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myonepiece · 3 years

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Shanks, Doflamingo, Mihawk headcanon- Reaction to falling in love w/ you but finding out it was an order from your captain so he could take them down

They’re kind long but I promise they’re worth it, I got a little too into it with Doffy’s ;-;

Warnings: angst, death, ab//se

Shanks

Shanks had never felt this happy, he felt as if he could do anything, like he truly was the king of the world. You meant everything to this man and it could be seen by everyone- the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that he could see. The way you talked to him and held him made him feel safe but also like he had to protect you with everything he has

He had found out about your mission from one of his subordinates who had caught you conversing with your captain. In front of his crew he wouldn’t bat an eye, he wouldn’t let anyone see the pain and sorrow that consumed his every waking thought

He went to you and asked if this was true, begging you to say it was not, that it was just a misunderstanding. But Shanks was smart enough to know what he had to do, he had to protect his crew

Shanks would not kill you himself, but he would have one of his crew (most likely Benn) do it. He wouldn’t watch, only ask if it was done.

He had never felt so disrespected and betrayed before. Very breath he took pained him and every thought was interupted by thoughts of you. He gave everything to you, he gave you money and jewels and gifts and his whole heart, and yet you threw it all away.

He grew an intense hatred towards you, sometimes wishing he could’ve been the one to end your life. Your name was not permitted on his ship, the whole crew knew of the woman who had managed to break their captain, and all despised you and everything relating to you.

Shanks would not love again, he would have one night stands and fool around, but everytime he would compare the woman to you, and everytime they could not measure up.

He still loved you, this much was true. It was love buried deep behind his feelings of hatred and disgust, and he would not let anyone know. But when Shanks zones out, his eyes lost in the stars and a small heartbroken lovesick grin plastered on his face, his closest friends knew exactly who he was thinking of

Doflamingo

Doffy had never planned to fall in love, but his armored and fractured heart had been captured by you. His mind no longer only swam with sadistic thoughts of pain and self-loathing, instead a small sparkle of light would enter growing so bright it blinded him. He trusted you with his everything, and it terrified him yet made him fall even deeper into the bottomless pit of your love, the pit which did indeed end up having a bottom- a bottom lined with spikes and spears that prodded at his body as he reached them

Doffy’s subordinate had brought back letters exchanged between you and your captain, telling of your cruel plan to claim the Heavenly Demon’s heart and use it to break him. Doflamingo did not bat an eye, neither screams nor anger escaped him, instead an eary silence swept over him encapturing the world around him.

You had felt a chill run down. your spine as you took in the horrifying silence, the atmosphere reminding you of the calm before a storm. A storm that wore a fluffy pink coat.

Doflamingo had bursted into your room, no creepy smile accompanying him this time. His voice was kept completely level as he spoke each and every awful insult he knew, all limits were crossed. He used all of his strength to strike you down, hitting you over and over again as iinsults continued flying from his mouth. He watched as the color drained from your blood covered skin and the light that he loved so much, finally left your eyes. Only after you took your last breath, did Doflamingo smile.

He told all of his subordinates to wait outside and retreated to his bedroom, locking himself in, then took the rest of his anger out on his surroundings, crushing everything he could get his hands on. And as he sat in the midst of the destruction, he doubled over in pain as he let out a bloodcurdling cry of anguish. He let the tears roll down his face as he mourned the loss of the one sweet and innocent thing he had, the one thing holding him back from total madness and insanity.

He had finally reached his breaking point, spending the next few days killing each and every person who had the slightest meaning to you, including your real crew and captain. He would never again let someone into his life, no more love for Doflamingo, no more. happiness or sense of security in your arms. He forbd the mention of your name, anyone who mentioned it would be swiftly killed without a seecond thought. He built the walls around his heart 100x stronger. He made everyone think he had forgotten you and completely erased you from his memory, but in the dead of night when the silence was too much, he would sit in darkness as he cried while clutching the diamond ring that once belonged to you

Mihawk

Mihawk thought of you as the center of his universe. The mature man had turned into a lovesick boy who followed you around like a lost puppy. You’re sweet and innocent personailty brought light to the darkness of Mihawk’s life, bringing feelings he had never felt. The two of you had spent nights together walking the grounds of Kuraigana island, dancing in the moonlight, sipping wine together while you both sat upon his throne. The safety Mihawk found in your embace was heavenly and the feeling of protection towards you overwhelmed his sensess, it was like a dragon guarding its treasure.

Mihawk was told of your mission by Shanks who had run into your crew. He knew Shanks would never lie to him, especially about something like this, so he knew he would have to put an end to your love. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered forgetting about this and continuing the heavenly lie, but his pride would not allow it. The direspect, rage, and betrayal he felt was rivaled by nothing. As he cornered you by the fireplace, you could see no emotion in his eyes, no fear or sadness.

Mihawk knew he could not kill you, so he simply pointed towards the front door uttering a simple “leave”. As the sound of the door closing ssounded throughtout the now empty castle, he could’ve sworn he saw the moonlight grow darker and the shadows close in. He sat in his chair and drowned himself in wine, trying to forget the searing pain throught his body.

He had Shanks hold your Captain hostage so Mihawk himself could kill him. Joinging Shanks on his boat, Mihawk put on a mask hiding his emotions away, he wanted to return to his castle and lock himself away from the world, but Shanks would not let his dear friend be alone in this time.

Shanks handed Mihawk drink after drink trying to help him cope with the loss of his love. Everyone knew how much you meant to Mihawk, and all of the Red Haired Pirates now dispised you and reacted to any mention of you with disgusted faces and harsh insults. Shanks held a rage for you stronger than that of his crews’, for he could see the pain you were causing Mihawk and he was sure that if he ever came across you, he would do the one thing that Mihawk could not.

Only when Mihawk returned home to harrowing silence and emptiness of Kuraigana Castle, did he feel his exterior break. He fell too his knees by the door, covering his eyes as the tears he had been holding in for oh so long finally escaped. His broken sobs bounced off the walls. For hours the only sound that could be heard was the strangled sobs of a man who had lost his heart, because when you left you had ripped his heart out of his chest and carried it away with you, leaving a fierce warrior crying in the dark

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spidernana · 3 years

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Day 5: Private

(Disclaimer: This is my own version of Night and Dream, their origin and multiverse in general. It is by no means a replacement for the original, which belongs to Joku, just an excuse for more Frans ^^b

So don't like? Don't read~)

Nightmare closed his visible socket, pinching his nasal ridge between two blackened phalanges and sighing in agitation. Below, at the foot of his grand and imposing throne (Dust loved to snicker at this summary, quite often adding 'ostentatious' and 'dramatic' to the list), Killer and Horror dithered about as they tended to do, the smaller doing some asinine trick with three of his knives and the larger staring into blank space, two massive fingers slotted into his slack eye socket, awaiting whatever verdict he chose to give in response to their mission summary.

If it could even be so generously called that.

The god of night and negativity sneered at the very thought, his free hand scraping corruption riddled fingertips across the molded steel and cracked stone of his throne's armrest. His tentacles, writhing at his back in echoed upset, were just as enraged as he was in lieu of his underlings' apparent and utter shortcomings, practically begging to choke the life from one of these idiots to satiate their master's bloodlust. An example to the others, of what constant failure would earn them... nothing that couldn't be replaced.

Perhaps he'd been too kind, of late... perhaps they had forgotten who he was, how many worlds he had brought to darkness and how many souls he had driven to a madness even they could only conceive of in their wildest imaginings.

Perhaps it was time to remind them.

It was a tempting thought, but a quickly dismissed one, despite the anger roiling just below the surface of his calming facade. For one thing, against all odds, he had grown rather fond of his strange little following, his motley crew of ne'er-do-wells and miscreants. They had taken to the work with a will, despite the... unpleasantness of their conscriptions (the only one of their number he hadn't had to coerce had been Killer, but he would have done anything to get out of his hellhole of an Underground, after what fate had befallen him), and over the years that they had been combing through the universes and slowly but surely stealing back the light that had been stolen from him, he truly had come to think of them as family.

For another thing... he still needed them. They could be replaced, of course... none of them were unique, each had a hundred timelines just like theirs, with only the subtlest of differences. It was such a bother, though, the trudge of breaking their wills and turning their minds. It was an unfortunate facet of contracting the more twisted souls to his designs... he couldn't simply lie to them like his sainted brother did, and have his sycophants accept his word as truth. No, his clan of cutthroats and cannibals were more suspicious than that, knew better than to blindly trust.

Axe's conversion was more than proof of that.

A snarl threatened to overtake his charcoal tinted bones once again, trembling in the shadows covering his face, but he restrained it resolutely. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't get riled over Axe again. The hardest part was done now... so long as he kept a close watch on him, there would be no further difficulties, and he would meld into their ranks flawlessly soon enough, yet another of his ever so loyal yet insufferably incompetent followers.

His socket snapped open, his electric blue eyelight glaring down at the slightly nervous looking faces of his contracted killers. Just looking at them had him seething all over again...

“what is it that is so hard about following my instructions? i feel that i have been perfectly clear, and yet here you are. failing in the one thing i have asked you to ensure. again,” he hissed quietly, his rage gone from his cold and flat tone but more than apparent in the twisting and coiling of his writhing tentacles, in the gathering shadows around the foot of his throne, in the darkening of the ever present, perpetually eclipsed, blood red moon bearing down on them all through the large, dusty, stained glass windows at his back. Their own shadows wavered against the floor, small and ragged in the light of the guttering, half burned down candles set about the room, and seemed almost to shrink away from the encroaching darkness he exuded, fearful of being lost to it.

As well they should be.

“i mean... we didn't fail exactly, boss. the timeline is falling into chaos, like you wanted. you can practically taste the despair on the air there, they-” Killer began to excuse, tensely fiddling the blade of one of his knives between his fingers, but Nightmare cut him off with a snort and a waved hand, the magic in his only visible socket flicking and sparking in his unspoken fury.

“the fall of their universe was inevitable, and secondhand to the quarry you sought. you were to bring me their frisk, alive, and not only did you fail in that... you killed her yourselves, wasting power more precious than any one of your lives. explain to me how you managed that on accident,” he invited with barely contained vitriol dripping from his every word, the loss of yet another priceless soul cutting at the twisted and corrupted core at the center of his being with blades sharper than any of his underlings possessed, and Killer stopped short in his excuses, a rare and tense frown overcoming his usual maniacal grin.

Even rarer was the bead of dusky blue sweat that ran down his cranium to stain his jacket's hood, joining the clotted magic that dripped perpetually from his mouth and sockets. The hulking skeleton at his side was much more taciturn, his grotesque smile frozen to his face and his broad shoulders constantly tightened with suspicious tension, but the enormous, horrendous iris that lit his good socket was constricted, the edges unfocused and, occasionally, rippling into jagged spikes.

They reeked of fear, and the stench of it got him high in an instant, taking the edge from his anger and, at the same moment, warning him that something was amiss. Either his intimidations were working better than usual (these idiots never knew well enough to fear him, not until it became necessary to amend that notion, and they forgot again far too quickly), or something he didn't know about was going on.

Or perhaps he was being too suspicious. He knew Axe was planning something, some sort of insurrection that would end only in failure and humiliation for the rabid, half insane monster, but to suspect it of his more trusted accomplices strained credulity. He wouldn't put it past the fortune teller, the duplicitous wretch was always up to his tricks, and Error had always had his own agenda, but Killer, Horror, or Dust? Unlikely.

He'd dismiss the thought for now... but he'd remain cautious. It had kept him alive thus far, and prevented betrayals like his brother's from happening again and costing him more than he could bear to lose. He was still attempting to mend that wrong, even after all these years... that was the entire point of his and his companions' ventures into other worlds.

One that they had now failed him in four consecutive times.

“...we tried to keep her away from the fight, but she wouldn't stay put... elbowed dust in the socket and jumped in front of the king, took a hit that would floor a boss monster. impressive as hell, but she didn't survive it. we tried, nightmare... but you know how brave frisks can be,” Horror muttered haltingly, jerking habitually at his socket so hard that the bone started to audibly protest, and Nightmare turned his face away with a grimace, the pain of the loss now accompanied by an all too knowing understanding, both bitter and sweet at once.

They all knew how stalwart a Frisk's soul was... she was a force to be reckoned with in every universe, even ones where she lingered only as an apparition. It was part of what made her so special, that sheer determination, her ceaseless love, the kindness that exuded from her to infect and turn all those around her to betterment.

Nightmare flinched visibly, his shadowed face creasing with a deep and telling agony. One hand rose to clench at the front of his irreparably stained shirt, his ribs aching in an all too familiar way. He should really be used to the sting, by now... the punishing, never ending pain of his own broken heart, concealed at best but never gone, had been following him for the hundreds of years since the loss of his light, his love... the only star in his sky. It returned to him every time he thought of her, saw her face reflected in those that had come after... even in her mortal forms, pale imitations of her former glory, it struck him to his very core, to the marrow of his diseased bones.

He missed her more than he had ever missed anything, even a form less twisted than the one he possessed now.

Accident or not, though, despite the character of his beloved that both irked and awed him and his underlings' inability to keep a being such as her contained, they had still failed him, and with the full knowledge of what it was costing him, the power he needed to restore his star to life slipping through his fingers all over again. The disappointment, impatience, and anger burned in him with a fierce and consuming passion, an old hatred for what, and whom, had taken her from him in the first place clawing at the inside of his malformed skull and sinking its claws into his heart of hearts, the core wood of the magnificent world tree he had been birthed from.

That fury materialized itself into twisted shadows and screaming, corruption rife shades, writhing manifestations of souls he had consumed, broken open in his own hands, devoured and destroyed without care for their extinguished life in the face of his quest. Their cries were those of agony and loss, screeches that grated against the very mind, and both Horror and Killer shrank back in horrified caution as they emerged from the darkness filling the throne room and shambled towards them, drawn to the power of their shadowy souls.

Nightmare gazed down on them all without pity, his single eyelight burning like both a beacon in the darkness and a warning of dire consequence. He was done with their incompetence, with the casual indifference they treated his mission with. It was the most important thing to him in the multiverse, far more important to him than their pathetic existences, and his chilling snarl bore witness to this, the tortured forms of his many victims howling wordless warnings of what further failure would cost.

“be that as it may, you have robbed me of more than i am willing to lose for the last time. i have only so much patience, and you have reached its threshold. you know exactly what you are taking from me, the rarity of her priceless soul, and should you fail me again, lose even one more soul, you will pay that price with your own. your former adjustments at my hand will be dreams in comparison to the fullness of my fury... you will know the suffering i have known, drawn out to the very last measure of excruciating pain, and you will beg for death before your inevitable end.”

The scent of their fear was like the ambrosia of the gods, fierce and bloodthirsty monsters brought to their knees as his power, the full force of his negativity and the darkness of the space between the stars, bore down on their sin riddled souls. They felt the many agonies of their victims, the terror and horror they had wrought with their own hands, and crumbled at the foot of his throne beneath the duress, helpless to his hold on them.

He allowed the karmic torture to continue for a few moments, a mere taste of what they would suffer in the event of another failure, before he lifted the tremendous weight of their own wrongs from their backs and returned their souls to the LV hardened carapaces they were, the whirling mist of shadows and the dreadful mire of pained wraiths retreating back into the Void and the light of the eclipsed moon filling the room once again. It bared to him the sight of his servants curled in on themselves on the floor, wracked with bone shattering sobs, and his smile at the sight was reflexive, a smirk of assured victory.

They would not fail him again. Of this, he was certain.

“am i understood?” he questioned leisurely, swirling one finger around the end of a calmer, aimlessly drifting tentacle, and through their helpless cries of sorrow and pain, they murmured their broken assent, staining the intricate red carpet that lined the center of the throne room with their tears.

“yes, master...”

“it won't *hic* happen again...”

A twinge of guilt assaulted him, the fondness he had come to feel for them making him weak for a moment, but it was gone with a shake of his head and a single whiff of the agony choked air, their rare and consuming misery a heady drug that made him lightheaded and nearly giddy. He rose from his throne, the intricate and twisted mass rising from the black granite floor to scrape at the ceiling of the vast room, and descended the steps to walk past them without a backwards glance.

“very good. once you've picked yourselves back up, you should rest... oh, and retrieve dust from wherever he had gotten off to. i have a similar conversation to have with him,” he instructed dismissively, waving a careless hand over his shoulder, before, with a crackle of electric blue lightning and the horrendous sound of the Void itself ripping apart, he disappeared into a wisp of black smoke, nearly indistinguishable against the darkness of the rest of the room.

He had business elsewhere... and company far more pleasant than theirs to attend to.

--------

In their places crumbled on the ground, attempting to overcome the punishment Nightmare had laid on them, both Horror and Killer groaned and panted for breath, each trying to quiet the seemingly never-ending tears pouring down their faces. It was something they had both suffered before, reminders from their dark master of their place in the pecking order, but experience made the feeling no easier to bear, and it was with great difficulty that they slowly managed to calm their wounded cries, clutching sore bones and aching skulls with shaking hands.

Horror recovered first, hefting his bulk from the ground with a grunt and trembling arms; he had far less guilt in his soul than Killer, who was still twitching and weeping where he lay, but even with both their sins combined, they didn't hold a candle to Dust. His meeting with Nightmare was bound to be extremely unpleasant.

Grimacing and shaking his throbbing, cracked skull, Horror extended a hand to help Killer to his feet, thereafter tilting his skull to roll his grotesque red eyelight around the grand throne room cautiously.

“...bout as bad as i thought that would go. but he bought it,” he murmured, adjusting the seating of his jacket on his massive shoulders, and Killer let out a sarcastic chuckle, hands on his knees and wiping at his perpetually stained face with his shoulders to attempt to clear his shameful tears away.

“'s a good thing this one was the last one we needed. wish dust could have picked one from a world we hadn't been assigned to... selfish bastard,” he gritted out, coughing haggardly and squeezing his sockets shut in his lingering pain, but Horror could do no more than shrug, sliding his hands into his shorts' pockets.

“...you know we don't have much of a choice in that. we're drawn to them despite ourselves... despite just about everything,” he chuckled morosely, humorless and lost in his own thoughts (likely considering his own Frisk), and Killer, finally straightening up with groan and several cracks from his spine, snorted and smirked blithely.

“he'll be paying for it soon enough. we should go warn him though... he should have her hidden by now,” he suggested, jerking his skull in the vague direction of the door, and though it took him a moment, gathering his thoughts and slowly pulling himself from his own considerations, Horror nodded, the huge, red iris in his working socket turning to send a considering look at the throne they stood at the foot of.

“...he'd better've. nightmare isn't one to wait, and the last thing we need is him finding out what we're doing,” he grunted, and with a snap, less overwhelming but still potent magic crackling in the still, dark air, both skeletal monsters turned on their heels and disappeared, stepping through the Void to find their compatriot and warn him of what was to come.

-----------

Deep within the bowels of the castle the pair had just hurriedly left, in halls that were impossible for anyone but the master of the dark palace to access, Nightmare materialized again, stepping from the dark shadow that a pillar cast. His expression was calmer, than when he left his idiotic underlings... it was almost soft, even, as soft as a being so suffused with darkness could be, and an air of excitement lingered around him, his tentacles seemingly incapable of resisting leading him to his anticipated destination. They extended to pull him hurriedly along the hall, opening doors and guiding his steps, but he didn't seem to mind.

The quicker he returned to her side, the better.

Two more doors, through the intimate privacy of his own chambers, and across the short distance it took to draw to his neatly made bedside later, and finally his tentacles seemed to calm, settling into almost awed consideration as the lord of the deepest night and the darkest hearts gazed down, with crooked smile and desperate adoration, on the sight that awaited him there.

A corrupted hand, gentle and loving, reached out to trace the shape of a delicate cheekbone, full lips drawn into an almost permanent pout, the delicate fall of hair he could still remember running his phalanges through. His gaze traced closed eyelids, a graceful neck he longed to press his mouth to again, the still and fractured form of the woman he loved most, across all the wide multiverse.

His morning and evening star, his one and only... the first and truest Frisk, composed of starlight and kindness and the blessings of the heavens, slumbering and awaiting the completion of his devoted quest.

His touch was a truly meaningless one, to anyone but himself... she was ethereal, in her incomplete form, the pattern stitched into his bed's cover visible through her translucent body, her presence nothing more than a shade of her true self, but the mere gathering power that would restore her to how she should be was a boon to his broken heart, a weight that he had carried ever since she had disappeared so long ago lifted for a bare but necessary moment.

A flicker of absolute hatred crossed Nightmare's face, the reason she had fractured herself in the first place suffusing his mind and reawakening his loathing for the one that had caused it. What he and Frisk had been together, before his fall and her fracturing, had been perfect... why the stars had decided she should belong to both he and Dream, a bride to both the day and the night, he could not fathom. Sharing her had been difficult, but he had done it anyway... she had loved his brother just as much as she had loved him, and he wouldn't take that from her for anything.

Dream had not been of the same inclination. Jealous, pious, and selfish, he had demanded more than his fair share of her time, guilting her into believing he was hurt to be deprived of her. Already self-righteous in his superiority, the love of the people for his positivity and the golden rain of his sun, he had moved to make her his and his alone, and with this, Nightmare had put his foot down, tearing the heart from the tree of their birth and consuming its fruits to gain its power.

His form had been ruined by his deed, corrupted and darkened forever, but he had finally been stronger than Dream, and had brought to him the fight that he had so clearly desired, tearing apart his kingdom of light and wresting his control of their perfect mate from him by force.

Nightmare could suffer being looked down on for his role, cast in a lesser light in the eyes of mortal beings...

But to have his bride stolen from him, he would not abide.

Frisk had not been able to stand their war. She had hated to see the beings she loved so divided over her, her precious and stardust infused heart breaking in her chest, and in her wisdom, so far above him and Dream and all others, she had cast herself down, to bless souls so much like her own with her kindness and her love, to experience bonds and marriages without the pain Dream had caused her.

That very stardust, the pieces of his beloved in their souls, was what drew every Sans coded monster to their own Frisks. What drove their obsession with the heavens, and what brought about the depth of their affections.

It was not theirs to have. They lived on borrowed time, loving what was not theirs to love, and with the last words she had spoken to them before she had shattered like glass eternally in his mind (“When you learn to love as selflessly as I, I will return to you...”), he had, at last, formulated his plan. He loved her more than anything, more than any other being had surely loved another... that had to be what she meant. So he would take back the stardust of her heart, ripping it from the souls of those so undeserving of her light, and piece her back together.

It was taking far too long. The miserable wretches that were her mates in other worlds defended her so viciously that it would have been admirable, had they not stood in his way. It was a gift, to have the help of ones who did not mind striking them down, who had cold and distant souls, incapable of wanting their own bonds any longer... wresting their Frisks from them, those that still survived, at least, was a simple thing.

He could be patient a little longer, though... so long as he didn't lose any more. In one of their many despised meetings, Dream had divulged that he was doing much the same as he, gathering the pieces of their love to rebuild her heart, and Nightmare would not abide him besting him.

Petty? Perhaps... but he had done worse than desire to have his beloved returned to him.

Nightmare's gentle smile returned to him, and his gaze to the present, as he looked down on the still ethereal form of his star, seating himself at her side and tracing his fingertips over the back of a disjointed hand, wishing that he could feel her again with a desperate longing. His tentacles roved her form much the same way, drifting through the mist-like shape of her, and in her slumber, she stirred slightly, a blessed and rare smile lifting her lips.

“Night...” she whispered, her beautiful voice calling to him from across both time and space, and he could have wept at the sound, his ribs aching, for once, not with pain, but with absolute and consuming love, an obsessive thing that had changed him more than even his greatest sin.

“soon, beloved. we'll be together again soon,” he whispered back, pretending to run the back of two phalanges down her cheek, and in his longing imagination, she nuzzled against his touch, her long, thick lashes fluttering against her star flecked cheeks.

#frans #franstober #day 5 #private #nightmare!sans #star!frisk #my own metaverse #loreeeee #karmic torture #threats #intimidation #obsession #killer!sans #horror!sans

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to-hell-and-beyond · 3 years

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“Every.Last.One”

Hawk x Reader

Requested: Yes : No

Request:Hiiii! Can You do 7. From your angst Cobra Kai list for Hawk? Thank youuuu💖💖💖- @sincerely-the80sgirl

Omg! I love, love your work! I really got into this idea so its kinda wordy but I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Multiple ideas form into your head when you learn that one of your closest friends has been harmed by your first love. What will happen wen he meet him all over again? Dose he regret it?

Words: 1,004

Pt.2

To say your relationship with Eli ``Hawk” Moskowitz was complicated was an understatement. What once was a relationship between two friends that was as flirty as two nerds could be, to two enemies from whole different worlds. Your best friend had turned into a bully, the exact same thing you two had hated for so long.

You gripped your phone as tears welled up in your eyes. Yes, you may have never been as close with Demetri as you have been with Eli but he was still one of your closest friends. From playing DnD in his basement to crying in your room from a text from Sam. Shure you never really liked the girl. You saw what Tory saw, the stuck up brat who couldn’t care less about the world around her but you weren’t stone cold as Tory was.

Hot tears feel on your phone and you gripped it so hard you were worried it was going to break. But to be honest, that was the least of your problems right now. The boy who you had your first kiss with, had just broken his best friend and your best friend’s arm. Oh how the world had changed.

You already knew the way to the hospital by foot. Thank Robby Keene, the endless times you had walked to see Miguel made you know the way there like the back of your hand. You counted the tiles on the floor as you walked to room 213, Demitri’s room. Just down the hall was Miguel’s old hospital room. You saw Sam and maybe for the first time in your life you felt bad for her. She was crying while clutching her arms like she was going to fly away if she didn’t. She lightly smiled when she was you and ran up to give you a big hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you're here Y/n.” She squeezed you in a big hug as she quietly sobbed in your shoulder. You gently rubbed her back stunned. You knew that Miguel’s accident had hurt a lot of people emotionally but this...this had gone too far.

Sam quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks and looked back up at you. “My mom’s going to be here soon. I’m going to grab some food from the vending machine, what anything?” You shook your head as she gave one finale squeez to your shoulder and left for the vending machines.

You knew it would be a while before they would have any more information on Demitri so you decided to sit on one of those white chairs as you waited. You didn’t have to wait for too long before you noticed the familiar red spikes.

The day before Eli had become Hawk he had one last class,biology. You both shared that class and were lab partners so it was always a fun class. Today you were learning about Prey and Predators. How they hunt their prey and the emotions that surround that. You felt like prey, scared and worthless as you saw the big bad predator walk your way.

You two stared at each other, the world around you gone. Your boy with a scar was now a boy with a scary mohawk, one you did not recognize. All love and hope gone from his heart, he was just a living ghost with only darkness in his heart, because apparently that’s all he had room for. He looked at you one more time before plotting himself right down beside you.

“Do you regret it?” You asked. You didn’t know what you meant by that. Did you mean for him to break Demitris arm? Or how about the stolen kisses you two shared in the privacy of his bedroom? What about him becoming Hawk? Or was it all of them? You didn’t know.

“If you mean breaking Demitri’s arm, then yah.” You sat in silence as you took in his words. What about everything else?

“And everything else?” You asked. Yet again you were given no answer but just complete and utter silence. You remembered those silent moments you had where you would lay tougher, limbs tangled, tougher just hearing each other's breath and heartbeat. But this silence was different.

“Are you going to answer me?” There was a glint of anger in your voice that you were sure he had picked up. He always understood everything you said, unlike the majority of the world. He knew what you were feeling even by the simplest words coming out of your mouth.

“This was a mistake.” He grabbed his bag and gave you one last look. You knew that look, that was the look he would give Kyler once his back was turned. A look of hatred and utter despise. You never thought you would be on the receiving end of that look.

You watched as he left and knew this was the end. That it was the end of your best friend. The end of those careless nights,the touches and sweet kisses. The end of your first love.

“You ok Y/n?” Your thoughts were broken up by the sight of Sam LaRusso. She was still hurt but she looked like she had calmed down a little bit. You nodded lying, but in all truth you were anything but ok. You were heartbroken.

“I got this granola bar. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but you looked like you could use the energy.” You grabbed the bar as she passed it to you and took small bites as you looked at the floor.

Most people would want revenge over what happened with Demetri. Someone hurts your friend, you hurt them back, right? But at that point you could care less about Demitri’s arm. All you cared about was the fact that Cobra Kai had stolen your best friend. So, while sitting in the hospital waiting room you made a promise to yourself.

You would hurt every single last Cobra, whatever it takes. Every. Last. One.

#hawk x reader #hawk x you #hawk #hawk cobra kai #hawk imagine #oneshot #cobra kai #samantha larusso #sam larusso #demitri #demitri cobra kai

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eunsoyi · 4 years

Note

helloo. would it be possible for you to write a #1 fantasy prompt for kuroo please? ♡ congratulations by the way ^^

aaa finally a fantasy one !! thank you luvie <3

the brightest witch of her time

( hogwarts!au because harry potter is a fantasy novel you can’t say otherwise )

brightest witch of her time. kuroo tetsurou let out a scoff as he watched ravenclaw’s most famous and well-respected student scurry back and forth inside the library carrying a mountain of books. it’s not like him to actually hate a fellow student, especially someone in his year. but oh boy, do you get in his nerves.

to be fair, he did feel a little guilty for hating you without your knowledge. however, the thought of him being guilty with you as the reason made him weirdly angrier. he concluded that it was probably his superiority complex acting up. as a gryffindor, he did need to protect his pride as much as possible, and his competitiveness is obviously drilled down deep in his nature.

“you’re gonna poke a hole on her body. stop glaring.” kozume kenma, his best friend and also one of the students from gryffindor, reprimanded him in a hushed tone. tetsurou rolled his eyes. “oh i wish a hole would grow on her body.”

kenma sighed, closed the book he was reading and faced his friend with a scowl. “what did y/n even do to you?”

tetsurou pursed his lips and finally looked away from you. “i have no idea. she’s just annoying.” kenma then turned to get a glimpse of your busy little figure and gave a soft chuckle. “i don’t get it.”

“yeah, you never will.” tetsurou whined and forced himself to focus on his textbook about healing potions and whatnot. the thought of severus snape whacking his head for turning in a half-assed essay was enough to snap him back to reality and continue studying.

you and tetsurou used to have a civil relationship. with ravenclaw and gryffindor having an enormous amount of classes together during their first few years at hogwarts, it was only natural for the two houses to form unlikely friendships with each other. it was no doubt that ravenclaw students are exceptionally intelligent, they are known for that trait after all. that nature had caused an inevitable yet somewhat healthy competition between the two houses that used essays, homeworks, and exams as criteria to determine which house is actually better in academics. the punishment was the losing house gets to give their points to the other house.

surprisingly, the results varied a lot. gryffindor would take the lead for one subject, and then suddenly during the next one, ravenclaw would overtake them. the system was like that, and everyone loved some competition and it motivated them to work harder, especially tetsurou who was named as the smartest gryffindor of his year.

take note, smartest gryffindor. not smartest hogwarts student. not smartest wizard. just the most intelligent person in his house and more specifically, in his year.

you, despite the varying results of the ravenclaw versus gryffindor academic competition, were the only consistent thing in the said system. you always, always got the highest marks for essays, exams, and homework no matter what the subject. and it annoyed tetsurou. because no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many all-nighters he pulled, he was always nowhere near to beating you.

the annoyance bubbled into hatred once he started hearing your nickname: the brightest witch of your time. he was very much jealous of the fact that each and every educator in hogwarts acknowledged your skills. hell, even snape, head of the slytherin house, infamous for his unreasonable actions towards his students that are not from his house, had favored you because you were just that good. tetsurou then spent the following years just trying to compete with you (he even joined the quidditch team and got in as a seeker, but his interest quickly dissipated when he realized you weren’t even interested in playing quidditch).

despite being just one spot below you in academics, he still remained number one in terms of popularity, and oh boy did he take pride in that.

“hey, tetsu.” a chirpy girl from slytherin suddenly greeted him while he was chilling in front of the fireplace in the gryffindor common room.

“how did you get in here?” he smirked and reached out to plant a kiss on the girl, to which she giggled flirtatiously in response. tetsurou felt kenma roll his eyes beside him, but paid no attention to the pudding-haired boy and continued making out with the girl (whose name he doesn’t even remember).

“i have my ways.” she replied in a muffled and out-of-breath tone, showing a hint of exhaustion from tetsurou’s intense kiss.

“you’re naughty, ain’t ya?”

the two of them continued flirting until kenma suddenly spoke.

“oh? y/n.”

tetsurou’s head snapped towards kenma’s direction. “what about her?”

“why are you so worked up?” kenma narrowed his eyes as he gave the slytherin girl a disgusted expression. “she’s walking towards the forbidden forest.” he explained and pointed outside the window. and lo and behold, you were there, walking in the dark without any care in the world with a small light emitting from your wand.

“what?!” tetsurou was now standing up, dropping the girl sitting on his lap. she clicked her tongue and attempted to return to their original position, but failed because tetsurou suddenly dashed outside the common room.

“ugh, that bitch.” she mumbled under her breath, gritting her teeth.

“you know kuroo doesn’t even know you, right?” kenma told her, not even giving her a glance as he flipped through his book. the girl grunted in response and left, fuming.

tetsurou’s sweat was covering his field of vision, but he found himself running as fast as he can, not even thinking about what kind of punishment lies beyond him and you once the teachers find out you were out during the night.

he then found you on the entrance of the forest, your wand still emitting the same small light. he panted, putting his hands on his knees.

“oi, y/n! what the hell are you doing out here?” he yelled. you immediately turned around to face him, and he noticed you turned pale once you realized someone was there with you.

“none of your business, kuroo.” you snapped.

tetsurou felt his frustration bubble up because of your reply. “wow, rude much?”

“just leave me alone.”

“jeez, suit yourself.” tetsurou snapped back and turned to walk away. he walked for about five steps and when he turned around, you were suddenly gone. it’s as if you were air or something. “what the fuck..” he muttered. there was no sign of you anywhere. he composed himself and went to follow you inside the forbidden forest.

he took out his wand and muttered “lumos.” as he walked in a straight line, trying to find any sign of your presence. his wand lit up, but his hands were still shaking in nervousness. going into the forbidden forest was not allowed because the forest can literally kill you, and the all of the hogwarts students are aware of this fact, so why the hell is tetsurou risking his life looking for you?

he walked for about another ten minutes when he heard galloping. what the fuck, centaurs?! he frantically tried to remember any kind of offensive and defensive spells he learned in class and hid behind a tree, his heart rate increasing as the galloping sound became nearer and clearer.

“hey, hey, it’s okay. calm down.” he heard a sweet female voice say. he angled his position to get a glimpse of the person who owned the voice and let out a sigh of relief when he noticed that the voice came from you. his eyes widened as you reached your hand to touch the most beautiful, most peaceful, most elegant creature tetsurou has ever seen. its skin was pure gold, and its hair was very, very soft like clouds. the creature emitted an angelic yet somehow intense aura which spiked his curiousity even further.

he walked towards you and the creature quietly, despite trying his hardest not to make his presence known. you snapped, still not moving your hand away from the creature and turned around with your wand pointing out towards tetsurou. you cursed under your breath and let out a sigh of relief when the light of your wand flashed into his familiar face. you did not acknowledge his presence any further and continued petting the horse-like animal, but tetsurou didn’t care. he reached out his hand as well and much to his happiness, the creature did not move away.

“what are you?” he found himself asking the creature, of course, it did not respond. it was worth a try, he thought, chuckling to himself. he heard you giggle slightly when you heard his question. “it’s a unicorn.” you answered. “this one’s a baby, though. i wonder where his parents are.”

“where’s the horn?” he asked once more, this time looking at you.

“like i said, it’s a baby.”

he wondered how you knew about that information, but shrugged it off after realizing you are the most intelligent student in hogwarts. “you could get in trouble for this.” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. you scowled, still not meeting his eyes. “no shit, sherlock. it’s called the forbidden forest for a reason.”

he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “i’m just saying. jeez, why are you here anyway?” he asked in a rhetoric manner. the two of you stood in silence for a few seconds, admiring the golden unicorn, before you spoke again.

“i go here because i want to see them for myself.” you said with a serious expression. tetsurou was surprised because you actually answered his question, but remained silent as a cue for you to continue. “it’s fun learning about a few of them in class and all, but i want to see the real ones. the dangerous ones. the creatures we’re not allowed to see. i want to learn.”

tetsurou was astonished. for the first time since he met you, he understood why people were calling you the brightest witch of your time. it wasn’t just about your memorization skills or your talents in uttering spells and making potions, it was also your hunger for new information. your need to learn about the unknown, about the things hogwarts had purposely left out in its curriculum. he looked down, a pang of guilt striking through his chest as he remembered what malicious things he had said, thought, and felt about you. tetsurou was so goddamn wrong about you, and he hated that. a part of him wished you were just the annoying ravenclaw he always knew, but it was refreshing to know that in some way, you were more than that.

he sighed, and as he did, he finally caught your attention and you looked up at him. “what?” you narrowed your eyes.

“just..” he paused. “the next time you come here, tell me, okay?”

you gave him a suspicious look. “why? you’re not going to tell on me? you know telling someone would cost ravenclaw a lot of points, right? and gryffindor would finally win house cup?” you asked, not trusting him one bit.

“i wanna learn more.” he simply said. “and being a snitch is petty. i’d rather beat you fair and square.”

you didn’t answer but instead just laughed in response. the two of stayed there for a good five minutes until finally returning back to the dorms. before the two of you parted ways, you stopped in your tracks and faced him once more.

“meet me there thirty minutes after dinner everyday.” you just said and ran off to your own common room. he just stood there, shocked at what you just did. when he came back to his senses, he smiled to himself. with finally having something to look forward to for the first time in years, he walked back to his room with a spring in his step.

“you look chipper.” kenma said as tetsurou finally reached his dorm room.

“do you know that a baby unicorn’s skin is gold?” he asked, grinning.

“i did not know that.” kenma replied rather nonchalantly.

“yeah, me neither.”

this took a long time to finish bc i can’t remember jack shit about harry potter but i wanted to push the gryffindor!kuroo agenda so much. hope you liked this! requests for 100-follower special is still open. see this for more info!

#kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo headcanons #kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo hcs #kuroo oneshot #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu au #harry potter au

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faintblueivy · 3 years

Text

Remember I participated in Nanowrimo of this year. Mine got interrupted because of sudden exams.

So I’ve finally started posting the novel I wrote. I’m so excited to share it with you all. And I’ll be extremely honored if you give it a read.

Princess Ayana of Ruvesta was offered to Emperor Bekadna as a symbol of Peace Treaty. This is how the days of her torture and humiliation began. Years later, she stands amidst the ravaged ruination of the country she had sacrificed everything for, being forced to murder the man who had loved her, fought for her freedom and the safety of her country, she realizes that she may have lost but the wicked Emperor cannot win. Her last act of defiance ends with her own blood spilled and her life sacrificed to a poisoned blade. But a scared wish changes the course of fate and the tragedy of Princess Ayana ends with a ten years old royal princess waking up after a nightmare. Can Ayana fight what destiny has decided for her and her loved ones?

Here is the link for anyone who is interested!

Her is an extract from the first chapter:

The sky was painted in a violent shade of red mingling with orange and yellow hues, reflecting the chaos and screaming of the people below. The capital was set ablaze, flames higher than ever, and indiscriminate slaughter of young and old followed. Children were snatched from mothers, women were raped and beaten. Cruel laughter gradually overpowered the screaming of innocents. The once alive streets were bathed in the red blood of dead people. It was a terror like history had never seen before.

The royal palace was no different.

He stalked through the large hallways, dragging her by hair, grinning as she stumbled and fell, showing no mercy as he violently yanked her up on her feet laughing maniacally at the pained yelp that escaped her lips.

The dread clawed at her throat when she realized the destination he was taking her to.

The throne room.

The place where her father had sat, ruled the country and had sold her to this madman for the safety and security of the people. To save his own hide and protect his beloved sons. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered. The insane tyrant had still done the slaughtering he wanted. She vividly remembered how the heads of her father and brothers had rolled and how the blood had splattered across her face, staining her vision with red.

The doors to the room opened, the large golden throne that sat atop the stairs was glowing red.

“You see that? My dear wife?” The man sneered at her, “The throne I’ve been waiting for so long is finally mine!” His grin sharpened at her glare of vengeful hatred. “I'm a kind and generous Emperor, dear wife. I am not shameless enough to ascend the throne of your kingdom without you by my side.”

Her once shining silver hair was matted with dirt and blood and her dress was in tatters. The bare minimum jewelry on her person had never seemed as heavier as it did now. He hauled her up like a ragdoll on the stairs and dropped himself on the throne with a grand gesture and forced her on her knees in front of him.

Her heart burned with humiliation.

“My lovely Ayana,” he cooed at her, “I have one more gift for you.”

Oh god, she hated how it made a shiver of absolute terror run down her spine. It must have shown on her face because he smiled gleefully before announcing, "Bring him in!”

The man his soldiers brought in was already half dead, naked. His skin was marked with uncountable cuts and slashes. Bruises and burns littered his ashen skin and his red hair seemed to clump together due to blood. She could see that a deep gash on his side was deeply infected, skin looked a sick purple color and swollen with infection. It looked beyond painful. But she didn’t recognize the man.

The devil behind her laughed, “How do you like my gift? I heard you were extremely close as children, Ayana?”

As soon as her name was uttered and the man looked up with absolute fury shining in his blue eyes. She had no control over the gasp that escaped her lips because this was not how she had ever wanted to see him. His gaze flew to her and his face morphed into one displaying an identical horror to hers. She could hear the tyrant laughing at her back but somehow the all she could stare at was him.

“Ryan?” she whispered to herself, her senses going numb.

The emperor leaned in, his lips almost touching her ear, “You know, he was my greatest adversary. He was the reason I had to wait so much to give you your absolute misery Ayana. It was all his fault.”

It was the only warning before kicked her in the back and as she was about to tumble down the stairs, he got a hold of her hair and jerked her back closer to him and bit the nape of her neck like an animal, hard enough to draw blood. A pained cry escaped her lips.

“Get your fucking hands off her! You bastard!” Ryan screamed and snarled and thrashed against the ten knights holding him back.

The tears that she had so valiantly held back, the screams she had bit her tongue for, were all threatening to break out of her. The absolute fury he was showing on her behalf clashed against the relief that she had seen on her family’s faces when they had sold her out to save their skins. Ryan had been the one fighting for her since the beginning.

Ayana, once upon a time, was the esteemed and beloved Princess of the Kingdom of Ruvesta and now, she was a broken and humiliated concubine of a monster. Everything she had ever known had changed. Her country was burnt down to ashes. Her family and people were dead. But the only thing that remained the same was Ryan. He had fought for her even when her world was right and he was fighting for even now when nothing was.

She watched as he struggled, only coming to senses when a soldier whipped him with a spiked whip. She whimpered for him as he refused to react, his blue eyes on her.

Everything will be alright. They seemed to say but Ayana was not the same naïve princess who had once lived in her own world.

“Please...please stop! Don’t hurt him anymore!” She begged, unable to bear him suffering more.

“Oh?” The emperor taunted, “You’re begging for him? You didn’t make a sound when I killed your family. You want him spared?”

“Yes. yes, please.” As much as it killed her to beg the man she hated the most in this world, she was not above bearing all kinds of humiliation if it meant keeping Ryan safe.

“Then why don’t you start off by licking clean my shoe?”

The deafening silence that followed his words broken by Ryan’s scream of rage as she trembled on the floor in absolute defeat.

“I will do it, just please...spare him.” It took everything in her to choke these words, eyes burning in shame as she lowered herself in front of this man.

“No! Oh god, no, please! Don’t do it!”

She ignored Ryan and his cries as she offered this man the last bit of her dignity.

“Please, your majesty…”

“Hm…I didn’t think you would be really willing to stoop so low for him. But since I’m a man of my word, so I’ll give you two options, dear wife. And you have two days to make your decision. First is, I spare his life but he spends the rest of his life in captivity with all kinds of tortures and punishments to entertain me. Since he is your dear friend he deserves all the special treatment I could get him.” He smirked at horror dawning on her face and leaned in. “Second is, he is lucky if you love him enough to put him out of his misery.” Those words were like a slap to her face and she felt her already shattered heart breaking into million pieces.

She doesn’t remember what happened after that. Everything was a smudge of her senses whirling together in a mess that she couldn’t sort out. When she finally came back, she realized she had been locked up inside her old bedroom in the castle.

She had two days to decide Ryan’s fate. If she let him live, she’d be condemning him to a life of nothing but torture and pain and if she....

Oh god, how was she supposed to kill the most important person in her life?

She collapsed on the floor again, breathing hard.

Nothing felt real. She didn’t want it to be anything more than a nightmare.

She wished it to be over soon.

...

Please, if you enjoyed the story then please leave a follow or comment! It would mean so much to me! and If you are planning to make an account on this site then please leave me a message. I can send you an invite link. It can help me get some points which will help a me - a college going student struggling financially - a lot!

...Uh, I’ve never done self-promotion before so it’s a bit awkward but i’d love to listen if you could give me some advice about it!

...

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theshatteredrose · 3 years

Text

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 20) - Original Fiction

AN: Whew, this chapter took longer than I had anticipated. Darn migraines. But, here we are, finally. Hope you enjoy~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 20:

It took Eishirou a few minutes to reassure both Jacob and Neriah that he was going to be a good patient and not try to escape. Neriah was sceptical but he was pulled away for another appointment. And Jacob finally decided that he would head out and do some work of his own.

Though, Eishirou hoped he was really heading out to get some food and rest of his own. It was fairly obvious from the fatigue that he had stayed close to his infirmary bedside since he returned.

With the two professors excusing themselves, they left Eishirou alone with Zayne.

“Hey,” Zayne said, prompting Eishirou to turn toward him once more. “What did you mean by giving me your healing skills?”

Eishirou rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Just that. I used the Red Lily to channel my healing mana to you.”

He didn’t know how else to explain it. He wasn’t fully sure how he did it. He just…did? He would like to know how, honestly. Maybe he could do it again, if the situation called for it?

An unexpected frown appeared on Zayne’s face. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he went on to scold. “What if it killed you?”

Eishirou blinked, inwardly surprised. He, however, felt his brow furrow in slight irritation. “You were taking attacks meant for me. What if that killed you?”

“I’m an Elite,” Zayne returned. “It’s my duty to protect you.”

“By allowing your blood to spill across the ground?” Eishirou asked sarcastically as he pivoted slightly from where he sat on the bed in order to face Zayne more directly.

Zayne snorted dismissively. “If that’s what it takes. What was I supposed to do? Let you get hit instead?”

The vision of those spikes piercing Zayne’s arm, with blood beading and dropping to the ground like rain appeared in Eishirou’s mind. And it made him feel instantly nauseous. “Better me than you!”

Zayne’s head reeled back ever so slightly, an incredulous expression on his face. “How so? You’re the medic!”

“What good is a medic if he can’t do anything other than heal?” Eishirou swiftly retorted. “It’s not like I can pick you guys up and carry you out!”

“Well, what good is an elite other than fighting?” Zayne snapped.

That caught Eishirou by surprise. His own irrational frustration and anger dissipated quickly. It dawned on him that his anger and frustration was born from fear and concern.

And Zayne was just the same.

There was pure bitterness and self-hatred in his voice. It hurt Eishirou to see Zayne receive such terrible, potentially life-threatening injuries because of him. Why wouldn’t it be any different for Zayne to see him succumb to mana depletion so suddenly?

It scared him.

Eishirou turned and sat back against the pillows behind him. Zayne himself leaned back into his chair and turned his head away to stare at the floor. There was an expression of self-loathing mixed with guilt on his face.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Despite the short, abrupt fight they just had, Eishirou couldn’t help a smile from slipping across his lips. What a pair of idiots. Getting irritated because they were worried. How utterly stupid.

Yet, somehow Eishirou found it endearing.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” Eishirou uttered, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Zayne murmured quietly. “You, too.”

“You scared me, you know?”

“…You, too.”

Yeah, that was actually pretty obvious now.

Eishirou returned his gaze to Zayne. “Sorry.”

Zayne turned to look toward him, too. His expression was solemn, apologetic. “Me, too.”

“I’m really all right,” Eishirou insisted as he pivoted his upper body to face Zayne direction.

Zayne leaned forward to gently press his forehead against Eishirou’s. “Don’t do that again.”

A blush made its way to Eishirou’s features, but a gentle smile remained on his lips. And he made no attempt to pull away. “It’s not something I’m striving for. But, you, too.”

As he sat there, his forehead resting against Zayne’s, he felt lightheaded yet comfortable. While he did feel a sense of guilt for worrying him, he did find his concern for him sweet and endearing. His concern for him was so blatant and unapologetic. He hadn’t met anyone quite like him before.

He had only known him for a few days. But it felt as if he had known him for years.

“Ahem.” A forced, awkward cough caused Eishirou to return to reality and he jumped back in surprise. He immediately turned to look over at the door where two very familiar figures stood.

Misaki stood there with an eyebrow arched toward his hairline while Lyvia leaned out behind him with her hand over her mouth. With an obvious expression of amusement on her face.

“Are we interrupting?” Misaki asked coolly.

“O-oh, hey,” Eishirou stuttered, his face no doubt a deep red. “What are you guys doing here?”

Misaki walked into the room and to the other side of Eishirou’s bed, Lyvia right with him. “Well, some idiot had to deplete his mana and end up unconscious for a couple of days.”

Eishirou winced and rubbed the back of his neck. He spared a glance with Zayne, who of which leaned back in his chair, looking as though he wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Ah, I bet you know all about that, then…”

“Well, I was working at the time,” Misaki explained as he sat down on an empty chair.

Oh, right. He must have been the one to receive the call for assistance and evacuation. It must have come as a surprise to him, too.

“Here, I smuggled this in for you,” Misaki said as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a familiar object.

Eishirou immediately brightened. “Ah, my tablet!” he quickly took the tablet into his hands. “Thanks!”

Lyvia sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t let Professor Neriah find you with it,” she warned just as Eishirou was about to turn it on.

“And don’t think you can start researching off of it,” Misaki sternly added.

“Fine, fine,” Eishirou said in surrender as he slid the tablet under his pillow. “Don’t start sounding like Neriah or we’ll all be scared.”

Lyvia sniggered into her hand as Misaki narrowed his eyes in disgruntlement. But he didn’t make any attempt to dispute it. Instead, he shook his head and gave Eishirou a subtly worried look.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Ah, I’m fine,” Eishirou said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. “Just a little bit tired. Getting restless, though.”

Misaki nodded his head in understanding. “I can imagine.”

Lyvia lightly patted the sheets draped across Eishirou’s feet. “How long are you trapped here?”

“Only for the day, surprisingly.”

“Lucky,” Lyvia said after a whistle. “Neriah must be in a good mood today.”

Eishirou had to laugh at that. The way he was bickering with Jacob indicated as much. But then again, the two were friends, and their bickering may have been their attempt to ease the worry and tension they both felt.

The smile on Eishirou’s face slipped. As he thought back, where he sat in a hospital bed, it made him realise how dangerous the situation was. And how badly it could have turned out. Those ShadowDwellers were something else. They moved so quickly and knew who to attack, and when. They were intelligent. And that made them dangerous.

Eishirou’s hands tighten on the sheets folded on his lap. They could have…All of them could have been seriously hurt. Or killed.

If the Red Lily didn’t appear when it did, they may not have made it out alive. Not all of them.

“Eishirou?”

Eishirou snapped his head up and turned toward the direction of the voice. He found Misaki and Lyvia looking at him in concern. He blinked before a sheepish smile appeared on his lips.

“S-sorry, was just lost in thought.”

It wasn’t uncommon for survivors of traumatic events to experience intense feelings of fear and shock hours or days after. Eishirou was likely to experience several more episodes in the coming days. He would have to remind himself that he was fine. Everyone was fine.

They were the lucky ones.

“Hey. Any news about those missing Elite Teams?” Eishirou asked.

Misaki appeared reluctant to answer the question. He had no doubt picked up on the shock that Eishirou had experienced. But he eventually sighed and shook his head. “There’s isn’t much, I’m afraid. They’re keeping it on the quiet, but they haven’t found any evidence of their presence. The island is quite primitive.”

“Passives, especially researchers, are currently forbidden from venturing to the island, though,” Lyvia added. “Veteran Elites are currently patrolling the island.”

Eishirou simply nodded his head. That didn’t surprise him one little bit. He was curious to go back to that white tower simply because of his need to know more about that stained-glass mosaic. But that was the only reason. He didn’t wish to encounter those Humanoid ShadowDwellers again.

He had photos. And he had the Red Lily itself. He had projects to work on here, in the relatively safety of Silverleaf Academy and the museum. There was no other reason for him to return. And he found a sense of comfort in that. Especially with the fact that no one else needed to go back either.

He would like to return to Flutterlight Forest one day, sure. He would not deny an opportunity to do so. He was curious. There were a lot of secrets and mysteries to be found and discovered.

But only after they had discovered what happened to those missing Elites. And after they figured out how to deal with those ShadowDwellers to ensure they wouldn’t be ambushed again.

He hoped that they would find those who were missing soon.

A sharp knock prompted everyone to turn their attention to the door. Who stood there was someone completely unexpected; Ernesta and Rinka. Ernesta stepped into the room with confidence, unconcerned that she was the centre of attention. Rinka trailed behind her, though far more self-conscious.

“I thought I would find you here,” Ernesta said, her comment directed toward Zayne.

Zayne continued to lounge back in his chair and arched a questioning an eyebrow at her. “Yeah?”

“Hi, Rinka!” Lyvia greeted cheerfully.

Rinka flushed a light pink, but gave a small wave of her hand in response. “H-hi.”

Ernesta’s expression was placid, as always, as she turned to look over in Eishirou’s direction. “Good to see you’re doing well, Eishirou,” she said politely.

“Ah, you, too,” Eishirou said sheepishly in response as his hands toyed with his bedsheets once more. “Sorry for the hassle.”

Ernesta simply smiled. “Not at all.” However, her expression soon shifted into seriousness as she glanced around at the other occupants within the room.

“Eishirou,” she started as she rested her gaze upon him once more. “I would like to speak to you in private, if I may?”

“Oh?” That was certainly a surprise. “Ah, sure, of course.”

As if he would decline. Or could. Ernesta was quite intimidating. It was extremely difficult to say no to her.

Misaki didn’t seem all that intimidated, however, as he frowned deeply at the request. He appeared as if he wanted to argue in some way, but thought better of it. Instead, he sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “We need to get back to work, anyway,” he said, light resentment in his voice.

Lyvia nodded her head in agreement as she slipped off the bed and to her feet. “We’ll visit again later, ok?” he promised.

“Sure,” Eishirou replied with a comforting smile. “Don’t work too hard.”

The two Chroniclers bid their farewells and left the room. Ernesta watched them until they were out of sight before she turned her attention to Zayne. The blue-haired man defiantly returned her gaze with a dismissive one of his own, and the two of them simply stared at each other for a few drawn out seconds.

“You, too,” Ernesta finally stated.

Zayne uttered a childish, drawn out “fine” as he let his head flop back over the back of the chair. That drew a surprising giggle from Rinka and a roll of the eyes from Ernesta. He finally, and sulkily got up off the chair. He then shoved his hands into his pockets as he headed for the door.

“I’ll catch you later,” he called out as Rinka followed him out of the door.

“Sure,” was all Eishirou managed before he disappeared from view.

He had to admit that he felt nervous when the door to his room closed and Ernesta sat herself down on the chair that Zayne had just vacated. She leaned back, crossed her legs and folded her arms under her bust. Looking all too serious for his likening.

“Is something wrong?”

“Professor Chryses explained to me that you had used this Red Lily relic,” Ernesta answered, thankfully getting straight to the point. “He said that you channelled your healing mana to Zayne. Is that all?”

Eishirou couldn’t help but feel as if there was a silent accusation hidden in that short question. Her sharp gaze certainly felt that way. “W-well, I think so. I don’t really remember.”

“I see.” Ernesta’s expression was unreadable. “Do you suppose it is possible that this relic also channelled its mana to Zayne?”

“Well, that could be a possibility.”

Hmm. That might actually explain the pain Eishirou felt during the channelling. The Red Lily may have used him as a vessel to reach out to Zayne. Using him as a link between the two. Given him both his and the relic’s mana.

Yet, that didn’t quite make sense. If the relic wished to grant Zayne its strength, why not go directly to him? Was he not open for such a link? Did it first have to be channelled through him?

Interesting.

Ernesta continued. “Zayne exhibit some…interesting skills after you had collapsed. I’m just…curious, I suppose you could say.”

Eishirou tilted his head to the side in curiosity. “Skills?”

“Zayne defeated those ShadowDwellers all on his own. And no matter the attacks he sustained; he received no injury.” She turned her sharp eyes to look directly, and pointedly, at Eishirou. “You could say he was practically invincible.”

Invincible?

That…he remembered something about that. He wanted that, didn’t he? He had thought that very word in his mind. He transferred that intention to the Red Lily. And to Zayne himself.

Make Zayne invincible so that he could ensure that everyone got out alive.

Did…did that actually work?

How?

“Well, never mind all that now,” Ernesta suddenly stated as she uncrossed her legs and took to her feet. She presented him a placid smile. “I’m simply curious. Perhaps, from further investigation, we will learn more?”

Eishirou blinked. “Ah, yeah.”

“I best leave you be now,” Ernesta continued as she turned to head toward the door. “I’ll need to take Zayne now. So, try to get some rest.”

“Yeah, ok,” was all Eishirou could utter before he fell back into the pillows behind him and stared up at the ceiling.

He soon became lost in his thoughts. He had a lot to muse about and consider. A lot of questions ran through his head. A lot of questions but only speculation for answers.

…As soon as he got out of this bed, he hoped he would be able to get some of those questions answered.

#original fiction #scifi fantasy #young adult #rpglit #gay romance #relic keepers: awakening of the red lily

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ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

One Step Back

Summary: Marlon hopes to regain his friendship with Sophie and decides to break the ice with a sparring match but things don't go as he hopes...

Word Count: 1000+

Read on AO3:

Marlon let out a deep breath as he pulled the barrel across the deck of Ol’ Kickass. With the sun beating down on his skin and sweat coating his shirt he was already feeling drained. But this would be worth it. With one final grunt Marlon rolled it to a stop and smiled at the barrel of sparring weapons he had brought out.

Aasim had let him know that Sophie was clear for sparring but only in short sessions. He had also told Marlon that he must go easy on Sophie during the matches. Too much strain on her physically could set her back and that would diminish her determination. Marlon took that to heart and knew he had to be careful.

The blond pirate glanced down at the training swords with another smile. He was just happy that he now had something he could do to spend time with Sophie again. Some way to reconnect with her and slowly build their friendship back up again. It had been a few months since the fight and the two had only held a few small conversations. Nothing special or meaningful. Just talks about how the sea looked calm or how the stew was particularly tasty that night. But anytime it seemed like it was going anywhere, Sophie would leave. Marlon pinned his hopes that this would be the perfect icebreaker to potentially start to mend their friendship.

He looked around the deck, his pale blue eyes trying to spot Sophie. Willy was currently trying to wrestle an apple out of Garbage’s mouth that the sneaky possum had stolen from him while to his right Prisha was in a heated conversation with Aasim. They were arguing over some topic with a word too long and complex for Marlon to even hope to try and understand. His eyes continued to scan the deck, catching sight of Louis carrying some supplies with AJ who was determined to carry as much as the captain. Louis reassured the afroed pirate that he didn’t have to carry that much while at the same time encouraging him when he saw the determination in AJ’s eyes.

After another moment or two Marlon finally spotted Sophie who was sitting next to Brody. The two pirates were deep in conversation while Sophie was trying her best to sketch something. Her eyes were deeply focused on the paper but he could tell by the way they shone that she was happy. Sophie laughed softly and had a gentle smile on her face as she turned to respond to Brody.

This was his chance. Chores had wrapped up for most of the day. She was in a good mood. The training equipment was here. Marlon took another deep breath. Praying that this would work, he strolled over towards the pair of friends. “Hey Sophie,” Marlon smiled and gave a small wave. “I heard from Aasim that you could spar again. So, I thought that maybe… only if you want to... you could spar with me?” He felt his nervousness spike. He really hoped she would say yes. If she said yes then it could fix everything.

Sophie looked up at the blond pirate,the smile on her face quickly fading away. “Sure. Sorry, Brody. We can talk some more later. Is that okay?” Sophie stood up and glanced back down at her friend. The auburn pirate looked between Sophie then over at Marlon. She could see the emotions within both of their eyes. Both of them wanted different things. But for some reason Brody felt in her gut it was a good idea to let this sparring match happen.

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.” Brody rose and made her way over to the ship’s wheel to check on the status of their destination while still being nearby enough in case this whole match went south.

Without another word Sophie moved past Marlon and strode over to the weapons barrel. Slowly the redheaded pirate took out two wooden swords. It was obvious in a moment that her thumbs were struggling to move into the right position. Their strength seemed to barely hold up the wooden blades. Marlon ran over and quickly picked up his blade. After double checking to make sure it had his special carved mark on it the pirate got into his fighting stance.

“You ready?” Marlon gave a competitive smile, one that he had given Sophie many times over the countless sparring matches they’d had.

“Yeah.” Sophie’s voice was monotone and flat. She didn’t wait a second. Pushing her feet off the wooden deck, she rushed forward. Sophie would be the first to attack. Her right blade came towards him slow and weak as it flimsily moved. Marlon easily blocked it, causing Sophie to almost drop the sword. The redhead’s eyes hardened as she focused on holding onto the sword.

Marlon felt the tension slowly rising around them. Sophie was clearly upset as she went for another attack only for it to completely miss its mark once Marlon sidestepped it. She swore under her breath and tried to recover but Marlon wasn’t giving her that chance. With one swift attack he knocked the swords out of her hands. The wooden swords clattered to the deck and slid across it.

The tension was palpable now, the air around them stiff and suffocating. No one made a sound. They all watched in unsure silence. Sophie’s eyes fell, hidden as she looked at the blades now scattered on the deck. A look of utter frustration was on her face. Her hands curled up into fists, her thumbs still not fully able to do the action with her other fingers.

Marlon wasn’t sure what to do so he walked forward and gave his best reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Soph. With some more practice and time, you’ll be back to your old fighting self.”

Sophie didn’t bother to look up as she spoke, her voice holding a venom within it. “Careful, you don’t want to have a habit of making promises you can’t keep.”

Marlon felt his chest twist at the words. They cut deep. He was sick of this. All the small comments, all the glancing, all the moments Sophie had avoided him at all costs. The anger and frustration he had felt over the past few months quickly boiled over. He wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. He’d speak his truth.

“I did the right thing.” Marlon’s voice was low as he glared at her.

Sophie’s eyes shot up at his statement. Immediately they hardened as she looked at the blond pirate. “How was lying to me about saving Minnie the right thing!” Her voice grew louder and her footsteps crashed against the deck as she stormed towards him.

Marlon slowly took a few steps back. His eyes caught the sight of Louis whose face was heavy with worry. Louis tried to step forward in hopes of intervening and stopping the fight from truly breaking out. But he was quickly stopped by Clementine; her grip on his arm was firm. When the captain looked down at her, she shook her head. Clementine seemed to share the same thought as Marlon in that moment. This conversation, no matter how heated it got, needed to happen.

Marlon’s attention instantly went back to Sophie. “I did it to save your life!” he snapped at her, his chest heaving.

“You ruined my life that day! You shattered it to pieces! Threw a part of me into the sea!” Sophie’s voice was thick with hatred as she glared at him.

Marlon’s eyes widened with pain at those words, his heart aching in pain before his eyes hardened once more. “If I had gone back, I would have put everyone’s lives at risk! The sinking of the Delta pirates’ ship would’ve destroyed our ship too!” He circled her, eyes never leaving her face. Sophie’s eyes never broke contact as they made circle after circle.

“Then I should’ve stayed behind!” Sophie’s eyes were starting to sting as her body trembled slightly.

“Your arms were useless!” Marlon spat and gestured towards Sophie’s hands which held large pink scars around her thumbs. Her arms now bore disturbingly long ribbon-like scars that ran up their length and never seemed to end. “They were covered in blood and you were barely conscious!” Marlon noticed Sophie wince at those words, her eyes breaking contact with his as her concentration drifted to her arms. A minute of silence passed between the pair. Sophie never stopped looking at her arms.

“I-I could’ve helped Minnie take down...” Sophie’s voice was barely coherent as she tried to continue to argue.

“Brody and Prisha told us about their fight with Lilly! They couldn’t defeat her and it was clear that day that you couldn’t either!” Marlon snapped at her when suddenly he saw a sight that made him freeze.

Tears were dripping down her face, never ending, copious amount of tears. The tears of her grief fell down and splattered onto her scarred arms.

“Shit. Soph… I didn’t-” he reached out a hand only for it to be smacked away. Sophie’s arm went limp to her side as she locked eyes with him.

“You think I don’t know that?” Her face was drenched in tears as her eyes shone with her grief and self hatred. The sight made Marlon’s heart twist in agony. Sophie’s eyes held a world of pain within them. “I was weak. A pathetic, useless, good for nothing fighter. And it cost me my sister’s life.” She extended her arms, holding them out as the fresh scars shone in the light.

A realization hit Marlon in that moment.This was the first time he had seen her without the bandages.

“These scars prove it.” Sophie’s voice cracked as she spoke. “A constant reminder of the truth. A constant reminder of my failure.”

Marlon tried to step forward but before he could reach her Sophie had turned away, sprinting off and disappearing below decks. Marlon stood frozen in place, unable to fully process what he had just heard as the weight of Sophie’s words crashed over him like a wave.

#twdg #twdg marlon #twdg sophie #twdg marlie #twdg brody #twdg louis #twdg clementine #twdg garbage #twdg willy #twdg aj #fanfic #a pirate's life for me au

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writingawaymylife · 4 years

Text

Revelations

A/N: Was talking with a friend of mine about the Witcher when this little idea popped up. I absolutely headcanon this, no one can bend me on this. Geralt is an angsty himbo (who I love so, so much), and he quite enjoys works of literature that match that. Also, as a writer, I do side with Jaskier 100%

Warnings: Maybe a few swears, if that’s even a warning? Fuck, I don’t know

Summary: Jaskier, after getting something rightfully taken away from him, decides to go searching in Geralt’s bag for it. However, what he ends up finding in the bag is far, far better.

Jaskier knew that it wasn’t a good idea. In fact, he knew that it was one hundred percent, definitively, assuredly, a terrible idea. With all honesty, it was probably one of the few thoughts he had ever hesitated acted on. Sitting there, on the bed, trying to brainstorm a story, but constantly peeking over at the worn leather bag on the chair across from him. Every few minutes he would look at the bag, look towards the door, before shaking his head and going back to the parchment in his hands.

Geralt was not in the mood to deal with his antics today, or much of this week, as Jaskier had found shortly through one of his many tangents about the art of prose, and some retched bard that had been trying to compete and take his place. The Witcher looked to have been on the brink of murdering him as he rode on his horse, jaw clenched and body covered in the entrails of some monster, as the two had made it into town and to the Inn.

But, if there was ever a time when he felt valid in doing something completely and utterly idiotic, and possibly getting Geralt even more pissed off than Jaskier normally was able to do, it was now.

A small object, almost obsidian in nature, was buried deep among the contents in the pack. It had been Jaskier’s after he had found it in one of the many caves he had followed Geralt into (and subsequently nearly didn’t come out of). He hadn’t told Geralt about it, knowing that the Witcher would most likely chastise him and promptly take it away. But, as Jaskier was pacing the room early after setting down for the night, parchment in hand, and trying to find out where the hell his plot was going, Geralt had been quick to find the tiny thing sitting on the bedside table. And, proceeded to do the exact thing, in the same order, that Jaskier had assumed he would.

- Chastised him.

- Grumbled.

- Further berated him.

- Then promptly took it away shoved it into his pack.

Often times, Jaskier would have just sighed and let it go. But for some reason, with this little object, he couldn’t for the life of his move on from it. Ever since he had found it, his creativity had increased tenfold. Ideas he would have never thought about, melodies he would have never believed existed, all seemed to come to him as soon as he had it with him. And now, sitting here with only a couple sentences down, he knew that it was meant for him.

He, after having it for so long, didn’t believe for one second, that it was dangerous. Jaskier had that thing for at the least three months, and it hadn’t harmed a single soul. It helped create. How could that be cursed? Blessed maybe, but cursed?

Still, if Geralt walked in and found Jaskier with going through his bag, or found him with that little object again, he would most definitely have at least a few words to say.

His quill tapped the paper for a bit, eyes nearly piercing holes into the bag as he debated if this thing was worth risking a very angry Witcher. Probably not.

He looked down at the paper, trying his hardest to make the words appear in his head. Nothing.

Well, maybe it was just slightly worth it.

He gently set the parchment and quill down on the bed, and, as he continuously glanced at the door beside him, moved towards the bag. The grumpy lout would probably be at a brothel after cleaning up anyway, there was not a single thing to be concerned about.

The bag sat in front of him. His hands were on his hips. His foot was tapping the floor.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, to hell with it.” He leaned down and opened the bag, rolling his eyes at how he had ramped this up to be far worse than it was. A few moments went by, with Jaskier being completely surprised with the amount of stuff Geralt was able to keep in there, and increasingly annoyed as he tried to find the damned thing, before he proceeded to start taking things out.

After taking out bandages, a few vials, and a small box, Jaskier was close to just pouring out the contents, before he grabbed onto another rectangular object and hastily took it out of the bag. He was about to place it on the floor where he now kneeled, but stopped when his eyes caught the cover. It wasn’t some bestiary or some book about the art of the sword or even some journal but an actual story. His hand moved completely away from the cover, and, after reading and rereading the cover, lifted his upper lip in disgust and flipped it over to read the back.

“What are you?”

“The Yearning of the Heart is a timeless tale about two lovers, bound to each other but forever being pulled apart. Ani, a woman who has known nothing but the market and her farm, is swept off of her feet when a hardened ex-militant comes into town-”

Jaskier nearly threw the book. Eyes widening as he tried to understand why that was in Geralt’s bag. Geralt’s. A man who pretended to not have a singular emotion. A man who was one of the greatest descriptions of hardened tough warrior Jaskier had ever met.

At first, he was amused, a light huff of laughter as he tried to picture Geralt, sitting there and reading this book, completely enraptured in its contents. But the amusement was quickly replaced with the cold spike complete and utter betrayal.

This ass would read this hot pile of rubbish, but will call his work terrible!?

He hadn’t even heard the door open and close. only getting out of his head when he heard Geralt’s gruff and angered voice.

“Jaskier, what the fuck are you doing.”

Jaskier turned around, eyes widened from surprise as he caught eyes with the man behind him. Geralt looked enraged, eyes glancing between him and the book and then back. His surprise was cut short, however, when an indignant spark flashed through his veins.

The bard was quick to stand up, one hand holding the book tightly and the other pointing an accusing finger at the man.

“You will claim that my music is like a filling-less pie! but then read this…” He looked at the book and jutted it in front of him with disgust, nearly look like he was shoving a holy book in a sinner’s face. “Filth!” Geralt went to grab the book, a small dusting of pink on his cheeks and a glare of utter disdain, as Jaskier yanked the book away and took a few steps backward. Geralt was quick to follow him.

“Give it back.” He sounded feral, eyes narrowed and feet stomping as he took giant steps towards the smaller man. But Jaskier didn’t show any fear, eyes narrowed with just as much anger and a hint of spite as he held the book behind him with both hands.

“No!” Jaskier hadn’t meant to sound like such a petulant child, but, if he was being completely honest. he didn’t care right now.

“Jaskier!” Geralt took another step forward, voice rising. Jaskier took another one back, back of the knees hitting the bed and for once a minor spark of panic crept into his heart. He was quick to stifle it, though not quick enough to move before Geralt was toe to toe with him, an arm reached behind him to yank it away.

It was in the moment, Jaskier desperately trying to keep the book away from Geralt, and Geralt looking like the last shred of humanity he had was about to be cut loose, that he had an idea. One to get his bloody stone back, and two to make sure that Geralt read at least one of his books.

Geralt leaned forward to reach further behind Jaskier, but the bard was quicker to move away, only to fall onto the bed. Geralt followed after, though Jaskier was quick to take his arms away from behind him before the giant of a man crushed them, and lifted the book above his head, struggling and wiggling away from the utter ass on top of him.

To anyone who might have walked in, it would probably have looked to be a completely different situation than it was. Geralt had one hand on the bard hip, trying to pin him down and keep him still, the other reaching for the book as he shouted curses down at the smaller man who was squirming in an attempt to escape and keep the book.

“I’ll give you the book back for my little stone!” Jaskier shouted, eyes wide and chest heaving as he tried to get air into his lungs. Geralt stopped, head moving to look down at Jaskier with a frown and furrow, his hand stayed reaching.

“What?” Geralt wasn’t even out of breath.

“If you give me back whatever that little thing was, I’ll give you back your little…” His hand holding the book did a little gesture, one that made Geralt quickly try and move to grab it again. “SOAP opera!” More air was pushed out of his lungs, but he stood - or more fittingly laid, firmly on his ground.

Geralt looked down at him, a look that told Jaskier just how unimpressed the Witcher, along with how annoyed and confused, he was.

“Book,” he gestured again. “For stone.”

Geralt stayed still for a moment, eyes piercing into Jaskiers with as much contempt and hatred as he could portray, though both knew it was neither true nor enough to scare Jaskier, before giving a huff and letting go of Jaskier. The Witcher pushed himself off with a grumble and stood up, all while eyeing Jaskier and book. He was obviously debating whether or not he should make another go at getting it, but, as Jaskier quickly to dropped the book on his side of the bed, and all but scrambled after it to grab it, the last shred of fighting determination in Geralt’s eyes was replaced with defeat.

“It’s cursed.” Geralt tried to reason.

“It’s blessed.” Jaskier retorted.

A grunt, full of defeat and followed by a sigh and another firm glare, was all Geralt could respond with before he turned towards the bag and rummaged through it. It didn’t take him nearly as long to find the stone as it had taken Jaskier, as within moments he was taking his hand. He walked over, holding the tiny thing in his palm as he kept his serious tone.

“This is not a toy, Jaskier.” He warned, brows furrowed and a hint of concern in his tone as he stood a few feet in front of Jaskier.

“Yes, yes, I know, give it.” Jaskier stuck his hand out, waiting patiently before Geralt gave another growl like sigh and dropped the stone onto Jaskier’s palm. The bard handed over the book, and nearly felt a touch of sympathy as the slightly embarrassed look on Geralt’s face.

The Witcher was quick to turn around and shove it back in his bag, grumbling something under his breath as Jaskier moved to his side of the bed, stone resting comfortably in his pocket.

He flopped onto the bed, sighing at the crumpled paper and broken quill that he picked up and placed onto his bedside table. He would have to find a new quill tomorrow, preferably one that didn’t break. But for now, he was far too tired to even think about writing. Walking for five hours straight, and nearly dying twice (once from a monster and a second time nearly being crushed by an elephant), was more than enough to get him sleeping.

It took a few moments of adjusting, head laying against the pillow and one arm coming to lay over his closed eyes, before he finally allowed himself to feel tired.

But, as Geralt awkward sat beside him and he opened his eyes, he felt a small tug in his gut. Geralt was avoiding looking over at Jaskier, eyes focusing on the fire across from them in a soft frown on his face.

“I was just teasing, Geralt.” He spoke up, his voice was soft, a small smile tugging his lips as Geralt glanced over. “You don’t ever have to feel embarrassed for reading a book - Gods knows more people should.”

Geralt hummed.

It was easy to see the way Geralt’s shoulders slumped, yellow eyes glancing over from the corner of his eyes with a nod, before turning back towards the flames. And, feeling accomplished with calming his friend down, he slipped under the blankets and onto his side.

The room was silent for a moment, only the sounds of Geralt adjusting to lay down on the bed and moving his sword for quicker access if needed, before Jaskier opened his mouth.

“However, if you don’t read my next book after reading that, I will not pay for our rooms ever again.”

He was obviously teasing, and Geralt knew that too. A soft sigh, sounding almost teasingly defeated and just slightly amused, vibrated from his friend’s chest.

“Who says I don’t?”

#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier

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siswritesyanderes · 5 years

Note

you know what I need right now? tom with a mommy kink. like full on breastfeeding/lactation and wanting to fuck a couple of siblings into his "mother" (the reader). separating himself from merope who is unworthy of him in favor of the reader who he believes deserves that role instead. bonus points if he becomes so lost in his delusion he starts to believe reader actually is his mother

Alright, you got me; I’m intrigued. Buckle up; I’ve never done this before.

(N S F W - for the very first time) (TW: noncon) (Absolutely no one is underaged)

You were really only three years older than him.

Later, you would come to regret that your fourteen year old self had thought to protect a first year who was unlucky enough to enter Slytherin with a Muggle surname in the height of Grindelwald’s influence. Or…“protect” wasn’t really the right word. More, “support”. The boy had seemed far from helpless against the teasing of his peers, but you had backed him, and done so as a fourth year.

You weren’t sure why you had gone out of her way to defend some Muggle-born. Sure, you thought the whole blood purity concept was a load of self-congratulatory bosh, but actively intervening for some eleven-year-old you didn’t know? Was it just because he had looked so thin and tragic?

Of course, Tom was sure that he knew why you did it. It wasn’t anything so weak as kindness or pity; no, it was because early on, you had seen something in him. You had known right away that he was worth endearing yourself to, worth having in your debt.

You knew that he was special.

And for some reason, it was quite important to him that you know that you were right.

Of course, everyone was supposed to know that he was special; that was imperative. But you especially.

So, for that whole first term, he inserted himself into your tutoring sessions for the first years and second years and third years, to show off his understanding and how quickly he learned. He ravenously elicited praise from you, preening at every “Very good, Tom!” and “Exactly! That was clever, Tom.” He discovered that he hated it when other people received similar praise; he became fastidious about trying to catch any of the others being the slightest bit incorrect, although correcting their errors of nuance only earned him casual “Fair point, Tom” responses.

It wasn’t his only pursuit, in those early years. He still made a point to charm and impress everyone he came across and searched for any mention of his father among the Hogwarts records, hoping to bestow some pride upon the surname that had earned him such ridicule, before his classmates learned never to ridicule him. And if his search at times yielded to daydreams of giving you his surname, of you accepting it, honored to receive it…well, that was another thing to aspire to, wasn’t it? One day, the whole of the magical world would belong to him, and of course you were included.

In his second year, he had reached enough dead ends to come to terms with the fact that his father had never been to Hogwarts and likely never been a part of the wizarding world. He began to research, instead, the name “Marvolo”.It was in his third year that he discovered that he was the heir of Slytherin through his mother, and somehow what had once been a cold indifference toward the woman who had failed to stay alive for him inflamed into an almost desperate hatred.

The woman- Merope, her name had been, Merope Gaunt -had had every reason to be powerful…the most powerful. Or even just powerful enough to keep him from having to live in that place, with those people…

But she had failed him. Hadn’t even had the basic competence not to die.

A pathetic excuse for a witch. An utter waste. He knew so many witches who could have done better, especially Slytherin witches.

You were everything his mother ought to have been. Not spectacularly strong, but strong enough. Strong enough. You would never have left him at that place.

He was thirteen, and you were sixteen, and it burned him every time a classmate received a letter from their mother, and he longed to kill the young students you tutored. He wanted it so badly that he dreamed about it nearly every night, and he had rarely dreamed of anything before. You were not powerful enough to get rid of them yourself, but that was why people had sons, wasn’t it? Sons were meant to exceed their mothers’ power and do what they could not.

(He knew, or at least most of the time he knew, that you were not actually aware that he had chosen you to be his mother. He supposed he would surprise you.)

For that year and the following, he grew his power. The summer in-between only aggravated his obsession. Surrounded by Muggle inanity. Isolated. He sought his birthright; the devotion and allegiance of all of Slytherin house was easy enough to swing, while the Chamber of Secrets took another year to figure out.

He was fourteen, and you were seventeen, and he had finally become acquainted with his pet Basilisk, and it was your last year at school.

“Where will you go?” he asked. “After you finish school.” He wasn’t a first year anymore; he didn’t ask questions with innocent-seeming curiosity, but instead calmly and politely demanded answers. No one would deny him anything, after all. He was more than just the heir of Slytherin; he was a powerful entity by his own merits.

You had noticed the change, of course. You had noticed him growing, noticed the fear and reverence among his followers, noticed how he had only to circulate the idea that you were not to be touched and suddenly you sat alone and taught no one. (Even when Slughorn told Travers that he would fail Potions unless he sought your help, Travers did not dare approach you.) You had seen it all happen, and you remembered the intense little boy who had treated even being tutored as a competition.

You did not think you were afraid of Tom, but his attention was…worrying.

“I have a few apprenticeship offers,” you answered.

“Where will you live?”

You couldn’t help feeling that letting him know where to find you would be a mistake. “That depends on which apprenticeship I choose.”

His expression was still for several seconds. Then he smiled. “Well, I wish you the best.”

You didn’t think of Tom much once you left Hogwarts. At least, not regularly. Your second year out of school, you read that the Chamber of Secrets had opened, and that a Muggle-born girl had died, and that Rubeus Hagrid, whom you had tutored in Transfiguration once, at Dumbledore’s referral, had been expelled. And you tried not to think of Tom, who was sixteen now (to your nineteen) and whose followers had been calling him Slytherin’s heir when last you’d seen him.

You didn’t think about him, even though his followers were beginning to graduate, beginning to permeate your workplace and social circles. Grindelwald was defeated, and almost promptly the name “Lord Voldemort” started to cross the lips of people who had been partial to Grindelwald’s ideology. You didn’t think about him, but you were conscious of when his seventh year ended.

Conscious, but not afraid. Not really. Just…wary.

It was sometime the following summer when you answered your door and found him standing there, his expression pacific and almost expectant.

You were surprised. Not surprised to see him on your front step, as his followers were recruiting unsubtly enough that a door-to-door campaign really wouldn’t have been a shock. No, you were surprised that he had come alone. You weren’t sure whether or not to be relieved by it.

“Abraxas said you lived on this street,” was the first thing he said. “Apparently he couldn’t be troubled to give the correct house.” He donned his most charming smile. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

You did, stepping aside and allowing him into your foyer, albeit with a sarcastic, “I forgot that I had an appointment with you…my Lord.”

He looked backward at you, and his eyes were too bright. You worried, with some exasperation, that your light mockery had offended him, or worse: aroused him. You truly, truly did not want Thomas Riddle feeling strongly about you in any way. But he merely said, “That’s not what I want you to call me.” And then he continued on to your kitchen without elaboration.

He made tea, and the two of you chatted. Caught up. Discussed safe, impersonal topics. Tom seemed uncharacteristically directionless about the whole affair; he didn’t seem invested in influencing you to say or do anything, except sit with him and share some tea. You were on guard for any trickery, but none appeared to be forthcoming.

Until suddenly the teacup slipped from your hand, your grip having loosened outside of your control. Your other hand reflexively reached, in vain, for the falling object just before it shattered on the floor, and you blinked a few times, dazed by how your eyes had seemed unable to properly track the movement of your own hand.

“What did you give me?” you said immediately, your words slurring together. You hadn’t thought that Tom had had any opportunity to spike your drink, you had thought that you’d been watching him well enough, but the evidence no longer supported that assumption. You felt lightheaded, and sore. You tried to clamber to your feet, hoping perhaps to get to the lavatory and vomit whatever potion he had inflicted upon you, but you only staggered weakly for a few steps and then found yourself locked in Tom’s arms. “What did you give me?”

“Shhh.” He lifted you off of your feet, and despite your having been unable to walk anyway, losing contact with the floor felt like the definitive loss of power. “Mother needs a rest,” he said softly, and you were confused.

Tom didn’t have a mother.

You must have blinked out of consciousness for a brief time, because the next thing you were aware of was lying flat on your back. You were in your bed. The bedside lamp was on. Tom was sitting on your legs, with one hand beside your head, supporting himself, and the other hand moving down the front of your shirt, unbuttoning as it went. The whole thing was unfastened in under three seconds, as though he had been training in dexterity for just this occasion, and he gently pulled aside each half of the shirt front.

“No.” You were still slurring, and your limbs were too heavy to lift. “Stop.”Tom beheld your exposed flesh, slowly lowering his face until it nuzzled, with a blatantly out-of-character sort of tenderness, into your chest. He was mocking you, must have been. He must have been. He lifted his face again, after a moment.

With steady fingers, he pulled your brassiere aside- the strap first, then the cup, and you would have been certain that the slowness was a taunt, were it not for the way his eyes fastened on his task. His breath tickled against your bared skin.

“Tom,” you tried again.

He moved forward so that his lips grazed just under your jaw. “That’s what I want you to call me,” he whispered. “Only you. Now I have what they have. I have better than they have.”

And without further delay, he dropped his mouth down to your breast, and…

You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a scream. It wasn’t just surprise that he was sucking milk from your body; it was pain. His teeth were involved, chewing at your skin while he sucked, as though desperate to maximize the amount of milk he got out of you. All tenderness was gone, replaced with…you couldn’t even name it. A sort of frantic thirst.

What had he given you, to make you produce milk? What had he given you? And why?

You managed to breathe, to stop whimpering in pain, so that the only sound in the room was the occasional creak of the bed and Tom’s near-constant enraptured moans.

“Tom,” you said, a bit too shrilly, “you’re hurting me.”

It took a few seconds, but he finally detached, pulling back with his lips still slightly parted. You nervously wondered if he meant to just latch on again, perhaps even harder than before, but he merely licked a bead of milk from your nipple and then eased his face into the crook of your neck.

“I was so hungry, Mother,” he said quietly, and your heart raced. “You shouldn’t let me get so hungry; I’m a growing boy.”

Breathe, you instructed yourself. “Why are you calling me that, Tom?”

His arms came around you tightly. “I like it better than ‘Mum’,” he said simply. “It’s…worthier.” He kissed you, gently, under your jaw, and he said something that you couldn’t understand- some long something, in some scraping, hissing language that made your blood run cold despite how softly he spoke it. So he really was the heir of Slytherin, then.

You tensed as he moved his midriff so that the region between his hips pressed against you. More than pressed; it moved against you. “Stop that, Tom.”

“You’re going to make your little boy feel so good, Mother. You’re going to make so many little brothers and sisters for me. I’ll help you make them.” His knee came up between your legs, nudging them apart. “We’ll continue Slytherin’s line together.” His hand slipped down into his pants, and his face moved toward the same sore breast as before.

“No!” you shouted.

He ignored you. “But only I can have your milk,” he said harshly. “Only I; none of those lesser heirs. We will have servants to nurse them, once this world submits to my rule. Mother’s milk is only for me.”

Tom’s mouth dropped to drink from you again, and it hurt so much that you thought you’d be sick, but instead you blinked out of consciousness again.

When you resurface, his lips were close to your ear, whispering “Yes, yes, yes, yes…” and he was…he was inside…invading, stretching you…

Your terror must have caused you to blink out again, because next you were opening your eyes to find that Tom was calmly dabbing at your skin with a damp cloth. It felt good; cool enough to soothe what was aching, and not too wet to wipe away the moisture that was covering you.

“Tom,” you exhaled, and found that you were out of breath.

“Shh.” He bent down and kissed your lips. “You should rest. The potion kept you from suffering too much, but you’ve still been through a lot this night.” A grin spread on his face. “What we did was glorious.”

“Get out of my house,” you said.

“It’s our house, Mother. Everything that’s yours is mine.”

“Get off of me.”

“In fact, that reminds me; I brought you a gift.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a thin, gold chain, at the end of which was a golden locket. “It belonged…It belongs to my mother.” He latched it around your neck. “You won’t take it off, because that would upset me.” He brought his lips to your ear again. “And you don’t want your little boy to be upset.”

You made the choice not to answer. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Get some sleep,” he advised. “I won’t be here when you wake up, but I’ll come back tomorrow night; you can make me dinner. If we do this enough times, you should be pregnant very soon.” Once more, he bent to whisper something in your ear, and once more it was in that language of snakes.

Then he rose and left you there.

The next morning, you would find that the locket he had given you tightened threateningly whenever you tried to reach for the clasp and whenever you tried to leave your house, but for that moment, you succumbed to sleep.

#yandere tom riddle #yandere voldemort #lactation #possessive #obsession #lemon

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justmysicklypride · 4 years

Note

“Leave! Me! Alone!” For shizaya x wheelchair (´▽`ʃƪ)♡

This took so damn long, I’m sorry Ayo, but here’s some angst to maybe make up for it lmao

(Pairing: Shizaya) (Warnings: description of blood, somewhat ptsd?)

Kill the Lights

It was ironic that the only thing heavy he felt was a sinking feeling in his gut, telling him that something didn’t feel right, and yet the weight he was meant to feel in his arms, scarred and bloody and grasping the edges of a vending machine as though he was crushing nothing but a soda can, felt almost like nothing at all. Sirens in the background, laughter, explosions, they all seemed to swirl around him as though he was on the edge of a hurricane, and getting swallowed whole into the eye at the centre. He didn’t think the centre would turn out to be this shade of red, though.

Shizuo was used to seeing the colour red: metaphorically, with the way his anger gets the best of him on most days, and literally - the colour of the circle embedded on the national flag, the colour of the phone charm Celty got for him two or three years ago that he never used, and, oddly enough, the colour of eyes, like Saika, or a pair of twins, or…

Maybe hitting Izaya with a literal column of concrete (or was it metal? Remembering things was starting to take a toll on him), was a little too much? It was hard to tell when it came to Izaya, it always has, and more often than not Shizuo would find that his arms would be moving to grab the nearest object, or his legs would have already started running on sight, ready to pounce, to attack. Like a rabid dog, Izaya would say, and Shizuo wasn’t really sure when Izaya had even said that in the first place.

Regardless, here they were. Years of hatred, frustration, pain, all lead up to this final showdown, this final blow where only one of them could end up victorious.

“Do it, monster,” Izaya had said, eyes dull as though the red from it had spilled out of his mouth as another breathless laugh left his lips, wet and tainted with the blood Shizuo had managed to knock out of him.

He had no regrets, no qualms about ending it all, and Shizuo briefly wondered why no one was stopping him, not even himself, as the grip on soft metal hardened and he lifted it over his head, ready to put an end to the ten something years of whatever it was that they had.

There was a loud crash and Shizuo’s legs gave out from under him as he watched in utter shock, ears ringing, heart pounding, and the refrigerator that left his hands now smashed to unrecognizability above the kitchen table, and subsequently his seven year old younger brother. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, ran through his head, and he could still see red. It was painted, splattered, across the wooden floorboards of his parents’ old home, and steadily seeping towards him like dread in the back of his mind. It was blurry, the world around him, and it was almost like he could already hear the flatline above his ragged panting.

Shakily, he ran his hands through his hair, not really questioning why the bangs that fell in front of his face were an old shade of brown instead of violent blonde, and all of a sudden he heard clapping.

“You really went and did it now, didn’t you, Shizu-chan?” he said, the rest of the kitchen fading but leaving behind more of that annoying red, and for some reason Shizuo froze in place.

He could still see the refrigerator out of the corner of his eye, the splintered table and the brother he destroyed crushed beneath it, and a vending machine, equally crushed against a lamp post from a time that hasn’t happened yet; and he could see the store and the lady inside it coming from around the counter with a bottle of fresh milk, and he saw his younger self trash the entire store with nothing but a street sign in his loose grip. Now, however, he could see Izaya move his mouth but he couldn’t hear the words. It felt like he was drowning and someone was trying to call out to him, only to push him further down.

“Leave! Me! Alone!” he shouted, at the line of wreckage he left behind, and at Izaya, smirking, unphased.

“Was killing me not enough?” he said, and for some reason he seemed closer than he was a second ago. “The poor innocent woman who saw a distressed kid and just wanted to help?”

The glint of a knife being drawn matched the evil in his eyes, and suddenly there was a slicing sound as Shizuo’s white button-up got shredded open.

“And what about your brother, hm?” Izaya said, and Shizuo struggled to take in a breath. “He would’ve been an actor if you hadn’t killed him.”

“Shut up!” Shizuo shouted, drawing his fist back and letting it barrel forwards with the spike in his emotions.

It collided, but Shizuo couldn’t feel anything and Izaya was sent flying back towards the bleachers from before. For some reason, he took a step forward to see if Izaya was okay.

He stopped as laughter rang out, like it was coming through a megaphone in some sort of school announcement, and it kept ringing, ringing on like it was trying to ingrain itself into Shizuo’s subconscious with each increasing decibel. The louder it got, the more blurry his vision became, so much so that he opted to squeeze his eyes shut to hopefully mitigate the pain. The ringing continued.

He heard a voice calling out to him, over and over again, buried underneath all that static, and as the light behind his eyelids got brighter and brighter, so did everything else. Through it all, he heard one line above others.

“Do it, monster.”

“Shizuo. Shizuo! Wake up, you idiot, you’re starting to freak me out,” and Shizuo opened his eyes to a white ceiling, and Izaya’s face, from above him.

He closed his eyes to try and block out the light that was making his headache worse, and it took a moment to orientate himself again. The back of his neck and clothes were soaked with cold sweat and his breathing was still as ragged as it was in his nightmare, but at least he was sure he wasn’t about to go on a rampage in Izaya’s apartment or anything.

Izaya.

The Izaya he saw right now was different from the one from his nightmares, the one he used to know, and the one he thought he knew. Just like how the Kasuka of this world wasn’t dead, and the lady from the shop had since moved to Kanto with her husband and two kids. This Izaya had a concerned expression on his face, only given away by the gentle frown on his face and the way he struggled to lean out far enough off his wheelchair to examine Shizuo’s face, as if what had been causing the nightmare in the first place would start to show itself.

“S-Sorry,” Shizuo said, shakily, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, letting himself rest against the back of the sofa. “I’m fine.”

“Obviously not, if you have to convince me of it in the first place,” Izaya huffed, looking slightly calmer now, and attempted to maneuver himself into a seat next to Shizuo. He was getting better at it, Shizuo noted, as he leaned forward to lift Izaya up so that he wouldn’t have to struggle as much.

They sat side by side in silence for a moment before Shizuo spoke up again, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Izaya said, only glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, as though he already knew what it was about. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Shizuo shook his head. Not yet. Sometimes he wished that he never has to ever again.

“Okay,” Izaya sighed, as he leant his head onto Shizuo’s shoulder, somewhat snuggling up to him. “Then we won’t talk about it. Not until you want to.”

#no beta we die like men apparently #I need to stop writing fics at 4am #ayo crow #thing I wrote #I hope this satisfies you ayo

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thewritingstar · 5 years

Text

My Everything

so I’ve been working on this bad boi for a long time now (even though it doesn’t seem like it) I’m also gonna dedicate this to @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate because she was my chat buddy while writing this and I love her.

Pairing: Kacchako

I really hope you all enjoy this!!

Minor sexual activities implied (very implied)

---

Uraraka glared at the drink in her hand. The small ice cubes were slowly melting away and she hated her drinks to be watered down, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her mind was stuck in an endless void and not even the party surrounding her could bring her out of her funk. She really should be enjoying herself at the yearly pro hero gathering. Sure, she was excited to be there, any one who made it in the ranks would be thrilled for an invitation to this event but even in her beautiful gown, her normal smile hardly showed and she could tell that her fake smile was diminishing fast. It was like the weight of a building had crashed onto her heart and she could barely feel its steady beating.

When she first arrived to the event, she was content and tried to focus on the party at hand. She surrounded herself with her normal group of friends like Deku, Iida, Tsyu and Todoroki, all who have climbed the ranks over the past few years. As the years of hero duty traveled, she secured a spot in the top ten and currently held the fifth position. She was in the prime of her time and she couldn’t be more proud.

Life was great for her. She was a top hero and was a known figure across the globe and was seen with amazing pros. She even started a program for underprivileged children and had her own scholarship to offer for graduating students. But the past year had slapped her across the face and drove her confidence six feet under.

She took another sip of her drink and let her eyes roam around the room. All around her were the pro heroes she looked up too since she was young and now she was one of them. She tried to keep up in her friends conversations, adding in her own two cents every so often but for the majority of her time she had just been people watching.

Another sip of watery rum coated her throat, her eyes had traveled to another section of the filled area and she instantly recognized the group. Spiked up red hair, a familiar black streak on blond and the jet black hair all belonged to the sensation trio of Kirishima, Denki and Sero. It wouldn’t have bothered her to see them, no she loved her friends and even offered a small smile as Denki waved to her but she knew that with the tight knit pack of them came another member. She desperately tried to avoid contact with him but the crimson eyes of an explosive hero caught her in a trap she couldn’t avoid.

Uraraka tensed up and felt her stomach turn in on itself. That crumbling building in her chest had collapsed once again and the depressed wave she kept pushing down was rising at an unsteady rate.

The memories came flooding back as he tore his eyes from hers and yelled something at his friends. All that pain, all the suffering, was because of him.

It was all over the news when the public learned about the private relationship of Uravity and Ground Zero. Every tv station, interviewer and reporter tried to get their hands on the couples life. They had become a dynamic duo and fans everywhere were heavily invested in their relationship. They got support and hatred from every side but tried to keep it as private as possible, Bakugou didn’t want the media up their asses and Urarka enjoyed their life behind closed doors.

He was sweet and kind in those private hours. The whispers he would leave on her skin drove her wild and they had adapted to a semi-domestic lifestyle. He was everything she wanted, yet it ended all too fast.

The world seemed to stop the moment Bakugou pulled the plug on them, leaving fans and even their close friends in the dark, even Uraraka herself. If it wasn’t bad enough for their hard break up after two years of bliss, the tabloids hounded down on the young heroes. Bakugou easily got rid of them but for the pink pro hero, her lips were sealed but her face gave away every detail. She became tormented by the public and instead of asking her about the rescue or mission she finished, Ground Zero was the only thing on anyone's mind.

She had been in past relationships and they had ended as well, but this one seemed to burn into her heart and scar her beyond belief. It was pure tourture to hear the words be uttered from his lips as he turned and left her in the dust, no explanation of why he did it, no signs, nothing. It was like the last two years didn’t happen and he was blowing her off just like he had done to others in their years at UA. Even after six months, she was still completely in the dark.

So when their eyes locked, he quickly looked away and grumbled, turning on his heel and heading for the back door. She felt a tug in her heart, like a repeat of the event. She hadn’t seen him since that dreadful night and she must have been hit with Ms. Jokes quirk if she actually thought she was over him, what a cruel joke that was.

She had given him space and all the time in the world, hoping that he would come back to just say why he did what he did, he owned her that at the very least, right? But he never did.

Her fingers tightened around her glass and her vision turned red.

“Does he really think he can just walk away again?” She thought she whispered but she turned her head to see a very worried Todoroki taking the glass from her hand and setting it back on the table.

“I don’t know what exactly went down but maybe you should make him talk-” Todoroki started but she was already storming after him.

“I think that's her plan.” Tsyu chimed in as they watched her leave.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this angry before.” Deku shivered and the group agreed.

“She has the anger in her eyes, one that resembles my hatred for my father.” Todoroki stated.

“Babe please.” Deku sighed as he tried to stuffled his laugh.

“Hey Uraraka!” Denki called as she marched past. She wasn’t in the mood for another chat but they intersected her walk way.

“Hi boys kind of busy right now.” She muttered but Kirishima’s hand on her shoulder made her relax a little.

“Hey, we are on your side.” The redhead offered a small smile. “He never gave us an answer and you know how persistent we can be.” Kiri gestured between the three of them.

“Rip him a new one!” Sero cheered and for some reason the encouragement of her friends made her quest to find the blond bastard even more prominent.

The cool air of the evening pricked her skin the moment the double doors opened, she didn’t realize how stuffy it was inside and kinda thanked him for walking out here instead of another room. Anger pumped through her as she promised herself not to cry. She deserved to know why he left her and she was going to get the truth.

She stood at the center of the garden. Spinning around in her dress and heels wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world but she ignored the shifting in weight as she walked towards the hedge maze trying to catch up with the explosive hero.

After walking around for about ten minutes, she finally caught the back of who she was looking for. Determination was coursing through her veins as she caught up with him. He looked peaceful as he walked on, his glass was still in his hand and she didn’t know why that pissed her off more.

“Bakugou.” His name felt forigen on her tongue and when she shouted it, she could see the man's shoulders tense but he made no sign of stopping his pace.

Annoyed, she called him again. A bit more fire to her tone but he refused to turn around.

“Ugh” Her temper was rising, something a certain someone had rubbed off on her. Looking around she saw a big rock next to a tree. She bent down as best as she could, ignoring the way her dress rose up. Her strength had tripled since UA and she lifted the massive rock with ease, even in her four inch heels. A small grunt escaped her lips as she hurled it at him until it hovered above him. She had activated her quick on it.

“Release!” She commanded and the piece of Earth plumented in front of the blond and blocked his path.

“What the fuck! You could have killed me!” He jumped back and blasted it with his own quirk. Finally he turned and although that's what she wanted, she wasn’t ready for it.

She didn’t know that the simple act of looking into his eyes would trigger her heart to beat that rapid or for her tears to threaten to release. It was the first time in six months that they had looked into each others eyes this closely, and it was beyond painful. The memories of their arduous past hit her hard and her head began to spin into the whirlwind of emotions he had caused her.

Every since that day she refused to even look at him in the media. Every poster with his face, new story or interview was kept from her eyes. She had a constant reminder of him and she hated that she couldn’t escape him, even if it was just his image. Avoiding him was the only way to heal but the wound was still bleeding.

“What?” He spat. His signature scowl was rested on his face and he seemed more on edge than usual.

Her fists curled at her side. “We need to talk.”

“There's nothing to talk about” He huffed but they both knew it was a lie.

“All I want is an explanation.” Her voice grew solid and she stood firm. “That's it.”

He thought about it for what seemed to be an eternity. “No.”

“W-what?” She stuttered. Disbelief could not describe the situation. “No? Why?”

“Because I don’t have too.” He bit back as he took a swig of his drink and turned on his heel to continue into the maze.

His tone antagonized her. Did he not have any remorse? Was their relationship nothing to him? There was too much pain in her system. She felt like she would combust of rage and she wasn’t leaving until she got her answer.

“You’re a fucking coward you know that?” She screamed. “You’re pathetic if you can’t even answer a simple question.”

“I’m not a coward Cheeks.” He shot back in a growl and her heart twitch at the sound of her old nickname. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Her eyes widened as she watched him leave and her armor fell. Panic settled in and she would curse herself later for being weak, but right now, she needed to know. She could feel herself slipping away. She was still angry at him but her desperation got to her core. Before she could think, her arm was on his pulling him towards her. “No.”

“Bakugou, please.” She pleaded. She couldn’t take it any longer as she felt her tears break and slide down her cheeks. It was mentally killing her.

Night after night she had stayed awake trying to figure out why he had left. She couldn’t understand his reasoning and everyone said that time would heal it but they were wrong. It kept creeping up on her and startling her, destroying the confidence she worked so hard to build, the one he helped create. She broke herself apart, ruined and lost herself in tears and became reckless in her fights. The missed calls and unread messages drove herself mad and she begged for him to come back to her. It was pure hell and right now, she was with the devil.

She couldn’t let him leave, no, not without the truth. At the last moment she stuttered. “I'm sorry.”

The minute the words left her lips, his muscles tensed under her grasp. “What the hell are you sorry for?” His body turned and he faced her.

She didn’t expect that. She thought he would say something like ‘good’ or ‘you better be’ but he didn’t. Instead he looked at her like he was reading a map of solving a puzzle, he was trying to solve her and unravel her question. “What do you mean by that?” He demanded but there was no bite, it was honest.

The back of her hand came to her face to wipe away the tears and break her sniffle that escaped. She took a breath of air and brought her eyes to the ground, now it was her avoiding him.

She shook her head and looked around as her lip quivered.

“For not being a good girlfriend.” Her voice was a meek whisper but he heard it clearly.

“I'm sorry that I wasn’t enough for you. I'm not mad that you broke up with me but I understand that I'm the reason and you’re right.” She let out another sob and turned around. “You don’t have to tell me. You don’t have to tell anyone. ``I-I’m just sorry.”

As Bakugou watched her tears spill, his gut twisted up so tight, he thought he might throw up. Nothing has ever made him feel less than being the reason why she cried and even though she had acted like she was fine, he could tell the past few months had been tearing her down and she wasn’t alone. She was right, he was a coward.

In all honestly he had seen her in the news. He watched as over the months her body had grown smaller and her face had paled. Those night she spent crying herself to sleep he spent staring into an endless void. A void that he wanted to be sucked up into.

“Uraraka.” He whispered and his hand reached out to grab hold of her arm. “Do you actually think that I broke up with you because of you?” He asked and she could hear the crack in his tone.

“There’s no other reason.” She sobbed out.

“Well you’re not the fucking reason so forget that stupid shit.”

Her eyes met his again and the scene was almost unbearable. She ripped her hand from his.

“Then why Katsuki? Why? Why did you ruin a good thing? Why couldn’t you just tell me-“

“I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” He yelled, face turning red and tears slipping out the sides,his back turned in shame. It was a confession he had been holding on since that day and only now were they both hearing it.

She took a step back. It wasn’t his outburst but the words that shook her to her core.

“Good enough?” She whispered and she saw it now. She could see the truth written on his face and light puff under his eyes. He had been crying himself to sleep every night since then, she was sure if it. She knew him better than anyone else.

“Im. Not. Good. Enough.” His teeth clenched and he didn’t trust himself.

She couldn’t tell if she was heartbroken from the actual break up now or for his reasoning. The pain and doubt was stamped on his forehead almost in big red letters. Bakugou reeked of confidence but right now there wasn’t a drop in him. Just a hollow shell of vulnerability. A shell of a great man she once loved.

“Katsuki” He felt her delicate hand on his shoulder and all he wanted to do was spin her around and tell her he was sorry. “You were more than enough.”

He was used to praise and people telling him he was the best, that’s why he stood at the number one spot but coming from the woman he caused too much pain too, he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t deserve to believe it.

“No I’m not. You deserve someone better than me. I’m not soft and sweet like Deku or polite and poise like Iida. Hell I’m not even as funny as Dunce face.”

“I know.” She stated. “That’s why I dated you.”

He finally turned to face her, a solid look on his face and she gave him a small smile through her tears.

“I dated you because you were the first person to believe in me. You made me feel powerful and strong. You gave me this confidence to be a great hero. And never once did I ever think you weren’t good enough for me. Only I get to make that decision and I was by your side because I wanted to. You were my everything”

“Ochako, I-Im not this sunshine kind of guy. You are this perfect, kind and loving woman and I’m, I’m just a pro hero with a good quirk.”

She took her hand back and turned. “Even in our darkest moments you made me feel loved and cherished. Standing next to you during our work was some of my proudest moments, because when they pushed me down and made me out to be only a love interest, you saw me as a hero. As an equal. And I attached myself to the thought that I was.”

He stood silently at her declaration. There were thousands of words her could have said. No amount of pleads or whispers could amount for the pain he had caused her. And as if he were a child, all he could muster out was “I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “I know. And it's funny.” She let out a laugh in her sob. “Because even though you broke my heart. I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you.” He said. She felt his arms wrap around her waist and she allowed herself to close her eyes and take in his scent. “I truly am a fucking idiot.”

“Kat, you doubted yourself, its okay.”

“That's not an excuse for everything you went through. I watched you on the news, I saw just how much of a fucking asshole I was! I just wanted to be good enough for someone like you.” He turned her around so she face him. His finger tilted her chin up and he kissed her cheek softly. “I don’t know if I even have the right to ask for a second chance-”

“You were scared, you didn’t cheat on me or do something stupid like that so please for the love of fucking All Might, I forgive you, now kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He brought her closer to him, pulling her softly as if she were a delicate flower. Usually he would kiss her fiercely, taking in all of her essence and commanding the space, but that's not what they needed, not now.

She waited for his lips to set on hers, but there was a hesitation as he gazed into her eyes. He brought his hand to cup her face and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. She was beyond perfect and he was an utter fool for ever doubting them, for doubting himself.

“Kat.” Her whisper brushed his lips and their proximity brought him back to those days.

The days they would spend tangled up between the sheets, lavishing in each others presence and even if the world was crashing down around them, their little slice of heaven was perfect.

She felt the heat of his tears fall down his face and he pressed his lips to hers. It was soft and delicate, like testing the waters again. But as seconds passed on it was like the world clicked into place.

A soft moan escaped her lips as he deepened the kiss. All thoughts of uncertainty vanished from his mind and was replaced with the pureness of tranquility. Their bodies pressed unfathomably closer together like the pull of a cosmic force.

They pulled away but their lips still brushed as they regained their breath.

“I love you so fucking much.” He muttered against her lips. “There's nothing I can say or do to make up for those months.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck. “You can take me to dinner.” She grinned. “And tell me how pretty I am.” She batted her long eyelashes playfully.

A slight smile grazed his lips, one that practically melted her on the spot. It was a tad unusual for him to be this soft and quiet, quite a contrast to his explosive and lavish personality.

“Yeah dinner sounds good.”

She could sense the hesitation on him. It was foreign for him and she didn’t enjoy it either.

“Katsuki listen to me.” She sighed. “I know you are overthinking everything. You feel horrible for what you did, and you should.” She mumbled the last part. “but-I forgive you. I don’t want this to hang over your head so please honey, I’m okay.”

“You’re so fucking good with words.” He grumbled as she pecked his cheek.

Heat rose to her cheeks. “You’re much better at expressing your feelings other ways.” She avoided his eyes and the response clicked in his head.

“Geesh Cheeks if you wanted me to fuck you all you had to do was ask.” He winked and although it was dirty, she was glad that his playful attitude was coming back.

She slapped his chest playfully and wrapped her arm around his and began walking. “Dinner first.” She laughed and his signature smirk she loved so much popped onto his face.

“Anything for you.” he stated. “But i need to get your ass back for throwing that rock at me.”

“Hey you didn’t turn around, I had to do what was necessary.” She shrugged and a deep laugh came from him.

“Oh god I’ve missed you.” He said and she could finally feel the building in her heart rebuilding itself.

They reached the edge of the patio. The party was just behind closed doors but they made no rush to enter.

“Ya know Cheeks. We could blow this off and go grab that dinner I owe you.”

“Really? You don’t want to stay for the announcements? I’m sure you want them to call your name for the number one spot just so you can rub it in Deku’s face.”

“Normally I would, but I got my prize right here.” He tapped her nose and a sense of pride rushed through him as her cheeks turned pink. “So what do you say love?” He smirked and she giggled and grabbed his hand.

“Lets go!”

---

The pair ended up in an old fashioned burger joint miles away from the event. It was their best bet to keep away from the cameras and reporters. The last thing either of them needed was for some guy to pry on their relationship, again.

It was like no time had passed since their break up. Bakugou shoved a few fries in his mouth as he watched her eat her burger. Underneath the table, their legs were slightly tangled and he realized just how much he missed her presence.

They enjoyed the quiet atmosphere and the comfortable silence between them. The ring of her cell phone brought them out of their daze and she wiped her mouth and answered it.

“Hello?” She said and Bakugou could barely hear the mumbling of the voice on the other line.

“Oh yeah, no I’m okay. yeah , yeah I’m with him. No, we left. Uhh an hour or two ago-Deku you’re talking too fast.”

The phone was snatched from her hand and he pressed it to his ear.

“Oi Deku you’re ruining our date nerd.”

“Kacchan.” Deku gasped on the other line. “You better be making it up to her got it?” He said sternly.

Bakugou eyebrows raised and he locked eyes with the woman across from him. “You have no idea how much I’m going to make it up to her. You need to kick my fucking ass for all that time.”

“I’ll do it.” he heard Todorkois voice in the background and he held back yelling at the duo haired bastard.

“But I will say this one time, and one time only. Thank you.” Uraraka furrowed her eyebrows at his statement. “For taking care of her and being by her side. I couldn’t forgive myself if anything were to happen to her. You’re a good friend nerd and I promise I’m going to make sure her smile never leaves her face every again. Now shut the fuck up and leave us alone.” He ended the call harshly and slid her phone back to her.

Normally she would scold him for being an ass to their friends but her heart was thumping at his words.

“I mean it Cheeks.” He took his straw between his teeth. “You’re never gonna have a frown again with me.”

She felt the tears prick the corner of her eyes and she nodded. The check was placed on the table and he threw a chunk of money onto it.

“Now let's go back to my place so I can tell you how pretty you are.” He teased her but she took his hand and smiled as he led the way.

She knew that their relationship would take a little time to mend completely but when he placed his lips on her again, everything shifted into place and she felt whole again. She found herself forgetting all the painful and lonely nights. The darkness in her mind was beginning to find its light again. She knew she shouldn’t be rushing in so fast, that maybe she should of made him work for it again but the simple bliss of being around him was much more appealing then spending another night alone.

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest and hoped that she had faith in his promise. He was Katsuki Bakugou, number one hero and never did anything half-assed and his relationship was no different. The taxi brought them to his place and the moment the door opened, their lips never parted.

Her dress was long gone by the time they reached his bedroom and his suffocating tie was being flug by the woman in his arms. He couldn’t remember his own name as her scent filled his lungs and sent him into bliss.

The tension in the room rose when she laid underneath him. Catching her breath from his passionate kisses and he marvel at his love beneath him.

“God you’re beautiful.” he said as another kissed caressed her skin and he flourished in the noises escaping her lips.

In no time he was rocking into her, sending her into purified lust as her back arched to the heavens and she was thanking her lucky stars that she had followed him.

The only noises heard from the depths of their love was the faint pants and praises as he worshiped her body like the goddess she was and never stopped aiding her every desire. It was all about her and proving his worth to the lady that even spared him a glance. She was in control and even if he was above her, she commanded his every move with a lustful gaze and when she caressed his cheek and told him how much she loved him, he came undone and fell back into her hand like putty.

They came down from their high with a mixture of sweat and tears and carefully lifted her up and pampered her as the water from the shower rained over the pair of lovers. After the murkiness from their bodies was washed away, the sheets had twisted over them as he held her close to his chest, afraid that she would be gone if he left her go.

“Kat?” She said and he was grateful that she continued to address him with nicknames and endearments.

“Hmm?” He hummed and he tried his best to not let sleep overcame him.

“Does this mean-” She knew the answer but the fear hung over her head but it faded quickly as he brushed his hand on her inner thigh and kissed the back of her neck.

“Oh you’re stuck with me Cheeks.” He growled in her ear and a shiver ran up her spine.

“Okay good.”

“You don’t think I’m going to lose you again right? I’m not an idiot, I plan to marry your sweet ass.”

Her body tensed up and her eyes widened and filled with tears. She quickly shifted until she was hanging over him. He stared up at her with his hands now behind his head and he tried his hardest to not let his eyes lower to her naked form.

“Y-you want to marry me?” She asked and her voice almost gave out.

“Tsh of fucking course I do, that was my plan the first time…” He looked away as red formed on his cheeks.

She brushed a piece of hair out of his face and his expression softened from the gesture. “I want to marry you too.” She confessed.

They sat in silence, not knowing what to do now.

“Do you want me to propose?’ He asked her. “Because I got a fucking ring.”

“W-what? N-no not now! Wait you have a ring?”

He was about to speak but she waved her hands in her face. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Were you going to propose but instead you broke up with me?”

“No I bought the ring a month ago...just in case I won you back.” He avoided her gaze.

“Oh.” She whispered as she sat back.

“And for the record I would never propose like this.” he gestured to their position. “Its tacky and never gonna happen unless its proper and perfect.” He bucked his hips up and she let out a small yelp as she fell forward and their foreheads touched as he grabbed her forearms and brought her close.

“You deserve the best and I’m going to make sure of it.” Bakugou smirked and she bit her lip as she smiled playfully.

“I do deserve the best don’t I?” She teased and all she got in response was a hasty kiss on the lips and a light tap on the ass.

-----

“Thank you so much Uravity!” The woman cried as she held her child in her arms. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Uraraka gave the woman a hug and made sure that they were all okay. She had just lifted a collapsing building off the street that crushed a nearby school and luckily no casualties had occurred.

“You truly are a great hero.” The woman continued to praise her and thanked her once again.

Their conversation ended a little later once the reporters came to the scene. She was extremely proud of herself as it was one of the biggest saves she’s ever done.

The reporter was a tall man and greeted her proudly. Usually interviews weren’t her favorite thing but this time she was patting herself on the back and was proud.

“I’m here with pro hero Uravity! That was quite the rescue!”

“Thank you I-“

“Now everyone is dying to know” he interrupted. “What’s your current relationship status?”

Her face fell and anger boiled inside of her. “E-excuse me?”

“You heard me! Some sources say that you could have many suitors. Rumors say that after your break up with Ground Zero almost nine months ago, you have been seen with him outside of work.”

She was used to this. She was used to her work being pushed aside and asked sexist questions, but today, she was at the end of her rope. A class of children almost got crushed to death and all people wanted to know was who she was banging. Sure she had repaired her relationship Bakugou but that didn’t mean that it was anyone's business since they hadn’t gone public even after three months of dating.

Uravity tried to keep her composure as the reporter kept trying to pry.

“Her relationships are none of your fucking business.” Ground Zero growled as he came up behind her.

“Well as a reporter-“

“As a reporter you should be fucking respectful and maybe ask about the mission she just did. The one where she saved those kids? Yeah so why don’t you shove that mic up your ass and don’t bother her unless you have a serious question.”

The reporter stood shocked at the anger from the other hero. Suddenly a smirk slide on his face. “I think we have the answer to who Uravity is with.”

“Yeah and?” She shot back. “My relationship doesn't concern you and maybe if you cared about the children's lives who were just saved you wouldn't be up in my business about Katsukis and I’s relationship. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go to my job so I suggest you do yours too.” She stormed off and towards the ambulance.

The reporter turned in shock at the announcement of the relationship and Ground Zero smirked triumph at her outburst. “God I love that woman.” He stated but his frown came on as he looked back at the reporter and stomped off.

“Well you heard it here folks! Looks like the infamous pair of Uravity and Ground Zero are back together again!”

Bakugou heard the reporter declare that to the camera but he couldn’t find a bone in his body to care. The world knew now who he belonged too and he couldn’t be happier at the news. He finally found her sitting on the hood of a police car getting ready to take off back to her agency.

“That was quite the statement Cheeks.” He smirked and she sighed and dropped her face in her hands.

“Ugh I feel awful for yelling at him but it's just- UGH.” Bakugou laughed and kissed the top of her head.

“Nah don’t work about that fucker, he deserved it. Plus I don’t think he cares now that he got his answer.”

“Answer?” She asked and looked up at her boyfriend. She paused for a second until it clicked. She jumped to her feet and accidentally activated her quirk on herself “Oh my god Kat I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize I said that!”

He let out another chuckle as he grabbed her arm to keep her from floating away. It had been a long time since she had gotten this flustered but he thought it was the cutest thing in the world. He pulled her down until she gained her composure and whispered “release”.

“Sorry? The world can know for all I care. I just enjoy calling you mine.” He said as he pulled her into a kiss.

“Mmm you're not usually one for pda love.” She commented and he shrugged.

“What can I say, that outburst was hot.” He gave her a devilish grin.

“Oh my god.” She rolled her eyes and pushed him away playfully. “I’ll see you after work, dinner at 7?”

“My place.” He answered and watched as she walked off.

He stood for a while as the clean up crew came to fix all the demolition the villains had caused. After being sent back to his agency, he was currently at his locker pulling off his hero uniform and wrapping his head around the idea that they were “officially” together.

A smile tugged at his lips as he scroll through the images on his phone, each one cuter than the last of his girlfriend.

“Tonight” He whispered and picked up his bag and went to his apartment to get started on the most important meal of his life.

---

“Hey babe.” Uraraka greeted him as she walked into his apartment. “Oh it smells so good!” She cheered as she entered the kitchen and saw the table set with her favorite foods. The table was decorated with a pretty tablecloth and wine glasses filled with red wine. The flames of candles danced and Bakugou stood next to it with a smile on his face.

At first she didn’t notice it. It was hidden among the things but the small twinkle caught her eyes. She let out a gasp and her eyes shot to his. He smirked and her eyes grew dark with desire and small tears. She hesitated at first, not knowing what to do or say but he gave her a nod and that was the end of it.

Her bag hit the floor with a thud as she ran as fast as she could and jumped up, catching Bakugou off guard and sending them straight to the ground. The wind was knocked straight out of him but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was the woman sitting on him.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” She cried as she took the velvet box from the table and slipped on the perfectly fitted ring. It’s nicely sized diamond sparkled against her finger and she couldn’t contain her sobs.

She looked down and realized that she had completely trampled Bakugou but he looked as smug as ever. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him roughly up until his lips met hers.

“You didn’t even let me ask.” He chuckled against her lips but they both knew this was his plan.

She pulled back from his and let her forehead fall against his. “Then ask.” She said in a breathy tone.

“Cheeks will you marry-“ but he was cut off with another passionate kiss that sent him back to the floor with a smile.

“yesh.” She mumbled as her lips were still stuck to his. “I love you so fucking much Katsuki.”

“I love you too. Thank you for loving me.” he kissed her hand and another sob came from her lips. “Thank you for never doubting me and believing in me when I couldn’t and giving me a second chance.”

“Oh Kat, you will always have my heart. You are my everything.” She kissed him softly as to seal a promise that he had her heart tomorrow, forever and everything in between.

—-

I hope you enjoyed it!!!

#kacchako #katsuki bakugou #uraraka ochako #Uraraka X Bakugou #my hero academia #kacchako fanfiction #soft bakugou #mha fanfiction #thewritingstar

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elmidol · 4 years

Text

To Continue the Fight

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art

Read on AO3

Warnings: None(?)

Three Blind Tooke

Part Three: Death is an Art

Chapter Fifty-One: To Continue the Fight

These are the reasons that we fight

Not only for ourselves or that it is right;

We continue for those who entered our lives,

And fight until evil no longer can rise.

The expression upon Rose’s face intrigued you. It spoke to the fact that she did not know everything in regards to why Finn and Rey so wanted to go on this mission. It was not only to protect Luke Skywalker. Rey had previously joined with Kylo Ren. To get to you, yes. Rose likely knew this. She and Rey would have spoken of it, if not Finn would have. The three of them were growing close together. The same with Poe. Navrin’s presence had to serve as further proof that there was more than had been let on. Rose’s gaze continuously travelled to him. At first you were oblivious to this. As time went on, in order to drag yourself out from the daymare that threatened to take you, you stared at her. Where she had questions regarding this mission, you wondered how it was that Supreme Leader Armitage Hux had destroyed Naboo. Furthermore, how Rey and Finn had failed to sense it. Leia should have as well.

Questions tumbled from your lips. Those same inquiries that had been circulating ever since you had gathered your bearings enough to think them. Navrin released a noise of interest that preceded his mutual curiosity to have those answers. Finn looked to Rey, who had glanced over her shoulder long enough to catch his gaze. That was all that was necessary for all others, yourself included, to know that they had been withholding rather pertinent information. You balled your hands into fists. A spike of anger that quickly faded. It was not a betrayal from them, that was not what you felt. It was frustration at your own helplessness when it came to matters of the Force.

Rey and Finn worked together to fill in the missing details that answered more than one of your questions. Master Skywalker had been using an artifact of sorts─neither Finn nor Rey were aware of its exact nature or origin─to shield them from the Order of Ren. Them being himself, Rey, Finn, and Leia. Navrin as well. Rey broke off at this point in her speech to look at the former Knight of Ren; and while she fell quiet, Finn took up lead in the conversation. The bond that Kylo had with each of those individuals, along with his connection to the remaining Knights, that could easily lead the Order of Ren to the Resistance Base. Master Skywalker had found a means of protecting them with the artifact, which was also why he tired more easily. It drained him of his energy; such power could not be wielded without a cost.

They hadn’t taken into consideration that Luke going on a mission without them would entail him being forced to make a choice: continue shielding the Resistance Base, or shield himself. Kylo Ren had been seeking Skywalker for years. It was clear to you, Rose, and Navrin why Kylo had locked onto this opportunity immediately. The Knights of Ren were more intune with the Force than you had realized. This thought sickened you; not because you hated the Force, but because you despised that you had been so blind to this truth. You had underestimated your opponent. That went against all you had been taught.

“I thought I had sensed something wrong, but…” Rey trailed off. She shook her head, refocused on the path she was taking as pilot.

Rose and you looked directly at one another while Finn picked up where she had left off again. The sensation of all those lost to the destruction of Naboo had been deadened because of the shield. The numbness had made sense to them the moment they had been told of the tragedy. It had allowed them to jump into action. That was why you were on this mission. The Force users─Rey, Finn, and Navrin─could assist Master Skywalker in subduing the Knights of Ren as well as Kylo if the man was present. Finn and Rey had also agreed that they hoped for Rose to look at the artifact. Her tech savvy ways gave them hope that she could improve it.

She pressed her lips firmly together. Her cheeks puffed up a little as she visibly fought off the urge to chastise them for keeping her in the dark. If you hadn’t asked, would they have told you everything anyway? More importantly, would they have explained it to her?

“Of course,” Finn said after Rose at last asked that aloud.

When Rey had been speaking to Rose, it had been to emphasize the group’s need for the technician’s expertise. She had to keep this ship from being detected by your enemies as well as allies; the latter in regards to leaving the Resistance base without clearance. There had not yet been anything spoken about some device or artifact imbued with the Force. Could such a thing even be done? Or did it require another Force user to change it? You did not know. You doubted that anyone aboard this ship had a solid answer for that particular question, which meant that there was no sense voicing it at all.

Another shared look passed between Rose and you. Her sternness gave way to sympathy, and you were assaulted with a fresh wave of reality hitting you. A reminder that Naboo was no more. The frustration of not knowing how Hux had accomplished this coupled with the hatred you had for the man, a hatred that grew more fierce each and every day.

“Will we get there in time?” The words slipped from your lips without you being conscious that you had intended to speak. The others in the ship aside from Navrin all tensed. Navrin had seen enough death, had caused plenty of it, had revelled in it before he had joined Rey. He seemed almost immune to the idea of Skywalker dying. Then again, he had hunted the man once upon a time.

The three spoke in unison. Rose uttered the words “We must!” while Finn stated that “We have to”, and Rey growled through gritted teeth, “We had better.” It was Rey’s response that caused a sort of flipping sensation to assault your stomach. Not just her words; through the bond you had with her, you felt tinges of darkness. Anger and frustration, so much like the sentiments you had towards Hux that they entwined with your own sense of purpose and devotion to this mission.

Master Skywalker had been pouring his own lifeforce into keeping the Resistance safe from the Order of Ren, and that was something you would never be able to repay. What you could do was keep him alive for as long as possible. He wanted to pass down his knowledge to the next generation of Force users, Finn and Rey in particular. This would have extended beyond the warfront. One thing that you did know was regardless if Kylo had joined the Dark side of the Force, a war would have broken out. There had already been Snoke and the First Order. There had already been the Knights of Ren. Powers in the Force and on a military front that would have torn the galaxy asunder. But it was not only war that drove Luke Skywalker to spread the Force.

One tale that Poe Dameron had told you was of his parents, how Skywalker had given his mother a tree. It had been one of two remnants from Coruscant. Imbued with the Force. Poe did not hate the Force although he was understandably wary of it because Kylo Ren had tortured him.

What the tale had taught you was that Luke believed the Force was for all. It was to be nurtured and protected. It was not an instrument of war. You needed him to pass that lesson down to Rey and Finn. Finn’s entire life had been surrendered to this war so far. Plucked as a child from his family and trained as a soldier for the First Order, which he later abandoned. He had had no childhood. Rey had not had one either, not really. She had had Jakku then this war. They had both discovered their abilities on the battlefield.

I knew myself before I willingly joined the war. At least, I knew myself more than they knew themselves.

You grabbed hold of the wedding rings that you wore. Thought of the words that Kylo had spoken to you in regards to becoming himself. He had honestly believed he had been doing the right thing. On that strange and twisted dark path, he had wanted to better the galaxy...at the same time, he had fed his hunger for power. A hunger that had existed prior to Luke’s mistake with him. Snoke had felt that hunger from whatever cave he had dwelled inside. If he hadn’t, would Kylo still have become Kylo? Was Ben Solo predestined to become dark?

The deaths he had committed may have been less in number had he not been swayed by Snoke, had he instead joined his mother and father in the Resistance. Yet, too, there was the possibility that there would have been more murders. If he had been drifting towards the Dark side of the Force, he may have completed his training with Luke Skywalker only to betray the Resistance after joining it. He could very well have slaughtered the heroes of the Rebellion before taking his place, wherever that may have been in this alternate path.

Sometimes people, even you, dwelt too long on the what ifs in life that they missed out on the present. Not that you enjoyed current events. The destruction of Naboo had you shaken, had you holding your breath every few minutes to recenter yourself. But some of the what ifs were worse. Others would prove a distraction that resulted in more death, more loss. You had to focus on your current burdens if you hoped to overcome them.

“Do you think Kylo will try to kill Luke so that he can use the artifact?” You couldn’t have been the only one thinking it, but no one else had posed the question. And you were tired of waiting for them to. Navrin nodded without hesitation while adding that Kylo did not feel exactly fond of Skywalker anyway. If it had been his mother, you mused, things might have been going much differently. “I…” Your eyes flickered to Rey. The darkness that you felt growing inside of her was something you feared and hated. “Navrin or I should take over as pilot when we get closer. I can’t use the Force… With Kylo there…”

“You should,” Navrin said. His words snatched up your attention, as did the way he stared at you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. The Knights of Ren were more capable in the Force than you had realized. Did Rey know? As if he could read your mind, the man said: “Master Ren was waiting to see if Rey would betray him. Their bond allowed him to see her struggles with the Light. Hiding our true abilities when near her was…” He paused, chuckling to himself. “Cumbersome.” He moved his arms then crossed them over his chest without turning away his gaze. “Skywalker already knew this. He was monitoring me whenever he was nearby.”

“And when he wasn’t?”

“I was,” Finn cut in.

Rose made a small noise. Locking gazes with you, the woman smiled in a way that you couldn’t help but return the expression. The two of you felt less alone with not being Force sensitive now that you had each other. This was the family that you had chosen, the one that you had not lost even with the destruction of your birth planet. You squeezed the rings once more. Your father’s grave had given you a sense of peace, but it was due to his memory. And that… That you would always carry with you. That was something that Hux would never be able to take away, nor would he destroy your ability and will to fight him. You would avenge those who had died on Naboo without becoming a monster yourself.

The heroics of Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa had helped to inspire Rose and her late-sister, Paige, after they had joined to Resistance due to what had happened on their planet. The First Order had been cruel in how it used resources, people. Some planets were destroyed in sections. Not obliterated like Naboo or Alderaan had been. Instead they were stripped of everything useful. Chemically altered so that no crops would grow. It was much like how the Empire had worked. Was that crueller than the loss of Naboo? The torture that woud happen instead of dying in an instant. Hosnian Prime snuffed out, but not slowly burning. Not suffocated. In truth, you could not say which was worse. All that you knew was that you and Rose had something in common. More than deceased family members; now, too, ensuring that the fate of your home planets was not shared with others. The two of you would work together to put a stop to that.

“Do we focus on destroying the Order of Ren first instead of the First Order?” the female technician asked. It was a fair question, and one that you would likely have thought of in these circumstances had it not been for your history with Kylo. There was a freedom in being away from the man who was your husband, but the idea of his death continued to bother you. You were tired of losing people that you knew.

Licking your lips, you allowed your shoulders to rise and fall in a shrug. “It depends on the outcome of this mission. He… Kylo, that is, he…” You pressed your lips into a thin line to give yourself time to think how you wanted to word things. Rose did not glare at you; her attitude towards you was much different in comparison to how she had been on the Supremacy when Snoke had been killed. She no longer doubted your loyalty. She knew that you wanted the war to end but that things had grown complicated. Whether or not she agreed with your feelings, she had come to accept them. “It’s a gamble. He doesn’t seem as keen on destroying the entire Resistance in the same way Hux does. If we focus our resources on destroying an enemy that isn’t coming straight at us, I think the First Order will take advantage of that.” The tears threatened to form anew. Your thoughts had drifted to Naboo and how it had been destroyed in retaliation for Phasma’s demise. “Kylo does want power, but I think we’d have an easier time reasoning with him than with Hux. Now that Hux has the power he has dreamed of since childhood, I know he isn’t going to compromise that. The times I played holochess with him, he was patient and almost always several moves ahead of me. More than once I lost nearly all my pieces to him. He’d sacrifice a few along the way, and that brought him victory. He’s the same way in real battle.”

Each of the others in the ship with you had faced Supreme Leader Hux in some capacity. You did have that advantage of seeing him in more settings. Not even Navrin had been able to witness Hux drop his guard as he did, albeit not completely, with you when you had been taken to his quarters for those visits while Kylo was ignoring you. Even still you had not been able to calculate the extent of the risk that you were taking when you had gone after Phasma. You hadn’t thought in a million years that he would destroy Naboo like that. He could not be left to run rampant. His freedom was a threat to the entire galaxy, which he wanted to put under his rule.

“Your creations have given us an edge in the battle against the First Order,” you said to Rose. She blushed at your words and tried to brush away the compliment. “If we can beat Hux, if we can use some of those ships against the Order of Ren if a resolution cannot be reached…” You made a gesture with your hand as if to indicate all the various scenarios and possibilities each person aboard the ship might think up.

Rey and Finn muttered their agreement. It was Navrin who cocked his head to the side to question whether or not you believed that Kylo would ever agree to step aside from a position of power. In that way, was he so different than Hux? That had been the question you had asked yourself too many times.

“I’d rather risk that than try to pose the same question to Hux. He’s the Destroyer of Worlds, and he proved that again.” Your hands were starting to shake again. From shock. From adrenaline.

Rose worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. It was maddening having to wait to travel across the distance of space to get to Luke Skywalker when so many uncertainties in the war yet existed. You had started to fidget by bouncing your leg up and down. Never had you felt like this with your other missions for the Resistance. Of course, this was an unofficial mission. This was also Luke Skywalker with his life on the line. Training and lessons in patience could last only so long. Rose was checking the viewport every few seconds. Her fingers drummed on her knees. Soon you would move into the pilot’s seat. And, you assumed, Rose would take the co-pilot’s chair. At least at that point you would be doing something more than sitting there and feeling helpless.

That moment did not come soon enough but arrive it did. You could hear Rey and Finn checking over their supplies along with Navrin as you and Rose took over. “How’s the shield on this?” you asked Rose. She was already on it, checking the ship’s system logs to learn all that she could. “Firepower?”

“Not as good as we would want it to be,” she said in a soft voice. She gestured with her head at the three Force users in the back. “They’ll be our weapons.” Not exactly promising in a dogfight if it came down to that. If you were acting more as cover or a distraction, however… Yes, that will work. You relaxed a little. The tension in your shoulders was eased as you rolled them. Rose, too, was becoming more comfortable with circumstances and her position. “We can defend ourselves but this isn’t a starfighter.”

“If you can land the ship somewhere and join us on foot, that would be better.” You did not look over your shoulder at Rey when she spoke to you. You doubted that she was looking your way. The sound of movement hadn’t ceased, although it had grown less frequent. Considering that you were not far from your destination, this was a good sign.

As much as you wanted to join in the fight, you had started to think that it would be equally important to stay in the ship and have it ready to go. Extracting Luke from the planet and escaping the Knights of Ren could save more lives than remaining to engage them in battle. You were torn by both courses of action. Figured it would be best to keep your options open until you were given a better view of things. For one, whether or not there were any Star Destroyers in the system. For another, if Skywalker and the Knights were already in battle. A third option would be to land the ship at a choice location that allowed you to also utilize your training. You could shoot from a long distance. Be close enough by to leave the ship running and move in as a pilot at a moment’s notice.

Considering this for another few seconds, you informed your small crew of the plan. It was agreed that this would be for the best. On top of that, Rose would remain with you so that she was not put into more danger than need be. Her skills as a technician would come into play only after Luke, or at least the artifact, was aboard. You being there to help keep her covered while she ensured the systems were fully functional was for the best. Not to mention it eliminated the possibility of you freezing up if too close to Kylo Ren. Seeing Luke and Kylo engaged in battle, if they were, was something you truly did not know how you would react to. You wanted the Resistance to win this war, however you did not want Kylo to die. The animosity that would exist in each of the swings of his lightsaber would speak of his pain and anger. It would be too fierce for you. You did not want to see it.

Those concerns need not be voiced. Rey would be able to sense that something was worrying you, and it was a fear that she would be harboring as well. You hated that she was in that position; she would be the one to step between Luke and Kylo to ensure that they did not kill each other. You trusted her to do this. If it had been anyone else, you would have abandoned the ship no matter how reckless it was.

“What is that?” Finn’s voice drew your attention as well as Rose’s. His brow was knit, and both Rey and Navrin were nodding in confirmation that they knew what he was referring to. Something to do with the Force, something that they could sense but not see. “Is that what Luke is here for?”

If it was something that the three could sense when not on the planet, you imagined that it was exactly what had drawn Skywalker to the planet. On top of that, you believed that it would have been the reason that Kylo Ren had come. Not for Luke, although for him that would be a bonus. Rey’s hand inched towards the hilt of her lightsaber. Her eyes darted to you for a brief moment. Kylo. She could sense him there along with Luke. Finn looked as though he was tensing in anticipation of a fight. Navrin was indifferent; this had been his life, hadn’t it? Seeking out battles.

“This power… They’re fighting.” Rey was speaking this aloud for your benefit. Your grip on the controls tightened. That solidified your decision to remain with the ship. “We cannot allow Kylo to leave with what drew Master Skywalker here.”

Finn was quick to agree. It was more than just the fact that it was Kylo. These words had to do with what they were able to sense. Navrin was too quiet for your liking. Did his silence mean that he knew what the other two were sensing? Even if he had not had personal contact with it, you imagined that the Knights of Ren had sought out dark artifacts. Sith holocrons and weapons. Anything that allowed them to wield the Force and kill with it. You yourself had learned a little when a prisoner of Kylo. The man had studied old scrolls, and Snoke had seemed to encourage this kind of education. The Knights would act similarly so as to remain useful to their Master.

Or maybe you were biased and paranoid. Navrin might not know anything at all. There was only one way to know.

“Do you know what it is, Navrin?” He spoke softly, not in anger or frustration. His tone betrayed nothing. His words revealed the truth: he believed that he did know, however he was not certain. “Is it a weapon?” No. “For defense?” In a way.

Maker, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the man’s reluctance to be more forthcoming.

You were not the only one frustrated with the roundabout responses. Through the bond, you felt Rey growing more agitated. That could also be due to the closer proximity with Kylo and Skywalker. That was how the three Force users could sense the battle and whatever it was Luke and Kylo wanted. Then again, that could be why Navrin wasn’t speaking much. He was focused on what it was this small group you belonged to was walking into. The dogfighting with Resistance and Order of Ren ships. The battles on the surface of the planet. Releasing a breath through pursed lips, you shoved aside the ever-lingering sense of loss that had hit you upon hearing that Naboo had been destroyed.

“Countdown from ten,” you said. And each of you were, albeit mentally, silently. Holding your breaths all the while.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #three blind tooke #elmidolfanfic #death is an art

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Ridikulus Pt 28

@evyiione thanks for the inspiration from your idea for the dueling section of this part. Hope you like it. :D

…

Friday, the day the Dwarves had heard was set for your school wide dueling club to get some spare practice for the big OWLS and NEWTS students were anxious over. Shared worries with the new foster families had brought about a question of attending practice to possibly aid in their nerves which were at an all time high. Morning classes were through and bickering back and forth between houses had spiked again with each of the Professors trying to keep it to a low simmer at the worst while the Elf Lords took their seats on the bleachers along the walls beside the fostering Dwarves and Durins. All trying to get a good mental image of how the school worked and how magic duels could go but the argument between a group of Gryffindors and a girl from Ravenclaw had them the most confused.

Faked howls for a day now had come up again only to have Minerva docking points for every time they did it now at a head when the head of the group and the girl were up to the moon phase coated mat across the platform you were nearing sensing something was going to go wrong. In a sneer the boy said, “Show you how wolves are meant to be culled.”

“Enough Denby!” You said tightening his scowl at the girl who inhaled as you asked her, “Did you want to trade, Nia?”

She shook her head, “No, Professor. Even if I was a wolf Denby couldn’t match my skills fairly.”

Snape gave the count down and three slams onto his back later and Denby popped up as Snape said, “Well done Nia, fifty points to Ravenclaw.” His head turned, “Next pair.”

Eyeing the lines of students stepping closer missing Denby’s jump up to his feet in Nia’s turn. “Filthy wolf, Sectum Sempra!”

In a rapid snap you were traded with Nia, now screaming at the collapse of your body while Denby dropped his wand wide eyed seeing the blood seeping through your crème blouse in Snape’s hop up onto the platform with wand drawn. Breathing shakily in the pool of black curls and blood spreading around you he knelt muttering the counter curse drawing the blood back into your body while Denby smoothed his hands over his face while the wide eyed Elf Lords sat frozen. The teen stunned at the effect of the mystery curse his father mentioned hearing the infamous Harry Potter use in the Battle at Hogwarts.

Always so certain and unbreakable now fragile and helpless in a pool of blood the image made all their stomachs drop and hearts clench even when you were helped to sit up charming your shirt clean again. Snape muttered in the curl of your arm with his to help you stand again, “Slowly.”

Up you stood and Denby said, “You shouldn’t have done that!” Now pointing at Nia being consoled by Firenze who had been chatting with the curious Elves. “Should have just left that-,”

“You say wolf one more time and I’ll make you tap dance every time you insult anyone. And for your information since landing here all of those with Lycan effects have been symptom and shift free. I know your father-,”

“Don’t you talk about my father! He died fighting Wolves, like her and her parents! You’ve always been on their side! No surprise you let Grindelwald loose! Just another heartless coward of a Death Eater hiding behind another mass murderer letting others die instead of you!”

Snape now scowling said, “Denby, be very mindful of what you say.”

Denby, “Why?!” at this Albus entered the room with Gandalf at his side from their tea break moving closer through the parting students. “What else could she want? What, do I get taken away now for upsetting the Girl Who Died?! Because it’s all just a lie, you didn’t die and Harry did! No matter what you try to do to hush it up we all know Harry’s dead!”

His foster parents smoothed their palms over their mouths in the crowd worrying how the boy would be punished for upsetting you and the other Professors. “Forgive me for wanting to run for once, for not wanting to die again for the third time.” Denby’s expression dropped and his fist unclenched, “Your parents may very well still be alive for all I know but they are stuck in the old world with no way to bring them here or to send you back.”

He shakes his head trying to remain on focus voicing his rage, “How could you? Set that monster free? Figures you would be the one to do it. Great and Noble Black. Always looking for a new Dark Master.”

Albus in his stroll up the step onto the platform asked, “What would you do?” His presence stirred whispers in the students and the boy wet his lips, “If you were ordered by me to stand and die while the few thousands we had gathered had fled. What would you do? Because Miss Black chose a way that she would survive; a very human thing to do. A very vulnerable choice. To openly admit freeing Grindelwald, but that was the state our world was in. The choice between what is right and what is easy becomes blurred in times of war.

What would have been the right thing? To fight alone? People were dividing in ways we did not know, in that world, where even your closest allies were set to choose, again. It was not Voldemort vs the world, it was random groups of people silently and anonymously sabotaging our planet. How do you fight wolves in sheep’s clothing, Miss Black chose a powerful and unmatched enemy she knew to face the unknown. A common enemy who could sway millions into joining him, one with a name when uttered thousands would come to call. The name of a man who would never harm a child, one who would understand our goal.”

He had moved to your side and said to you, lowly with a momentary rest of his hand on your shoulder, “I do believe I understand what Gellert told me now. And I owe you a million apologies.”

Albus looked to the boy, “What would you have done? In a faceless war?”

The boy said, “I wouldn’t have set him free.”

Albus nodded, “Nor would I. And I would have killed us all. You did not see the escape, the forces waiting to attack us.” Over his head a mist grew and the copy of your escape memory given to him played making the students group up and cling together watching wide eyed the number of enemies you had fought through even with Grindelwald’s helping blasts taking out hundreds at a time.

Random explosions of your duck charm and follow up explosions and implosions trapped in hundreds of cursed beads you fired out around you all through the thousands swarming you was how you had secured the escape of nearly all of those within your view and cut off the enemy from your new world. The memory making the Company and Elves looking on nearly pale seeing themselves how your memory blended into his on the trip through the crash through the closet door in BagEnd. The crash making the Elves flinch at the painful entrance to their world fading away, blotting out your pitifully battered and bleeding self just leaving you in tact in front of them again.

Albus, “Just as in the first Wizarding world we will always be left with should haves and might have beens. However, we are alive and are given the chance to not make the same mistakes again, but we must be bigger than our hatred and biases. I understand you are in pain, however casting such a curse is forbidden when simple disarming curses were called for. Fifty points from Gryffindor. And a months detention.”

Down the step you walked and while the next set of students stepped up for their turn you spoke quietly with Nia calming her down that you were alright easing her path to her friends again gathering around her. Continuing on you walked to the still frozen Elf Lords to pat your hands on the knees of your intendeds lowly saying, “I’m ok.”

Glorfindel, “Are you in pain?”

You shook your head and looked to Thorin when he asked in a hushed growl, “Detention and points?! That is all?”

“He’s a child, it was out of pain not malice. I have been in our jail, that is not the place for him. It is hard to understand even for him. He doesn’t quite know that he could have killed the other student had I not stepped in.”

Thranduil, “There is no way to have stopped the curse?”

“Severus made it, we don’t know yet we’ve only used it in battle. But, better me than her. I can handle the pain. She never fought in the battles.”

Maglor, “To leave him unchallenged though-,”

“He does not know what the curse does, the effects. He will be taught the weight of it in detention, and he will seek forgiveness when it seeps in, the people he could have killed in ignorance. He is a good boy, children make mistakes when they are hurt and scared. And we will forgive him, because we’ve been hurt and scared too.” The words calming his foster family who knew it to be the truth at your deep understanding of his problems, “At his age we’re all hormones and rash thinking. We hear these powerful spells and when an idol like Harry Potter uses it in battle, you want to be strong and tough like them. Denby feels like he has no control over anything, that will change.”

His foster mother said, “We considered showing him forging over his weekend visit, would that help?”

“I think it would. He needs a goal outside of school. A space of his own and a support system.”

Maedhros, “You would allow angered powerful children loose from school?”

Your eyes shifted to him, “There are laws, until we are 17 we aren’t allowed to do magic outside of school. Small things like changing colors of things or calling items to yourself or accidental weather changes when scared or upset are fine, but anything more powerful and you get contacted by the Ministry. If there was a dangerous student we would take them into our own homes to watch them ourselves.”

The foster father said, “We will do our best to keep him on the right path.”

“I don’t doubt that.” With a grin you added, “From what I know of your culture I don’t doubt he just needs some good Dwarven traditions and hobbies to melt into. His parents had him in all sorts of hobbies from what I know.”

Up onto the seat between Glorfindel and Thranduil you sat and pressed gentle kisses onto their cheeks between their questions to calm themselves more you glanced at the dueling students lingering there for a few minutes more until the next set were up and you were asked to demonstrate the skills they couldn’t manage to hold for their attacks. The lesson proving the skill behind mastering spells and how even with the troubled way you had fallen here the trust for you as a teacher was untouchable. There was no hiding from your choice and you didn’t flinch from admitting it and bearing the weight of their pain and anger, in fact funneling their focus onto you away from others to help them through their deep seeded grief and shock.

Even Denby, now with his friends, again sat silently thinking over all he’d done and once the lessons were through he lingered behind and the guests caught his tearful slump into your side initiating a tight hug you returned. Consoling him quietly until he calmed and wiped his cheeks and claimed the visitor packed lunch to go and speak with his foster family who smiled and took your advice to heart sharing a possible list of activities they could do on is weekend visit. His smile came out again and they guided him to one of the empty seats in the great hall to feed him in chatting about their plans to set up his room more to his taste.

“What are your plans for the weeks end?” Celeborn asked in the table up in your classroom after your dueling club drama to calm the Lords and Durins you were fine. All of them even the Feanoreans hoping to give you a relaxing evening only to lull you to sleep.

“Well after classes today I have to go to Paris for the new film I’m signed on for. Going to be a two and a half day haul to get the full picture done in one go.”

Thranduil asked, “Does it usually take three days?”

“Films can take up to a year or more depending on how in depth the script goes.”

Meadhros, “You are a performer as well?”

“Ya, contracted for two more films after this.”

Elrond, “What is this film about?”

“Well, it’s Cinderella. It is an old one of our fairytales. A Prince is forced into holding a ball to choose a bride and a young woman who is being held as a servant to her Step Mother and her Daughters wishes to go. Her Fairy Godmother appears helping her to dress and travel to the ball, she has to leave at midnight though, and when she does the Prince is so smitten with her he goes off in search of the woman who belonged to the lost shoe he discovered she lost in her fleeing.”

Legolas, “Does he find her?”

You nodded, “Yes, but not until after the Step Mother and her Daughters scheme to try and get him to choose one of them instead.”

Glorfindel drew your eye asking, “Is it one of your favorites?”

His lips parted seeing the tears trying to form in your eyes even as your smile held, “My Mum was in a stage production of it they filmed but they wanted to do a fuller version of it, only the war picked up and she died.”

Amras, “Your Mother performed?”

You nodded, “Yes, she was incredible. Not everyone attending Hogwarts chooses to be an Auror or join the Ministry. She fell in love with performing, and Dad loved to watch her, used to make it to all her shows, insisted on it at work.”

Caranthir, “What is the importance to rush this one?”

“Well the production company wants it out soon, big new start to films here to entertain people. The son of the man who played the Prince Christopher is signed on along with more of the relatives of the original stage production and my Mum’s friend Bernadette is signed on as well. Mainly it’s like a play but it’ll be set in an actual village set up on the edge of the Palace of Versailles.”

Elros, “Who dwells in the Palace? And are they accepting of the use of their lands?”

“Well, no one lives there. Haven’t for centuries. See the French were starving and just out of a war, I believe, when the people had a revolution stormed the Palace and killed the King, Royal family and most of he nobles.” That had the men all frozen and looking at you. “Well the revolution didn’t last, another King rose to power and for a while he was in control until the people decided not to have a King and elect its leaders therefore leaving the Palace empty but as a marker for a sort of architectural monument of sorts. For tourism mostly people from all over the world came to visit, pay and explore the Palace on tours.”

Amrod, “There are many monuments of this nature you saved?”

You nodded, “Ooh, you should see the Palaces from the Romanov Dynasty. Gorgeous. Out in Russia, been a few times. Our home is modeled after one actually. Though Great Gramps actually says the muggle in charge of building that one simply copied our designs but just changed a few details.”

Thranduil, “We should plan a trip sometime. You will be getting enough rest while you are filming?”

“Probably not.” You said taking another bite of your food.

Glorfindel, “That is not reassuring.”

“Well they only got a three day filming permit so we gotta get it blown out as much as we can.” A glance at the guys had you adding, “Oh, and I had a question for you on our way back.”

Thranduil, “You cannot ask us now?”

“You may prefer it when we’re alone.”

They nodded and through the meal you shared more plans on what you had coming up the week following including a night where you would be learning Elven and Dwarvish dances for your celebration. When the hour was through the Lords and Durins were off to their home and watching you clean up the hovering dishes and tables being sent down to storage and the kitchens you had borrowed them from Thranduil and Glorfindel waited by your desk. When it was clear you said, “So, I didn’t want to drop this on you like this.”

Thranduil moves closer alongside Glorfindel, who said, “What is troubling you, tell us.”

“Blunt it is, Cinderella has two kiss scenes.”

Thranduil, “Kiss scenes..”

You nod, “Now I’ve worked with Luis before and I hardly ever take up roles with romantic scenes but these are just iconic to the role there’s no way to cut them out and be the same. It’s one of our most classic stories. Everyone knows she goes to the ball with the help of her fairy godmother and dances with the Prince, they kiss and then she has to run away at midnight before the magic runs out and he sees who she really is. I am so sorry and I know you might hate me and that kissing is between partners alone but I do hope you’ll understand.”

Thranduil spoke first, “This man performing as the Prince, he is aware it is strictly those two scenes as you have stated?” Trying to understand the details perfectly.

“Yes, he knows, we grew up on this show seeing our parents perform it.”

Glorfindel, “And he is aware of your courtship with us?”

“I, don’t know if I’ve told him yet, the last time we spoke was before we’d arrived in Rivendell. Then again I don’t think people outside my family and close friends know yet either. But you could come if you like.” That seemed to calm the pair, “You could meet him, the whole cast including his husband and their sons, who have roles in the film as well.”

Thranduil, “He has a husband and a family.”

“Yes. Trust me when I say we are very old friends who completely understand that there is no hidden intention of anything close to romantic about this. We play our parts, convincingly to the cameras but there’s no feeling behind it. It’s all for show and we go home to our own homes and our own families still friends.”

Glorfindel, “This is common? Kissing scenes, I mean, that there is some form of ritual to pass through?”

“There are kissing scenes, even films where romantic scenes are taken even further into assumed sexual situations, which I don’t do.” That had the pair nod with a firm clench of their brows unintentionally mirroring yours, “We’ve only showed you a few films but there’s hundreds of thousands that have so many different genres we could delve into to help you understand.” Hastily you wet your lips realizing you were on a tangent, “As for kiss scenes. There’s no ritual, there is a certain etiquette that it is all mimed for the rehearsals, lead up to the kiss stopping at a distance in run-throughs that the actual kiss is saved for the full take and maybe is done over if the director says to try a different way or angle for the camera.”

Glorfindel, “It sounds like a puzzling project to perfect. We would be honored to watch you perform.”

Thranduil claimed your hand saying, “We will pack and would love to travel with you to this Palace. I do believe we understand.”

“I just didn’t want you to be there or to see it on the final copy of the film and have it just thrown in your faces.”

Glorfindel raised your other hand to kiss your knuckles stating, “Thank you for telling us. And we cannot wait to share this with you.”

Thranduil, “We should let you ready for your classes. Naneth would not mind watching the boys with Legolas while we are gone. How will we travel?”

“Oh, we settled our magical railway, it goes straight through the Misty Mountains past Angmar to our new island with the recovered cities for the rest of our Wizarding World,” his brow inched up and you shook your head, “You’ll see, the Pears offered me my usual suite so you can stay with me, they won’t mind. They’ll be too tired to dig into things as they’re in it too. I do have to bring Em, but if you do need to come back early my door would work for you. I’ll order the tickets and see you after school.”

Glorfindel claimed the first kiss, “We will see you then.”

Thranduil stole his own next, “I hope it is as wonderful as I assume you will be in it.”

With a smirk you said, “If you like you can drop by my home in the theater and watch my mum’s performance in it and get a feel for it.”

Thranduil, “I believe we will. We will take the boys as well to better explain why we will be away.”

Though while they had gone you asked K to purchase two more tickets for you allowing you a trip off to Dale strolling through the street you had zapped into the corner of to get to the Ministry and stroll inside. Your random appearance had a few people stunned knowing what day and time it was but all the same they carried on their work and flitting back and forth while you went up to Neville’s office.

The door sat open and the oddly blueish brown tiled room with shelves coated in papers and scrolls between stacks of books surrounded the tightly knit browed cousin of yours turning a sheet of paper upside down and right side up again muttering to himself. Knocking on the door broke his focus and he grinned, “Jaqi, What brings you here?” After a moments pause he said, “Please don’t say Keruffle. We can’t handle them in Hogwarts too.”

“No, no, different matter altogether.” You said entering to office earning a sigh of relief from him.

“Ah, well that would be helpful. We got two working, back and forth, just have to keep working it till we get there. What’s the issue?”

“Well I told you at breakfast about France.” He nodded, “Thranduil and Glorfindel wanted to go to. So,”

Neville nodded, “Yes, travel papers.” He turned around with fingers wiggling leaving his note aside to pull a small drawer of possible models for passport booklets he set out on his desk, “Draco’s been coming up with these in his spare time. Was going to try and think of how to bring these up casually when they had expressed a wish to travel through Wizard lands. Also Remus has brought them up and they’ve approved the designs fully welcoming them as long as we take full responsibility.”

“No kidding.” Making him smirk a moment with you.

“But they were curious to meet them possibly. Most have their old Ministers with I believe five still voting this next month, then we can have the first Council of Ministers. Possibly invite the Elves and Dwarves.”

“Should be fun, assigning who sits where. Who gets the first meeting with each King or Lord, and all that fun stuff.”

Neville chortled, “Fun. Yes.”

Green with silver Elk’s head was the crest on the front of the one marked as ‘The Elven Kingdom of The Greater Greenwood’ you inspected saying, “I think they might like it. Doubt they would need it much. But we could talk about possible applications for travel passports in the future.” He nodded and after you inspected the others.

A robin egg blue one with a waterfall for yellow letters etched ‘The ElvenKingdom of Rivendell.’

A Silver one decorated with swan a swan under ‘The ElvenKingdom of Lothlorien’ in white.

Erebor’s was a Navy blue with seven silver gems under letters marking it for ‘The DwarfKingdom of Erebor.’

“Hermi hasn’t shared much about Moria of the Blue Mountains yet, but I doubt that if Thorin’s ruling them all for now at least it could be included as one Kingdom. So to speak.”

He accepted the copy of information you had to fill out their documents he would have made complete with copies of pictures to add that would be delivered by the time school was out. Another alarm sounding had him huff and roll his eyes parting with you to go aid on the next clean up mission from this hopeless task of fixing the flue system.

By the time you got back again you barely had ten minutes to yourself to plot out a letter and scribble it out for your family in France. Onto a blank sheet of your stationary you wrote to Vivienne explaining in the simplest of terms that you were now in a relationship with King Thranduil and Lord Glorfindel, both of whom were coming with you. Of course an apology for the abrupt guests was given but an excuse of their curiosity on how films are made and your role in it was hopefully excusable enough for them to not be upset or caught off guard like when you had brought Barty along without warning. The eager clicking of your owl’s beak announced he was ready and had woken up from his nap and with a wax seal he was in the air and through your window he went fully rested for the long flight.

And they did as they had said, fetching Taule and Legolas along with the boys to watch the play, all eager to see just what you would be a part of. When the main set came into view the screen shimmered casting the recording into life size drawing the group into the seats in the audience of the magical theatre. The whole musical the Elves and Dwarves were in awe of the woman you had been born from, and practically mirrored, and stole glances at one another wondering if you bore the same talents as well. The music was a bit odd compared to theirs but certainly cheerful and amusing to keep the show going, the dancing even more so. Clearly the role had a good deal of odd dancing and a fair bit of magic to pull off the show they couldn’t wait to see the differences in your own version.

For all their worries the two barely memorable kisses compared to the entirety of the attention grabbing show your intendeds chatted amongst themselves while heading up to pack for the three day trip. Glorfindel all but hummed out, “I can tell how it would be important to the role. The sealing of their bond and the second at their wedding ceremony. It is not a gaudy showing of affection either.”

Thranduil nodded, “Very chaste, yes.” Inside their apartment they went to pack for Thranduil first, who said, “Her Naneth was breath taking. Had I not known who was on that reel I would have mistaken it for our One.”

Glorfindel, “Yes,” helping him to pull out his trunk they opened and moved to fill with anything possibly needed. “I do feel oddly at ease, yet anxious about our trip.”

Thranduil, “Yes, to travel so far into the lands her people have saved and to see its ruins while imagining what it could have been once. I do wonder what this Palace could appear as for them to use it in the film.” After a moment he stated, “I do not believe she would agree to the contact if it would threaten our bond. I choose to hope that it will be as innocent as her Naneth had portrayed it.”

Glorfindel, “Transferring it off the stage must be quite a feat. Fitting it into a city setting. When could they have rehearsed for it to be so natural to allow them to perform it so soon. Perhaps it is that iconic of a role.”

Thranduil, “It certainly instills hope for a happy ending, perhaps they wish to complete it soon to end it out through their people to, I suppose state they are here and running is no longer necessary.”

Twin trunks were packed and for their remaining time they spent it with the boys, Legolas and Taule, the latter pair who assured them the could manage things for a few days.

Pt 29

Continued on Ao3

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf, @pastelhexmaniac

Ridikulus- @long-cosmos-overhead, @partoftheminfamily, @alishlieb

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Glorfindel x Reader OC #HP Crossover #Hobbit #lotr

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uppastthejelliclemoon · 4 years

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Tuggoffelees headcanon please.

screaming because I get to gush about my boys

ahem thank you gracious anon

buckle up my dude, because this is gonna be a long one (basically because I have been WAITING for someone to ask me about this so bless you)

- Misto and Victoria were found by Bustopher in an alley one night, all alone. He took them in as his niece and nephew, and the two love their uncle.

- A few months after finding them, Bustopher brought Misto and Victoria to the Junkyard to introduce them to the Jellicles.

Old Deuteronomy and Gus were the only ones who knew about the kittens because ofc those three are best friends.

Victoria instantly becomes best friends with Rumpleteazer as soon as she meets her, and Bustopher regrets everything

Misto isn’t too sure about everything, so he stays at his uncle’s side and doesn’t really interact with any of the kittens.

Then Tugger sees him and it’s just bam Tugger’s a goner and he’s not even of age yet.

Misto isn’t sure what to think of when the excitable (and kind of cute) Maine Coon suddenly bounds up to him and starts talking a mile a minute, but it’s nice not to be pressured into talking, so he just listens.

- Misto and Victoria move into the Junkyard with Bustopher’s encouragement, because Macavity’s slowly becoming more of a presence in the city and he doesn’t want them to get hurt.

- Tugger is ELATED because yay he gets to hang out with the pretty black kitten and become his best friend.

Misto is surprised by his excitement to be friends, but Tugger doesn’t just talk and talk, he also listens and is okay when Misto doesn’t want to talk, so maybe being friends wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

- Misto is still a little wary of the Junkyard, so he sticks with Victoria and, to the surprise of the tribe, Tugger.

- As time goes on, Misto is still quiet, and really only talks openly to Victoria, Old D, and Tugger.

- A few months later, after he comes of age, Misto is taken in found by a young woman, who brings him back to her home, and when Misto returns to the Junkyard with a thin, shiny collar around his neck, Bustopher is beaming with pride.

Tugger is nervous, because Misto getting a human means that he won’t see him as much, but Misto talks to him later about how nice his girl is, and he not-so-subtly drops hints at how it’s just the two of them, and how her home feels so empty and much too quiet.

Tugger returns to the Junkyard the next week with a spiked collar and a spring in his step, Misto beside him.

Munkustrap almost has a heart attack when he sees his brother with a collar.

- Tugger’s the only one who knows about Misto’s magic. Him, Victoria, and Bustopher.

Tugger finding out was an accident.

There was a break-in near the window of their girl’s home, and Misto zapped him in defense without thinking. The robber didn’t know what happened, but he ran off anyway, and Tugger was just in awe of Misto because he thought he couldn’t get any more perfect and yet? he did?

Misto was terrified because of the hatred that Tugger had for Macavity, but Tugger reassured him and he began to practice with him so Misto could get more control over his power.

- As the years go on, literally the ENTIRE tribe can tell that those two idiots are head-over-heels for each other, except those two idiots.

“They have the same human, Dem! They den right next to each other! Bustopher even said he approves! THEY SHARED THEIR THIRD NAMES! I’m going to lock them up together.” “No, you won’t, Straps.” “If they don’t realize it by the next Ball I might.”

Yeah, Munkustrap is 100% supportive of Misto and Tugger, but he has to put up with his brother being oblivious, and Misto not being able to talk about how he feels.

Misto isn’t too sure what to call the butterflies he feels whenever Tugger gushes over his magic or the pit in his stomach whenever Tugger flirts with the queens or the happiness he feels when Tugger curls around him in front of the fire during the winter or the strange comfort that comes from knowing that his Name is Maynard.

Tugger isn’t too sure what to call the excitement he feels when he’s the one to make Misto laugh or the pride he feels knowing that he’s one out of three cats that Misto feels comfortable enough to talk openly with or the thrill he gets from watching Misto practice his magic or the utter feeling of home he feels when Misto tells him his Name is Quaxo.

- It all came forward the night of the Ball when Grizabella returned and Macavity attacked.

Neither one was expecting anything to happen that night, but Bomba had a plan, and she brought in the rest of the kittens, who were more than willing to make sure that Tugger was happy with Misto.

There was a lot more squealing and fawning over Tugger that night during his song by all the queens, including Victoria, which made Misto more than a little annoyed, especially when Plato was only amused at his future mate’s actions.

Misto was shocked when Tugger dropped Bomba, and while she was slightly annoyed, Bomba was more excited that her plan was working.

Then Grizabella showed up, and only Misto knew about Tugger’s feelings about his mother, and he could barely get through Bustopher’s song because all he wanted to do was run to Tugger and hug him and make sure he was okay and oh that’s what that feeling is

After his uncle’s song, Misto and Tugger sat with each other until Old D’s song, both trying to get the nerve to confess to the other, but they couldn’t.

Misto was trying very hard not to laugh during the Pekes and the Pollicles when Tugger played the bagpipes, but the look on Munkustrap’s face, as well as the looks Tugger kept shooting him made it extremely difficult for the magical cat to keep it together.

Then Tugger was too late asking Misto to dance with him, and Misto saw him curled with Bomba, and his heart broke just a little bit.

Bomba basically told Tugger to get his head out of his ass and tell Misto, because she’s sick of seeing them dance around each other and if they don’t, then Munkustrap will lock them up together and they’ll definitely give the poor tom an aneurism if something doesn’t happen soon.

Then Grizabella shows up again, and Skimble’s song happens, and the two toms hide behind the old car together, sitting in silence. Both want to tell the other, but Macavity strikes and Old D is gone. It helps to be able to speak without needing words as they look at one another and make a decision.

Misto thought Tugger would just tell the tribe about his magic, but then he hears Tugger singing his praises to the Heaviside Layer, and he can’t contain his smile, and Tugger can’t contain his pride and adoration, and Munkustrap is just so relieved that it’s finally happening.

Misto brings back Old D, and the Ball ends, and there was so much excitement, but Tugger knows Misto like the back of his paw, and even though he’s acting upbeat and happy as the other cats rush up to him and swarm him, Tugger can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Luckily, Munkustrap notices as well, and he asks Tugger to bring Misto to his den to make sure he sleeps.

- Tugger brings Misto back to his den, and the two simply sit and look at each other with no interruptions.

Tugger is the first to confess, and it’s an awkward, stuttered mess that has Misto falling in love with him even more because it’s completely adorable seeing him stumble and struggle to find the right words. It also makes Misto feel a spark of excitement knowing that he’s the only cat who can make Tugger act like that.

Misto tells Tugger he loves him in the gentlest voice with the softest smile and Tugger is blinded for a moment because how can such a perfect cat love him?

The two can’t help but laugh as they think back over the years and how oblivious they were, and Tugger loves how Misto blushes after he tells him that he fell for him as soon as he saw him.

- Needless to say, they were inseparable afterward.

Munkustrap is relieved and Dem and Bomba just laugh and hug them both.

Victoria is ecstatic for her brother, and Bustopher gives Tugger a shovel talk that makes Tugger realize that he is not a cat to be trifled with.

Old D gives them both his blessing and Misto and Tugger happily return home to their girl, who can tell that something has changed but she’s not sure what, but Eclipse and Leo are happier, so she’s not complaining.

- Tugger and Misto dance together at the next Ball, and neither stops smiling the rest of the night.

After the Ball, and after everyone has gone to sleep, they sneak away and lie underneath the stars, just the two of them.

- They’re fiercely protective of each other, but they also trust each other. The entire tribe knows how in love the two toms are, so when Bomba flirts with Tugger, or the kittens squeal over him, it’s all in good fun, and Misto just watches with an amused smile, because he knows that when the fawning is finished, Tugger will always be at his side, and they’ll curl up on the car hood under the sun.

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 5 years

Text

Tell Me A Story - Danny Phantom (Iambic Prose)

Author’s Comments: Hello! My girlfriend @cheshire-kas asked for a story last night and I made both of us cry at least twice. it’s very us-centered so some things might not make sense, but you can take the ‘story’ Andrew is talking about to be The Soundless Clock, or, as I meant to, it’s about Guardians, for those who remember. It is certainly Iambic Prose, though, so enjoy!

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Relationship: Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom/Andrew Riter | The Ghostwriter (Iambic Prose)

Rating: Teen Audiences

Prompt: tell me a story

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★★★

All stories started in one of the same two ways, and that was either someone left to go on an adventure or a stranger arrived in town; there were differences and nuances and subtleties, of course, but that is how all stories begun one way or another, and yet, with this information so clearly in his mind, Andrew Riter felt like he was drowning under a thousand words that only grew louder and louder.

The Ghostwriter of the Ghost Zone was known for being able to write any sort of story at any sort of moment and never run out of the right words to say, and it didn’t hurt that he had multiple published works under his name that ranged from fantasy to science fiction to even romance, of all things. Andrew had written dozens of books and thousands more words that had never been seen and they had all started the same way. Someone goes on an adventure or, in other cases, a stranger arrives in town. It was staple of books just as much as it was life.

Bilbo Baggins went on an adventure that no respectable Baggins should have ever gone on, and yet he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

A stranger by the name of Skullduggery Pleasant had drifted into town and drifted back out just as easily, but not without taking the curiosity of a young girl who followed after.

A little boy named Harry with broken glasses and a scar on his forehead had been taken with the stranger that came into his life and then went on an adventure that would never be forgotten.

A young teenager stepped into an untested ghost portal and started an adventure that led to so much more than could ever be written about.

There were so many beginnings in Andrew’s own life that he could mirror and work with or even copy, if he so chose, and yet every word forced out felt like it was being torn out of him, nothing feeling like it should and nothing feeling right.

It was only the half-ghost propped up against him and half-asleep that kept Andrew from throwing his laptop away and swearing or, even worse, sobbing in frustration. It was hardly his fault he had reached such low levels of being pathetic. All ghosts had obsessions and Andrew was no different; not in any way that mattered, at least. His obsession revolved around stories and books and writing, and yet each word he typed felt like it was nails tearing against his skin.

He was a storyteller without words, and nothing had ever hurt quite so much. It didn’t help when Danny shifted against his side, mumbling softly before tilting his head back and looking up at him with glazed, sleepy eyes that spoke of long nights and utter relaxation in a single moment. It was a look that Andrew would have tried to capture in a painting or sketching if he had any artistic talent beyond his writing.

“Hey,” Danny mumbled softly, shifting more against him before settling down for what looked like it could be a very long nap. “Tell me a story.”

“A story?” For a heart stopping (if he even had a heart anymore) moment, Andrew felt as if the world was burning around him, eyes stinging with what he hoped was nothing more than eye strain because he would not cry. There was very little that Andrew wouldn’t do for Danny - or at least try to do - but tell him a story when it felt like he couldn’t even think, well… That was cruel. “What sort of story do you want to hear?”

Danny was silent for a long moment, Andrew measuring his breath carefully because he was fine. As long as Danny gave him something to work with, Andrew was sure he could cobble together something easily enough. “A happy story.”

Right. A happy story. Because Danny could never make his life easy no matter what the case. Taking another slow, even breath, Andrew glanced down to Danny, feeling that frustration spike at himself when Danny only seemed relaxed and soft. It wasn’t as if Danny knew what Andrew was feeling. He couldn’t feel Andrew’s overwhelming sense of panic as he wanted nothing more than to tear himself apart in self-hatred because by now, after all this time, he should be better than this.

“I think I might need a bit more to go off of than that, mon cher,” Andrew finally said, trying to keep his voice light and amused as he turned back to his laptop. There were no less than seven working documents open, all of them as tangled as broken threads with no ending in sight; no beginning, either. “What sort of happy story do you want?”

There was no stuttering or stumbling, Danny only humming softly as his eyes closed for a few moments before fluttering back open to be little more than half-mast. “Andrea and Peter if you feel it, but… I was thinking… about us.”

Andrew found that there were no words left at all, his voice as deathly silent as his thoughts were achingly loud. Andrew knew a lot of stories he could tell and even more he could improvise, but tell a story about them?

But you know all the stories about us, was one thing Andrew wanted to say. The simple truth that he knew Danny wouldn’t want to hear before complaining about missing the point in that dramatic whine of his.

How on earth am I supposed to tell only half a story, could be another answer, surely. Andrew knew his own thoughts and feelings as much as some days he wished he didn’t, but Danny? One could only know another so well.

You’re really not helping. The last thing I want to do is tell you a story when it feels like trying to say anything at all hurts, was an answer that was certainly out. He wasn’t even sure Danny knew of the days when Andrew wished he had never become a writer at all.

Finally, after what was surely too long a silence, Andrew forced himself to relax into the couch, Danny slouching against him as if he was truly unaware of Andrew’s frustration and doubt and turmoil. A happy story about them was… Well. It should have been easy. Andrew knew all their stories, after all, even if he didn’t know the other half. He could still manage something simple, and yet…

For a moment, just a moment, Andrew felt his thoughts quiet and tension melt off him as an answer to a question he hadn’t been able to ask wrapped around him. He had forgotten, in all his ‘wisdom,’ that there were three ways to start a story.

“Once upon a time there was a story.” Andrew spoke softly, eyes drifting shut as his fingers flexed against the keys of his laptop. “It wasn’t a very good story, nor was it a very bad story, but the girl who wrote it loved it with everything in her.” A happy story about them didn’t have to be about them, but the spirit, well. The spirit was always the same. “She could never tell it quite right, though, and she struggled with it every day. It grew to the point where she no longer loved the story as she once had, and there were so many moments she wished she had never written a word for it, but that remembered love, the way she used to feel about it, kept her going.”

A story had started it all, really, far back before he and Danny had ever met properly like they had after that first Christmas. “The author thought the story could be better, always always she thought it could be better, but there were others out there who couldn’t have imagined a better story if they tried.

“There were people who saw those rough words that seemed to tangle and knot together, and they thought the story was beautiful. They loved the characters and the plot and the villain and everything in between, and one girl, who found the story almost on accident, really, fell in love with the story the way a child falls in love with something.”

Andrew looked down at Danny, fingertips reaching up to stroke a face that was slack with almost complete sleep, human warmth creeping up into his cheeks that not even the Ghost Zone could steal away. “Slowly,” Andrew whispered softly. “So, so slowly, and then all at once as if there had never been any other way…

“Oh, it took so long for the girl and the author to finally meet and talk about that story that brought them together. The girl was so shy, but eventually the words came out as clear as a song, praise for the characters and the relationship and the story and how it all flowed and fit together so seamlessly.”

Andrew’s breath hitched, for just a moment, before he was scrubbing at his face and knocking his glasses up towards his forehead. “You know what, though?” Andrew cracked his eyes open, looking down at Danny with too many feelings to name. “For the first time in a very long time, since the author had begun writing that story of hers, she loved it again. She… she had never loved a story of hers quite so much and, even now, the author doesn’t think she ever will love a story as much as she loves that one.”

Andrew looked down at Danny, staring for what could have been an eternity before he leaned down to kiss Danny’s forehead, lips lingering against the skin for just as long. “Once upon a time there was a girl who loved an author’s story very, very much, and everything that came after, with a few words summing up their story so neatly. You know what they were?”

Andrew leaned back just enough to use a bit of his power to send his laptop across the room, shifting so Danny could slip into his lap in one smooth motion, the teen cracking his eyes open again and staring up at him blearily, managing a mumbled, “What were they? The words?”

“Hm,” Andrew hummed, leaning down to where their lips just barely brushed, the words whispered out between them before they were sealed with a kiss.

“You are my happily ever after.”

#danny phantom #iambic prose #everkas #my writing #original

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