, so he fought like he always did. Sometimes Valentino felt he did not deserve love because no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to fuck it up. Somehow, it ended with Valentino standing alone in Marc’s motorhome, with a heart more broken than before and more regrets than ever.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 7

Summary: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 7: new revelation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't find him!" A woman burst through the doors. Her boots were barely on and she wore no jacket.

"Find who?" Althea asked, one wolf ear flicking at the sudden noise.

"Rodney!" She ran over to us and spoke directly to the healer. "We-we were arguing and he ran out but I thought he would come back."

"How long has he been out?"

The woman was hesitant, eyes jumping between all of us. Althea had to prompt her again, pressing that we needed to know as soon as possible.

"Since...since this afternoon."

Althea and I locked eyes. The sun was about to set which meant the boy had been out for hours in the freezing cold. "Which way did he go?" she asked.

The woman was in tears now, guilt probably pulling her heart in two. She shook her head in her hands as an answer. She had no idea.

"Where do we start?" Althea looked to me. I almost wanted to ask 'why would I know?' but I did in fact know. I had been on this land for two years now and ran or explored most of it.

"Either the shore or the forest," I answered.

"We don't have any winter clothes, though," Vivian warned. She was right. We had yet to make winter clothes for everyone since they only moved in the cold when going between warm buildings. Someone going out could get frostbite themselves before they found the boy.

I thought for a moment before an idea came to mind. "Find Husker. His magic lets him keep himself warm and he can fly along the shore."

"What about the forest?" Althea asked.

"I'll go. I can also keep myself warm and can move fast as a dragon."

"As a what?" Vilcin popped their head out from behind Vivian. I noticed by the looks on their faces that I had yet to let my friends know of my abilities. They mostly seemed surprised but I worried if there was a hint of anger at keeping a secret from them.

"I'll be back." I turned swiftly on my heels and out into the cold. The wind caught me off guard but I pushed the cold away and replaced it with warmth. I took a few steps in the shallow snow, some Humans having shoveled for easier walking, and jumped forward. My claws enlarged and it took a second jump for my whole Dragon form to come out.

I moved swiftly out of the haven and into the forest. It was much easier to maneuver through the forest with four feet. My tail whipped behind me and I felt a rush of adrenaline run through my veins. I loved running like this. I felt so free and natural, like I belonged doing exactly this.

A presence came to my mind and I instantly recognized it as Alastor. He seemed to wrap around my mind but not quite pass through my shields. I slowed to a trot and looked around for his stark red coat against the white snow, but he was nowhere to be found. Was he close?

I shook my head and picked up my pace back to a run. I had only so much time before I lost the sunlight. It was taking a lot of magic to keep my Dragon form, keep myself warm, and move as quickly as I could through the forest.

The sun was moving faster than me, though, and the forest became next to impossible to run through. I was forced into another trot to avoid running face first into a tree.

"You lack imagination." Alastor's voice echoed in my head. He was always saying those exact words. How could I use my imagination when my entire world has been grounded in reality and the limits of the physical body? I could only do so much.

I came to a stop and stomped my front foot. I wasn't going to return without this boy, dead or alive. I could manage to find him, assuming he even came into the forest to begin with and not the shore.

I took a deep breath to let out a sigh but stopped. I quickly let out the breath and took another huge one through my nose alone. I could smell something. It wasn't natural, nothing like wood or snow. It was something else—someone—else.

Bringing more magic energy to my head, I started taking short, deep breaths. I padded through the cold snow keeping my head close to the ground. The boy was young so he was shorter. If only it was light enough then I could see footprints.

I tried brightening the dark shadows, reverse shadow work, and watched everything brighten. I picked up the pace as I followed the boy's trail. He was close. The smell was getting stronger and the snow wasn't smooth - he had come this way.

Then I spotted him. He was laying on his side curled up against a tree. I sprinted over and slid to a stop. He had dug himself a little burrow in the snow but it did him nothing. His body was barely moving and his fingers were already purple.

I lifted his cold body into my arms and took flight. I kept the cold away and gradually pushed warmth into him. He wasn't dead but he was awfully close. I flew as fast as I could back to the haven and found Althea in the grand hall. She rushed him over to her hut, wrapped him in blankets, and immediately started attempting to heal him. The mother was hovering but fortunately Vivian convinced her to sit to the side with her.

"What about his hands?" I asked nervously, touching the poor boy's black tipped fingers under the blanket.

"Healing speeds up the process, it can't undo anything," Althea explained. She was bringing color back to his skin.

Surely that can't be right.

I pulled his arm out of the blanket and gently ran my fingers across his own. The mother was sobbing at this point and mumbling her guilts to our teacher.

I looked down to the boy's fingers. I remembered Lucifer, King of Hell, saying that magic was ever expanding and not constrained to the categories already set in place. Vox was obviously a new improvement to their type of magic. Surely I could do the same? Alastor himself said I had a lot of power.

Carefully and slowly, I imagined the black skin crawling away from my own hand and fading into the tips of his fingers. I was shocked to find it actually working when I opened my eyes. A surge of happiness filled me as I continued my work until the black had disappeared entirely. I watched one of his fingers twitch.

I did it!

Alastor's presence surged through my shields and his hand suddenly gripped my wrist, wrenching it up so quickly and painfully that I was spun around to face him. His eyes were narrow and I could see his black gums on his terrifying snarl. He was angry.

"How did you do that?" he demanded. My fingers were feeling funny from the death grip he had on my wrist. I could feel him searching my memories and I tried to pull my hand free to break the connection.

"Let go of me, Alastor." I met his sharp, cat-like eyes with equal anger. He was violating the peace we had managed to build these past few weeks. He was reverting back to his self that I first met.

I was pulled into the shadows and transported into the library. I stumbled back into the wall from the motion and Alastor chased me, slamming a hand on the wall beside my head and bringing his sharp teeth close to my face. "How. Did. You. Do that?" he demanded again.

"You don't get to treat me like this!" Still in my Demon form, I made myself a few inches taller and pulled my lips back in a snarl. It still felt much weaker compared to his yellow one but I wasn't about to drop the challenge.

"Answer me," he ignored my response, "how? You shouldn't have been able to do that."

"Well I did. You're the one who keeps telling me I lack imagination but when I use it you get mad at me."

"I want to know how. Explain it to every detail."

"Why are you so upset about this? Tell me that first."

"This isn't a negotiation, darling~" the name was anything but sweet, sending a chill down my spine that I repressed.

"You don't get to control me. We've been over this time and time again. You. Cannot. Control me!" I went to shove him away but he grabbed both hands at the last second. He moved them barely to the side and my momentum took me into him. He took advantage of my loss of balance, holding my hands far enough past his shoulders that I was leaning on his chest and craning my neck back away from his teeth. His breath smelled horrible.

Without warning, he invaded my mind and went through my memories. I brought my back foot up and shoved against his leg. His tentacles came up to keep me in place, his eyes seeing through me as he fished for his answer. I did the next best thing and brought my forehead to his teeth.

His ears pinned back, something I didn't know he could do, and jerked his head away. The tentacles reached up to my shoulders to hold me down further. So I went the magic route.

I closed my eyes and followed the connection, reaching into his mind this time. I barely got in when he withdrew quickly from my mind to shove me out of his.

"I told you-"

"Then don't search through mine!" I let Alcine, my shadow, free from my form and she towered on the wall behind me. She morphed into the dragon and attacked Alastor's shadow. She wrapped around him like a snake and held his face in her claws, ready to snap his neck.

Alastor's eyes widened at the loss of his shadow. They then jumped back to me, a smirk pulling at my lips. It's only been two years but I was already giving him a run for his money. Something in me had unlocked tonight and he was furious about it.

His tentacles suddenly disappeared and he shoved me against the wall by my neck. He leaned down close to my ear as my throat squeezed shut. "You have been gifted by the force of the universe that our fates our tied."

I put my weight on his arm and looked up at him through half lidded eyes. I put both feet against his leg but without oxygen I was useless. I tried using magic to fill my lungs but I felt him block me. My anger boiled from being unable to do anything.

He suddenly let go and I fell on my tailbone, letting out a strangled gasp and high pitched noise. "No matter," he said, his cane appearing in his hand so he could lean over me, "I found my answer. For the time being, you are not to tell a soul what you did. It could mean worse things for both of us."

I watched him disappear into his shadows to who knows where. I retracted my horns so I could slam my head into the wall and punch the floor. I let out a deep yell and looked at Alcine on the wall. She had turned back into her elegant long hat outfit.

I pulled my legs up and wrapped my arms around them. He was always going to beat me. Two years felt like awhile but to him it was milliseconds. It would take me so long before I could match him on skill level. Why couldn't he just be normal? Why did he have to push and invade my boundaries?

I glared up into the dark library, my Demon side fully out. This meant I would have to go about this a different way.

****

"Since when do you willingly want to speak with me?" Lucifer Morningstar asked, closing the door behind the Radio Demon. Alastor spun to face the short king and placed his hands atop his own—better—cane.

"You have information only you would know. I came to retrieve it."

"Oh? And why would I give it to you?"

"I think you'd find it rather interesting what I'm about to tell you." He cocked his head to the side.

"And what is that?"

Alastor took a few steps to close the distance. "My soulmate healed completely frostbitten fingers."

"Why is that so interesting?" Lucifer kept his arms crossed. Alastor's eye twitched at the king's oblivion. He remained silent, waiting for him to figure it out himself. Indeed he did because his eyes widened and his arms dropped to his sides.

"She healed...that's not how Demon magic works," Lucifer said slowly.

"Precisely," the word rolled off Alastor's tongue. "She healed it. Who else wields such magic?"

"Well...that would be me, Lilith, and Charlie. And any and all Angels who—" It clicked. "She's...you think she's a..."

"A fallen Angel," Alastor finished for him. This man's mind worked so slow yet he was running all of Hell.

Lucifer started to laugh. Alastor watched, completely unamused by the behavior. Why was this so funny? This meant the Angels were losing more of them and allowing them to fall to the surface instead of Hell.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Lucifer wiped a tear from his eyes. "It's just...I find it hilarious that you, the Radio Demon, are soul bound to a fallen Angel."

"Why is that? She must've done something to earn such a banishment."

That made Lucifer go quiet. He put a hand under his arm and another under his chin to think. "Have you not seen her memories? Or has she been making sure you can't be twenty yards from her?" He smirked, knowing full well from Charlie what the status of their relationship was like.

"I have. She has no memories of Heaven, though. Hence why I thought a fallen Angel himself would certainly have more information." Alastor was trying to threaten Lucifer with a lack of knowledge, hoping he'd try to prove himself and give up the information willingly.

Lucifer didn't find it amusing, mostly hurtful, but he played the part. "Then she must be a child of a fallen Angel. It would explain why I didn't see a halo when I first met her."

"Excuse me?" Alastor tapped his fingers on his cane.

Lucifer ran his black hand over his smooth hair then pointed an inch above it. "Fallen angels have a faint outline of their halo above their head only I can see."

"She did not have one?"

"No," he shook his head, "but I can imagine she would have some Angelic magic if one of her parents were one."

"Outstanding."

Lucifer watched Alastor's expression intensely. "Why is this so important? What do you intend to do to her?"

"That is for me to know." He held his cane and arms behind his back as he smiled down at the King of Hell.

"I feel real bad for your soulmate." Lucifer's tone was somber as he crossed his arms again.

"You will envy us with time. Ta ta for now." Alastor slipped into the shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

I'm back on a roll! Time for feelings!!!

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

Chaeri's Masterlist

Web article

June, 2023

The K-pop community is abuzz with questions and speculations as Chaeri, the only female member of BTS, and the leader of Ateez, Hongjoong, have not been seen together for quite some time. Adding to the intrigue, recent reports suggest that Chaeri's contract as Ateez's choreographer with KQ Entertainment has come to an end.

Fans are left wondering about the reasons behind Chaeri's departure from her role as the mastermind behind Ateez's captivating dance routines. While she proved her talent and left an indelible mark on the group's performances, the sudden silence surrounding her professional life is leaving many perplexed.

Furthermore, the once inseparable couple of K-pop is raising eyebrows with their apparent absence from each other's lives. No sightings, no public appearances together, and no social media interactions have fans concerned about the status of their relationship.

In a world where idols' every move is scrutinized, the mysterious circumstances surrounding Chaeri and Hongjoong's recent actions are only fueling the rumor mill. Fans are eager to know if there's a rift between the two or if they are merely keeping their personal lives private.

As the duo's fans eagerly await any updates or official statements, the K-pop world is on edge, hoping for clarity and reassurance. Until then, the question marks continue to grow, and the mystery deepens, leaving everyone to wonder what's next for Chaeri and Hongjoong.

Twitter: Search results on #Chaejoong

💭 The total lack of updates about Chaeri and Hongjoong is seriously, like, causing me to lose it! Seriously, somebody, anyone, pretty please, shower us with some news about our nation's couple 🥹

💭 I am totally convinced that they're taking a break from the spotlight to have some super sweet quality time together, just the two of them! 🥰💕 Ahh, my fangirl heart is bursting with happiness at the thought! 😻💖 I'm beyond excited for their comeback, 'cause I know they'll be back stronger and happier 🌟💪 Let's all send them all the love and support they deserve

💭 I can't even deal with the fact that Chaeri won't be Ateez's choreographer anymore ❤️‍🩹

💭 I'm keeping my fingers crossed for Chaeri and Hongjoong to surprise us with some good news soon! They've been through so much together

💭 It's strange not seeing them together lately. I hope they're both doing well and that their relationship is as strong as ever!

💭 I hope Chaeri's decision to leave the choreographer role was her own choice and not due to any conflicts with Hongjoong

💭 I hope the media will give them space and not speculate too much about their relationship. They deserve to have their privacy respected

💭 Honestly, I think Chaeri and Hongjoong would be better off without each other. They don't seem to fit together, and it's time they moved on

💭 I can't wait for them to break up. Maybe then we can stop hearing about their relationship and focus on the music

Hongjoong at the airport after the article was published

Twitter: Search results on #Chaejoong

💭 Hongjoong's response has me even more anxious. I hope everything's alright with Chaeri

💭 Those who are fans of Hongjoong know that that smile on his face is a facade. HE WAS REALLY NERVOUS

💭 Maybe it's just a private matter they don't want to share with the public. Let's trust they'll handle it together

💭 Stop saying he was upset because they broke up, the reporter was clearly invading his personal space and assuming false information, Hongjoong did wisely to ignore him

💭 I won't believe they broke up even if they release an official statement. they are THE match

💭 I hope they're taking care of each other. It must be hard for them to deal with rumors and speculation

💭 I hope Chaeri finally realized that she deserves better 🤡

💭 We should remember they're not obligated to share every aspect of their lives with us

Chaeri on Weverse

Bouncy Challenge

Comments section

💬 ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS

💬 Yunho and Mingi don't care if their captain and Chaeri are still dating, they will keep being their babies 😩

💬 lets all clap for this woman who, before leaving her role, blessed all of us by putting together this choreo

💬 The fact that she can perform male group choreography better than men 😮‍💨💀

💬 we deserved a challenge with Chaeri and Hongjoong

💬 BABE WAKE UP CHAERI BOUNCY CHALLENGE JUST DROPPED

💬 I WANT THE BEHIND THE SCENES OF THIS TIKTOK

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

[corie-is-writing]

↳ ❝ [S Y N P O S I S] ¡! ❞

Y/n L/n, a simple minded reader, is one of the biggest fans of a popular web novel, Twisted wonderland. In their shock after finding out it has ended, they froze in the middle of a busy street and got hit by a truck.

Dizzy and confused, they have awoken in a coffin in the world they adore so much, and must use their knowledge to survive and stop the boys from overblotting.

↳ ❝ [M A S T E R L I S T] ¡! ❞

↳ ❝ [THE CRIMSON TYRANT] ¡! ❞

˗ˏˋ Finally, becoming a student! ´ˎ˗

Kind of a short and boring chapter, slower updates for now cuz school just started a during sunday, sorry!

Crowley darts his eyes left right, looking at you pouting in your seat, pushed on to it by Deuce, and the angered beast on his own seat, not making eye contact with you.

"I've been meaning to ask, but.." He sweats, "What happened between these two?"

Ace sighs, "Grim ate a rock off the floor and Y/n tried to make him throw it up." He explains nonchalantly.

Deuce shudders at the memory. "They suddenly had the strength of a hundred bears, Ace and I barely managed to pry them off Grim."

"...I see.." Crowley blinks, before relaxing in his seat. "In any case.."

Then he sobs.

The cards and the beast flinch, taken back by Crowley's sudden burst of crocodile tears.

"Oooh....Ohhh.... OOOOOHHHHH!! Sob..!!"

"WHAT'S WITH THIS GUY??" Grim questions, staring at the crying crow.

"In all these that I've been headmaster.." Crowley suddenly calms down, speaking again. "For the day to come that students of Night Raven College to hold hands and defeat a common foe!" He cheers.

"What?! I did not hold this guys hands!" Deuce shouts, disgusted.

"I would never do that either, gross!" Ace gags, before raising a brow. "Wait, how old are you, Headmaster??"

"I am overwhelmed with emotion." Crowley ignores the question, looking at you. "This incident confirms it. You are without a doubt a future beast tamer!" He exclaims, pointing at you.

"Students of Night Raven College are budding mages chosen by the Dark Mirror. But due to their excellence, many of them turn out to be prideful, egoistical, and self-centered individuals who never give a thought about cooperating with others."

"You're really not saying anything good.."

"You cannot use magic. But maybe, precisely because you cannot use magic means you could give instructions to magic users and get them to cooperate." Ouch

"Surely a mediocre, run-of-the-mill human like you is exactly what this school needs right now!" Double ouch.

"He's just insulting everyone now!" Ace widens his eyes.

"I have no doubt that your existence is essential to the future of this academy." The masked man begins again.

"So says my intuition as an educator. Along with rescinding Mr. Trappola and Mr. Spade's expulsion, I shall give you qualifcations to attend Night Raven College as a student."

"EEEHHH?!"

"Cool."

Crowley coughs into his hands, ignoring your lack of reaction. "But, there is one condition." He says.

"You can not use magic and complete all your lessons, that's where Grim comes in."

Said beast's ears perk up.

"You have proven to me that you possess enough talent to become a mage." Crowley continues. "Therefore, I shall enroll you two as one student."

Grim's blue eyes light up as he hears this, bewildered. "Fggnaa?! I can go to this school too..as a student?" He asks.

Crowley nods his head."Yes, provided that you don't let ever an incident like yesterday occur again! Do we have an agreement?"

Grim stays silent, still not believing his ears. "Fggnaa..W-we..we can.." His words don't come out.

Your eyes soften and you smile, clapping your hands lightly. "That's great, Grim!"

Grim smiles, jumping out of his seat. "Fgggnnaaa! I did!" He cheers.

Crowley then opens his drawer, taking out a shiny crystal. "Well then, I shall give the symbol of your status as a student of Night Raven College. A magic crystal." He says

"Whoa! A magic crystal?" Grim widens his eyes in surprise, staring at the gem.

"It is the norm for students to have their magic crystals in the form of a magic pen." Crowley explains.

"But, You wouldn't be able to grip it in your paws, right? It is a special custom."

Crowley begins to smile, a sign he's going to praise himself. You immediately tune out his voice.

'Oh, I wonder if Ace would like to eat dinner with us.' You think, you need him to not steal the tart if you don't want Riddle to overblot.

"I did it!" Grim brings you out of your thoughs. "I'm so cool! I got my own special magic crystal collar~"

"Listen, Y/n." Crowley calls. "As you can see, Grim is not accustomed to human society. It is up to you to make sure he doesn't cause any trouble!" He says.

Ace smirks, laying a hand on your shoulder as he chuckles. "Look at you! School's just started and you're already a prefect?"

Deuce brings his hand to his lips. "I see. There's only two of you in your dorm.." He mutters. His fist hitting his palm as he smiles. "So monitoring Grim makes you a prefect!"

"Pufft!" Ace laughs. "Isn't that unheard of? For there to be a prefect who is unable to use magic."

His gaze softens and he gives a genuine. "Nice. It's cool. A superviser who is unable to use magic!"

You smile along with the cards and the beast, "I'll do my best!" You exclaim.

"Good luck, prefect." Ace says.

"I see, a prefect." Crowley murmurs. "I do have a work request.. and having a title makes it very conve..I mean wonderful!" He corrects himself.

"Prefect, I entrust you with this."

Crowley hands you a familiar camera. 'I almost forgot about this.'

"This is nicknamed the 'ghost camera'." The crow says, your eyes glued to the camera as you observe the littlest detail.

"Ooh, my grandma's told me about those." Ace mentions. "It's a super old magic tool, right?"

"It's not that old.." Crowley sighs, displeased with the description. "It's true this may have been invented during your great grandmother's time, or your great-great grandmother's time."

"There is a very unique spell cast on it." He explains, "It not only captures the subjects' form, but also a part of their soul."

Deuce raises a brow. "A part of their souls..?" He questions.

"Memory: A fragment of Remembrance" is another name for it." Crowley says, "Further more, the most interesting thing about this camera is that the souls of the photographer and the photographed become deeply connected and the memory in the photo comes jumping out!" He finishes.

"It comes jumping out?" Grim asks, the crow nods.

"Depending on how close the subject and the photographer are, the picture could move like a video." Crowley explains. "Or bring to life the situation in the photo. Fascinating, right?"

"Bring the photo to life? It's lkke a ghost photographer!" Deuce exclaims.

"Yes, therefore it is called a 'ghost camera.'" Crowley says.

"People would scream 'ghost!' in surprise when the memory comes jumping out."

"A camera for freaking people out.." Ace furrows his brows, who would make something like that?

"Prefect." Crowley turns to you. "Please take photos of Grim and the other students to leave behind many of your memories of your lives in this academy." He says.

"La-lalala~ Take lots of cool photos of me~" Grim sings.

"Be sure to leave a memory especially when someone misbehaves. It's the most suitable way to report to me, Right?" The headmaster speaks. "To give you such a rare item, does my graciousness know no bounds?"

"Thank you headmaster." You smile.

Crowley smiles back at you, "It is already late. Let's save the detailed conversation for tomorrow." He says, "Return to your dormitories, everyone."

You all nod and leave the room. Grim finds his way in your arms as you picked him up.

"La lala~" Grim begins singing again, "I start as a student of Night Raven College tomorrow. I'm gonna leave you all and take the top spot!" He says.

Ace furrows his brows. "You talk big for someone who is only half a student.." He sighs, "Anyways, it's fine." You see his eyes soften slightly.

"We're classmates tomorrow, Prefect, Grim." Deuce speaks up, smiling.

"I'm glad to attend here with you guys." You say with a smile.

The tip of Ace's ears turn red as he scratches the back of his neck. "Saying stuff like that is really embarrassing, will you stop?"

Deuce chuckles. "That's true. Even if we don't want to, we're going to see each other everyday. I'm even in Heartslabyul with this jerk." He points to Ace, making him glare.

"The thought of having to see Mr. Serious mug everyday makes me sick." The ginger gags.

"That's my line, truant Ace."

"You guys are still fighting?"

A familiar voice joins in the conversation, you all look up to see the ghosts from the mainstreet.

"GAAHHH!" You all scream, you feel your heart jumping out of your ribcage.

"GRIM! FIRE!"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

The beast still follows your orders, and a he breaths out a burst of flame aiming for the ghost.

"How rude! I don't wanna talk anyway..!" The ghost's voice echoes as he disappears of to who knows where.

Grim pants, shaking. "It's that ghost again..."

"Who even are they?" You ask. Ace turns his head to you.

"You seriously don't know?" You raise a brow, making him facepalm himself. "Right, another world.." He mutters, recalling you telling him of your situation on the way to the Hall of Mirrors.

"He's the Mainstreet Ghost, randomly appears a few years ago and mostly sticked to the, well, Mainstreet." Ace explains, "He quickly became popular outside of NRC because of him helping others or spooking them."

"And everyone is okay with him staying here..?" Grim asks, the card duo nod.

"He's seen in a good light thanks to his navigations and information about the great seven, so the headmaster just let him be, I guess.." Deuce says.

'None of that is helpful to finding out why he isn't in the story.' You groan.

"Oh, yeah." You perk your head up. "You guys wanna eat at our dorm? Dinner must've already passed at your dorm."

Ace shakes his head, "Nah, I'll just eat whatever is in the fridge." He says.

"I'm not that hungry either." Deuce mentions, "It's already late anyway, we shouldn't impose."

"It's not imposing if I'm inviting you." You sigh, "Oh well, don't steal a tart or something."

Ace raises a brow, confused by your words, but doesn't question it.

"I'm hungry!" Grim says, raising his paws like a toddler.

"I know, I know.. Let's just eat leftovers." You mutter, he seems content with that.

"As long as it tastes good it's good for me!"

𓆩♡𓆪

The roses are painted bright red with brushes held by card soldiers, singing as they do so.

"Hurry, hurry! We have to paint them all red!" The Ace of Clovers rushes.

A small blonde girl clad in blue raises a brow, "Why do you need to paint a roses red?" She asked.

"Well, the fact is, Miss." The Two of Clovers begins. "We planted white roses by mistake."

"The Queen, she likes them red," The Ace of Clovers continues. "Of she saw white roses instead, each of us will quickly lose our heads!"

The blonde gasps, putting a hand to her mouth. "Goodness!" She exclaims.

"Since this is the part we dread," The Three of Clovers speaks up. "We're painting the roses red."

Your head begins to ache at the sound of the door banging loudly, Grim turns and groans at the noise.

'I just told him not to steal a tart..' You scowl, getting up from the bed already.

You and Grim walk to the foyer, you immediately open the door to reveal a collared Knave of Hearts.

"Ace, what're you doing here this late.. Gah?! And what's with the collar?" Grim questions, looking at the heart-shaped collar on Ace's neck.

"I'm never going back to Hellslabyul ever again! Starting today, I'm going to join your dorm!" The ginger announces, surprising Grim.

"You WHAT?!" Grim shouts.

"How about we talk about this inside?" You say, letting Ace in.

You go to the kitchen to make some tea while Ace and Grim go over to the living room, sitting down on the torn couch.

"Geez, this place is a mess." Ace darts his eyes around. Grim huffs, crossing his paws.

"If you wanna be apart of this dorm then deal with it!"

You return with a small tea set that you found in the cupboards and the kettle, pouring tea for everyone in the room.

"Thanks." Ace smiles, blowing on the hot tea.

"So, what exactly happened?" You ask, sitting down.

"That's the same collar that red-haired senior put on me during the entrance ceremony." Grim mentions, "What's it doing on you?"

"I ate a tart." Ace replied nonchalantly, sipping on his tea.

"Huh?" Grim blinks. "A tart?"

"You heard me. Literally just that." Ace sighs. You slouch in your seat as you cross your arms.

"Didn't I tell you not to? Truly, you are such a knave."

Ace looks at you with confusion, raising a brow, a signal for explanation that you did not get.

"There were three whole tarts! So I just took one slice!" Ace yells. "Then that tyrant of a dormleader collared me for it! Saying something about them belonging to him." The ginger huffs.

"........"

"........"

"You're both in the wrong here, y'know?" Grim speaks up first.

Ace finishes his tea. "Don't you think it's a little much to seal my magic because of one tiny tart? It's like having my arms and legs chained up." He says.

"Besides, there were three whole tarts in there! There's no way he can finish them."

"If there were that many tarts, don't you think it might be for a party?" You ask.

"Yeah, like a birthday party!" Grim adds.

"A birthday party...?" Ace mutters, looking down as he thinks.

"Did you apologize?" Ace furrows his brows at your question, clenching his fists.

"Isn't this the part where you say he's being to much of a power freak?" The ginger pouts, you just shrug your shoulders.

"You're also at fault for eatin his food." Grim says.

"Just apologize to him tomorrow."

"Fine, whatever." Ace grunts, displeased with both of your reactions and lack of sympathy. "But you're coming with me! This is your idea afterall." He adds.

"That's fine with me." You nod.

"So, where should I sleep for the night?" The knave asks,Grim gives him a puzzled look.

"Wait, you were actually being serious?" The beasts questioned. "All the rooms but ours is still a mess. Better get scrubbing." He tells Ace.

"Bleh, I am not cleaning up." The ginger then turns to you. "I'm practically a noodle and won't take up much space, so let me stay in your room!" He begs.

"Sure." You smile.

"W-wait. Seriously?" Ace blinks, surprised by your quick answer.

"No."

𓆩♡𓆪

You were at the door before the Two of Spades even knocked, unlocking the door as he did.

"Ah, good morning prefect." Deuce greets. "Is Ace here?"

You simply nod. "He's eating breakfast with Grim, wanna join us?" You ask.

"No, it's fi-" You don't let him answer as you drag him and throw him on the chair, a plate of eggs and sausage already on the table for him along with orange juice.

"Deuce? What're you doing here?" Ace asks in between bites.

"I, um, heard what happened from the other residents." Deuce says, dazed as his eyes are fixated on the plate of food.

He then turns to Ace, a look of disappointment on his face as he breathed out. "You really are an idiot." He mutters just loud enough to be heard.

"Shut it! I don't wanna hear that from you!" The ginger grumbles, "By the way..Is the dormleader still mad?"

Deuce shakes his head. "Not really. He looked a little irritated at these three guys who missed morning roll call...The most that happened is they met the same fate at you." Ace gave him a questioning look as he furrowed his brows.

"That's your definition of not really?! He's angry, no matter the way you toss it!"

"Ah, Ace." You speak up, finishing your food. "Have you found a way to apologize?" You ask.

"I hate this so much. Why am I the one apologizing?" The ginger groaned.

"We've still got time before class, and I'm curious about other dorms." Grim says, "Let's go on a wander while we go watch Ace's apology." He suggests.

"This isn't some kind of show!" Ace yells.

You all have finished your breakfasts and found your ways in the Heartslabyul dorm. The heart shaped rose bushes everblooming, complimenting the red and white dorm with heart patterns.

'No wonder it's called Heartslabyul.. ' You think to yourself.

"Woah! This is gorgeous!" Grim exclaimed, turning to look at every sight in his view. "It's so much better than whatever ours is!"

"Crap. I've gotta hurry and get these roses painted." You hear a mutter from nearby, Grim's ears perk up as he does too.

"Hey, someone's here." He says, the card duo and you follow the beast to near where the maze is.

You see buckets filled with red paint, some spilled on the ground and one knocked over. Footprints were left behind and there are some white roses standing out from the red ones, paint on the roses still drying.

You see a certain diamond on the ladder, his eyes and mind focused on the roses and nothing else.

"Hello?" Your voice startles him. He turns to you, and see how his green eyes shined brightly under the sun and how his ginger hair is of a lighter shade of red than Ace.

"Hm? You guys need something?" He speaks.

"What are you doing with that?" Ace asks, pointing at the buckets of paint and the brush in the diamond's hands.

"This?" Cater raised his hand. "Can't you see I'm painting the roses red?" He replied dryly.

"But why?" Deuce looked perplexed.

"Ahh, it's been a while since I've got to see cute reactions like this. Actually, aren't you guys the students who destroyed that 10,000,000 chandelier yesterday?" The card duo and the beast sweat at the question.

"Ugh..We're never gonna stop hearing about this until graduation." Ace exhaled.

"And you're the one who added on even more punishment by stealing the dorm leader's tart that very same night!" The diamond pointed at him.

"I feel so lucky meeting you guys! Hey, hey~! let's take a selfie! Yaay!"

None of you have time to decline as he instantly whips out his phone (or maybe it was always in his hand?) and points it it himself and everyone else.

"Can I put this on magicame? Tell me your name so I can put you in the tags."

"I'm Deuce Spade.."

"Ace."

"Grim and my henchman!" You flick him away.

"It's Y/n." You correct the beast.

"Boop! And up it goes~" The green eyed diamond smiles,tapping on his phone. "Oh yeah, I'm Cater Diamon, I'm a third year." He finally introduces himself.

"You can call me Cater or Caycay, nice to meetcha~"

"This guy is really carefree." Grim mumbles, trying to bite your ankle as revenge for flicking him away like crumbled paper.

"It's nice to meet you too." You say, smiling.

"Ah, you're the student that became the prefect for Ramshackle dorm!" Cater points out. "You seem to be setting in pretty well. That place is so dark and unmagicammable!"

"Man, this guy really doesn't shut up does he?" Grim tries to speak. Keyword being tries, as he is current muffled by your hand to keep him from biting you and what ever noise comes out of him is barely understandable.

"What am I doing? I don't have time to chitchat!" Cater slaps his cheeks lightly, holding onto the brush with a firmer grip.

"Can you guys help me paint the roses before the party tomorrow?"

"But why are you doing something so weird anyways?" Ace tilts his head.

"Because red roses at a parth are the most photentic I guess?" Cater brought his hands to his lips, shrugging his shoulders after. "I've also gotta color in the flamingos for the croquet march, so mt hands are full right now."

"You have to color in flamingos?! Your chores are so weird." Grim says, staring in disbelief at the boy.

"So the tart Ace at was going to be for the dorm leader's birthday party..." Deuce mentions outloud. Cater raised his brows.

"Ummm...No? They're for our dorm's traditional 'unbirthday party.'" The ginger says. "The dorm leader chooses a random day that isn't anyone's birthday and we have a tea party."

"The heck kind of tradtion is that?!"

"Worry about that later! Just focuse on painting the roses red!" Cater looks to you and Ace. "Since neither of you can you magic right now, here's some paint."

Deuce widens his eyes in surprise as he stares at the ginger. "W-we can change color with magic?"

"I've never done something like that!" Grim exclaims.

"Don't worry! You're amazing upperclassman CayCay will help!" Cater does a peace sign as he strikes a cutesy pose that makes you die on the inside.

With your brush in hand, you begin painting. Making sure none of the white is shown.

It would be no good if Riddle beheads another person even before his overblot.

[fieldofdaisiies]

gwyn x balthazar | 3k words | warnings: none| masterlist

"Be careful of my ears!" 

Warning laces Balthazar's voice and it draws a vicious chuckle from his sister. Thena flips the scissors in her hands, twirling them around her fingers, before catching them again. She grins at her little brother through the mirror. "Have a little more trust in me, huh? I've been doing this for years, I am a natural talent."

Balthazar fights the urge to roll his eyes, not trusting his sister with a pair of scissors in her hands. He sits perched on an old chair, wings open and draped on the ground so Thena stand close while cutting his hair. When they were younger their mother always cut their hair, but now, with her trembling hands, this is no longer possible. 

Thena's mischievous eyes danced with mirth when lifts up the first strand she has wetted before. "Ready, little brother?"

He chuckles nervously. "Ready, but please don't make me look like an idiot."

Her laughter tinkles like a melody, filling the air with warmth. "Don't worry, it is already too late for that." 

Balthazar wants to swat her, his hand already lifting to fling backwards, but Thena clicks her tongue. "Remember who has the scissors."

With a comb in one hand and scissors in the other, she starts her little brother's transformation. Locks of hair drift to the floor, pooling around her feet as she goes about her job. 

"A very important question," she sings, her tone teasing. "This sudden interest in grooming wouldn't have anything to do with a certain someone, would it?"

Warmth rises in Balthazar's cheeks and he wonders just how obvious he must be. Not only Corrian noticed but also his sister — brilliant. 

The young Illyrian playfully rolls his eyes, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Leaning in, Thena glowers at him through the mirror. "Oh, please. I've caught you stealing glances at the red-haired female more than once."

Feigning shock, he gasps dramatically before both burst into laughter. Balthazar shakes his head, wondering exactly how obvious he had been. "Alright, alright."

"So, you admit it?"

Balthazar shurgs. 

"But she is not Illyrian."

"I am well aware of that, Thena." The bitterness in the Illyrian's voice is quite audible and sends a spark of sadness to Thena's heart. 

"But that should not be a problem. Nesta Archeron is also with the general and he is Illyrian and she fae. Just like High Lord and Lady." She beams at her brother through the mirror, comb now discarded and her hand on his shoulder. Of course, being Illyrian and being with someone who is Fae will come with difficulties and issues, but the relationship is not impossible. Obviously, it isn't. 

"I would really love it for you if you finally meet the one, if you are finally no longer afraid of falling in love." She gives her brother's shoulder a tight squeeze, before grabbing the comb again to finish up his look. 

Balthazar says nothing, though the smile on his face speaks volumes. 

Thena finishes her work, placing the tools she used down on the kitchen table. Stepping back, she surveys her work, hands on her hips. "Well, well, well. Look at you, absolutely dashing. My expert styling skills truly never fail."

Balthazar rises from his chair, snorting, his fingers running through his freshly-trimmed hair. A contented smile graces his lips. "So full of yourself, but you truly did a good job. Thank you."

Balthazar really likes the new look, although—

"You look a lot like your father." 

There is no emotion in his mother's voice. Not a hint of sadness, nor joy. It is emotionless, like she is stating certain data and facts. She observes her children form where she leans against the kitchen counter, a cup tightly clasped in her fragile hand, her eyes narrowed. 

Thena slides her hand around Balthazar's elbow, squeezing, and pulling him to her. He has gone rigid, his eyes trained on the picture he sees in the mirror — his reflection. 

He truly looks like his father. He has his mother's nose. And the eyes. But that is it—

"This is bullshit. You look very handsome, and a lot like me. You know how much we resemble each other. And I clearly don't look like…him. Don't let her get into your brain, look forward to meeting the beautiful girl." Thena's smile could light up the darkest night in this moment, her eyes full hope and love for her brother. She leans in and kisses Balthazar's upper arm, then nods her head in an encouraging way. 

Yet, he does not move immediately, his gaze still focused on himself. What if I become like him?

"Baz, don't…" Thena glances at their mother, but her gaze is now lowered to the cup in her hands, her long, matted, brown hair falling over her shoulders, silver threads weave their way through them and make her seem so much older. And she appears much thinner than she always used to be.

"Thank you." Turning, the Illyrian moves his arm out of Thena's hold and leans down to kiss the top of her head. He can't look back at her mother, knowing it will only hurt him more. 

"I hope I still look dashing after hours of flying." A smile that does not reach his eyes graces his face, but at least it is a good attempt at trying to get rid of the negative feelings inside of him. 

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It is already close to midday when Balthazar steps into the old, dusty office. 

His goal is clear – he is here to collect certain documents and also maps to bring with him to Velaris. With determination, he gathers all the documents, maps, placing each one carefully into a worn bag. It is the only bag he could find and so it will have to do. 

Sunlight sneaks in through the curtain framed windows, casting a warm glow upon the walls. Balthazar knows that one of the first things he will do when he is camp lord, is to wash those old, dusty curtains and clean up the whole office. 

When he is camp lord…So, he really starts to live with the idea, to like the thought of it, the sound of it. Yet, worries plague him daily. Is he really good enough for this? He doubts it. He is so young, way too young and inexperienced. And not really respected. That could change once he is camp lord, but…He doesn't know. 

When finally done with collecting everything he needed, Balthazar slings the bag over his shoulder, careful of his wings. 

There's a feeling of excitement in the air, and Balthazar draws in a deep inhale. Why does this, despite all worries, feel so damn right to be in here and be thinking about camp lord stuff? 

It is actually a good sign, isn't it, he thinks? Yes, yes, it is!

With one last look around, he pulls the door close behind him, locking it. When outside, the sun high above the Illyrian mountains greets him. He spreads his wings, and with a push, he takes off, leaving the ground and Windhaven behind. The crisp wind whips around him, brushing his skin and his wings. He soars over the barren landscape of the Illyrian steppes, leaving behind the looming mountains and large forests. 

In this moment he can forget about everything and anything, his mind as clear as a forest river, his sense sharpened, the cool air like balm to his soul. Balthazar allows himself to close his eyes for a moment, allowing the sounds around him to guide him. With each graceful flap, his wings guide him over the landscape, over the villages, over the small forests.

His powerful wings stretch wide, catching the sunlight as it reflects of the leathery membrane. With each graceful sweep, he propels himself higher, leaving the familiar landscapes below.

The young Illyrian soars above ancient trees, his mind at ease, just like it was during the mind-stilling. And there it goes…his thoughts moving to Gwyn once again.

They have barely made conversation, but somehow she is there, always there, always on his mind. A small smile appears on his face just at the sheer thought of her. 

But he shakes his head, turning to look over his shoulder to make out how far he has already gone.

Snow-capped mountain peaks touch the cerulean sky behind him, but it is in the very far distance, telling him that he has already been travelling for quite a bit. 

In the far distance Balthazar can eventually make out rooftops that glint in the sunshine and he slowly, but gradually starts to descend. 

His eyes land on the river that winds its way through the city like teal ribbon that reflects the bright sun and immediately makes him think of Gwyn. Her eyes are just too captivating to not think about them all the time. 

Balthazar shakes his head anew, and adjusts the strap of the bag over his shoulder. 

As he descends even more, he notices that the streets bustle with life, a melody of voices and noises reaching him. There are many shops, and even more people crowding the streets and it makes a warm feeling appear in his heart. Velaris truly seems like a lovely place. 

A cool breeze brushes his wings and skin when draws closer to the House of Wind, where he will once again be expected. 

Finally, he descends gracefully, his wings flapping lazily as he aims for the balcony he last landed on. 

He lands softly, his feet touching the stone while he folds in his wings and Balthazar draws in a deep breath. He smoothes his palms down his pants, brings one hand up to brush it through his hair and places his knuckles against the cool glass of the balcony door.

He waits a moment. Then knocks. 

Soon he is greeted by Nesta, a bright smile on her face as she opens the door. "Balthazar." She dips her chin and leads him inside. "Had a nice journey?"

"Very alright," the young Illyrian answers. 

Nesta answers with a warm smile, his new hairstyle not going unnoticed by her, but she leaves it without comment. 

And this new hairstyle is also the first thing Gwyn notices and then…his marvellous scent. Somehow magically, his scent, the woodsy aroma, the slight musky hue, and…some sort of cologne reaches her and she breathes in deeply, her eyes not leaving his.

A beautiful rosy colour touches the Illyrian's cheeks and he lifts his hand to wave at Gwyn. "Good to see you, Gwyneth," he says, his tone light and happy. 

Gwyn wants to answer him, straightening up on the couch, but Cassian is quicker. He steps around the desk in Rhysand's office and clasps Balthazar's shoulder in his large hand. 

"Balthazar," he greets and then points to the large bag thrown over the Illyrian's shoulder. "I see you brought something?"

Balthazar averts —although it is quite hard— his gaze from Gwyn and nods at the general, both in greeting and confirmation. "I did. I found some documents and lists in Devlon's office, thinking you might find them useful."

An approving noise leaves Cassian. Balthazar places the bag on the table, after greeting everyone else in the room. He places the documents on the table, opening them and soon Cassian and Rhys, alongside Feyre and Balthazar surround the large oak desk. 

Nesta claims the seat next to Gwyn, a tiny, smug smile on her lips. "New hairstyle?" She nudges Gwyn whose eyes widen the slightest bit.

"Really, I haven't noticed…" she whispers, feeling how her cheeks warm. 

"Yes, of course. That is also why you immediately know who I am talking about." A grin now replaces the smug smile. "But it suits him."

Yes, it definitely does, Gwyn thinks, but does not know how to answer Nesta. Her cheeks are already so warm, and she knows when she opens her mouth, her brain and thoughts will definitely give her away. Thank the Gods, Balthazar rescues her. Somehow at least… 

"Should we wait for Lord Azriel?"

Cassian's hand once again lands on Balthazar's shoulder, this time with a loud smack. "It is Azriel. Just as much as it is Cassian and…Rhysand. We agreed on skipping the formalities, stop being such a good boy!" 

The general laughs and is soon joined by Feyre's hoarse chuckle. She bites down on her lip when she sees how the young Illyrian starts to blush. 

"Sorry…Cassian." Balthazar brings his hand up and brushes it through his curls, a sheepish smile on his lips. 

The general bows his head. "And concerning your question, no we don't need to wait. Azriel is out for business."

The three males and Feyre lean over a large oak table, their forms slightly stooped as they start to discuss the contents of the documents and lists that are scattered across the table's expanse. Lists of food rations, maps, and ancient parchments adorned with aged seals carry information that is beyond all three of them. 

Cassian's fingers trace lines on maps, highlighting routes and regions that existed long before he was born. 

The things Devlon has kept in his office are both breathtaking and absolutely surprising — the secretes he must have hidden and known about. 

Lists of supplies, kind of irritating in their detail —because how much time must Devlon have spent with them?— unfurl in the mass of papers and parchment. 

While looking at the documents, their conversations always surround the war camp and they tie the lists and documents in with their conversation — food rations and also wood chopping for winter are discussed. It is soon clear that more Illyrians have to go wood chopping from now on. 

Hours must have passed when the meeting finally comes to an end. Outside it is dark already, having gone unnoticed by everyone inside the office. The house has provided them with drinks and food all throughout the day. Feyre is no longer with them, having left some hours ago to go back home to baby Nyx. 

"Oh, Mother," Balthazar blurts out when his eyes land on the dark landscape outside the floor-to-ceiling window. "I should be going home, it is already dark." "You can sleep here. We have so many rooms, you really don't need to travel home at night."

Balthazar looks unsure, his hesitation obvious in every line on his face. 

"You are not going to fly back to Illyria in the middle of the night. No matter how skilled you are, or that you are Illyrian, but this is too dangerous." Rhysand shakes his head. "And that is an order from your High Lord."

Balthazar raises his brows, and then lets his shoulders slump."Well, then I guess I have to accept the offer and stay the night. Thank you very much. "

Cassian takes upon him to show Balthazar to his room in their house. 

Lit by fairylights, Balthazar finds himself marvelling at the largeness of the house as they walk through the corridors. 

"Thank you, Cassian, for letting me stay. I am basically a stranger in your home, so I am really grateful about the offer and your kindness."

"No, you are no stranger. You are the new camp lord, and I have a lot of trust and faith in you." 

It is out of place, totally, and this is the only thing that keeps Balthazar from curling his arms around the general and giving him a tight hug while jumping up and down. 

But he can't avoid the big grin from spreading over his face, reaching from one ear to the other. The general's statement just makes him so incredibly proud and also a little happy. 

Cassian has to chuckle slightly, watching the boyish happiness on the young Illyrian's face. He is so young, has his whole life in front of him, but he will be a great camp lord, the best Windhaven has probably ever seen, he knows this.. 

The air smells like old wood as the ascend a staircase and Balthazar marvels at the interior of the house. Yet, he is soon ripped out of his gazing again. 

"I have noticed you and Gwyn exchanging glances," Cassian then says matter-of-factly, his tone giving nothing away. "She is a wonderful female, don't ever think about hurting her, or you will lose my trust and faith."

Balthazar is shocked, so shocked he stops dead in his tracks. His heart makes one skip, then another with more force and his breathing halts. 

Firstly, the general has noticed his shameless looks at her. And secondly, he would never ever consider hurting her in any way possible. 

The young Illyrian clears his throat, shakes his head and begins to walk again. "I would never. Never ever would I hurt her. I…I…I think we could be good friends." He wants to face-palm himself for the last sentence, but he did not know what else to say. 

"Good." Cassian turns to him with a smile and stops. He lifts his hand, gesturing at the dark, oak door. "You room. The house, don't ask how, will provide you with everything you need. And wake you for breakfast. If you need anything, just ask the house. Good night, and hold you chin a little higher, you are going to be the next camp lord." 

Cassian winks. "And you have the most powerful general and the most powerful High Lord on your side, this is a reason to walk with a little more pride." 

Cassian grins and pushes down the door handle, showing the young Illyrian in. 

He is not really able to communicate then, so overwhelmed by the compliments and their trust in him. And what the general said about Gwyn. And the sort of magic house.

His throat feels dry and his head a little dizzy. 

"Thank you," he finally breathes when he steps in. "For all of it."

Cassian bows his head and turns to walk away, leaving Balthazar alone in the dark room. Alone with his thoughts and a single pair of sleeping pants on the bed. No shirt. 

Interesting house, Balthazar thinks, and the door falls close behind him. 

~~~~~~~~ tag list: @a-frog-with-a-laptop @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel @callmeblaire @headcanonheadcase @waternymphia @autumndreaming7 @devilsfoodcake22 @readercacau @sv0430 @bubybubsters @cyntia-ktn

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day twenty six - thrown out of a window

notes: the end is in sight! thanks for sticking around!

read on AO3 or below

Kelly’s repeated involvement with OFI had been the source of many, many arguments between him and Stella in the past. After his time in Alabama put a huge strain on their marriage, Kelly really cut back on full-scale arson investigations and only let his ‘fire cop’ side out when he had Stella’s full support.

Kelly had a natural talent for arson investigation and denying him the opportunity to use that talent was doing him, the CFD, and the city of Chicago (and beyond) a disservice. Stella never wanted Kelly to feel like she was holding him back, and he’d earned her trust again after Arizona, so she tried to be on board with Fire Cop Kelly coming out every now and then.

Things had been going well for Kelly; he was focusing on Stella, their relationship, and his job at the firehouse. Truck was going through a lot of changes and Kelly wanted to be there for Stella as much as he could.

Then the fires started.

At first, they were small. The fires only caused structural damage but it was clear they’d been intentionally set. Chicago had itself a serial arsonist.

Very quickly, the fires got bigger and more dangerous as the arsonist grew bolder. More injuries were reported as the arsonist moved on from abandoned buildings to stores, businesses, and apartments.

Two firefighters died after a collapse at a department store fire, which was a loss felt by every member of the CFD, and others were injured in a fire at an office building but it was the members of Truck 81 getting trapped and nearly dying during an apartment fire that did it for Kelly. The arsonist needed to be stopped so, with Stella’s blessing and a whole lot of anger and determination, Kelly made a temporary jump to OFI. 

Time was of the essence but there was a lot of evidence to get through. The arsonist was careful but the bigger and bolder he got, the sloppier he became. A pattern became noticeable and, whether intentional or not, clues were left behind at different scenes.

The police were helping as well, turning over any recovered CCTV footage from the fires to OFI. Between the camera footage and tips called in, Kelly and the OFI team finally had a lead on who the arsonist was and where he was hiding. 

It was just after sunset when the OFI team rolled up to a rundown motel near the city limits. It was a seedy looking place, just two stories tall and in desperate need of renovations. Half the rooms were boarded up, there were cracks in the walls and rust on the railings and stairs. The motel had closed a while ago but the accompanying police officers said they wouldn’t be surprised if people had taken to squatting in the empty rooms. 

One by one they searched through the rooms. While there were signs of obvious squatting, none of the rooms so far had shown any recent activity. 

Until they arrived at the room on the corner.

Kelly was the first one through the door and right away, he knew they’d found the right room. The walls were covered with newspaper clippings of the fires, those that mentioned deaths and injuries were front and center. Bottles of accelerants and empty gas cans were scattered on the floor, along with boxes of matches, lighters, and other fire-starting mechanisms.  

Seager radioed the others to report what they found while Kelly moved further into the hotel room. He knew PD would come and process the room and hopefully give them an ID on this guy, but Kelly was more interested in trying to figure out this guy’s next target.

As Kelly approached the back of the room, a sudden rush of movement caught his eye. A door on the side of the room burst open and a man rushed towards Kelly. There was a quick fight, but Kelly was soon overpowered. Before he even knew what was happening, Kelly was crashing through the back window and falling to the ground below.

Pain engulfed Kelly’s body as he hit the cracked asphalt below. His vision blurred and he fought to stay conscious but he was in agony. Through the ringing in his ears, Kelly heard yelling and thundering footsteps growing louder as they came closer. 

Kelly’s last thought, before he gave into the overwhelming darkness, was the arsonist’s face and the overwhelming knowledge that Kelly had recognized him.

… … …

It was a slow night at Molly’s, just the 51 crew and a few regulars in the bar. Stella was behind the bar and had just served Violet and Carver another round of drinks when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, which normally meant she wouldn’t answer, but there was a gnawing feeling in her gut that told her to answer it.

“Hello?”

Stella listened for a minute, her eyes growing wider and wider as each second passed. “Is he okay?!”

After another minute Stella threw her dish towel on the counter, grabbed her keys, and started rushing towards the door. “I’ll be right there!”

“Kidd, hey,” Herrmann said, grabbing her arm gently before she made it around the bar. “What’s going on?”

“That was Seager. The serial arsonist OFI was looking for? He just threw Kelly out of a second-story window.” Stella looked at Herrmann and noticed she had the attention of everyone else from 51. “I need to get to Med.”

… … …

It took about an hour for all of the team from 51 to make it to the hospital, where they joined Stella and the OFI team in the waiting room. Apart from the initial update Seager and Van Meter had been able to give Stella when she arrived, they hadn’t heard anything else about Kelly’s condition. 

It was another 30 minutes before Dr. Ripley came into the ED with an update. 

“Lieutenant Severide is going to be fine,” he shared. He gave the group a moment to soak the news in, knowing the group in front of him cared greatly for his patient. “He’s got a pretty bad concussion, some broken ribs and a broken shoulder from the fall, but those should heal up just fine in a few months.”

“Our biggest concern is the fractures on the C5 and C6 vertebrae.”

“He broke his neck?!” Stella cried, the shock and fear making her voice louder than she intended.

“He did,” Dr. Ripley confirmed. “But ortho and neurology have both been in to see him. He’ll be in a neck brace while the fractures heal but as of now, there’s no need for surgical intervention. Neuro has also ruled out any deficits and paralysis. As he heals, Lieutenant Severide might experience some weakness and nerve pain but we’ll get him a referral to physical therapy for the rehab process.” 

“We’ll be keeping Severide overnight to monitor his concussion and get a handle on his pain. He’s being moved to a room now and then you guys are good to go see him.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ripley.” Stella said, sincerely.

Dr. Ripley nodded and headed back into the ED. The waiting group of firefighters and arson investigators all relished in the relief that Kelly would (eventually) be fine.

“That Severide luck strikes again,” Capp murmured.

“What luck is that Capp?” Cruz asked. “The bad luck that keeps getting him hurt or the good luck that has him surviving?”

“Uhh, both?”

Stella snorted and that helped break any remaining tension in the waiting room. Kelly Severide was a lucky guy…whether it was good luck or bad seemed to change in the blink of an eye. 

… … …

Kelly Severide was miserable. The neck brace and sling were uncomfortable, his entire body hurt, and no amount of pain medication could completely get rid of the throbbing ache in his head.

Seeing the team from 51 had been nice. Kelly had missed seeing everyone and while he liked the OFI team, they weren’t his team. They kept the visit short since visiting hours were almost over but they were all just happy to see Kelly awake and relatively okay.

When just Stella and Boden were left in the room with Kelly, Seager and Van Meter entered.

“Severide, how are you feeling?” Van Meter asked as he came to a stop at the foot of Kelly’s bed.

Kelly shrugged (or tried to) his good shoulder. “Not my first time going out a window.”

“Hopefully it’s your last,” Stella said, fixing him with a glare. “Take the stairs next time, hmm?”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”

“The arsonist you were chasing,” Boden started. “Did you get him?”

“We did,” Van Meter answered. “PD is holding him at the precinct but he’s not talking yet.”

“Who is he?” Stella asked.

Before Van Meter could answer, Kelly jumped in. “Martin Carlisle.”

“That’s right,” Van Meter confirmed, raising an eyebrow at Kelly. “How’d you know that?”

“I met him in Alabama. He was an arson investigator from California, I think? He ended up getting sent home early for spouting all this crazy rhetoric. He presented a few times and had the most outlandish takes. Every time he got correct or even questioned he’d get mad and just spew even more nonsense. He got hostile so they sent him home.” Kelly explained. “No one knows for sure what happened to him after he got sent home but rumor was that he got fired.”

“Any idea what brought him to Chicago?” Seager asked.

“None,” Kelly mumbled. “But Carlisle did get into with me and a few others as he left. I’d check and see if there were any suspicious fires in Houston, Atlanta, and Seattle before he came here.”

“You think he’s done this before?”

“Maybe? I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Van Meter nodded and finished jotting something down in his notebook. “We’ll look into it, thanks Severide.”

“Rest up,” Seager added. “The CFD needs you.”

Seager and Van Meter left after that, heading back to OFI to look into the information Kelly had given them. 

Boden stayed with Kelly and Stella for a little while longer before heading out himself. He had things to handle on his end and he had some calls to make: he wanted to find our more about this Carlisle guy.

Once they were alone, Stella ran her fingers through Kelly’s hair. He’d gotten quiet since Van Meter and Seager left and Stella knew he was lost in his thoughts. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kelly moved his eyes to look at Stella. “It’s just a lot.”

“You know this isn’t your fault, right? Whatever choices this guy made, the destruction he caused, that’s all on him.”

“I know.” 

And Kelly did know. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard of an arsonist making things personal like this. Hell, thanks to Hadley, this wasn’t even the first time he’d been on an arsonist’s hit list. Their actions were completely their own but innocent people had been injured, good firefighters had been killed, his wife and her team had almost died. The fact that Carlisle could’ve done all of this as some sort of revenge plot against him made the guilt feel worse than the broken neck. 

“It still sucks though.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Stella knew her husband well. If Carlisle had done all of this to get back at Kelly, she knew he’d carry the guilt with him for a long time. He wouldn’t be carrying it alone though; she’d be there, helping him carry it, every step of the way.

[writingalovestory]

Wonder-WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

@eventide-roses

Lexi, thank you for this wonderful idea.

"Where are you going?" Ace tiredly asked when he looked up from the bed, seeing Togo fully dressed and putting a few things in a bag. She blinked, turning to Ace.

"Ah- Tsukasa asked me for help with coming up with a script, since Otori-san and Kamishiro-san's ideas are going off of the rails for him, and Kusanagi-san rejected his." Togo explained, walking over to Ace and softly kissing his forehead "I'll try not to take too long, okay?" Ace frowned. It was supposed to be his weekend with Togo, where the two of them would just chill out. But no. Apparently, the blond haired bastard that wants to be a star has decided to be selfish. He gritted his teeth.

"I'm comin' with ya. Just give me a few minutes." he stated, getting up. Togo let out a noise of confusion by the sudden statement. Ace wanted to come?

"Wah- Ace, you don't have to, you know-"

"It's supposed to be our weekend, I'm not letting this blond haired bastard take it." Ace interrupted her, grabbing clothes from the closet "He didn't specify the time, right?"

"Ah- He said that if I could come before 2 pm, because then the troupe would be having lunch-"

"It's 10 am, so he can wait." Ace deadpanned, heading to the shower. Togo blinked when she heard the bathroom door close. She just stood there, processing all of the information.

"Is he still jealous of Tsukasa?"

___________________________________________________________

"Tsukasa-kun, when is your friend gonna arrive?!" Emu asked, excited and impatient, as she always is.

"She said she wouldn't take that long..." Tsukasa mumbled, looking at his wristwatch with nervousness. Was Togo really gonna come? She promised him she would, but... What if she was busy? He did call her at 7 am, and maybe she was busy studying? He didn't fully understand the whole 'Ultimate' concept, but from what he heard, you have to polish your talent to the fullest.

"Tsukasa-kun? You seem worried." Rui asked, raising a brow. Tsukasa flinched.

"Nothing's the matter, Rui! I'm just- It's really hot out here!" Tsukasa replied with a smile. Rui hummed.

"Well, it is summer... and you are wearing a jacket..." he pointed out.

"If you are so hot outside, take off your jacket." Nene deadpanned, Tsukasa groaned at that.

"Tsukasa!"

Everyone perked up at the voice, and Emu swore she saw the biggest smile she had ever seen on the blond's face. He practically ran to the person, tackling them in a hug. "Woah- Tsukasa, careful!" Togo laughed, maintaining her balance, Ace behind her. Someone who Emu did notice, but not the others.

"Sorry sorry, my star! I'm just so happy you agreed on helping us out!" Tsukasa beamed, holding her hands with excitement. Togo chuckled at that.

"Tsukasa-kun, who is she?" Rui asked, curious.

"You all must be Tsukasa's troupe. Greetings, my name is Togawara Togo, nice to meet you." Togo smiled. Nene's eyes widened.

"W-Wait a second! Y-You're... You're the writer of 'Aurea Borearis'!" she exclaimed. Ace raised a brow at that.

"Ahaha, yes, that is me. You must be Kusanagi Nene, right?" Togo asked, gently grabbing the girl's hands "Tsukasa has spoken nothing but great things about you and the others, so I'm excited to work with you all." she smiled. Nene's face bursted into a bright shade of red.

"The pleasure is ours. But please do not overheat Nene, we need her to function." Rui chuckled, sticking his hand out for a handshake. Togo nodded, returning the handshake as well.

"Hmm? Where's Emu?" Tsukasa asked, looking around for the little pink haired performer.

"Eh? There's another person?" Ace asked, walking to them. Tsukasa flinched.

"M-Markey-san?! What are you-"

"It was my time to be with Togi this weekend, you ass." Ace deadpanned, glaring at Tsukasa. Nene and Rui looked at the redhead, then at the blond. Then at the redhead. Then at the blond.

"Ace, please." Togo sighed, wanting to face palm. That's when she noticed Emu sneaking behind Ace, signalling for Togo to be quiet.

"Eh-"

"WONDERHOY!" Emu screamed, hugging Ace.

"GYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

___________________________________________________________

[umichenginabroad]

Rome Week 1: Falling in Love

Hello! It’s Ryan again. This past week has been so busy, with settling in and meeting new people, starting classes, and exploring Rome. I moved into my apartment and met my roommates (all 7 of them). Our neighborhood is so pretty, the apartment is conveniently located, near the metro stop and bus station, and my classes are only a 10-15 minute walk away. The apartment itself is large and I, by pure luck, was assigned a single room instead of sharing one. My travel, though long and uncomfortable, went off without a hitch and my move-in process was quick and easy. My first priorities were to get a SIM card and find my class locations, both of which I did. That first day I was so tired but knew that I had to beat the jetlag so I walked around with some friends. This city is gorgeous, talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference…

But for real, it is STUNNING. We went on a guided walking tour and I learned a bit more about the history of the city (for instance, that the modern city is built on top of the ancient one, which is 40 feet under the ground), but I was mostly just taken aback by the beauty. It seems as though around every corner is another surprise, whether that be a bustling piazza, gorgeous church, or an impressive historical landmark. There were times that we walked through a side street and emerged in front of the ruins of a temple, or even the Pantheon itself! 

There is beauty in the mundanity as well. Even walking around my neighborhood in the morning I am often shocked by the views. The apartment buildings are all decorated beautifully, painted bright colors and with balconies bursting with plants and flowers. It is a welcome change from my hometown of Los Angeles where it seems that every building is being turned into a glass-and-steel monstrosity. In some ways, though, it reminds me of home. The temperate climate (so far), the abundance of palm trees and seagulls, and the brilliant blue sky present a welcome change from the rather gloomy previous months in Ann Arbor.

As excited as I am about falling more in love with this city, I also look forward to falling (slightly) out of love with it as well. I am still waiting for the “honeymoon” phase to wear off but I want to see all of this city, both the good and not-so-good. I am trying to ditch the tourist mentality and see the city and its people with a more comprehensive view. There are already a few things that I think to note. First, cigarettes. Literally everyone here smokes, and often. The streets are littered with cigarette butts, wedged between the cobblestones and scattered in the planters. The odor lingers in the air and seems to permeate into every crevice. I have since grown used to it, and I think I have gone nose blind to it, but the prevalence of it here is quite jarring compared to the states. The traffic here is crazy as well. Everyone drives small little cars (think fiat or smart cars) but drive like maniacs. There are no stop signs anywhere at intersections and you just have to commit to crossing and hope that the driver breaks (they will, but it is so scary). 

I have done so much, and this post has covered so little, but there will be more time for everything. As I settle in I find things becoming less hectic and I have more time to think and plan out my time. A sneak peak into what is to come… Croatia! But for now, I will leave you with some photos which probably better document my time here than my words ever could.

My first view of the Pantheon. I am afraid that this image does not do it justice. It is an impressive, imposing structure, an effect made all the more dramatic by the suddenness of its appearance.

A view of Il Monumento nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II, which I saw against the backdrop of the most brilliant sunset. Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

A sunset over Rome. We could see the whole city laid out below us. (That is the Vatican in the background.) Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

The beauty in the mundane. Buildings lining one of the shopping streets. Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

My first roman dinner. It was delicious.

Me, hanging out on a bridge. When the sun is low in the sky the whole city glows. Photo credit: Batool Mahesri.

Ryan Ettner

Biomedical Engineering

Engineering in Rome

[pr1ncesspopstar]

Red on White - FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 19: Weal

!!Content/Trigger Warning for heavy Child Abuse. Please be aware!!

Ao3

-

It happened so quick and harsh; she is not even sure what happened.

One moment she was standing ‘neath the dusk sky in the training grounds, eager to show off her improved skill with the floating blades that resonated in kind with her mind and the small white stone around her neck. The hoots and cheers from the meager knights encouraging her on silenced by her father’s sudden arrival. Then she was on the ground, the silence deafening to hear the beat of skin on skin. Heat and shame are quick to race through her body. The blow on her face swelled and prickled with heat. Her father’s titan-like hand slammed into the entire right side of her head, making her brain feel like it was rattling in her skull. She only knows she bled because she can see the splotches of red on his heavy rings where they burst through her skin.

Fat tears crowded her vision, the sound leaking from her throat and chest she did not mean to make and try to stifle to no avail. So, her father forces her to, grabbing the leather cord that she hung the white stone from and yanked her to her up with it, leaving the tips of her toes dangling just a centimeter off the ground.

“Stop it!” His hiss is still a boom through the silent training yard, but she can barely hear him over the panicked beating of her heart in her own ears. “You will not embarrass us any further, Snoebryda! Silence your guilt, or I will silence it for you.”

Her throat strained for air, so she gulped and nodded, unable to see a thing through the water clouding her vision. She was dropped, but not without further action. Her father yanked the stone off her neck, the leather leaving rub burns from the force around her skin. Her connection to the flying blades was severed, and they clattered onto the ground. She lowered her head, using the curtain of red that was her hair to hide from the many eyes she could feel upon her.

“Your Majesty,” Wilfward was the only one brave enough to speak to the king. His armor clanked heavily with each step. “Please, be gentle on the young Princess. She- It was only out of childish innocence that she was-”

“Don’t you try to cover this up, you helbroegan! His Mightiness already knows the girl has been sneaking off against his wishes!” From somewhere, Snoebryda heard her nanny screech. That witch probably followed the king here, reveling in the misery like a vulture to carrion.

“‘Innocence?’” the king said, speaking from his gut to lower his voice deeper than it was natural. “Stealing from my treasury is an innocent game now, is it? You think it fine to pardon such disrespect of not just my laws and possessions? To reward her slacking, forgoing her training in battle for weaker, healing arts?”

Each word got louder and louder, soon bordering shouts of rage and vitriol. Snoebryda flinched with each word, because they were true. She had not dared to disclose her thievery to anyone, believing who could miss or recognize something that sat collecting dust beneath the castle for years? The captain of the guard struggled to respond.

“I know, the intention for her was to become a warrior like her mother before her, but, Snoebryda is deeply talented in magic and healing. She already rivals the skill of my own fellow soldiers. It would be a loss to not foster this natural love and-”

“I will hear no more of what is best for my daughter coming from you, Captain Rhotraelsyn. Nor ever again. You’ve entertained this disrespect long enough. I will command and oversee her training, since you are so incompetent as to forget who you serve and in whose best interest you act.” As he spoke, the king leaned in to speak softer to the captain of the guard, voice laced with a poison reserved only for those he deeply hated. A tone Snoebryda heard more and more, as less and fewer people worked in the castle, disappearing overnight. “And remind me, who is it you can thank for everything you and your son still have? Who you, above all else, you were born to serve? Or must I remind you of your boy as my example?”

“… You, Roegakoan. Forgive me for my lapse in judgment.” Wilfward spoke quietly, armor clinking as he kneeled to show reverence and submit to the king.

“You are lucky I reserve my judgment only towards the guilty today, Wilfward. You and your son should remember that mercy.” Her father huffed. “I’ll return the princess to her room myself. Since it’s apparent, I cannot trust anyone here to handle her other than myself.”

He wrapped a heavy hand around her arm, holding onto her with the same force one would lug a sack with. He yanked and dragged her along, her child leg unable to keep up with the long, heavy stride the adult roegadyn was capable of. She had to stifle her whimpers and yelps of pain by holding her breath, refusing to take even the smallest breath until her face was properly blue, fearful any sound would make him turn and laid a blow upon her other cheek as strong as his previous. The tongue lashing she got was nearly just as harmful, each word a lashing inside the cage of her chest like someone was turning the soft organs within inside out.

“I feared you were a disappointment of a child, and tonight shows I should have listened to those fears long ago. Since the day you were born, they warned me of your weakness! Born while it snowed during a spring eve, such an obvious omen I let her trick me into thinking was a blessing… What good was siring a child with that wild woman if you try to throw it away!” His grip tightened enough on her arm as her fingers tingled, the lack of blood making her skin prickle in want for the flow to return. Snoebryda could only curl her fingers to help what she had along, too afraid to loosen her arm and make her father think she was trying to break his grip.

“I will not let my fear of her control me any longer. I’ve been too lenient with you too long and forced my hand. You must be broken down and rebuilt into the strong heir I need.” His sharp words became mumbles as he took her up the stairs to her room, in one of the far corners of the castle, in a keep made into a section just for her. One way in, one way out. What once felt like a sanctuary, more and more a cell of isolation. And even that did not guarantee safety, especially from the one that kept her there.

He tossed her in with no care, body slamming into the elaborate antique bedframe passed through the family for who knew how long. The king slammed the door to her room, sealed her in with a heavy ‘chink’ from the iron lock. That small bit of privacy was all it took for her walls to break down.

Her whole body ached, bruises swelling and filling her with an exhaustion she’d never known before. Body shaking with each loud, wailing sob that rattled from her chest. She crawled into bed, candles offering meager enough light to illuminate the tear-stains on the fabric where she nuzzled her face into her pillow, seeking its coolness to ease her burning face. She didn’t even remove her dress or shoes, curling into the safety of her sheets to cry out the hurt and fear.

She had been so careful when she used the stone. She hadn’t even intended this, only delving into the treasury using a secret path she found to see the gifts brought by others as mourning gifts in the wake of her mother. Not money, treasures, rare things the eclectic queen would have enjoyed. Things her father had all intentions of selling as soon as he could. She went to appreciate them, in the way her mother would have shared them with people.

And in that dark room the stone called out from its box, glowing, all alone. As she cradled it in her hands, she felt a peace like no other. A firm, kind embrace, reassurance guiding her hands and filling her with magic. It was something she had never known before, a comfort, one that endured even during the dark. She could not leave it alone, feeling it so deeply entwined with her heart so quickly. So she took it, relishing in the magic it gave her. So strange, so new. It was intoxicating, to find an affinity and love for something all on her own, and hone it. Perhaps that joy and comfort made her careless.

And now she and the stone were severed, alone once more. That would have been punishment enough, but Snoebryda was not naïve to think this was all that waited for her. Come tomorrow, something worse awaited. But she could not not spare a thought for that, too wrapped up in the hurt of now. Her sobs echoed down the halls, seeming to mock her misery back.

Come morning, all was sore. The red marks discolored into purple and blue lumps, and the gashes on her cheek solidified into itchy scabs. Her eyes and throat were raw from all the crying. They gave her only a meager breakfast, an apple and some bread, barely anything for her body. In such a state, she did not realize what was amiss until she was already being guided down the hall, dressed in her training clothes.

The air was chilly this morning, a thin layer of fog coating the training ground with a few stars hanging in the sky as her witness. Her father stood next to… Snoebryda shivered with fear. Her father’s head of his personal guard, Cwinleita. The brute of a woman grinned down at her, a smile stretched too wide over her thin teeth.

“Well, good morning, Princess! From now forward, I’ll be your opponent with the new regimen His Majesty oh so kindly made you himself. Isn’t that kind of him?” Her tone was honey sweet while her eyes flashed with a viciousness Snoebryda had only seen in the eyes of hunting dogs, bred only to rip things to shred. She attempted to speak, but found her throat too hurt and weak. She just nodded, hoping that was enough to appease both adults.

The training ground door closed from behind her. The hair on the red-head child’s neck and scalp prickled, feeling like a cornered hare as her heartbeat raced in her ears. Being alone with these two, it felt naught but dangerous.

“As we discussed, Cwinleita. Refrain yourself.” Her father said and removed himself from the battlefield. As he settled into a dark corner, something clattered on the ground in front of her. A wooden training sword, the kind meant for an adult that was easily taller than her. Snoebryda dragged her blue eyes up to the imposing woman. At her side, she had her sword still within its scabbard.

“Pick it up.”

Snoebryda obeyed, leaning down to grab the oversized wooden tool. Her first mistake. The iron tip of Cwinleita’s boot embedded hard into her jaw, enough to where the child feared it would crack. She sent her flying a few feet, but the guard clearly felt that wasn’t enough, kicking the wooden sword into her body as hard as she could. Enough to welt and break the skin across her legs.

“You’d best leave any knowledge of how your previous training went at the door, whelp,” Cwinleita proudly announced, giving Snoebryda enough time to scramble to her feet before kicking her down again. “Because until decreed otherwise, I’m permitted to act as your enemy until you show some promise.”

This time, the guard pressed her entire weight down onto her chest. Three hundred pounds of muscle and malice squeezed all the air out of her, pushed the child into the dirt so hard she could feel the pebbles dig into her skin and lungs couldn not draw in air. 

“Can’t… breath…!” Snoebryda’s cry fell on deaf ears, Cwinleita imprinting her boot hard onto her skin. Her vision faded when the boot was removed, and she could gasp for air. A dread sunk into the child’s bones. They may accidentally kill her if she did not improve. The thought of death so sobering it made her freeze. A terrible reaction, as her opponent bashed her scabbard into her leg, creating a deep, bloody gash.

The pain was enough to ground Snoebryda back in the moment. She struggled to her feet and fought. A generous word for her flailing against the practiced fighter. Again and again, she was shoved to the ground, insulted, even spat upon. Tears refused to come out, but her eyes and body still trembled with them, a sight the woman took great joy in mocking. Snoebryda couldn’t think straight, both from an empty stomach and panic. She didn’t know why her form faltered, her hits were poor. She couldn’t understand the feeling upon her body of anxiety, a tight, mounting panic that swirled beneath her skin, crawling through it like a parasite. Sending shocks through that made her hesitate, and those small moments enough for Cwinleita to further her assault, and further throw Snoebryda off her rhythm.

The brawl went on for hours, until they covered her pale skin in marks, beaten red and bloody. Her muscles were caught in a state of tension, trembling but too tight to relax. She’d seen similar on other warriors and knights, after brawls where they wore the injuries with pride. Looking down at her own, as they lowered her arms in lumps and bloody patches, her skin crawled with a disgust she could not explain. There was no pride in these injuries, only shame. They were marks of failure. 

She was brought to her knees, and Cwinleita seemed to have the mind to push her further, if the Roegakoan had not spoken. “That’s enough for today.”

“Eh? I was promised these things would last all day. Not going soft, are you?” The guard captain complained.

“Watch your tongue. Of course not,” he moved toward the door as he spoke. “I simply have better things to do than to watch the weakling flounder. We’ll continue the day after tomorrow, when her punishment is over.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard bowed her head, before turning to Snoebryda and giving her one final, venomous grin. “Try not to gnaw your hands off from starvation, Princess. A day without food should hopefully toughen you up nicely for our next spar. I’ll even start trying next time.”

The child was left alone, struggling to manage the pain coursing through her muscles. So much of it felt bone deep, refusing to leave no matter how much time passed. All the water in her body was gone, sweat out under the sun, leaving her tongue feeling like paper against her teeth. The emptiness of her stomach only amplified the pain of her injuries, bruises and welts so heavy they’d turn an array of colors beneath the skin. Her eyes were impossibly heavy.

It was clear none would help her, so she dragged herself to her feet. Dragging her heavy limbs through the halls and up the stairs. No servant met her eye, refusing to. All but her nanny, who took great joy in scrubbing her skin raw in the scalding back after training to wash away the sweat, leaving her truly raw, every movement a pained one. Her only relief was the sound of nature just beyond the colored glass window, the trees and wind and birds and an orchestra she could focus on as she laid in bed, the most bearable thing she could manage. With the curtains drawn to hide away from harmful stares. Letting the girl lose herself to daydreams of the world beyond castle walls, places she’d been promised she’d get to learn one day. ‘One day’ couldn’t come soon enough, it felt to the girl.

Snoebryda was soft. It would take time before she’d learn to hide her softness, create a shell to endure the hurt, to even recognize it for what it was. Until then, pain would become a familiar presence for the years to come.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

"Tohru smiles at him, something warm coming to her cheeks. He’s more considerate than people give him credit for, she thinks. There’s something about the brightness of his smile and the energy that’s constantly running through his veins and coming out in bursts of laughter and movement that makes him seem childish, that makes him seem like he’s less than he is. Seeing him here, holding the violin, in his element, Tohru thinks that maybe she’s beginning to see through all of that."

This passage is so beautiful!

"Last time that they had talked, Momiji had said that he was going to quit playing violin, but he had promised her a concert, just between the two of them. Tohru is, with a sudden and acute awareness, terrified that this is going to be the last time that he plays violin. She doesn’t know what to do with that, with this gift— if she’s the last person to hear him play, play for real, that means he’s given up on his dream of a concert just for his family.

She can’t let that happen.

For the hundredth time that week, Tohru promises herself that she’s going to find a way to break the curse. This isn’t going to be Momiji’s last concert. His mother hasn’t heard him play, not yet."

Oh, so that's when this is set… and ah, even now, Tohru's thoughts are on other people… ;_;

"Even in such a simple song, Tohru can hear the talent that rests in Momiji’s fingertips, she can feel the longing in the notes— the wishing for something that you can never have, the aching desire to hold it in your hands and the coldness in your palms where you know it will never lay. She can hear every emotion that she’s ever felt poured into each note."

Oh, this is where I also teared up, this is so beautifully and poignantly written!

"the bow of the violin falling across the strings as if it were the wind brushing through the trees."

Beautiful imagery.

"The music spills out from the violin in a kind of heartbreak, in a kind of longing, in a kind of wanting. There are no words for this, Tohru thinks. There is only sheet music. There is only song."

Brilliant!

It was very touching and sweet and I'm glad it ended the way it did... maybe, in another timeline, it would be like this. ;_;

As for whether it's in-character or not, until the very end where it took a direction different from the manga/anime, I could honestly say I could easily believe this private concert took place. I also pictured it in the anime's style and even heard their voices, it was sweet and beautiful and felt just like them. Thank you!

at the whisper of a violin

summary: momiji gives one last violin performance, just for the two of them, in which he bares his soul. a story in which tohru doesn’t understand, until she does. 

prompt: momiru for @eroshiyda ! i hope you enjoy <3 

pairings: momiji sohma/tohru honda

words: 1495

warnings: none

note: here is a spotify link to the violin piece, “none but the lonely heart” by tchaikovsky, that i listened to on a loop while writing this :) 

“Tohru!” 

Tohru turns away from the stove, catching just the sound of Momiji’s voice as he pauses at the front door to tug off his shoes. It takes only a moment before he comes into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face. 

Tohru grins at him. “Hello—” 

“Before I chicken out,” Momiji cuts in, “I promised that I would give you a private concert.” 

Keep reading

[gyeheoni]

One it gif battle !

One its !!! To celebrate the good news of X1 resuming their activities we'd like to officially unveil our X1 gifmakers gif battle ! each week we will be posting a gifset under the prompts below ! anyone is welcome to participate !

prompts:

-> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏: 𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟐: 𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟑: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟒: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟓: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟔: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟕: 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟖: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟗: 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 -> 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏𝟎: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠

rules: 

beginning Jan. 1st, 2020, 12am kst

tag #oneitgifbattle so everyone can see your creations !

have fun !

caption example:  “one it gif battle!  ↳ week 1: bias - [bias’ name]” 

tagged list: (you can message me if you’d like to be added or removed from the list !)

@cutiewooseok ✧ @yohanx ✧ @cafeyeon ✧ @likealwaysmp3 ✧ @sondongpyos ✧ @eunsanng ✧ @suengwoo ✧ @x1sminhee ✧ @x1-s ✧ @songhyeongjun ✧ @han-seungwoo​ ✧ @kangmihnee​ ✧ @seungyound​ ✧ @yohanies  ✧ @seungvvo

[sanjisprincesswifey]

imagine ⋆ zoro x reader

summary: you and your soulmate don't have one of your five senses until you fall in love with one another

♡: soulmate au zoro. female reader. 2.700+ words. sfw content.

“left...right...left...left.”

your body sways back and forth, mimicking the swinging of zoro's swords. the movement of cool air ran along your body, allowing you to know in what directions he was wielding them in.

“now you stopped.”

wiping his sweaty brow with his towel, zoro placed his swords back onto the display case you had made him with a soft chuckle.

"why’d you stop?” you ask, your body turning to face him. your eyes follow where you presumed him to be by the creaking of the floor boards, awaiting an answer.

“i’ve been training for an hour,” he blankly stated, taking a seat next to you on the couch.

“has it really been an hour?” you lifted your wrist, pretending to take a look at your imaginary watch.

zoro laughs to himself, his eyes fixated on the grey of your own. staring straight ahead you continued to sketch in your notebook, a soft smile resting on your lips as it always did.

“what're you drawing?” he wonders, an unusually curious tone seeping into his sentence.

your pencil stopped, his deep voice was so hypnotizing. though you had no idea what he looked like, you could only imagine.

“what i think you look like,” you admit, with an unapologetic smile curving your lips.

the water from his cup almost spilled over his bare torso; it was funny that you could feel the sudden change in the air. your hands turned the notebook to allow him to see. “what do you think?”

zoro smirked, taking the notebook from you to inspect it himself. for some reason, you had been able to capture his likeness without ever laying eyes on him. you were definitely talented, he’ll give you that.

though it had been a couple years since you lost your eyesight, you had adapted impressively quickly. you had even joked that you didn't even need your sense of sight to pursue all the things you loved and even if you didn't find your soulmate, you'd fare rather well.

when you first joined the crew, zoro utilized your ailment as an excuse to train together. he'd say something among the lines of 'spending hours in the crow’s nest would perfect your fighting skills'. though, to be frank, you were already a pretty talented fighter without his help.

“huh, well;" zoro toys with his inner cheek.

that strange, unfamiliar fuzziness he had felt before was back again. at first, it was frightening, but looking at you now, it was much more comforting and warm than it had previously been.

“it’s really good,” he admits. his words tugged at your heartstrings, pleased with yourself and your talent. “how can you do that? it actually looks like me, but you don’t even know what i look like.”

you giggled, allowing him to take the notebook from your hands. “that’s what you look like in my head. i’ve asked the others what you look like and this is the final product. although, sanji said you were just a moss ball with hair.”

zoro paused, he didn’t even register the cook’s snide comment, he was more focused on what you said before that.

“you asked the others?”

you nodded, glad you couldn’t see anything, so you wouldn’t have to make awkward eye contact with the swordsman right now.

“yeah, it was easier than asking you if i could feel your face to, you know, feel for myself.”

zoro’s eyes flicked between your dull ones and your lips where a small smile rested. the feeling from before festered further throughout his body. he felt sweaty and not just because he had been working out for the past hour.

his palms twitched at the thought of feeling your dainty hands running over his features, and some part of him wanted you to.

“but, since we’re here,” you sheepishly gushed, inching closer to him. “do you mind if i...”

before zoro could respond, luffy burst through the crow’s nest hatch, scanning the room until his big black eyes found you. “y/n! there you are! come with me! i’ve been looking for you!”

without waiting for confirmation, luffy pulls you by the hands to follow him to the main deck, holding you tightly in his arms on the way down.

zoro was unsure of what luffy needed from you, but all he wanted was for you to be sitting by him again. your warmth lingered, but only for a second as zoro was left on his own. it was the first time, of many to come, that he disliked being alone.

.。･:*:･

“remind me again, why did you want to come with me, zoro?”

he followed next to you, pulling the wagon full of ingredients sanji had asked you for.

you were surprised when he had offered to join you, instead of head with luffy and franky to go eat, or stay on the sunny to nap. but you weren’t complaining, you enjoyed pretending like you couldn’t tell his stare would be lingering on you for longer than it should’ve.

“couldn’t afford for you to get lost,” he shrugged nonchalantly which resulted in a scoff coming from you.

“are you really one to talk?” you joke.

zoro laughed, a little too hard, causing your heart to race at the unfamiliar sound.

“wait,” you both stopped, a familiar chime rang through your ears, “come with me.” you took hold of his hand, dragging him with you to wherever you were headed.

you did not fail to notice that he never once attempted to retreat from your hold like you thought he would.

his eyebrows raised as he looked down at your hands, now realizing you had interlaced your fingers together. feeling you attached, almost like a sign that you were his, he felt a sort of pride, confidence in which he hasn’t felt before.

you stopped in front of the wind chime display, smiling to yourself.

your mind flooded with the thought of your childhood home, wind chimes flowing through the summer breeze, emitting a melodious sound.

you released zoro’s hand, the emptiness from the other night returning, causing him to frown.

“excuse me, how much for the wind chimes?” you ask, hoping the person behind the display heard you.

the vendor curiously flicked eyes between you and zoro, before noticing the dullness in your own.

“they’re one hundred berries a piece ma’am.” the gentleman offered, taking your outstretched hand and kissing the back of it.

zoro growled lowly when the man studied your face with the same expression the cook often had.

“i haven’t seen you around here before, are you new in town?”

you chuckled, shaking your head, feeling the delicate objects with your hands as you retreat from his grasp.

“no, we’re just in town for the night. we’re leaving tomorrow,” you inform, reaching for your bag to retrieve the correct amount of money.

the vendor's hand rests on top of yours as your rummaging halts.

“how about instead of paying for this, i’ll give it to you in exchange for a date tonight. you know, since you’ll still be in town?”

zoro’s jaw clenched at the man's words, eyes darting to your face to see how you were reacting to this.

his eye twitched when the man paid no mind to him, acting as if he didn’t even exist.

you hesitate for a second, “um...sure. i guess that would be okay." you awkwardly smile, unsure of how to respond.

a sharp pain grows in zoro's chest as he drops the handle of the wagon, a loud slapping sound emitting as it dropped to the concrete floor.

he darted immediately to the sunny, leaving you alone while he feels his head throbbing.

“zoro?” you called, but you got no response.

.。･:*:･

“sanji, can i have more of this tea? it’s amazing!” you smiled, holding out your cup so that the chef could refill it.

zoro followed your eyes, and if you had your sight you’d be making eye contact with one another.

the thing is, you knew zoro was staring at you. his gaze was hot and it burned into you, but you decided to save him the embarrassment in front of your nakama and let it slide. for now.

“of course, my dearest y/n. i’m so glad you enjoy it. can i get you anything else before you go?” sanji coos as you felt his lips against your knuckles, a gesture that he often pulled when you were least expecting it.

meanwhile, zoro’s stare from before had a much angrier intent, the air growing slightly heavier.

sanji was used to it though. after all, the two being the object of one another's aggression was a common occurrence, but it was strange this time around.

the reason behind his anger was clear to everyone at that table, probably except luffy and chopper to due to sheer obliviousness.

after you had left for your date, robin, nami, brook, and sanji decided on a plan to corner zoro in the kitchen.

right before he could leave for bed, robin locked the door, her hana-hana limb keeping it shut to deny him an exit.

“mm?” zoro turned around, facing robin who was innocently smiling at him.

“take a seat moss head,” sanji interrupts before blowing his smoke in the opposite direction.

he was confused, but obliged and sat at the head of the table, kicking his feet up.

“zoro, you seem to be taking a liking to y/n,” brook started, sipping his tea.

he only paused for a moment, doing his best not to stagger from his calmed demeanor, shrugging his shoulders, “yeah, she’s nice. a good training partner.”

he was good at pretending to be fine, he just hoped the three didn’t see the bead of sweat that formed on his brow.

“she’s quite pretty too, don’t you think so?” robin asked, tilting her head.

zoro’s breath hitched, his good eye shooting open to stare back at the girls who sat opposite the table from him.

nami wore such a devilishly evil smile it made him nervous to continue speaking.

“i, uh-” he coughed, feeling the burning stare of his friends.

“if you ask me, y/n is gorgeous.” brook spoke, “i would like to ask her for her panties-"

nami throws a shoe at the skeleton, ready to cut to the chase and avoid the sexual harassment. “so what do you think? you agree with us?”

zoro swallowed thickly, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pants. “s-sure. yeah, she’s cute.” his eyes wandered the room, refusing to look at the four matchmakers in front of him.

“enough. we could do this all night. mosshead, you like y/n or what?” sanji’s arms folded across his chest in an accusatory manner, enjoying how uneasy zoro seemed to be.

“wha--? no! no, i don’t like her. that’s crazy,” zoro shot out of his chair, hastily pacing around the room, somewhat laughing at sanji’s allegation.

he stopped when he realized that they were tauntingly smiling at the poor swordsman.

he drew in a long breath before nodding, sitting back down. “yeah, i think i do.” zoro expected the others to laugh, perhaps to make fun of him for feeling so sentimental over a person. but he forgot who he was talking to.

a comforting hana-hana limb rubbed his back while he let out a dry laugh, holding his hands out in disbelief.

“what do i do?”

his hands carded through his hair, it felt good to finally let it out.

“i’m back!” your voice was faint, far off.

“you have to tell her,” nami screeches, almost excited to watch this go down.

zoro’s brows furrowed together, shaking his head.

after minutes of back and forth, zoro was being pushed out the door.

“don’t be a wimp mosshead.”

“are you crazy? what am i supposed to say?” the four combined their power and were able to get zoro out the door, locking it behind him.

“tell her you like her eyes!”

“ask to see her panties!”

“tell her the truth!”

zoro rubbed his head, grumbling underneath his breath as he spotted you up in the crow’s nest overlooking the open ocean. the kitchen light was off when he turned around to check one more time to see if he could run.

he took his time getting up there, hands slowly, shakily, opening the hatch.

you were sitting on the couch against the window, your hand cradling your head.

you heard someone enter the room, hoping whoever it was would leave you alone.

sighing, your legs fall to the floor feeling zoro sit at the opposite end of the couch.

“are you trying to scare me?” you joke, causing zoro to flinch; he thought he was doing a good job of being discreet.

“w—what? no! i, i was just—”

“i’m just messing with you, how was dinner?”

zoro couldn't even answer your question, his head spinning way too much to think clearly. maybe he’d pass out and wouldn’t have to tell you.

you turned your head more in his direction when he took too long to respond.

“oh, dinner was okay,” he swallowed thickly. he knew you weren’t actually looking at him, but when your idle eyes roamed over him his heart began irradicably beating. “how was your date?”

you shifted in your seat, unsure if he was the person you should be telling this to.

“that bad, huh?”

you both laughed lightly, shaking your head.

“it was okay. he was nice, and smart, and funny...”

‘this would be the best time to pass out,’ zoro thinks, his brow picking up a sweat.

“...but,” his brows raised, eyes shooting directly over to you. “he just wasn’t my type.”

zoro clenched his fists, fisting bumping the air in celebration.

“i think i like someone else,” you admit.

your cheeks stained red, and you didn’t know, but his did too.

zoro’s eyes glanced between his lap and your hand resting on top of the couch, wondering if he should grab it.

“anyways,” you interrupt, hoping to change the subject. you leaned over the edge, rummaging through your bag for your notepad and paper. “do you think i could feel your face now?” you mischievously ask, face splitting into a playful smile, inching closer not waiting for an answer from him.

before your he could even open his mouth to respond back, you were sitting on your knees on the couch, face so close to him he could smell the perfume you were wearing, hands hovering over his cheeks.

so much heat radiated off your hands, but all he could focus was on your dulled eyes gazing up at him.

“yeah, sure,” was all he said before your hands brushed over his stubbly skin using the most gentle touches.

your fingertips handled him in a delicacy that he had never experienced before, his lids aching to fall closed. “wow, your jawline is so sharp,” you comment, giggling when your fingers brush over his adam’s apple and you can feel him swallow. your hands wander up to the curvature of his nose, the tips of your fingers gliding around with ease.

zoro’s heart was beating out of his chest, what was this feeling? it was so powerful but terrifying? you were so pretty, and you smelled so nice, and your touch was so heavenly. what was this bursting feeling in his chest? when he looks back up at you and sees you smiling at him, he feels his heart beginning to swell. it’s like he can’t even catch his own breath. not even some of his strongest opponents had ever made him feel this weakness in battle, this vulnerable. so safe.

it was like a curtain. it was like darkness, and then sunlight. the feeling of that warmth enveloping your body in the kindest of hugs. the world exploded with vibrant arrays of colors you hadn’t seen in so many years. the yellowish-orange of the sunsetting sky, the ocean waves, the white of the clouds. your hands froze, your eyes now staring directly into zoro’s, who were incredibly wide.

was he dreaming? one minute he’s staring in your greyed eyes, and the next they’re bright, luminous and golden from the sun outside. if this was a dream, this was the best one he’s had about you yet.

you blinked a couple times, eyes attempting to focus. “zoro?” you breathed, hands still cupping his cheeks. zoro was doing his best to maintain consciousness, his brain unable to even process what had just happened.

your gaze was like fire, burning every inch of his face until it was red hot. your eyes ran over every feature on his face, examining each little detail, he was even prettier than you had imagined. not even in your wildest dreams could you imagine zoro to look as handsomely as he did.

you smiled widely, “it’s you,” hands running through his short, bright green hair.

zoro’s hands found your hips pulling you on top of his lap so you straddled him, lips so close yet, so far out of reach. “you’re my soulmate,” you whispered against his smug smile.

“so it’s okay if I kiss you?” you nodded, leaning into his lips before he had a chance to react. zoro groaned into your mouth, the simple sensation of your lips on his was more than enough to please him. he’d been waiting so long for this; he would’ve been satisfied with a simple kiss on the cheek.

his breath was hot, and his lips were chapped, but you didn’t mind. he guided yours with ease, nipping at your bottom lip. “you’re prettier than i saw in my head,” you smiled, your eyes remaining screwed shut.

“really?”

zoro was blushing beyond compare, his whole body pulsed when reality set in that he was actually holding you.

“prettier than i could ever imagine,” you sigh into the air, leaving no room between your lips once again.

like, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

[redemptioninterlude]

The Ultimates who went to Hope’s Peak Academy were of a rarified breed - which was, ultimately, a little bit funny to think about. All of them meant to sit above and beyond the ambitions of normal teenaged souls, prodigies of their own craft and purpose. Now WASN’T THAT SOMETHING? Every purpose on campus, left absolutely bursting with more than the idea of potential, no, they’d already tapped in, and excelled beyond the limits of what most knew to understand! And that was a wildly curious thing, something that drew Alice here, and would have, even if she hadn’t been scouted in by a man, with a strange hat and a funny way of speaking, yes, this place was teaming with glorious, terrifying things... and how could a girl like Alice ever manage to turn her head away from that? All that burning glory, that aching maybe... she found it ripe, and so she’d come to make what she could out of the noise of it all.

The public’s different, she supposes... they don’t see them as people, not really. They’re more like exotic animals, pretty and brightly feathered, and they laugh, they mock, they arose themselves with the potential of what their lives were like, but they didn’t understand. No, Alice felt as if they missed everything, for the title of what they could do. They didn’t know to PEER BENEATH IT to who they were, more idols of worship than teenagers with the same screwy emotional problems as everyone else, but, she supposes there wasn’t much room for that amongst their peers, either. All of them hauling along, happily, sadly, morosely, in lock-step.

Adventure. It’s a kind of killing, didn’t you know? The more you did it, the more it owned you. Don’t you? Understand? He does! Rantaro, Rantaro! The boy who didn't know where to start with his talent, of the depths and reaches of what couldn’t be seen by the mortal eye! He’s seen things even she hasn’t, and for that reason, she thinks he’s kind of neat. Definitely INTERESTING, which, most people were in different tangents and flavours, but him, with all that positive energy, was her favourite type, all warm and gushing sweet. Most people don’t get the appeal of it, discovering the unknown. But then again, most people will always try to scare you into things. Scare you away from things. Scare you into not wanting things you can't help but want. And Alice knew - you can't be afraid. Not if you ever wanted to scratch that unnameable itch that crawled beneath the skin.

Why does she sense a kind of KINSHIP with him? A feeling, a thought, a desire! Not that it's that kind of want, but she senses when looking at him, her grin springing sudden and wide, that he was just the kind of little explorer she needed. "You!" a giggle that trips off of the tip of her tongue, like a sudden warmth that becomes honey and milk. A tiny little hum, hands brushing off her skirts, the augmented turn of the uniform that she wore for what had been school once upon a time. "Yeah~ you. I figure if I'm going to die, I'm going to die, and wouldn't that be it's own grand adventure in itself? But more realistically... You don't seem like the type."

That little kick off her foot, her hands shoved into her pockets. Unbothered seems to be the theme for Alice, shoulders rolling back, and spine suddenly MADE STRAIGHT. "Well if you're not, then I am. I guess we might meet in the night. But maybe that might be scary? Don't you think... it'd be better to stick together and make sure we both keep each other out of trouble and watch each other's backs?" isn't that the logical turn, but then again, when has Alice ever cared about what's right side up, or upside down? Take a turn! Dipping then into a low curtsy. "You're welcome to come~ and if you don't? Well. Dare say! I hope this isn't the last we see of one another!"

- @moonsmultimusings

Nighttime… Certainly one of the more dangerous hours to be out. It didn't take a scholar to figure something like that out. Being out after dark wasn't a guaranteed death sentence, but it would spell a lack of caution about one's surroundings. Night would be the time to kill, for those who were considering it and were smart enough to plan ahead. Fewer witnesses out and about to worry about. Then again, the very nature of this 'game' necessitated such planning. It was arguable whether this was for the better or worse as a potential victim: someone wouldn't take your life at random, but if an attempt were made, it would be entirely premeditated, with low odds of escape. From Rantaro's point of view, it would be best to maintain a safe distance from anyone here.

Said distance needed to be a carefully measured one. Too far, and he'd be out of the loop. Too close, and he'd run the risk of being considered an easy target to trap. What aided in amplifying his paranoia wasn't only the means by which they were dropped here, but the note he'd been given. One that it didn't seem anyone else had acquired. Who he trusted here would spell the difference between survival and a painful death. The ideal would be to learn everything there was to know about the other students while offering nothing in return. More than a game of killing, it was one of espionage. One person among them was the mastermind behind all of this, and he needed to discover who it was.

It was funny: in that game of suspicion, those who drew more attention felt safer. People like Kokichi, who referred to himself as an supreme leader with innumerable evil plans, or Ryoma, who kept to himself for his own safety, or a strange girl like Alice? They were the least likely bets in his mind. The mastermind would want to blend in, to avoid drawing attention to themself, because they knew they'd become a target once they were discovered. Those who were least suspicious, who blended into the crowd, were the ones to suggest. This was the primary thought running through his mind as he eyed the girl hanging from the railing: the mastermind wouldn't be someone who was so obvious. They would head to their rooms straight away, looking rattled.

Her stare back at him was one of skepticism, and one he didn't return. Not that he would blame her for it. He fully expected to elicit such reactions from his fellow students. Best to leave her to her thoughts, he felt. Though as he turned to head to his room for the night, she chose to address him. He turned back around to face her as she extended an offer: a chance to explore the grounds together after dark. Only the two of them. It was certainly an odd suggestion. She had no reason not to doubt his intentions. For all she knew, he was looking for someone to kill tonight to kick off the game. In fact, he'd more or less prepared himself to be accused of being the mastermind for his lack of willingness to share anything about himself, once the others were made aware that there was one. Perhaps she did suspect him of playing a greater hand in this, and that was her investigative method. Quite a risky one, if that were the case.

“Me?” he began, taking a look around as if it would have been anyone else. As if they hadn't shared a moment of eye contact just beforehand. “You're not worried at all, making that kind of an offer? Seems like a pretty big risk to take, considering everything we've been told today.” Not that he was above taking risks for the sake of progress, but he would tend to advise others against it. Particularly those who didn't appear to carry the sort of caution that would necessitate survival. That said, he didn't decline outright. He wasn't sure whether it was confusion or curiosity that had a greater pull in motivating that.

[willsimpforanyone]

Hello! I would like to request a PJO headcanon where the reader is Will's older half sister (Percy's age), and what that would include? Maybe she and him can have similar powers, but she also has artistic ability? Maybe she could be a bit of a mom figure to her (very) young half sibilings? Thanks!

thank you for your patience, i have a burst of energy today so let's do this!

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as one of the older members of the apollo cabin, you tend to be the one the younger kids come to

this was especially true when it came to will

he didn't know anyone and you took him under your wing

people tend to expect a lot from apollo kids as they're associated with a lot of things- healing, music, artistry

you showed him that he didn't have to be good at everything

while you're both really good healers and spend a lot of time in the infirmary, will excelled in the medical aspect of apollo, even more than you

he is constantly amazed at your art, your masterful use of a paintbrush or pencil or even moulding clay

the poor kid could just about draw a smiley face

when he struggles with life as all demigods do, you are the person he turns to

he trusts you implicitly and absolutely adores you

when he got older the pair of you took on older sibling roles in the apollo cabin

the younger kids are often scared and confused

luckily you've had years of practice with kids like these

and will follows your example, mirroring the things you did for him when he was a scared kid

your crowning glory was a movie night for the cabin

for some reason about six 9-11 year olds had been claimed and moved into the camp in a week and the cabin had anxious, panicky vibes

something had to be done

will was slightly freaking out at the sudden influx of kids so you gave him a concrete task

you asked him to get a couple of the older kids and find as many blankets as they could

while the younger kids were out doing activities, you transformed the room with another sibling who was a month or so older than you

fairy lights were strung up, beds were all against one wall with mattresses on the floor, pillows were scattered around and thanks to the talents of the hermes cabin, there were enough bowls of popcorn for everyone

will and his little group came back and helped hang blankets from the walls and ceiling to create a smaller space that looked proper cosy

he had a childlike excitement in his eyes and you felt that even if you just made will happy, the effort was completely worth it

the movie night helped the kids settle in a bit and get to know the other members of the cabin, with you and will taking charge of the movies and silly sleepover games

you gave everyone little canvases and with a little demigod magic you brought their art to life

flowers moved in the breeze, cats meowed and purred and little people waved out the windows of houses

by the morning, everyone was exhausted but will hugged you tightly and said you were the best so honestly?

you wouldn't change a thing

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i very much hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting!