#I have spent over a year of my life pouring my soul into this project

[the-lonelybarricade]

At no time did I want to offend you, sorry if I bothered you with what I wrote, and I said that I stopped reading, not rereading (the first part the scenes don't have much of him so I read directly, because of what he reminds me are triggers for me but i never put the blame on you i like you stories to me are an escape and people like you are helping me always tell me i should speak so i thought i could) i never meant to suggest it was your belief like i do i said i don't know her, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about someone who helped me, as i'm not fluent in english sometimes my texts get confused, but not in the offending sense that I know of I didn't have any words that led to such an understanding, at no time did I mean to offend you or your writing and I thought that no sentence there would lead to this understanding maybe I was wrong. As I said I'm worried not only about you but everyone else, I sent the question because I've been following you since this fic on AO3 and because of that I started following your other works on Tumblr and I thought you were available to talk about the subjects of the series like many in the fandom and as I saw you answering other people's questions and opinions I thought I could send mine. I apologize for my misunderstanding. I thought I made it clear that I dindn't trying to offend it was never my intention

Hey love. For starters, I'm very sorry for whatever you have had to survive in your personal life. I sincerely wish you peace and healing on your journey.

It's really important for me to emphasize that sending authors citicism is not the same thing as sending prompts and questions. Writers love when people come to talk to us about our writing. But we are also people and we have to draw boundaries in the ways others are allowed to engage with us. You came into my ask box making a lot of assumptions about me as a person. I understand that a language barrier makes it more difficult to talk about nuanced topics and I want to be able to assume good intention, but implying someone is an abuse apologist is rarely ever done in good faith. I know you know this, because you said "I apolgoize if this sounds harsh". (If you have to write that when you are messaging someone about their writing, you should probably reconsider what you are about to send them)

Feyre's story clearly means something very powerful to you, and I am so glad acotar and acotar fic has been a source of healing. That being said, it is not a fic writer's responsibility to facilitate that healing for you. I have tagged my fic appropriately and written a story that *I* feel is true to the characters. You quoted Feyre and asked if her words reflect my opinions, but I'm not using Feyre as a tool to espouse my beliefs. I wrote that line because that's how I believe Feyre would feel in this very specific situation that I created to tell a story about Prythain unifying. Certain relationship dynamics had to change to achieve that, and I like to believe they felt organic to the storyline.

Anyway, the approach of an ask matters. If you had come into my askbox asking what inspired me to write the plot this way, we might have had a different conversation. But there was no question in your original ask, which makes it very unclear what you were hoping my response would be. (It certainly wasn't going to be gratitude)

#And again #I wish you nothing but healing and kindness #but at that same time extend that kindness towards me #I have spent over a year of my life pouring my soul into this project #I am not always going to be gracious towards unsolicited critiques

[kagesdumpsterfire]

I DO NOT SUBSCRIBE TO THE COFFEE THEORY! I can't. I HATE IT!

SPOILERS AHEAD, obviously.

Listen, I get it. I understand those of you that do. You need there to be a reason. Some explanation why Aziraphale would abandon Crowley for Heaven. Some reason that he would listen to Metatron. Why he would still (after everything they've been through and everything they've seen) believe Heaven is good. You need to have a reason to believe that Aziraphale wouldn't do that to the demon he is so obviously in love with.

You have made excellent arguments. You have used evidence to explain your point. You have done a great job making sure that your argument makes sense. And I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry. You want so badly for there to be a reason that Aziraphale broke Crowley as he did. And there is, but coffee just isn't it. At least not in my opinion.

The reason is right there, in front of us all. It has been since the very beginning.

Let's take a look at Crowley. When he was an angel he was a very powerful one. (which is another bundle of theories entirely) He helped design the plans for the universe. Presumably, he spent the vast majority of his time doing so. He poured his heart and soul into creating something he believed was worth something. Look how excited he was to finally roll his project out. He was an artist admiring his work, watching it come to life, filled with glee at the thought of watching it grow and expand over millions of years, only to be told it was all for nothing. The thing he had spent his entire existence working on was going to be wiped out in less than a fraction of the time it was supposed to last. The thing he had put so much love into, was only created for someone else to destroy.

Imagine Dali being comissioned for a master peice and putting his all into it only for the buyer to paint over it because they didn't like that the clocks were melted. Imagine someone taking a Van Gogh and painting it to look more realistic because they weren't a fan of the colors. It was like that for him. So he asked questions. He wanted to know why and was rewarded by being tossed out of the only home he had ever known, doomed to dwell in a place that was the complete opposite. All because he didn't want to see his hard work, this thing of magnificent beauty, destroyed.

Crowley never belonged in Hell. That much is obvious. He was such a beautiful and joyful creature and now, he is a demon. And he's bitter. He has every right to be. And he's lonely. He doesn't like the demons anymore than he liked the thought of his work being wasted, but he is forced to dwell among them so he does what he can to make it as easy for him as possible, as long as it doesn't conflict with his morals. And he is so very lonely. He has no one. Except...

Except for the angel that helped him prime the engines for his creation. The angel that experienced the birth of his work. The angel that tried to advise him to keep himself safe. He found that angel again at the Eastern Gate of Eden. He learned that angel had committed a tiny act of rebellion of his own. Because he felt something wasn't right. And suddenly, Crowley was less lonely. He had found someone, still in Heaven, who also seemed to realize that not everthing the Almighty chose to do seemed to be right. Someone whose morals seemed to match his own.

He never wanted to make that angel fall as he had. He would never force someone to suffer the same fate he had suffered. He just wanted someone who understood him. Because he was lonely, and having Azriraphale understand him made him less so. He tried his best to show the Angel that not everything was black and white, and the angel seemed to understand that as well, no matter how much he denied it. How couldn't Crowley fall in love with him?

Crowley said it himself so many times. Aziraphale was his best friend. His only friend. The only being in existence that understood him. That really knew who he was. He had found someone to be at his side; on his side. So it became a balancing act. Keeping the angel happy and on his side and keeping Hell happy to keep himself alive. And he managed. For over 6000 years. Until the apocalypse threatened to destroy that balance. See for Crowley, I dont really think it was about saving humanity. Not entirely. He had obviously learned to love humanity over the years, but it was more than that. If the apocalypse happened, if humanity was wiped out, if he managed to survive the war between Heaven and Hell, then he would be well and truly alone. There would be no more reason for him to meet with the angel. The only thing that made his exile bearable. He would no longer have his best friend. His only friend. He would just be alone. Forever. And after that, what would be the point?

We saw evidence of him feeling this way when he thought Aziraphale had died in the bookshop. He didn't try to keep looking for Adam. He didn't try to keep fighting the end of the world. He didn't even try taking off to another planet. He just sat in a pub and got drunk, lamenting his fall. It wasn't until Azriraphale showed back up that he sprung back into action. He was ready to give up again until Aziraphale threatened to never talk to him again. Not kill him, but leave him alone. And he does what he can to fix it. He helps save the world to save his friendship with Aziraphale. He goes back to Heaven to save Aziraphale.

And when they win he finds happiness. He doesn't have to perform the balancing act anymore. Sure, he's obviously bored, but he's content. He has no home; no Hell. All he has is his car, a few plants, and his angel. And he is content. Until Gabriel shows up.

Gabriel upsets his balance. His presence threatens his perfect little world where it is just Crowley and Aziraphale, alone, together. Gabriel told Aziraphale to shut up and die. He wants him as far away from them as possible, lest his world be upended again. And he's mad at Aziraphale for not realizing that. So he storms out. He wants to let the angel deal with it himself, until he learns that could mean Aziraphale being erased from existence entirely. That means not only would Crowley be alone from that point on, but he would have been alone forever. So he goes back. He agrees to help. He does whatever the angel says to get rid of Gabriel. He can't stand the thought of losing Aziraphale forever; of Aziraphale never existing at all. And he learns it's because he's in love. The lady at the coffee shop is right.

And he returns to Heaven again to save Aziraphale. He does everything he can to restore their balance. He helps the supreme archangel of heaven run off with the archduke of Hell. He wins. They win. He resolves to finally tell Aziraphale how he really feels. And in walks the metatron. A minor bump in the road he thinks. Until Aziraphale returns.

Then, there is his angel, the being he fought for, the being he loves more than anything in all of existence, telling him everything he had worked for, was for nothing. The angel wants him to return to the beings who made his life hell; literally. There is his angel, telling him he's a bad guy, but he can be better. There is his angel, proving that he never actually understood Crowley at all. There is his angel, destroying everything he spent his existence working for.

Still, Crowley begs the angel to stay, at the bookshop; with him. He tells the angel how he feels and Azriraphale tells him that nothing lasts forever. From his point of view, Aziraphale is asking him to change who he is. To change what he belives. He makes a desperate effort to show the angel how much the little world he's worked so hard to make for them really means to him, and he's told, with three little words ("I forgive you"), that that world isn't good enough for Aziraphale. Everything he thought he knew, was wrong. Everything he had worked for, was once again, for nothing

The demon Crowley is broken.

Now let's look at Aziraphale:

He's an angel who watched the birth of a nebula. He got to witness the Joy it brought to Crowley to watch something he made come to life. He got to witness the other's excitement. He got to see Crowley in his purest form. And it was beautiful, but the angel he knew was dangerous. The angel he knew was asking questions. Something about that seemed wrong, but also not. And then, the angel he knew was gone. In that angel's place was a serpent; a demon. A foul creature who tried to thwart the will of God. Aziraphale knows he should despise him, but he can't, because despite being a demon, he is still kind. When Azriraphale was worried that he had done the wrong thing giving the first humans his sword, it was Crowley that alleviated that fear. When the flood was upon them, it was Crowley who lamented the death of all the worlds children. There were still glimpses of the angel he once was underneath. That creative, joyful, dangerous angel. But he was a demon now. And he was even more dangerous as a demon. More dangerous, because his questions about the way things were, still made sense.

The trials of Job, is when Azriraphale began questioning everything. There was Heaven, determined to let Hell destroy the life of a truly good man and the only being trying to save what little Job had left was the creature that Hell had sent to do their bidding. Crowley. There was Crowley showing more compassion for animals and children than actual angels. There was Crowley, showing him the wonders of humanity (through food) and all they had to offer. And he tempted Aziraphale. And he won. And when Aziraphale was sure that his lie to save Job's children would land him in Hell, there was Crowley, promising he would never tell anyone what he had done.

It was confusing for him. They stood side by side for millennia and he watched, time and time again, as Crowley the demon went out of his way, putting his very existence on the line to help others. To save them. He listened for centuries as the demon pointed out flaws in Heaven's plans. He knew every point to be correct and that was terrifying. Because that way of thinking was exactly how Crowley became a demon in the first place. That's how Crowley ended up being so lonely.

Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale was never truly alone. He may not have always agreed with the other angels, but he always had them. He always had someone to report to, someone to give orders and some place to call home. Even though he chose to stay on Earth, he never knew what it was like to be seperated from heaven. He also never knew what it would be like to be seperated from Crowley, the devil on his shoulder. No matter how much he hated to admit it, they had become friends. As long as Heaven never found out, Azriphale got to spend his existence having his cake and eating it too.

Until the apocalypse came. He was faced with a moral dilemma. He had grown to love the world and all that it offered, Crowley included. He knew it was wrong to go against Heaven, but he had the whispers of a demon in his ear for centuries; a demon who made a frightening amount of sense. He wasn't prepared to lose everything the world had to offer and he certainly didn't want to live a life where he only got to have a third of what he had his entire existence. So he fought against it. He fought against the apocalypse and won. And was rewarded with being exiled from Heaven.

For the first time in his whole life, Aziraphale got to experience a small portion of what Crowley had lived with forever. And it was sad. It was a little bit lonely. He had saved humanity and got to preserve his relationship with Crowley, but he was cut off from something he had had even before he had either of those things. That obviously stung. He was still an angel, but what is an angel without heaven? There were no assignments, no miracles to perform. Just existence. He was without purpose.

And then Gabriel came along, lost, confused, and in need of help. He had a purpose again. Even better if he could get Crowley on his side, because he knew the demon must be feeling listless as well. Not only that, but because through all of time and everything else, Crowley had been his anchor. His ground. He knew the demon wouldn't like helping another angel, but the demon loved to help him. And so he did. He knew Crowley would, because if he had learned anything from their time together, it's that Crowley is good.

He gets to spend time with his demon and help a fellow Angel. Who is in love with a demon. And isn't afraid to admit it. And that's new. He wasn't aware that was allowed. It wasn't, but there was Gabriel and Beelzebub turning against Heaven and Hell for each other. There was The Supreme Archangel andthe Grand Duke of Hell running away together as Crowley had offered for them to do so many times before; because they were in love. Heaven and Hell be damnd. It was possible.

And then there was the Metatron, offering him a place in Heaven again. Not only that, but offering him a High ranking position. Offering him Crowley at his side, in Heaven, where he knew the demon had always belonged. Because Crowley was good. And Heaven could be good. He could make changes. He could take Crowley's thoughts about how things should run and make them reality. They could fix things for Humanity and rebuild Heaven's opperations to how THEY belived it should be. He could have back everything he lost and MORE.

And there is Crowley spitting in his face. There is Crowley telling him he doesn't want Heaven back. There is Crowley not wanting to do what he has always done anyway (fighting for good) this time on the right side. There is Crowley begging him to stay and give up a peice of himself that he never truly let go of. But also...

Crowley is saying that he wants to be with him. Crowley is comparing their relationship to Gabriel and Beelzebub. Crowley is telling the Aziraphale that they don't need anything but each other. He agrees that they need each other. He needs Crowley, but he wants Heaven and humanity too. And he begs to have it all. And there is Crowley, tempting him again with something that humanity has offered. A kiss.

("I forgive you" ) he forgives Crowley for all of it. For the anger and anguish he has caused with his temptation. He forgives Crowley for walking away. He always forgives Crowley.

But he is still angry. He is angry enough to leave, but it is not without doubt. He wants to stay more than ever before, but he is as he has always been; an angel of duty. He second guesses himself when he hears that Heaven has the second coming planned, and he glances across the street to see Crowley, waiting for him to change his mind, but what Crowley wants is unfair. What Crowley did was unfair. But Crowley deserves to live in a world where Heaven does the right thing for once. And so he gets on the elevator.

Whether it is to help or hinder Heaven's plan is left unclear.

See, for the coffee theory to work, you have to ignore something about Aziraphale that neither he nor Crowley will admit. Aziraphale is downright sinful.

Aziraphale is greedy.

Aziraphale is gluttonous.

Aziraphale is envious.

Aziraphale is wrathful.

And Aziraphale is prideful.

But he is also full of slef doubt. And that is Crowley's fault.

Because Crowley is a voice of reason from the unlikeliest source.

Crowley is temptation for answers that no one knows the question to.

Crowely is selflessness wrapped in a snake's skin.

Crowley is goodness in the form of evil

Crowley is kind, against his very nature

Crowley is the only reason he ever began to question what was wrong and what was right.

For the coffee theory to work, you have to take away the fact that both Crowley and Aziraphale are complicated characters.

Of course Crowley wouldn't choose to go back to Hell. He hates Hell. Hell is cluttered and full of hateful creatures that want to end Humanity.

Of course Crowley wouldn't choose to go back to Heaven. He hates Heaven. Its bureaucratic and boring and full of self-righteous creatures that want to destroy humanity.

Crowley has seen both sides of the coin and that's why he chooses to stand on the edge.

But Aziraphale hasn't. He's seen what hell has done to Crowley. He's seen what they did to that once Joyous and Creative angel he knew. He sees that Heaven made a mistake. Several mistakes. And he is offered a chance to fix it.

Of course Aziraphale would jump at the chance to fix the type of mistakes that caused Crowley such suffering. Even if it means losing him. Because Crowley deserves, at the very least, that. He deserves better. And Aziraphale has the chance to give it to him.

For the coffee theory to work, you have to ignore the fact that Aziraphale would risk everything for Crowley, including the demon himself, just as the demon has done for him.

Anyway, that got a lot longer than intended, but that's why I hate the coffee theory. It takes away too much from the characters. It's too simple and uninteresting. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong but I would be super disappointed if they went that route. It takes away from who Crowley and Aziraphale are as characters.

Sorry for the rant and thanks for reading.

#good omens #spoilers #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #coffee theory #not defending Aziraphale btw #still mad at him #but i understand #i still want the apology dance #dear sweet lord the amount of times my phone refused to let me spell Aziraphale correctly 🤦‍♀️

[denimini]

Just read your post and it looks like we share pretty much the same thoughts regarding Jikook. I’m totally in the dark today so at this moment I don’t want to assume anything and I don’t want to dismiss reality either. Are they together, are they not? I was also thinking they were having difficulties at the end of 2022/first half of 2023. Jungkook moving to this apartment rented by Hybe felt a bit weird to me at the time. He seemed overly emotional, and I don’t think it was only because Jimin was very busy, I think there was something more. Jimin seemed like he needed some time for himself, to fully commit to his album, processing all his feelings.

To be honest I am a bit confused by Jungkook nowadays, for a few reasons he leaves me pensive. I also wonder if Letter has a special meaning for them. Was it a promise to stay by each other’s sides no matter what, even though they might have been going through a rough patch at the time? So many questions. If it turns out Jungkook has a relationship with that girl I’ll change my mind for sure. I respect and support him whoever he is with. But as you said, being in my 30s as well, I really can’t think of Jikook as strictly platonic friends and personally I wouldn’t be comfortable at all if my fiancé was having a similar friendship with someone. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, it was interesting reading someone who’s not totally dismissing the video but also trying to put things into perspective, to look at the whole picture. We’ll see how things unfold I guess…

I think JK was definitely having a rough time in the beginning of 2023. Sure, he needed some time off after years of working, but I agree, it looked like something more was going on. I don't know what really happened. I think it was possible he was missing Bangtan, Jin had just enlisted and Hobi was on his way as well. JK might have also felt pressured to write and produce for his upcoming album, but finding himself unable/having a writer's block. Maybe this is something he connected with Tae over, considering Tae said he wrote and dismissed a lot of songs for his album.

Maybe JK was also going through a rough patch relationship-wise. He could've come out from a serious one or had his heart broken, who knows. He sure did seem to miss Jimin's presence in his life a lot in those times, though. Which makes sense, they've been very close for years, they're a part of each other's support systems.

On the other hand, Jimin was the busiest he'd been for a while in that time period. It was an important period for him, finalizing the details about his debut. As we know, JM's album was incredibly personal for him, as he said it was sort of like a diary and he was probably going through a lot working on it. He spent 10 months pouring his soul into that project, it was that important and personal.

I definitely believe late 2022 , early 2023 Jimin and JK were dealing with their own things and their personal relationship was very much not something they were focused on. I don't see them being together at that time, at all.

As for "Letter", I actually don't want to read too much into it. Contrary to popular Jikookers believe, I think the song was about ARMY, just as JM said. He chose Jk for the vocals, because he loves JK's voice and they've always sounded great together and I think that's pretty much it. The song isn't a duet, it's Jimin's song with some background vocals from JK. I believe they don't talk a lot about it because there's not more to say. It's a secret song, a gift for the fandom.

Personally, I too have been confused by Jungkook in recent months. There seems to be some dissonance in my mind between the JK I thought I knew (the image I had of him for years) and the Jungkook he wants to present himself as. And no, I don't mean just the themes in his songs, it goes beyond that but I won't go into details now, this isn't the point of the post.

I'll always respect the decision of the members regarding their personal lives. I do belive they should date, love and be loved, if they want to, and I only hope they choose to surround themselves with good people, who appreciate them.

Let's just wait to see where the wind will blow.

#jikook #jungkook #jimin

[depressedhatakekakashi]

All My Hearts Work, For You

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Yamato

Au: Sushi Chef Kakashi Au

Characters: Yamato, Hatake Kakashi, Asuma, Kurenai

Words: 2556

For: @kakashiswilloffire who wanted a bit of sweet Kakayama in our beloved Sushi Chef Kakashi au

Betaed by @haethel <3 <3 <3

Toss A Coin To Your Writer <3

Birthdays were a time of celebration and gift-giving. An opportunity for those close to the birthday person to show them how much they appreciated them with a little gift. 

Most people would take the opportunity to give a small but meaningful gift for their crush’s birthday. Something elegant and memorable. A photograph perhaps, or a decoration for their home. Maybe a dinner date if they were willing to take a leap of faith.

Yamato was not like most people. No matter how hard he tried to come off as normal, he always ended up making a spectacle of himself and today was no different. Instead of a small handmade statue or a nice picture frame, Yamato had gone overboard with Kakashi’s gift. He had poured his heart and soul into every little detail he carved into the wood. Because of this what had originally been intended as a small shelf for Kakashi’s restaurant quickly turned into an entire cabinet with each of the eight dogs Kakashi had adopted over the years displayed somewhere along the sides.

It was a work of art. One of Yamato’s most beautiful projects to date. He was particularly proud of how well Pakkun’s carving had turned out, with a little headband over his head to match the one Kakashi had made. The henohenomoheji symbol that was carved into the middle of the headband was simple, but Yamato was exceptionally proud of it.

The only problem with the gift was its size. Standing at half of Yamato’s height and as wide as the windows in his shop, the gift was far too large to try and wrap. Walking into the restaurant while Kakashi was there wasn’t an option, since he was only present when the place was open as a rule.

The last thing Yamato needed was to make a spectacle of himself in a restaurant full of customers. That left him with only one option.

“Explain this to me one more time?” Kurenai was far kinder with her judgement than Asuma. Well, she was snickering behind her hand; Asuma was laid out on the floor cackling. “You were going to make a shelf.”

“It— got out of hand.” Standing there in front of the cabinet he had poured far too much of his free time into creating, he cringed. “Somewhere along the way, I lost control of my life.”

“You think?” Her laughter was becoming increasingly harder to cover the longer she stared at the gift. “So you want Asuma and I to sneak it in for you?”

“It’s the only way I can think of to get it in without making a scene.” He’d spent the last day frantically coming up with a plan. Some customers left his little shop with concerns about his health after listening to him muttering to himself under his breath. “If you two can’t help me then I’ll have to give it to him at his house, and I don’t think I could manage.”

It was too personal a setting. He had only been to Kakashi’s a handful of times and it was always to deliver a new dog house or help him tend to the garden he had put together in front of the house.

“Well,” nudging Asuma in the leg with her foot, Kurenai sighed as he lifted his head only to fall back against the floor laughing even harder when he spotted the cabinet again. “I’m sure we can help you out.”

“After he stops laughing at me?” 

“Oh, Yamato.” Kurenai shook her head. “He’s never going to stop laughing at you over this one.” 

Not the words he wanted to hear, but also not surprising in the least. Asuma enjoyed seeing him suffer at every opportunity.

This fiasco must have seemed like a feast to him. A meal he would get to enjoy for the rest of his life.

The worst part was Yamato couldn’t find it in him to get upset with Asuma about it. If there was anything he had done in his life that he deserved to be mercilessly teased about, it was this moment. None of his other mistakes in twenty-seven long years of life could ever be compared to this one.

Kurenai’s opening shift was the perfect opportunity for Yamato to sneak his gift in without Kakashi or anyone else noticing. With the restaurant closed and Kakashi not due to arrive for a few hours, he and Asuma found their job easy to accomplish. The gift had been loaded into the back of Asuma’s truck the night before to save them some time, which meant they only had two steps to complete before Kakashi got in.

Get the cabinet into the building and install it somewhere on the wall.

The second task required a little extra help from Kurenai to gather some intel from the birthday boy. 

“Hey, careful!” Yamato snapped when the cabinet began to slip from Asuma’s hand. “If it breaks after all of this effort I’ll…”

Cry.

Punch someone.

Scream.

He wasn’t sure exactly which option he would end up choosing in the end, but they were all very likely. The situation was high stress enough without him having to worry about all of his hard work going down the drain because of a loose grip.

“Calm down, would you?” Asuma sighed. “It’s not going to break.”

“Come on you two,” Kurenai urged them on, holding the front door open for them. “I still have to start setting up and opening procedures.”

“Sorry.” The two of them moved a little faster, maneuvering the cabinet into the restaurant. Once they were inside and the cabinet was set safely on the floor, Yamato turned to Kurenai. “Did you get any clues about where he might like it?”

“When I brought up the idea of a display cabinet, he said he’d love to get one for his station.” Yamato was certain she was exaggerating a little. ‘Love’ wasn’t a word he could visualize Kakashi using in just any scenario. The man was too level-headed for such extremes. “Yamato!”

“Hmm?” Returning his attention to Kurenai, he winced when he noticed her glaring at him. “Sorry, I got… distracted.”

“Right, as I was saying.” She pointed towards the little workstation Kakashi could always be found crafting those perfect little makis, nigiri and other styles of sushi. “If you put it up there I think it would receive the best reaction from him.”

Examining the spot, Yamato selected the perfect location for the cabinet smack in the middle of the wall. A centrepiece worthy of Kakashi’s space. 

“Well,” he glanced Asuma’s way, “think we can manage to get it up before Kakashi gets in?”

“Considering he’s guaranteed to be thirty minutes late? I think we’ll have lots of time.”

“He’s not always late,” Kurenai argued as she made her way towards the front till to start her opening procedures. 

“Nine times out of ten is enough for me to be certain we have time.” Leaning down, Asuma grabbed his corner of the cabinet and stared at Yamato, waiting for him to follow suit. As Yamato leaned down to take hold of his side, he felt a rush of excitement bubbling up in his chest.

After weeks of hard work, he was finally going to see Kakashi’s reaction to the gift he had poured so much of his energy into. He only hoped that it didn’t turn out to be something Kakashi hated. If that was the case he’d never be able to show his face in public again.

“Hey, come on,” Asuma called out to him. “Fret about your poor life choices after you’ve installed this thing on the wall.”

Having good, supportive friends must have felt nice. People who had his back no matter what. Yamato wouldn’t know because instead he was stuck with Asuma as a friend. A man who would help him sneak a giant present into his crush’s workplace, but who would also ensure he never lived down any of the mistakes he made in his life. 

He could be eighty years old lying on his death bed, and Asuma would still find a way to remind him of the time his little shelf project turned into an incredibly detailed cabinet that was too big to fit into his two-person car. 

Thirty minutes later and a lot of complaining about ‘future back pain’ and ‘emotionally stunted friends’ from Asuma, they were finished. Tenzo had struggled at first with positioning the cabinet, but once he had centred it and Asuma succeeded in holding it still just long enough to get the support screws in, it was smooth sailing forward.

  “It looks good.” Asuma propped an elbow on his shoulder, grinning when he glared up at him. “You did well.”

He could only hope Kakashi liked the gift as much as Asuma seemed to. It was his best hope of making his feelings clear to Kakashi without having to say them out loud for the entire village to hear.

He was more likely to watch Kakashi fall in love with someone else than he was to ever admit his feelings out loud without knowing if they were returned. Admiring his work one last time, he dared to imagine just how Kakashi would react. Perhaps with that little eye smile that always made Yamato’s knees go weak, or the eyes bulged out surprised look Kakashi always had when he was caught off guard by something.

Whatever it was, Yamato was certain he’d fall just a little more in love with the man. How could he not? Every expression that appeared on Kakashi’s face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life, and that was saying a lot for a man who worked with plants.

“Well, I should get going.” There was still a lot he had to do with his morning before opening the shop. Picking up some breakfast was at the top of the list since he had failed to eat anything in his morning rush. 

“Or,” Asuma’s arm moved off him, only to be replaced by an arm settling in on his other shoulder, pulling his attention away from the cabinet and to the man now standing at his side with the prettiest smile he had ever been graced with, “you could hang around a bit longer and have breakfast with me.”

Kakashi held up a bag in his other hand, the contents obscured by the plastic but the smell of miso soup and tamagoyaki unmistakable. A home-cooked breakfast made by one of Konoha’s top chefs. It was almost too good to be true. Like he was living in a dream world where everything happened just how he wanted it to.

There was a more logical explanation though.

“Kurenai…”

Appearing beside Asuma at the mention of her name, Kurenai made sure to stand on the side that placed her boyfriend between her and Yamato. As if she was using him as a shield against Yamato while she dared to stick her tongue out at him.

“You didn’t think that we were going to put in all of this work just so you could run off before he saw it, did you?” They would never let him hear the end of it if he admitted it, but part of him had hoped to make a quick escape. That way he’d be able to avoid the moment of truth. Whether all of his hard work had been worth it, or if he had wasted hours of his life for nothing.

“Come on, Kakashi,” Asuma smirked over at Kakashi. “What do you think? Tell us before the poor man combusts.”

Taking the hint, Kakashi dragged his eyes away from Yamato so that he could properly examine the cabinet now hanging proudly in the centre of his workstation. 

The first five seconds of silence were manageable. Kakashi needed time to examine his work and come up with an appropriate response. He could handle that. 

At ten seconds he started to panic. Was there something wrong? Did Kakashi hate it?

When twenty seconds rolled around, he began making escape plans. A simple excuse and dash towards the door would save him from whatever terrible judgement Kakashi had for his gift. Perhaps he would find a job in another village, far away from the shame of laying his heart out in the open with such an extravagant gesture, only to have it crushed under the weight of disappointment.

“Well,” finally, after an agonizing wait, Kakashi smiled at Yamato. “I think it’s rather stunning.”

Stunning.

Never in his life had Yamato heard a word spoken with such love. Maybe it was the way Kakashi’s good eye sparkled with excitement or the hand that moved down from his shoulder and gripped his biceps. Maybe it was all just his own emotions and hopes clouding his judgement at the moment.

His desire for those feelings he had kept so closely guarded for years to finally be returned.

Whatever it was, he wanted more of it.

“Really?” Asuma slapped a hand over his face. “You two are hopeless.”

“Come on,” grabbing her boyfriend’s arm, Kurenai started dragging him away from the scene, “let’s let the love birds have some time alone.”

Usually, Yamato would complain about the use of ‘love birds’ in this situation, but today he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Kakashi long enough to care.

“So…” He waited for the door into the back of the restaurant to shut behind Asuma and Kurenai. “Stunning?”

“There are a few other words I could think of to describe it. How about we sit down for some breakfast and I tell you all about how much I appreciate the gift?” Breakfast and praise from the cutest guy in all of Konoha. He couldn’t imagine a better way to start his day. “Oh, but first,” Kakashi leaned in close and pressed a quick, gentle kiss against his cheek, “thank you for the birthday present.”

Heat rose in Yamato’s cheeks, his eyes avoiding Kakashi’s gaze as he tried to process what had just happened. “I—you…” No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t think of a response that was appropriate for the situation. Not when his mind was so focused on imagining what a proper kiss with Kakashi would feel like. If just a peck on the cheek had him blushing like an idiot, how was he ever going to survive a proper kiss?

Would he be able to survive to a point where he got a proper kiss? 

“Come on.” Kakashi grabbed hold of his hand, his grip warm and comforting in Yamato’s moment of panic. “Breakfast. Before you combust from pent-up emotions.”

He was one to talk. The suave act was enjoyable and likely to be the cause of Yamato’s death at this rate, but deep down he knew Kakashi was just as emotionally stunted as him.

Perhaps even more so.

If he played his cards right there would come a day when Kakashi was an emotional mess and he would adore every second of it. Today, however, he’d just bow his head and follow Kakashi to the nearest table. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get to see Kakashi’s smile for a little bit longer.

What a treat that would be.

#KakaYama #YamaKaka #Hatake Kakashi #Yamato #Fic #Birthday Celebration #Taryn’s Birthday Celebration #asuma sarutobi #yuhi kurenai

[echoweaver]

Life update since I still have no content.

I have been really low mood for the last few weeks, and creativity has been hard. I’m poking around at what the problem is, but as my wife and I say so often these days, “There are so many options.”

My wife spent last week away at a conference, and my kid is away at horse camp for a month, and partly I think I just don’t want alone time as much as I think I do. But the wife is back.

We only got to have one child, who is now 11, and I realize how lucky we are for that, even though it still hurts that infertility and failure to adopt stopped us there after years of trying. Add that to the fact that my only brother hasn’t spoken to me (civilly) since 2017, and I’m a big-family person with an artificially shrunk legal family. I am really, really sick of grieving over kids that have never existed. I’m not stuck on traditional family. My kid’s one-time babysitter has drifted into a daughter-like role over time. She’s been staying with us while she gets her career going after graduation from college. It’s a slow, vulnerable process that we have taken slowly -- kind of a hedgehog’s dilemma.

We’re also going to be hosting a US asylum seeker for a couple of months as part of a program to provide lodging and resources to asylum seekers while they’re waiting for a work permit. (The charity is ArCS Cluster, and it looks like it’s just a Greater Boston thing.) Our first guest seems like a very sweet young woman with a lot of common interests, but shy.

I think I just like having more people around at home, even if we’re not interacting. A lot of my hobbies are solo hobbies, but it turns out I still don’t want to do them in isolation.

The other achievement on my bucket list is writing. I have a (pretty bad) finished novel that I shopped around to agents for a while before deciding that this was the first novel that should go into a drawer as a learning experience. I have a half finished fantasy novel that I have a lot of confidence in. I also have a fairly detailed outline for a trilogy that I'm excited about. The trilogy is actually fanfic, in that it uses an existing world and history, though the plot and arguably the characters are all original. I haven’t written very much prose since my kid was born, though. Mostly I write Sims stuff here. There’s a.... wall there that I need to climb over, emotionally. I’m kind of afraid of writing seriously again, though it’s hard to say what exactly I’m afraid of.

The world of writing professionally has kind of fallen apart since I was shopping my manuscript around. Breaking into big publishers has become almost impossible without inside contacts. There are small indie publishers, but most advice I’ve seen is that you’re better off self-publishing. That seems like a huge leap of faith in oneself. What do I want out of writing? Really, I want to be read. Be it self-publishing or fanfic, I don’t know how to attract readers, and I’m afraid of not being read. I don’t want to pour my soul into something again (like I did with adoption I guess) and have it come up empty.

I don’t have a manuscript I’m ready to make available anyway. It turns out I don’t write linearly, so I’m not sure I can release chapters of an incomplete novel anyway -- at least not yet. I guess the first thing I need to do is to make myself pick up those projects and write. This essay is me psyching myself up.

PS: The trilogy is Star Wars if you’re curious. It is a from-scratch AU reimagining of the prequel story built from the bones of what I thought it would look like before the Episode 1-3 movies were released. I don’t know if has much of an audience. I’m writing it for me.

#Echoweaver #non-sims #life angst #too much sharing

[nirikeehan]

End-of-Year Fic Writer Round Up

I got tagged by @rakshadow and @little--abyss to do this (the latter of whom GENEROUSLY gave me a shoutout in their favorite read fics this year which has just sent me OVER the moon!!) so... why not, let's goooo! Each one had slight variations, so I tried to combine them.

Also tagging, if you are so inclined:

@anneapocalypse | @warpedlegacy | @oxygenforthewicked | @highwayphantoms | @monocytogenes | @inquisimer | @bluewren | @delicatefade | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @fandomn00blr

Words posted: ... AO3 claims it's 120,351, which I'm honestly not sure is actually possible. My stats are sorta screwed up -- a large quantity of my overall count was posted in 2019, which doesn't show up on my totals at all. 🤔 So I'm not sure if it's actually that high. I did write a lot this year, though, so it might be.

Additional Words Written: According to Scrivener, I have an additional 13,642 words that come from miscellaneous fills for @dadrunkwriting, some of which are random snippets and some that might feature in future chapters of fics, so we'll see.

Grand total of words: If the stats are to be believed, that's around 134k. holy shit. That's like two full length novels. Apparently I CAN write a lot in a short time, as long as I break them up into multiple projects and rotate through them at random, lmao.

Fandoms: 2 (Dragon Age and the Witcher)

Highest Kudos: Tactical Maneuvers, a light-hearted and frankly silly smut piece featuring Thalia/Cullen. It's got 58 kudos.

Highest Hit Oneshot: Also Tactical Maneuvers at 911 hits. It's officially my second most popular fic ever, after a Star Wars Reylo longfic I was writing at the height of that fandom, lmao.

Smut scenes: In addition to the above, there's also a smut scene in chapter 5 of Kingdom Come. That one's between a widowed Thalia and Thom Rainier. I strive for nothing if not equal representation of points in that love triangle, lmao.

New things I tried: I played around a lot with different fic lengths this year. For most of my life if I had an idea for fiction, I would pour heart and soul into this ONE THING for months or years until I ran out of steam and... eventually abandoned it due to burnout. I tried to be kinder to myself this year and write whatever the hell I wanted to when I wanted to. I wrote a lot of one-shots, but I have a handful of ongoing multi-chapter fics going, too. I'm not sure how long any of them might end up being, but I learned I do a lot better juggling multiple projects than becoming hyper-focused on one and being unable to start another until that one is properly "finished"... that would lead to a cycle of guilt that often meant I would write nothing at all. So this seems to work much better!

Fic I spent the most time on: It's hard to gauge due to how my previously explained process works, but it's probably Through a Glass, Darkly. It started as a dark one-shot in April but I was so intrigued by the nightmare au setting that I decided to expand it into a longfic. I've done the most world-building for that one, and it's the longest right now at 6 chapters and 24k words. I think the scope on that one is the most ambitious too, as it's a cat-and-mouse game between Thalia Trevelyan, Cullen and Samson, and I'm hoping to expand the cast of on-screen characters as well. Also Thalia and Cullen might have to actually like, idk, fix the nightmare world at some point 🤣 and that's not even addressing the tension that keeps getting weirder and weirder between Thalia and Samson...

Fic I spent the least time on: Hard to say for sure, but probably one of the one-shots I wrote for Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle that came to me in a flash, like Shadows in the Rain (Thalia/Cullen in battle together), Heavy in Your Arms (Thalia/Blackwall post-Trespasser angstfest), and The Wolf in Your Darkest Room (Thalia/Blackwall post-Revelations angstfest).

Favourite thing I wrote: I just keep coming back to A Little Grace, and Some Elegance. I was in a dark place at the beginning of the year and banged out 10k in a week or two in some sort of fugue state. It's technically Thalia/Cullen, but focuses far more on Cullen and Samson's friendship, how it fell apart, and the role lyrium addiction plays in both their lives. Since it's complete, it feels like the best finished piece of writing I've done this year.

Favourite thing I read: I read a lot of excellent stuff this year, especially through DA Drunk Writing, but here's a few that stick out in my mind as being especially right up my alley. Love Lost Love Found by Meraad (7 chapters, WIP) is super delightful – it's the only other fic I've found besides my own that engages with the Blackwall/Inquisitor/Cullen love triangle that has destroyed my brain. 😅 Blackwall was also lost in the Fade and assumed dead for awhile, and he's come back half-mad only to learn the Inquisitor, Briar Lavellan, has married Cullen in the meantime. No one is clearly in the wrong or in the right, either — I love that sort of nuance. Can't recommend enough.

Aside from that, @warpedlegacy is writing a delightful post-Trespasser Cullen/f!Trevelyan fic in While Time Remains (10 chapters, WIP) with her Inquisitor, Theresa Trevelyan. Cullen and Theresa have married and are spending time with Cullen's family, who have been fleshed out wonderfully. I'm a few chapters behind right now, but it's a really lovely exploration of trauma, grief, love, and healing. Definitely check it out if you're into that sort of thing!

Also gonna engage in some blatant nepotism and encourage anyone who might like the stuff I write with Thalia to check out my bestie @monocytogenes's one-shots with her OC, Pravin Talavera. We devised the AU together, where Pravin is Thalia's long lost older cousin and fellow black sheep of the family. He is a bard and is recruited to be an additional advisor to Thalia – but his identity as her relative is unknown to everyone but them. I've written a bit, she's written a bit, and we have more planned. Lots of cute found family feels, including Pravin as the voice of reason during all of Thalia's love life disasters. Two one-shots by her are up currently, As With Any Shitshow and Seems Like A Real Gentleman, which introduce Pravin to the setting and the Inquisition.

Writing goals for next year: Maybe finish at least one of the multi-chapter fics I have going? I think that's a reasonable goal, as some of them aren't meant to be that long. (I know, I know, famous last words.) Maybe do more exchanges this year, if I get clued into them on time. I'm already participating in the 22/23 Platonic Ideal Exchange, so that's a start!

So, as a rule I don't share much about my real life here, but 2022 was a particularly challenging year for me personally. I just wanted to say I am not sure I would have survived if not for the outlet fic and the Dragon Age fandom has afforded me. (And, of course, an excellent therapist.) If you're reading this, thanks for making this year a little brighter for me. I appreciate you all. ❤️ ❤️

#writing nonsense #fic meme #fic recs

[starlitangels]

In honor of the 100k, let me tell a little story. Which, I’m aware, I do all the time as a fanfic writer XD But this one is my story

The story of how I got here, anyway.

I’ve been writing stories since I was 8 years old. They weren’t good, back then, and the older I got, the more I wrote but the less I could focus on one thing. I write one-shots for a reason. I have a hard time finishing multi-chapter fics—especially if I start them with no clue where they’re going or what’s gonna happen in the middle. I had (who am I kidding? have) dozens of novel ideas sitting in my hard drive nowhere near completed because I struggle so hard to focus

When I was 16, I discovered fanfiction. I started with long-forms and slowly transitioned over to one-shots as I made a little nook for myself on Tumblr when I was about 18. I’ve never really looked back. I still write my original projects sometimes. Some weeks they consume my life.

But back in October-November (2021), when I was barely a few months out of a long medication-induced depression (yay side effects), I wasn’t writing. At all. It’s been my only major hobby since I was 14. I still do other stuff like paint and doodle and knit, but writing has always been where my creativity liked to play. Not writing and not knowing what to write and not having anything to write that felt inspiring was making me spiral.

Not externally. My husband never noticed and I never told him. It wasn’t a big deal. Feeling “burned out” over a hobby that did little more than while away a few hours of my day wasn’t a big deal on the outside

But on the inside I was panicking. What if the thing I’d spent the last, like, fifteen years of my life doing suddenly lost all its joy and I never wrote again? What if I never felt excited enough about something to pour my soul into a bunch of one-shots again? What if I never found relief and release from writing again? (Writing is also my therapy and helps me process my emotions and the world around me)

I was so, so damn scared that I was about to lose all the passion I’d ever had for the only hobby I’d ever really spent the time trying to develop. Because... what would I be without my words? Who was I, without writing?

One night, in late November, I couldn’t sleep. I’ve always had trouble sleeping, so that alone wasn’t much different from usual.

I’ve been listening to ASMR since my freshman year of college. My apartment was right next to the freeway and I couldn’t sleep without my headphones in but music was usually too much. I started with, like, Guided Meditation channels before I found ASMR and that tingly feeling I get in certain situations finally had a label and I realized it wasn’t just me that got that feeling (trying to explain it to my family was... next to impossible—none of them get the response). I moved from ASMR videos to the audio-only stuff... my junior or senior year of college after discovering SalemAudio and Hollow_ VA. A few other channels joined as the next couple years came through. Namely Ycey Narrates, Siren’s Son ASMR, and Good Boy Audios.

Not long after those three joined my subscribed list, I started getting recommended “Redacted ASMR.” I know now that the ones I was getting recommended were Sam’s videos. At the time I was hesitant to click on any of them because I know I’ve got a Lore Gremlin brain and I didn’t want to get consumed by needing to know all the lore with none of my old passion behind it, the way I was moving through the rest of my life. And, also, I saw the “Parental Advisory” label that gets slapped onto music album art in all the thumbnails and was hesitant that there might be... uncomfortable subject matter, I guess is the phrasing I’ll use.

Back to that late night in November.

I was scrolling through recommended videos under some ASMR audio-only I’d just listened to (Ycey, I think?), and saw a video titled “Listening In On Your Boyfriend’s Thoughts” published “1 Day Ago” and with Telepath Listener in the thumbnail.

That caught my attention because I wanted to know how someone would pull off telepathy in an audio medium.

So, I clicked it.

And I loved it.

And I wanted more of it.

So, I started listening to more and more of this channel. I’ve always been a fantasy-lover, and the magic system hooked me in immediately.

And my passion came back. I wanted to write again. I felt inspired. I fell in love with the characters and the world and the magic (both literally and figuratively) in that world. And there’s been so much variety that I never feel bored

And everyone in the Tumblr fandom helped too. I’ve mentioned before that I never got the response I get here in any other fandom I’ve ever been in and that’s 100% true. I’ve made friends in this fandom—people engage with me and send me random headcanons—and draw the Pups I made up completely unsolicited just because they liked the thing I made (never happened to me before and I’m still wowed by it)!!! 

And that has helped me so much. I feel like my writing is worth something again. It’s always been worth something to me, but the point of art for me has always been to share it with others. I grew up surrounded by music and art and stories. I was always taught that art is for yourself, but it’s also for sharing.

And you guys have enthusiastically let me share my art (both the... mediocre doodles and the one-shots) with you and been so kind and welcoming and engaging with me.

So... yeah. This is the first time in years I’ve found a story that has made me really want to dig in and write for it, and every single person who’s been kind to me since I turned up here has had a bigger part to play in that than they might know.

I recognize your URLs when you ‘like’ my stories. I smile like a giddy schoolkid every time someone clearly just found my blog and scrolled either the blog itself or my fic tag with reckless abandon, ‘liking’ everything in their path I cannot express to you properly how much that makes me smile. I still get surprised when people respond to questions I post or just send me asks unsolicited with headcanons or TikToks that are absolutely the Redacted characters or my Pups omg—because Tumblr used to just be me screaming into a void. Now I feel like people actually enjoy my presence to some degree, and that is so fulfilling to someone like me

So thank you all. It’s been a short but wild ride, and here’s to it being much longer, and just as wild!

I’ve told bits-and-pieces of this story before on this blog, but here’s the raw truth of it.

#about me

[wondermentishere]

feeling pretty emotional right now. this song speaks to my soul, especially the words, “hurt dont heal when im always tryna hide.” im done hiding. i spent about 6 hours today in and out of clinics/hospitals and all i could feel on the way home was exhaustion. my arm is in pain, yes, but emotionally i felt like it was my first time breathing with relief all day. i had a moment with myself in the car, before i went in to see the doctor, that i decided to use to pray. i paused and pondered, “who should i channel my energy towards?” God? my ancestors and spirit guides? my Ori? i dont pray often, but when i do these are the beings i usually focus on. this time was different though. i felt like i just needed to pour energy and care on myself in the moment. i was so in need of comfort and care that i knew projecting outwards into the sky would still leave me feeling unseen and untouched. so, i decided to just be still and breathe. it didnt last for long, but it was all i needed to pick myself up and tread towards my destiny.

i have a complicated relationship with my mother. i love her, but i cant count on her. i never could, and this time was no different. the past couple of days ive found myself distraught and disturbed over the reality that she would not be extending help that we both know i need. ive put in alot of work with my therapist over the past year to wean myself off of feeling like i need my mom. my expectations of her just break my heart, so ive had to get rid of them to have a sound spirit. but times like this, when im under financial stress, my instincts are to reach out for her. my hand was clutched and it resurfaced all of the negative feelings ive ever had for her. these feelings very much so align with hatred and resentment; as well as agony. i quickly remembered that this way of perceiving life and people is unsustainable. i had to remind myself of my reality and let go, once again.

i have no one to run to. this is my absolute truth. skipping over this fact and pouring hope into a cup that i don’t sip will leave me with nothing but defeat. this time felt like a spiritual awakening that extended from my mother all the way to God. my relationship to my mom is very similar to my relationship to the Creator.

im sure God exists, but its none of my business. im focusing on me and taking care of me.

#diary #agnostic post

[simplyotometrash]

MC turns into MSheep!

Inspired by the lil anime announcement we got because I love MC still being represented by a lil sheepie~!

As usual, this is gender-neutral reader!MC

It was a total accident. You were just working on your potion project with Solomon. He was helping you with the math of it, mostly, since it was pretty complicated. You had no idea where things went wrong. There was a puff of pink smoke when you added the last ingredient and suddenly Solomon was a giant! Well, actually you were turned into a small pink sheep...

Lucifer:

He didn’t know what to say when Solomon brought you home.

You were a sheep. A tiny sheep. And very pink.

His beloved was a sheep.

Lucifer.exe has stopped responding.

Honestly, give this old man a few moments to take in the shock and let things settle.

Then he’s going to threaten Solomon because who else would have turned you into a fucking sheep?

A tiny voice sounded from the sheep. It sounded like you, only smaller.

“It was my fault. I think. Solomon didn’t even touch my potion ingredients.”

Well, that doesn’t change anything. Solomon had best change you back or else.

And those words shot pure ice through your veins. You knew when your Lucifer got pissed off, his threats were not to be taken lightly.

For the time being, however, you had to live as a sheep.

Lucifer didn’t hesitate to just carry you everywhere. What if you got lost? Or Beel tried to eat you? Or Belphie thought you were a pillow? Or Mammon tried to sell you?

There were too many variables and this old demon just wanted some peace of mind.

So you went literally everywhere with him. You two still talked as normal. You even slept in his room still. 

You promised yourself to help him relax once you were human again. You knew your situation caused a lot of unneeded stress on the poor man.

It took three whole days before Solomon was able to change you back.

But when you were human again you didn’t expect Lucifer to hug you so tightly or give you such a firm kiss. He had missed his human being, well, a human far more than he cared to admit.

But you better make good on helping him relax. I think there’s some grey in his hair now.

Mammon:

Haha, good joke, Solomon! Now, where was his human? Really, where were they hiding?

He was so sure it was a prank and you were taking pictures from the bushes or something.

When you voice sounded from the small sheep Mammon nearly fainted.

What the fuck did Solomon do to his human?! The Great Mammon’s human was a sheep!

You explained your situation and Mammon only grew more jittery.

He was grinding his teeth. He didn’t hesitate, though, to snatch you away from Solomon and hold you like you were the most sacred thing in the whole of Devildom.

“Ya better turn them back! I can make money at the casinos so name the price!”

Oh he was serious. Mammon was willing to pay good Grimm just to turn you back.

And Solomon, after cruel teasing with pricing your return to human at over a million Grimm, said he would do it for free. After all, there was no telling if this would wear off or if it needed to be reversed.

So he would do it. It was a good chance to study your potion recipe and figure out how you fucked up.

Mammon, like his older brother, took you literally everywhere with him. But by everywhere I do mean everywhere. Lucifer at least had the decency to leave you out when he went to the bathroom. Mammon did not.

He was also making sure to keep you away from Asmo, who had fallen for your pink and fluffy form on sight. 

Mammon talked to you like you were still human. He treated like his human.

But he also acted like you would break at any second. He had never been so careful in his life.

He honestly cried on the third day, worried you might be stuck as a sheep. He didn’t know what to do.

Of course, you were turned back by that evening. Solomon had dropped by to check in and the potion naturally wore off.

Mammon hugged you so tight you felt like you were being suffocated.

But he was back to normal the second Solomon joked that he wanted to get paid for his efforts.

Levi:

Once Solomon was able to get into his bedroom, Levi just about fainted at the sight of you.

He wasn’t even skeptical about this.

It was just like the anime “Help I’ve Accidentally Been Turned Into a Sheep and Now I’m Stuck!”. Literally, just like the anime! 

You needn’t worry about anyone trying anything with you while Solomon worked to turn you back, it wasn’t like you would be leaving Levi’s room very much.

You were in his lap almost 24/7 save for when you needed food or to go to the bathroom. Or he needed to do the same. 

His room was a fortress so you were pretty much safe. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you got to spend quite that much time with your otaku. He could be difficult at times, especially when he was playing a game.

You actually relished the time spent as a sheep because of it.

Levi was not-so-secretly getting more and more anxious though. 

He saw the anime! He made you watch it with him in one sitting, too! What if this turned out just like the anime and you never turned back into a human?

The main character in the anime was a sheep for an entire YEAR!

If he had a soul it would have left his body at the very thought.

By the end of the third day you could tell he was totally falling apart.

His partner was a sheep. Probably forever.

With a poof of pink smoke you were human again.

And Levi unconscious because, for some reason, you turned human and had no clothes on.

You just put on some of his clothes for the time being and called Solomon.

You caught a glimpse in the mirror as you were on the phone and told him to keep working on that reversal potion.

You still had sheep fluff for hair, horns, and sheep ears...

Satan:

If looks could kill then Solomon would have been dead where he stood.

The sin of wrath was so pissed off that there was an evil, menacing aura radiating from him.

And it was directed solely at Solomon.

“I don’t even want you working on a way to turn them back. You might be a great sorcerer but I’m going to do this myself.”

He snatched you away and slammed the door in the sorcerer’s face.

No one tried to bother him as he stormed back to his room. 

“I promise I’m going to turn you back, MC.”

He poured over his books and had you give him the potion you had been making. You had to tell every single detail you could remember of what happened leading up to your transformation.

But he didn’t only focus on turning you back.

He couldn’t neglect you being in the room with him. You still brought out the calm within him and made him feel at ease.

When you insisted he take breaks, he would make some tea and give you a straw so you didn’t get tea in your wool.

Like he usually did, he read to you when you wanted to go to sleep. It was even more relaxing holding a warm ball of fluff.

But he barely slept.

He had to figure out a way to turn his favorite person back to normal.

You were still you, no doubt about that, but he missed you being a person. Someone he could kiss and hold hands with. Someone he didn’t have to worry about accidentally crushing or losing because you were so small.

He finally figured it out. He studied your potion recipe for hours on end until he figured out what went wrong. You had been given a recipe that had been “mislabeled”.

Knowing that made it a cinch to turn you back within the hour.

Now to murder the dodgy sorcerer who gave you the recipe for class to begin with.

Asmo:

“Whaaaaaat? MC? A sheep? Oh, darling, you are so cute! And so soft!!”

He canonically loves cute things (did you read the Devilgram story about him taking care of bunnies?) so he was having the time of his life.

And then it hit him as soon as Solomon laughed.

He couldn’t go out on dates with you. He couldn’t kiss you. Or see your stunning face. Your voice wasn’t the same. 

Solomon promised to do what he could to fix this, but it could take a few days.

Did he spend the next hour crying and hugging your fluffy body? Yes, yes he did.

You got him calmed down, reassuring him that it was temporary and there were some perks. He would totally get lots of attention on Devilgram if he posted your pictures! You were pink, his favorite color! You had lots of soft wool he could brush and he could paint your tiny sheep hooves!

That perked him right up.

He spent the next several hours styling your wool, somehow managing to put braids in it. He gave you cute decorative pieces to wear in your wool, painted your hooves to match his nails, and even gave you a little bowtie!

And boy did his Devilgram blow up with attention at the sight of your pictures.

You even inspired his newest clothing designs! Clothing for pets! Devildom didn’t have a cute variety of pet clothes, and while you weren’t a pet, you were very inspiring to look at.

Even pets deserved to look beautiful!

You were so soft to snuggle with but nighttime really made him miss you. Even in an innocent way, he missed skin-to-skin cuddling. It was always so reassuring.

But he didn’t have that.

He managed to get through the days that went by before Solomon finally turned you back.

And he was beginning to wonder if Solomon had drawn out your time as a sheep on purpose.

That didn’t matter, though. Not when he had to take you out on a date!

Beel:

Solomon was holding something soft and fluffy. Was it food? Cotton candy? It looked really sweet and tasty.

“Beel, no, it’s me!”

“MC...?”

He wasn’t happy once the situation was explained. But he didn’t show it. To be fair, he wasn’t the most outwardly expressive of his emotions unless it was necessary.

With Solomon’s promise to return you to normal, he just carried you back to the kitchen with him.

But he wasn’t hungry anymore. Not when his dear human was in a new and unusual form.

It caused him to go into a bit of a crisis, though.

What did sheep eat? What could YOU eat? You were a human in a sheep’s body after all. Did you have to eat what sheep ate or could you still eat your favorite things?

He sat there, staring at the cupboards and fridge, with the most worried look on his face.

To be fair, you weren’t sure either.

And you two stayed liked that until Satan said you could still eat whatever you liked, though it would be best to avoid meat unless it was basically shredded. 

Then came Beel’s next huge crisis: he was terrified of crushing you!

You were so tiny and delicate now, even more fragile than when you were a human.

It took a little convincing but Beel took to carrying you literally everywhere you wanted to go. He loved how soft you were.

Though you didn’t like how often he drooled on you because your fluff looked too tasty. You promised to get him cotton candy once you were a human again, which kind of helped the situation.

Beel even made sure to make everything you ate easy on you! He didn’t want anything to be hurtful to your little sheep body or hard for you to eat!

He didn’t hesitate to help you drink the reversal potion once Solomon got it made, holding his breath until he saw you in your proper state again.

He could breathe easy again. 

Belphie:

What was Solomon carrying? A new pillow or something?

It looked so soft and like it would be a perfect napping pillow.

He wasn’t even listening to anything Solomon had to say, the explanation going in one ear and out the other.

He was focused on going inside to use the new pillow.

Until he heard you talking to him after Solomon had given up on explaining anything.

Now he was mildly concerned. You weren’t you anymore. You were a sheep. He actually listened as you told him your story, unlike with Solomon, and he merely shrugged.

“Well, what can you do? You’ll be normal again eventually.”

You knew your grumpy demon, though. He was worried about you. But Belphie was never good at showing his worry for others unless it was drastic.

True to form, he passed out once he laid down again. You were held against him as if you might disappear while he slept.

It was all the more proof he was worried about your situation.

He still slept most of the time, he was like a cat in that he slept for hours without moving. You had to wiggle free to do anything. No one wanted to wake up to a sheep smelling like piss and you didn’t want a bath.

Belphie whined that taking care of you as a sheep was too much work, but the moment anyone tried to take you from him he immediately got defensive. He even threatened to break Mammon’s hands.

The only one he trusted with you was Beel.

Always sleeping holding your little sheep self did make him realize he wanted a stuffed animal version of you just like that.

It was so nice to snuggle with.

But he missed the normal you. He wanted to have you to lay on or go “star” gazing with. He wanted to do things with you again that weren’t quite possible with you as a sheep.

So he may have gone to find Solomon and threaten him if he didn’t turn you back quicker.

It was all for naught, as he came home to find you curled up in his bed in your human form once again.

He’d wake you up later. For now, he wanted to take another nap with you.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me fluff #waylonwrites

[jyushimatsurepliez]

{PROMOTING SOME PERSONAL STUFF + A THANK-YOU MESSAGE}

{Hey everyone! Sorry it’s been forever, and sorry for the many, many messages still unanswered... I hope you’ve been doing as well as you could nonetheless in these awful times. And for those who I know from your messages aren’t doing so hot, I’m sorry I’m so slow and inactive these days and I’m not doing much to help, but I really, really hope you’ll be OK sooner than later.

As I mentioned earlier, the main reason I’ve been inactive here is because I signed a contract with a Belgian publishing company to have a webtoon series published on their website. I’ve been working day by day on this series on top of my 9-to-5 job (which has been getting me busier and busier too) and that hardly leaves me any time to do anything else... And when I do have time to do something else, I generally take a break from drawing a lot.

Nonetheless, I’ve now drawn three quarters of the whole thing, I’m still going, and the first 3 episodes came out today! So here’s links, in case anyone wants to check it out and support the series:

English: https://www.webtoonfactory.com/en/serie/6plus6plus6plus6/

French: https://www.webtoonfactory.com/fr/serie/6plus6plus6plus6/

I know this isn’t the same as me coming back to drawing on this blog quite yet at all, so I wouldn’t blame you for not caring, and I apologize that’s all I’ve come to say today. But... Wait, that’s not exactly all. The reason I wanted to post this here and not on my main is because I owe you guys who follow me a whole lot of thanks.

Some of you might know from me rambling OOC, but my life dream as a kid was to be a comic artist, and at the beginning of the life of this blog, I’d just completed an independent comic project which, long story short, ended up being a pretty brutal fiasco on many accounts. I’d poured my heart and soul into that at the time and seeing it fail so much killed my confidence and my will to draw for quite a while. Took me years to recover, and those years were spent here. Because you guys supported me and were looking forward to seeing my art, I had a reason to keep going and even explore new things once in a blue moon. This blog isn’t successful by any means, but it’s still one of the most successful things I took part in, which is probably sad to some extent, but it also helped me gather up the strength to go and work on that project I’m promoting here today, and even if THAT project ends up failing too, I’m glad I got to see it through.

...Well, I’m not done and I gotta keep going, but... Yeah, thank you for helping me get my mojo back, painstakingly, over the course of years. And of course thank you for loving the yellow boy as much as I do if not more, we need that kind of spirit on earth <3

You guys rock, and I wish you all the best. This year, I got to get paid to draw a story I’ve wanted to tell for years, and I couldn’t have done it without you.}

#ooc #author's note #original comic #original character #webtoon #Shameless self promo

[needleandhammer]

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

[daisydaisybilly]

That fic on Colin Bridgerton was everything!!! Please do an Benedict x reader where he paints you in secret but the reader finds out and Benedict confesses his love <333

work of art | b.b

   MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

title: work of art  pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader summary: you and Benedict bond over art and fall in love, though it takes you time to realise   warning: swearing, angst, fluff and not much else word count: 2.5 k A/N: thank you so much for the request! i really enjoyed writing this and hope you like it!

Even though you had your own flat next to Benedict’s you preferred sitting in his while you worked. You would sit on the pile of cushions on the floor with you note pad across your lap to draw but, in the end, you’d give and watch Benedict while he worked.

His work was better than yours anyway. And when he’d paint or drew, he got this look on this face, a look that made you fall more in love with art, more in love with him.

“you have your own work, I believe” he grinned.

You smiled at him looking away, “I rather watch you. You know I struggle to draw without a live model” you groaned closing you pad.

He smiled at you nodding before returning to his work.

You really did love him, the kind of love that made your gut hurt. The love you felt was inconvenient at most times, you’d be drawing a live model and when it came to the eyes you would draw his eyes. Then you’d stare at the drawing, at those eyes.  After the sixth time you gave up on portraits and stuck with landscapes or ones where the face couldn’t be seen.

Before you met Benedict, art was just something that made you stand out among your four older brothers and two older sisters. You did enjoy to paint and draw and going to all the galleries and the art shows but they never really sparked joy until the day Benedict came into your life.

You remember it clearly. You were stood studying the painting ‘Venus with a Mirror’, the roman goddess of love and beauty. It was a masterpiece something you could never dream of doing yourself.

“quite the painter, wasn’t he?” someone said behind you.

“he was” you agreed.

Then you turned around and saw Benedict and all the art in the room was forgotten.

“Benedict Bridgerton” he bowed his head.

You smiled feeling dizzy, “y/n  y/l/n”.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you m y/ln. Always a pleasure to meet a titan fan” he move to stand next to you.

“I don’t think they’re too hard to find” you laughed looking at the painting too.

He laughed along and you swear it sounded like music.

You carried on meeting him once a week, at first it was just art shows and museums but then it turn into showing each other your art then just having dinner together. And now you had neighbouring flats.

“oh hell” you jumped up collecting your things, “my brother will be here soon to take me home for dinner. I need to get back to my flat before he comes”.

“and why can’t he just pick you up here?” Benedict asked looking away from his work. Paint was covering his hands and had splattered on his shirt.

“oh yes” you clapped your hands together. “Brother, I know papa pays for my flat to do my art but I don’t actually use it, instead I sit in my friends flat and watch him do art instead. What? you think something is going on? You think we’re having an illicit affair?! Where did you get that idea?” you exclaimed acting the conversation out.

You swore Benedict blushed but you couldn’t be sure. “well that doesn’t happen” he coughed.

“thank you for clarifying our relationship for me, Benedict” you chuckled. You opened the door then paused when he called your name.  

He cleaned his hands with a cloth close by, “will I see you at the Astin’s party tonight?”.

You sighed. “unfortunately. Mother is convinced this is the year I marry” you rolled your eyes.

That struck his heart, you marrying someone was painful enough knowing it could be soon was worst.

“you better not leave me hanging” you smiled bring his attention back to you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it”.

“I’m taking that as a promised Benedict Bridgerton”.

You smiled at him one last time before leaving.

Benedict watched the door shut behind you. He was truly fucked. How he manged to actually get work done while you sat there was a mystery, he could hear your soft breaths feel your e/c eyes on him.

As long as you were a part of his life then he would be happy, content. Of course he knew a day would come where you’d fall in love with someone else and marry them. And it might just break his heart. He thought of what you said, how your mother thought this was the year for you. knowing he would lose you was pain enough being there to see it would feel like death.

Once Benedict was sure you weren’t coming back, he pulled out his secret project he had hidden behind some old paintings, it was proving to be impossible to finish because you were always by his side. He would spend the night at the flat but that would equal questions from his mother.

But here he was alone.

This was his heart drew bare. You. the day he met you actually, he still remembered it clearly. The sun light had pooled in through the sky light and made you look like an angel. He had spent many sleepless nights reliving the moment in his mind. The moment you met his eyes and smiled. Remembering the memory again and again felt like his own personal drug.

He knew you didn’t and would never love him back so he agreed to love you in silence. He poured all his love into this, every brush stroke was a piece of his love, his soul.

 You sat in front of the mirror the mirror looking at yourself. Your hair was done. You had your best outfit on. everything was perfect but something, something was missing. What if you did meet the person you would marry. two of your brothers and one sister were married already, why wouldn’t it be your turn. But it wasn’t the life you wanted.

A married life being the perfect partner doing whatever is asked of you. you wanted a life full of colour and art with Benedict by your side. Benedict. A smile took over your face, you loved him so much. He was so close to your reach but so far away at the same time.

You met your own eyes. “I love you Benedict. I always have and I will for the rest of my life” you whispered to yourself. The thought of losing him had become too much, you battled with yourself the whole way home and the whole times as you dressed. If you were going to lose him let it be because you told him the truth. Not when he fell for another.

Maybe just maybe the feels the same.

You had only been at the party for an hour and you had already met three suitors your mother had picked out all who were closer to her age than yours, but like  she said you couldn’t afford to be picky. You smiled and nodded as whatever their name was spoke, over their shoulder you spotted Benedict stood in the shadows with a bottle of wine in his hands. He pointed to the room behind him.

“I’m sorry” you cut them off mid-sentence, “if you would excuse me” you smiled walking away.

When you walked into the room you found Benedict sat on the floor in the dark. “come sit here don’t want to risk being caught” he waved you over.

You sat next to him reaching out of the bottle. “hope you got the good stuff. I need it”.

“not found your perfect match yet?” he laughed.

You nearly chocked on the drink. “god no. they were all old” you laughed. You took another swig and sighed. “she wants me to be the perfect child but I can’t be” you lent your head against the wall.

“we could run away to France” he said so seriously it shocked you.

You looked at him feeling breathless. You opened your mouth to speak, this could be the moment to tell him. tell him and run away to France and never look back. Your nerves ran out last minute. “I feel like dancing will you dance with me?”.

You jumped to your feet mentally kicking yourself for saying something so dumb. Benedict felt the last bit of hope he had die when you changed the subject so fast. He joined you standing in the middle of the room. If this is the only way he could be close to you he would take it.

You stood in front of each other, looking into his eyes.

Silently you both got into the right place. You could faintly hear the music playing from the main room. He put his hand against your back, you supressed a shiver. No one said anything while you danced.

Your eyes met his and it that moment you were breathless.

You were so close now. After a shaky breath you noticed you had stopped moving and were looking at each other now. His eyes fell down to your lips for a second before they met your eyes again.

You took a wobbly step back and exhaled. “my mama will be looking for me”.

“y/n” he stepped forward.

“she’ll go mad too, I left whatever their name was standing there” you laughed moving even more away from him. You left the room as fast as you could.

He was to shocked to follow after you. Just a few moments ago he was so close to you, touching you. He wanted to kiss, god how he wanted to kiss you and he thought maybe you wanted to kiss him as well but you walked away.

He wanted to paint. Every time he was hit with reality, he pained you, imagining you did love him back. It was a dream but he was all tied up in it. He was tied up in you.

He took a deep breath, he left the room, he left the whole building, not looking at anyone as he did. He wanted nothing more than to see you again but you would probably be with someone else, maybe evening falling in love.

It hurt to leave Benedict alone. But you were reading to much into things. He didn’t want to kiss you, why would he. You had just made him uncomfortable. You were battling with yourself when you saw Benedict walked through the main room to the doors.

The rest of the room seemed to disappear. You could only see him walking away from where you left him. Had you made him that uncomfortable he had to leave, he didn’t even say goodbye. You wanted to run after him and admit everything, give him your hand, heart, give him anything he asked. He just had to ask you.

“stay here” you mother hissed down your neck.

“I need to go” you muttered eyes locked with the door Benedict had walked through.

“No. you need to stay here and get a match” she snapped spinning you around so you were facing her. “Do you think you can just keep doing what you’re doing? Spend your day and night doing your ridiculous painting like that will get you anywhere”.

You were speechless. You knew no one took your art seriously but it hadn’t been said to your face. you had spent years with your back to a door keeping the truth out. “I don’t care” you started walking away.

“y/n” you didn’t listen as your mother called your name.

You didn’t care that people were looking from her to you.  

You only cared about Benedict.

Benedict knew he was in for it when the got home and his mother saw his dress shirt was covered in paint, but right now he felt calm. You were in front of him, well the painting version of you was. He was almost done and soon this version of you would be gone too.

Apart of him hoped that his feelings would go too. It would make things easier if they did but who would he be if he didn’t love you. He had loved you for so long it was buried into his bones.

You knew Benedict like you knew yourself, you were so like sometimes it felt like your souls were one but they had be halved to make two people.

He would be in this flat painting you hoped he was waiting for you. you had enough of being scared and keeping everything locked up, you would tell him how you felt and face whatever followed. Once you reached the building you ran up the stairs as fast as you could, hating past you and Benedict for getting rooms on the top floor.

You nearly tripped up multiple times catching yourself last minute every time. You were gasping for breath once you reached the top. When you could breathe again you ran down the hall, all the rooms you passed were filled with laugher and music. How you wished you were apart it.

You stopped in front of his door. You put your hand against the wood and listened. You could hear him muttering under his breath, a brush quietly working away. You smiled at the picture in your head, maybe you’d paint it one day of all the things you could pictured this one was the clearest.

“Benedict I shouldn’t-“ you started as soon as you entered the room but stopped when you saw him.

You were right, he was painting you just didn’t think he would be painting, you.

Benedict dropped the paint brush to the floor. He looked from you to you, mouth open wide. “I can explain”.

You still stood in the doorway holding the  door open. Mouth wide open. He came closer guiding you into the room so he could shut the door. “I don’t understand” you murmured. You looked to his worried face. “why are you painting me?”.

He helped you sit in your usual spot.

He took a deep breath reaching for your hand, you let him take it. relief washed through him. “its simple” he said looking into your eyes.

“is it” you breathed.

“I love you”

You mouth fell open again as you goggled at him. “you love me?”.

“I do and I understand if-“ he looked away from you so he wouldn’t have to face your rejection. But he was interrupted when you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to the floor in a heap.

You kissed him hard on the lips, putting all your hopes into one kiss. You pulled back and looked down at him. “I love you too” you smiled feeling so much joy.

He didn’t say anything only kiss you again. his hands travelled up your back to your neck. You stayed there kissing him until it felt like your lungs were burning. You gasped, “you wouldn’t believe how long I wanted to do that” he laughed.

You traced his cheek bone, “probably as long I have”.

He smiled and it felt like the sun was risen. “will you ever stopped wanting too?”

“never” you whisper before you kissed him again and again and again, and you would until time stopped.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x yn

[dancingwiththeplanets]

An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter one

Boba Fett x fem!reader

     chapter 2 / masterlist     

Summary:  Boba tries to shield you from the dark side of his life. In his eyes, you are too innocent and pure for the harsh realities of the work that surrounds him. So when one day you stumble upon a meeting gone wrong when you were supposed to be hidden away, Boba’s afraid you won’t like the pieces of him he’s tried to protect you from, or worse, that now you’ll fear him.

A/N:  My first fic in like 6 years, I'm nervous! haha This is kind of an AU I think?? Takes place after the events of season 2.  I’ve added in two OC Mandos to the entourage because I love me some of that tribal brotherhood devotion. Also.. considering making this a series?

Warnings: soft!Boba (like, REALLY soft!Boba) protectiveness, maybe over-protectiveness? small character death, nobody important, two new sexy mandalorians (we’ll learn about them later), not much to be honest.

Word Count: 5.7k+

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There’s a lot to Jabba’s palace that most people don’t know about.  A lot’s changed since the esteemed Boba Fett took over the throne and claimed ownership over the fortress in Tatooine. Castle might actually be a better word for it. Somewhat modest and ordinary looking on the outside, the true magnitude and vastness of the castle is hidden underground, even past the comfortably sized throne room.

What lingers further down the sandstone hallways are an array of rooms and staircases, mostly leading down in different directions.  There’s a library and a kitchen and even a ballroom, which never has and probably never will be put to use.  There are guest rooms that are more suitably described as luxurious suites, for the grand total of zero guests that Boba will allow to stay in his sanctuary.  

There are permanently standing rooms for only a handful of the staff: the maid, Ada. Fennec, of course. And the two newest members of Boba’s trusted, elite team, Enzo and Raul, who arrived shortly before you did.  The two are a pair of dutiful and truly impressive Mandalorians who serve at his beck and call, courtesy of Boba Fett’s ally and only recognized leader (not that he’s ever told what to do), Mand’alor Din Djarin.

Past the staff rooms and further down an open and beautifully lit hall, is the communal area of the palace, the center, if you will. Fully equipped to socialize and entertain guests with comfortable seating, a fireplace, and charming embellishments around the room. A warm and pleasant area of the palace that likewise, does not get as much use out of it as it should.  

And finally, behind the common area, which in its own way, serves as a magnificent entryway, is Boba Fett’s private chambers.  Home to the respected and feared bounty-hunter turned ruler, and you, his haven.  

You. His cyare. His beloved. The ruthless king had fallen in love with you and your delicate heart, seemingly untampered with and somehow not left scarred by the harsh realities of Tatooine.  He saw in you light and tenderness, and you gave him joy and true unconditional love.  He spent many, far too many, late nights in Mos Eisley, at the cantina you worked in as a waitress. At some point visiting you every night to walk you home at the end of your shift, though you assured him you always made it home perfectly fine on your own.  But Boba secretly lived for those extra few minutes he could spend with you walking you to your residence.  Not to mention, he couldn’t fathom why it didn’t scare the bantha shit out of you to be walking around Mos Eisley alone at night, unarmed. That fact that you did sure as hell scared him.  

On most nights he walked you home, you invited him in, unless you were absolutely too spent to spend another moment standing.  But it was on those long nights that poured into the early hours of the lovely Tatooine sunrise that you and Boba grew close and eventually professed your love for one another.  Soon after, he hopefully, and quite timidly, asked you to live at his palace with him.  Though you’d never been before, you knew exactly where it was, and for that matter, who he was.

The new king of Tatooine had a reputation for being ruthless, unforgiving, and dangerous. And you didn’t miss the way people cowered away from his presence, especially when he wore the armor.  Though, by your own calculations, every other patron who marched their way through these lands was just as feral as the Boba Fett they all believed they knew, and not one had ever been as kind or as gentle, or captivated your thoughts, the way he did.    

He knew these things. More than most in the galaxy, he knew what a cruel fate such a pure being could meet, and if truth be told, he wanted to escape with your kind soul and shield you from this harsh planet before anything could harm you.

When he asked you again to go with him, you met his hopeful and loving gaze, eyes filled with devotion and admiration, and the corner of his lips pulled up just slightly in the most endearing of grins, you couldn't help but to instantly wrap your arms around him, leave a kiss to his neck, and tell him nothing would make you happier.

“Besides,” you teased, nuzzling into his neck, “I always wanted to be a princess.”

Boba chuckled and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling your face back and tracing his thumb under your chin. “Believe me, mesh’la. You already were one.”

The next day, you found yourself and what little you owned in possessions, situating in your new home.  Like everyone else, you had shockingly inaccurate presumptions about the size of the palace, soon learning that what lay hidden behind the throne room and down the sandstone halls was a modest castle to get lost in.  No matter, you adjusted to your new environment and routine, though still unused to the respect and coddling you received on a daily basis, you adored every extra moment spent with your king.

Which is how now, five months later, you lay quiet and still as a mouse in bed, gazing dreamily at a sleeping Boba next to you.  The early morning light casting a light blue hue over the room, as the suns hadn’t quite risen just yet.  You were fortunate enough that your bedroom, the top floor to your two story chambers, was one of the few rooms in the palace with a proper window, the rest of your home and castle being underground.  

A low grumble from the man next to you causes you to hold your breath, eyes not daring to leave his form as he breathes in a deep sigh. “You know,” he begins drowsily, “the moment you wake up and opt to stare at me instead of closing those lovely eyes again and getting some more rest, is the exact moment that I wake up too.”

“You don’t have to wake up,” you smile teasingly.

“I can’t help it.” He grumbles, eyes still shut heavily against the apples of his cheeks. “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“For all you know,” You retort, “I’ve been staring at you, awake for hours.”

At this, Boba’s unimpressed gaze turns to you, eyes now latched onto yours. “You haven’t been.” He says.

“And how would you know?” You giggle back, “I haven’t moved a hair. I woke up facing you, and didn’t move anything but my gaze.  So unless you can detect the vibrations from my blinking, you couldn’t know.”

“I know.”

It’s your turn to look unimpressed, “How?”

“Because,” He leans in close to you, your noses lightly touching and a devilish look in his eyes, “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“Mm.” You hum unconvinced, eyes fluttering closed as he leaves a kiss to your nose then pulls away to sit at the edge of the bed.  You follow his form as he stretches to a stand, joints popping as he twists his back and arms around, the result of a body having gone to war and back countless times. You sit up tiredly and lean against the headboard, watching him pull on his under armor, then latching on the Beskar.  Piece by piece his body is decorated with more intimidating and handsome armor, slowly shielding your eyes from the scarred but lovely body of his that you admire possibly a little too much.

“You stare any harder and I might decide to take it back off,” Boba quips, a smirk rising on his cheeks.

You blush, shaking your head and looking away, gaze now pointedly out the window.

“Mesh’la,” He says, grabbing your attention again, his hands now occupied tugging on his gloves as he takes a few strides towards you. He smiles at the pink tint to your cheeks and your guilty smile, the remains of having been caught admiring him still plastered on your face. “I have important business to attend to today. But I’ve arranged for those workers to come and paint the library in a couple hours, would you mind overseeing it?”

He lifts a hand to lightly brush his thumb along your cheek, looking down upon you quizzically.  

“Of course.” You nod eagerly. You've slowly been tending to every inch of the palace, erasing all remnants of the Hutt’s and adding in touches of comfort and warmth wherever you can.  You wouldn’t say decorating is a passion of yours.  But this is your home now, you might as well fill it with things you admire.  Plus, Boba said if you didn’t take over the project, he’d just paint everything grey and toss out the old furniture without replacements.  

You shiver as you untuck yourself from your velvety comforter.  For a fortress built on possibly one of the hottest planets in the Outer Rim, this place can get cold.  Probably due to the fact that it’s rooted so deeply underground.

Happy to have something to do, you head to the fresher for a quick wash before Boba leaves to his duties.  You exit your chambers together, Enzo and Raul already waiting in the common area for you both.  Upon seeing them, you turn and leave a gentle kiss to the cheek of Boba’s helmet for a final moment of private intimacy before you descend the staircase, hearing him chuckle fondly at your action as he follows.  

“Good morning Fett, my lady.” Enzo bows lowly, turning to you.  You laugh and shove his shoulder upon reaching the pair of them. You can hear the hint of amusement in his voice as Raul shakes his head beside him.

“Good morning gentlemen.” You smile.

Boba huffs coming to stand beside you, “Gentlemen.” He scoffs at your words.

Raul clears his throat, “Crane should be here soon, boss.” He says, visor trained on Boba and arms crossed over his chest, gaze briefly turning towards you before meeting the boss again.  

You look towards your partner, “Your meeting today?” You ask.

“Yes.” He says, giving a quick nod.

“Alright,” You say, glancing at the suspiciously still trio of Beskar-clad men, “I’m going to the kitchens to have some breakfast.  Then I’ll meet up with those workers in the library.”

Boba nods again, confirming your agenda.

You stare up at him, waiting for him to sputter out whatever it is you know he’s wanting to say.  

“...Then,” You go on, “I guess I will, do some reading or...baking or...stare at the wall or something.”

“Sounds like a riveting afternoon,” Raul says after a more than comfortable silence.

“Okay,” you smile, chuckling a little and taking a step back, choosing to dismiss yourself now before the awkwardness has a chance to develop. “Have fun with Mr. Crane.”

Boba clears his throat as you turn towards the kitchens, stopping you with a hand on your arm. “Mesh’la,” He says, glancing pointedly at Raul and Enzo, who move to wait for him a few paces away. “Could you do me a favor?”

You tilt your head suspiciously, urging him to go on. “You’re acting rather strange Boba Fett.” You tease.

He grunts, “I’ve had a lot of trouble with Calendei Crane. He’s not a very loyal man, nor do I consider him a good one.  He’s had a lot of chances to make up for the problems he’s caused me, but recently he went too far, and we’re not going to be having a charming reunion just now.” He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is... he didn’t necessarily come here by his own accord.  And he won’t be very happy that he is.”

“I understand.” You nod.

Boba frowns inside his helm. I don’t think you do cyare.

“Alright then,” he says, “That said, I would really appreciate it if you would stay away from the throne room today.  At least until I send Fennec or Enzo for you or something.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his hand opening and closing nervously by his side. He thinks you don’t know what he means. Oh Boba.

You reach for his hand as you step closer to his form. “Boba,” you whisper, leaning up towards him with a small smile, “You are the most kind and gentle man I’ve ever known. But I know that you are a man of business and principles.  You do whatever you have to do. If an employee of yours is out there making a mess under your name, I would expect nothing less than for you to handle it.” You say, hoping to reassure him.

You raise your free hand to rest against the cheek of his helmet, “But I’ll busy myself back here until you’re done.”

He lets out a sigh in relief, hand reaching up to grab yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” He says, before tenderly tapping his forehead against yours and turning to get on with his day.

You shake your head at his retreating form.  Despite all of the darkness and dirt and the scum that surround Boba in his everyday life, he really does try everything in his power to not let it touch you.  It’s almost as if despite the late night confessions and raw conversations you two have shared about your lives don’t translate to reality for Boba.  As if he somehow believes you don’t truly know what it is that he does and who he is.

He seems to forget that you yourself have grown up with the same scum that populate this planet.  In the nearest city to here in fact, where all the mudscuppers of the galaxy would stay and wreak havoc when this was once Jabba’s palace. You’ve seen things. You’ve experienced things. Some things that, shamefully, you haven’t yet shared with Boba.  But what you can say with the utmost of certainty is that you know exactly the kind of people that like to deal in underworld business.  And you know that there are many cruel beings out there. But Boba, he certainly isn’t one of them.

You sigh, turning to pass through the empty dining hall to the kitchens. The light tapping of your shoes echoing in the desolate space. A part of you wishes you had said to him, ‘Oh Boba, when will you learn that you don’t need to protect me from yourself?’

A necessary conversation for another time, you decide.

Shaking away your thoughts, you wander into the kitchen, making yourself a quick breakfast and giggling a while with Ada, as she begins preparing a stew for all staff members taking up a residency in the palace.  She often prepares meals in substantial quantities, making enough for herself, you, Boba, Fennec, and the two other Mandalorians to all enjoy in your respective chambers.

“Take some of these to go dear!” She calls out, chasing after your form as you exit the kitchen. “You had better be eating a balanced diet.” She chides, handing you a towel with some berries on it.

“Thank you Ada,” you smile, leaving a peck to her cheek and making your way to the library.

When you arrive, the workers still aren't there, and you hum glancing at the clock.  They should have already been here and working at least for an hour by now.  

Expecting their arrival soon, you busy yourself with cleaning dusty bookshelves and making piles of the previous inhabitants' furnishings and decorations you’d rather not have.

You plop down on the floor after sorting through your ninth bookshelf, sighing after attempting to categorize everything by genre. Even opting to make a pile of books to get rid of, because really, nobody needs handbooks on slave trading and dealing in the dark business of the underworld. They’re just not something you’d like in your home.

You glance at the time again. “What on Tatooine.” You mutter, stretching to a stand.  You’ve officially been bailed on, because you've been sitting in this dingy library for four hours and if nobody’s shown up yet, you doubted they would be.  

Looking around at the mess you’ve made, you decide to finish tackling this task tomorrow, and head back down the hall towards your private chambers.

You pause to lean against the wall with your eyes closed, letting out a great yawn. It’s barely past noon and you’re already beat.

A voice calls your name just in front of you, startling you in the dark, candlelit hall.

“Ada!” You jump, with a hand to your chest.

“Mm, I’m sorry sweet one.” She frowns. “You had better go check on your Mandalorian.” She says sternly, wagging a finger up at you. “He sounds angrier than a farmer whose fresh crops have been raided by Tuskans.”

You furrow your eyebrows at her words, frowning. “Does he sound alright?” You ask, concerned.

“Too riled up.” She chides, shaking her head as she continues to pass you in the hall, grabbing a hold of your arm “Go straighten him out, lecture him on that temper of his.”

“Ada,” You sigh, “He’s dealing with a trying issue right now, and I promised that I’d stay away from this meeting.”

“Peh,” She waves her hand in dismissal, “Fine, your decision. But I did see a couple of those workers you were waiting on looking rather frightened up in the throne room.  Go on and fetch them and get on with your project. You left quite a mess in there for me to deal with.”

“What?” You look disbelievingly at her, “Well why didn't you just send them my way. I waited all morning for them.”

She shakes her head, looping her arm through yours as you continue walking side-by-side. You roll your eyes at the nerve.

The sound of sudden, unmistakable shouting, coming from much further down the hall and up the stairs ascending to the throne room stops you instantly. Your eyes widen a bit as the voice carries on, rather menacingly.  You wouldn’t want to be the one receiving the tail end of that conversation.  Boba truly does sound pissed. You wonder how long he’s been with this Crane fellow.

“Ada,” you whisper, the lower tone seeming appropriate, “Don’t you go trying to get me into trouble.” You say, pulling her back as she tries to urge you forward.

“Young lady,” She scolds, looking up at you in a surprisingly threatening way. “I have much work to do. I need my good broom which I left up those stairs, and you need your painters or carpenters or whatever it is those fellas up there are. So, let us ladies get on with our business and fetch our things.”

“If you’re already heading up,” You say through slightly gritted teeth, “Then why don’t you just go up there, grab your broom, and do me the favor of nudging down my workers while you’re at it.”

“Because I have a bad leg. Now either accompany me up stairs so that I don’t fall or go on and get those things for the two of us at last!”

“Maker, Ada fine!” You say, losing your temper. A part of you knowing she was just stirring up trouble. You start up the first step and turn to her with an obvious empty threat. “And I’ll be sure to note to Boba that our maid has a bad leg leaving her incapable of climbing our palace full of stairs.” You mutter disbelievingly.

“Mm, you do that.” She counters.

You sigh, shaking your head as you quickly make your way up, hearing Ada walk away behind you.  

That woman knows far too well that we would never replace her, you think.

Your focus shifting back to the surprisingly silent throne room just up and down the hall, you walk wearily, suddenly a little nervous.

You notice as you near the room, your steps silent down the hall, that there is a hushed but heated back and forth taking place.  

“-swear Mr. Fett I-I d-didn’t know they were-”

“-What?” You hear Boba’s ominous voice interrupt. “You didn't know what?”

His form comes into view as you peek your head into the room, watching him descend the steps of his throne and approaching the accused slowly.  You take a half step back, hoping to further hide your position, seeing as before, you were concealed behind his back.  But given his new stance, the flicker of his gaze upwards and Boba would be met with your sinful and curious eyes.

Raul, you note, leans comfortably against the wall across the room behind Boba, observing the scene from afar, but seemingly more interested in fixing a mechanism on his Westar-35.

Fennec, who, based on the fearful gaze he glances up at her with, was obviously the one to retrieve Crane, staring down at him with a daring look in her eyes, as if challenging him to try and escape this situation. Enzo stands on Crane's other side, blocking most of your view from the accused and his state. You also note that there is no such broom or fearful workers around. Ada.

“Mr. Fett-” He whimpers.

“Sod it.” Enzo growls, raising his weapon to shove against Crane’s neck, hushing his pleas instantly.

You observe the creature as best you can from your corner. You don’t want to peer out any further for fear of alerting Boba of your presence. He wasn’t human, but not terribly strange looking, a blue being, probably a humanoid, but with claws for nails that were certainly not cute. He’s on his knees, head bowed forward in obvious shame and fear, and hands tied firmly behind his back. This guy looks like he’s had a pretty bad couple of days, but you still can’t tell if you feel sorry for him or not.

Boba reaches Crane in the center of the room, and in a manner so menacing and calculated, that exerts a level of dominance that frightens even you, he crouches down on his heels, meeting Crane eye-level.

Boba slowly pulls his blaster out of its holster and lifts it to Crane’s ducked chin, using the barrel to tilt Crane’s face up to meet his.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you feel yourself running out of air.

“You didn’t know what Crane?” Boba repeats in a tone so hushed you could barely hear. “That you were selling information to an enemy of mine?  That you were betraying the trust that I had put in you? That you stole my property, weapons, and money to give to people who wish to do me harm?”

You can’t help but to feel anxious and on edge. Knowing very well you are not supposed to be in here observing the scene in front of you. Wondering if at this point, you should even try to make your silent leave.

Crane, seemingly breathless, and having accepted his fate, nods in defeat. “I’m sorry Boba.” He whispers.

“You violated the terms of our agreement Crane.” Boba says, rising up and adjusting his belt.  “I gave you opportunity after opportunity to make it right.  I told you that this was your final chance. I even gave you the kriffing option to leave!” He finally shouts.

You watch his chest heaving in rage as he continues to stare down at a defeated Crane.

Boba scoffs, “What did you expect would happen?”

The crippled man on the floor does what you least expect, his gaze lazily lifting up to meet Boba’s as he chuckles carelessly, his laugh soon transforming into a truly mad howl.

He looks like an absolute maniac.

Your eyes furrow in extreme discomfort as you watch the dramatic change in scene, and despite the obvious upper-hand that Boba has, you feel the urge to stand between him and this disturbed creature.

“I-I guess,” Crane breathes out between spouts of laughter, “I held out hope. Hope that the famous Boba Fett, oh-” he croaks out another laugh, “I’m sorry, that the-the King of Tatooine, would finally meet his demise like he should have all those years ago in the sarlacc. Oh, Boba, we were all so pleased when we thought you’d met the maker that day, but you...you son of a nerf herder, you lived. And WHY should you get to live while the rest of us died off! TELL ME BOBA FETT! Because you know something? You of all beings do NOT get to cheat death. You think you’re better than the rest of us, trying to make amends for your crimes against nature? Against the galaxy?”  

Crane leans his head forward nearly slamming it against the ground as he violently spits out, “-No, no, no, no old friend. You are the worst, most foul kind of scum to EVER have walked these lands. You are no worse than Jabba, don’t you kid yourself. And if I have played any part in your demise, I’ll have avenged my brothers who have died at your hand. Your end is coming Boba Fett! You will fall, and so will anyone who tries to prevent your end!” He carries on, doubling over while spitting out the most ludicrous threats between maniacal laughter.

A wave of pure fear plunges your heart, leaving a sickly feeling in your gut at his words. You don’t even realize that your longing to protect Boba has unconsciously pulled your body a few steps in his direction. Your error not evident to you until Raul moves from across the room, capturing your attention. You glance at him only to see the gaze of his visor already locked onto yours and his body making quick strides towards you.  

“Boss-” Raul says hurriedly, but not before a shot rings out, causing you to jump and gasp, hands flying up in front of you in instinctual defense.

You open your eyes and turn your head to face Boba just as his gaze snaps in your direction. Even with the visor covering his face you can see he’s taken aback by your presence. His arm lowers quickly with his blaster, holstering it.  Everyone’s attention seems to be on you.

Nobody moves for a moment, and still frozen, your gaze flicks down to the dead being, monster, who lays thankfully slain on the floor.

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you avert your gaze back up to Boba, whose arm shifts nervously at his side.

“Ner- ner cyare.” He whispers, his tone strained and unlike you’ve ever heard before.

You take a step towards him, but don’t go much closer when Enzo shifts to exist as a barricade between you and the bloody mess to Boba’s side.

“What are you doing here?” He says, seeming to struggle with every word.

“I-I can’t remember.” You say after a beat, nervous again suddenly that you’ve poked your nose into business you told him you’d stay away from.

He stands frozen, panicked behind the harsh mask of his visor. His absolute worst fear being realised as you stand in the aftermath of an execution he himself carried out, right in front of your eyes.

Cruel. Unforgiving. Dangerous. Vile. Sadistic. Merciless.

All words he imagines were running though your sweet mind behind those wide eyes.

“Boba.” you utter, taking another step towards him, hesitating at first then succumbing to your hearts needs and taking up a speedier pace.

Your hands, which at some point started shaking, matching your more obviously quickened heart rate, raise up slowly to rest on his chest, and you swear he flinches at the contact.

“Cyare-” He mutters again, heart beating undoubtedly twice as fast as your own, fear and desperation clinging to the word, but he stops when your suddenly tear-filled eyes meet his gaze and you cling to the sides of his helm.

“Boba, are you okay?” You whisper frantically.

At that, he lets out a shaky exhale, body loosening and head tilting slightly at your words.

“What?” He asks, stunned.

“Are you alright?” You say, searching desperately through the dark visor of his helm for his warm, brown eyes.

“Am...am I okay?” He repeats.

“Yes I-I heard everything he said.” You stutter, head turning to meet the deranged creature's corpse covered in his own blood before Boba finally and frantically grabs a hold of your cheek to gently avert your gaze away from the scene. “He-he was absolutely maniacal.” You let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry I came but I-I heard shouting and A-Ada said something I can’t even remember what but I ended up here somehow and please don’t be mad but maker I just didn’t expect this-” you pause, tempted to glance at the corpse again but your cheek stays steadied in Boba’s hand, “-this monster to be here, threatening you and maker I know you’re alright, you’re always alright, but I desperately wanted to be standing between you and him to do anything to shield you from his threats I-”

“-Mesh’la.” Boba says, more of his confidence appearing in his voice and his movements but still weary nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You repeat desperately, cradling his helmet firmly in your hands again.

“I’m-yes. Yes mesh’la, I’m alright.” He stutters out, “Are-are you not afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” You breathe out, taken aback. “Never, Boba. I-I could never fear you.”

Boba’s completely stilled in your arms. It feels like hours, your wide eyes looking at him with that familiar tenderness and devotion. You almost forget about the other’s, standing completely motionless around you, until Boba suddenly turns you and urges you forward with gentle hands on your waist, his form practically shielding you, quite fruitlessly, from the scene he guides you away from.

When you reach the hallway, he allows you to pull him next to you instead, as he opens the door to the closest chamber in sight and ushers you into it, closing the door behind you both.

The dimly lit room casts a warm glow on you both as you turn to face Boba, whose back is slumped up against the closed door. He heaves in slow, heavy, deep breaths.

You stand, unmoving, only a few inches from him.  Gaze locked on his visor, you wear a concerned expression on your face, your own breaths silent but speedy as you wait for him to explain his behavior.  

He finally says your name, both his palms rising in a pleading request for you to take them.  

You place your hands gently in his, and he cradles them to his chest, looking down at them. So small and clean and innocent in his dark gloves that carry the stains of countless victims.

You hold your breath when you hear a choked sob escape from his modulator. Your mouth falls open a bit, eyes flitting down to where he stares at his hands caressing your own.

“Boba?” You mutter.

As if prompted by your voice, a more obvious sob falls from Boba’s lips, and his hands release your own, finding purchase on your hips as he falls to his knees before you.

You gasp out a breath of disbelief as you watch your partner, your warrior, your Boba, cling to your waist. Silent sobs shake his body as he hesitantly pulls his hand from you and places it under the lip of his helmet, tugging the armor off and letting it topple to the floor beside you.

Tears spill down Boba’s face, following the same trail left behind by the first few that managed to fall. You grasp his face in your hands, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks and erasing the tears that slid down his scarred skin.  

Your vision blurs as your own eyes well with tears. “My love,” You whisper, “What’s wrong?”

His forehead tightens and brows furrow, making him look like he’s in pain. “Mesh’la I-” he stops to compose himself, his eyes looking down though you hold his face in your palms. “You- you do not fear me?”

“I could never Boba.” You assure him, you voice cracking as you say the words. “I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in my life. You...being with you, makes me feel safer than I ever thought I could feel.”

Your hand leaves his cheek to smooth out the worried lines on his forehead, and you bring your index finger under his chin, urging him to look up at you. “That creature, monster, whatever he was,” You start, “He was disloyal and foul and cruel. He wanted to hurt you. Which means he wanted to hurt me. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you. You’re my everything Boba.”

He stares up at you, vulnerable, more unsteady than you’ve ever seen him, but you go on, “I know who you are Boba Fett. I know that you were a bounty hunter. I know that now you rule the underworld and that sometimes you do unpleasant things. I know that you have regrets and I know that you have a past. I have one too. But most importantly, I know that you are a good man, worthy of my trust. And I will stand by your side every day for as long as you want me here, because I love you. My mind, my body, my soul,” you whisper, tears flowing down your own cheeks now, “-they’re yours Boba. All of me is yours.”

Tears well in his eyes again as you speak, but he doesn’t hide from you as he frowns against the tears threatening to spill again. “I love you so much.” He confesses almost fearfully.

You reach down to unlatch his hands from your waist, though you’re met with mild resistance, before you kneel to be level with him. You lean forward slowly and kiss him, passionately and desperately and devotedly. He cups your face in his hands, pressing you to him as close as he can before releasing you.

“You,” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours with closed eyes, “You are too pure for this galaxy. An angel living amongst demons.”

“And I suppose you think you’re a demon?” You shake your head, smiling at the absurdity of it.

“Me?” He grins, “A fallen angel? Most definitely.”

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #jabbas palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Begin Again | Thranduil

Pairing: Thranduil x Elf!Reader

Genre: Fluffy new beginnings

Warnings: ---

Words: ~2k

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page 💕 Also, I’m big dummy and lost the original request, so I couldn’t remember what all you wanted in this one-shot. So requester, whoever you are, I’m so sorry! And if you’d like another part to expand on your full request, please let me know!

  It’s strange.

  You’re whole life, you’ve always heard about how horrible it is for an elf to lose the one they love. It’s been described as feeling as though you’ve been ripped into two pieces, forced to live on without your second half. You’ve heard it feels like tiny needles stabbing into your heart until you can’t feel anything but a stifling anguish that seeps into your bones, poisoning your body from within until you eventually fade away.

  Yet you feel none of that. You feel nothing at all, like a soul wandering aimlessly for the rest of eternity, cursed with never finding a purpose or reason to stick around. But being forced to endure, none-the-less. You can sail, as an elf that’s your right, and perhaps you would find peace, wrapped in the warm embrace of Valinor as you forget all your fears and pain.

  But you don’t want to be happy, because being happy means you forget, and you're not ready to forget your beloved yet.

  The forest floor beneath you is damp from the rain that blessed Eryn Galen a few days ago. The mud sinks in between your toes as you nearly melt into the soft ground. The forest around you is lush and green, wrapping you in its warm embrace that allows for a moment of respite from your thoughts.

  The forest is empty, only the gentle sway of the trees and emerald leaves falling to the ground your company. You stare up at the sky that peaks through the canopy of leaves, the stars are out tonight and they burn brighter than you’ve ever seen them. And you wished to climb to the tops of the trees if only to feel the soft glow of moonlight on your skin.

  But that would be a foolish thing to do, a whimsy only a child would fulfill. So you simply stand in the clearing, selfishly hoarding the only spot you’ve discovered that the sky is visible.

  You thought yourself alone, something you covet more often than not. 

  And yet.

  “Forgive me, I did not realize this spot was currently occupied,” a baritone voice sounds behind you.

  Your heart pounds against your chest, the owner of the voice easily recognizable through your deep daydreams. Whirling around quicker than you’ve ever moved, you see King Thranduil standing at the edge of the clearing. He’s lacking the usual extravagant attire he usually dons, instead opting for a slightly more casual outfit. But he still wears clothes that could’ve been woven from silver and gold, the cloth glittering in the dim light.

  “My king,” you say, immediately bowing your head down in respect, thoroughly inspecting your dirtied feet. “I will take my leave.”

  “There is no need, it was I who interrupted you,” he moves further into the clearing and closer to you. His movements are smooth like a cat, his icy blue eyes lazily focusing on you.

  “Yet you are the king,” you reply, voice hardly above a whisper.

  King Thranduil is an intimidating figure, anyone within five feet of him would agree. Not in the way that lady Galadriel of Lothlorien is - her power so great you can’t help but feel suffocated, yet it is her kind smile that soothes even the most skittish. Lord Elrond carries himself with a warm presence, like a father he is kind and caring, but stern as well.

  No, King Thranduil carries a sense of tragedy with him that can’t be masked by his cold eyes or looming figure. He is the shining example of how horrible things could get for an elf when their other half passes. So far gone is he, they whisper, that not even his son can pull him from his melancholy.

  “Then as king, I order you to stay. It would be nice to have some company,” he responds, leaving no room for argument. So you nod your head in agreeance, but keep your head lowered, tracing every speck of mud covering your toes.

  “Would you not even look at your monarch?” he asks, but his voice isn’t laced with anger or malice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think there’s a hint of humor in it.

  “I apologize, My King,” you say, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your eyes meet his and for a second, you jolt, a sensation filling your body, something you haven’t felt in years.

  “I have never seen you before. How have I never seen you?” he questions, thick brows furrowing in frustration and confusion, but his eyes remain locked on you, as do yours.

  “Y/N, My King. I just arrived here a few moons ago from the Lorien,” you respond. He says nothing for a few moments, keeping his intense gaze locked on you. And for a brief second, you swear that he could read each and every thought that passes your brain, that’s he seen every memory you have.

  “Well then, allow me to formally welcome you to Eryn Galen, Lady Y/N. Tell me how have you found my kingdom, thus far?” he asks, sweeping his arm out in a grand gesture as he welcomes you.

  “It is very beautiful, My King. The trees are so tall and the leaves so green,” you say, glancing up towards the sky, enraptured by the emerald canopy above you.

  “Do they not have trees this tall in the Lorien? I was under the impression their forest was quite beautiful,” he replies, sharp eyes locked on you.

  “They do but not quite like here. Do not misunderstand me, the Lorien possesses great beauty, the mallorn tree is magnificent to look upon, but Eryn Galen offers a different beauty. I find myself in great need of change these days, it would seem.”

  “Perhaps one day you could humor me and tell me of what would need to warrant such a drastic change?” You turn to look at him, meeting his steely gaze, and he raises a single eyebrow at you. However before you can open your mouth to speak, he turns and leaves. Leaving you behind in the small clearing, and for a moment, your heart starts fluttering in a way it hasn’t in a long time.

  And you turn back around, watching the leaves dance through the sky, free from the confining grasp of the branches. A small smile rests on your face, losing yourself in daydreams you never thought you’d see again.

  “Lady Y/N, how lovely of you to join me,” King Thranduil's voice is crisp and clear, perfectly projecting across the large room. He sits languidly at a chair, carved from wood with delicate engraving dancing on the tops of them. A glass of wine in one hand and the other slung over the top of his chair, he is the picture of ease.

  “It is my pleasure to join you, My King,” you reply, lowering your gaze to the floor once he meets yours. With slow and tentative steps, you move towards the open space to his right, where a glass of wine already poured. Your heart is racing, sweat building up in the palms of your hands as you open and close them. What feels like a lifetime later, you reach the chair, a guard so still he could’ve been a statue, pulling it out for you as you sit in it. 

  “Thank you,” you quietly say as the guard pushes your chair forward.

  “Please, leave us” Thranduil’s voice is commanding and firm, not allowing any room for questions he does not wish to answer. Silently and quickly, every guard in the room filters out. And as their light footsteps disappear, you and Thranduil are left in the room...alone.

  A small burst of courage surges through you, your gaze leaving the fine china it was tracing over and over again to meet his gaze. His eyes are just as icy blue as you remember, but somehow they seem softer than they had been in the forest. Or perhaps the light is playing tricks on you.

  Everyone knows that elves only truly love once.

  Your mouth is dry, nerves suddenly overtaking you. What are you supposed to say; to do? You’ve never spent much time in the presence of royalty, often preferring to stay in the shadows, content with a simple life. Yet fate seems to have other plans for you. Or is this just simply Thranduil, and the gods have nothing to do with his intentions - whatever they may be?

  “Do not be so nervous. Please, drink. The food will be ready momentarily,” Thranduil says, motioning towards you with a wine goblet in hand. You nod, still silent as ever.

  With a shaky, damp hand, you reach towards your wine goblet, grasping the cold metal in your warm hands. Taking a deep breath, you pick it up, bringing it towards your lips. The wine is smooth as it pours down your throat, cool and soothing to the dessert inside your mouth. It’s slightly sweet, not at all holding the bitter aftertaste the wine of Man possesses.

  You set the glass down, turning your attention to Thranduil. He watches you with sharp eyes, an expectant look on his face.

  “It is very good, Your Grace,” you mutter, and in exchange for speaking so quietly, you manage to keep your voice steady.

  “Excellent.”

  You smile, and it’s all nerves and anxiety, closely resembling a grimace rather than a beaming grin. Your heart is fierce against your chest, and you fear in that moment he will hear it. But if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

  “If I may be so bold, Your Grace, might I enquire as to why you’ve called me here?” Your voice is louder this time, but there’s a slight waver towards the end, betraying everything you feel.

  He’s silent for a moment as if he’s gathering his thoughts, figuring out a way to deliver whatever is running in his mind. You nearly crack, the apology for overstepping your boundaries on the tip of your tongue when he finally speaks.

  "Am I not allowed to simply get to know my subjects?" Thranduil asks, a sly smirk resting on his lips. He brings the goblet of wine to his lips, slowly sipping it. He lowers it slightly so that it rests just below his chin. 

"Of course, but I suppose I'm just curious as to why you've invited me to a private meal with you. Am I correct to assume you don't do this with every one of your subjects?" you say, your eyes wide like a doe, with hands in your lap. Your fingers intertwine with each other, a way to distract you from the anxiety in you. 

  Thranduil continues to watch you, an unreadable expression in his ocean eyes. He inhales deeply, leaning farther back into his chair. After a few moments of silence, he opens his mouth. 

  “I find myself wanting to get to know you better. I find you intriguing.” Your mind turns blank, all sense and reason leaving it. For a moment you don’t believe you’ve heard him correctly, not grasping that a king would be so curious about you.

  “I do not understand, what about me is so interesting? We’ve only met once, hardly having a full conversation,” you say. Your voice is firmer than before, drowning with disbelief.

  “Then it would seem you’ve made an impression.”

  You open your mouth, and then promptly close it, not sure how to proceed. Your heart is fluttering, though due to anxiety. Not this is something… different, a type of nervousness, but not due to fear. A light feeling that also leaves you light with giddiness and not weighed down by dread.

  But it can’t be.

  Elves only love once. Yet the mantra you’ve repeated over and over again seems to be losing its weight, the words no longer feeling as true as before.

  “Would it be alright, if I were to get to know you better, My Lady?” he asks, his voice softer than before, his fair face still neutral, yet less austere than it had been the first time you met.

  Elves only love once.

  And yet.

  “I would like that very much, Your Grace.” Your smile widens, less unsure than before, your eyes shining like starlight. The prospect of something new is exciting yet also terrifying at the same time. You should run and hide, fiercely guarding your already fragile heart like a dragon watches over its treasure hoard.

 Elves only love once. And yet.

  You push aside those fears, in favor of welcoming a chance at a new beginning.

  And yet.

o0o0o

Tags: 

@lunatichaotiche​ | @aearonnin​ | @emiliessketches​ | @vibratingbones​ | @moony-artnstuff​ | @ranhanabi777​ | @kenobiguacamole​ | @ceinelee​ | @thranduil​ | @samnblack​ | @abbiesthings​ | @Strangebananabatranch | @bitter--fruit​ | @keijibum​ | @lifestylesleep​ | @lilith15000 | 

#thranduil imagine #the hobbit imagine #thranduil #the hobbit #lord of the rings #thranduil x reader #the hobbit one shot #mirkwood elves #mirkwood imagine

[bffsoobin]

princeps caeli

➤ air prince!hueningkai x orphan!reader, royalty!au, historical!au, fluff, mild angst

↳ For as long as you could remember, you had been enamored with the sky and all the things it contained. When you find yourself leaving the home you grew up in, you rely more than ever on the comfort of the glimmering sky. Finding a home among the clouds you’d always admired seemed far from reality until you met Hueningkai. 

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: reader is an orphan, so mentions of loss of parents/family, some self-doubt, brief mentions of homelessness and feeling alone

A/N: this is my contribution to the Five Princes collab with @soobmint @gyuluster @honeyju and @juunnies please be sure to keep an eye out for their contributions for the other members to be posted in the coming weeks! This was a super fun project and I’m so happy I got to be part of it! As always I have not proofread or edited this piece. 

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“It’s almost noon, miss Y/N,” a small, timid voice chimed from somewhere behind you. The grass underneath your body was beginning to poke at the back of your neck, sticking between the thick strands of your hair and making your scalp itch. You were sure that the back of your pale pink day dress was being stained with a subtle green, but you couldn’t quite find it in your soul to care. After all, this was an undeniably big day. 

Just this morning, you had woken up to a special loaf of your favorite bread cooling on the counter in the kitchen along with a handwritten note from the head lady of the house, Beatrice. The note was simple, with scrawling letters congratulating you on your eighteenth birthday. 

Since you were an infant, you’d lived in the 4th Street Orphanage, cared for by Beatrice and the few staff members she was able to sustain employment for. It was the only life you’d ever known, as you never knew your parents apart from a single photograph salvaged from the house you were born in. There had never been a time in your life where you longed for family, as the other children living alongside you had been more than enough company, and the staff were never harsh like you heard they were at other orphanages. 

But today, the life you had come to know and love within the walls of the homey orphanage was coming to an end. Now that you were eighteen, it was time for you to leave the home and made space for younger children to enter the home. The thought of leaving made your stomach lurch, but you knew that it was for the best. Beatrice had helped you secure a new living arrangement in the next town over, and your train was set to leave just after noon- hence the warning of time from the little boy. 

You allowed yourself an extra moment to study the swirling skies above you. Large, puffy clouds were covering almost every inch of the blue sky; dancing and forming into new shapes with every pass of warm wind. It was one of the simplest pleasures in your life, to watch the sky shift and shake above you. The garden you laid in now had been your haven for as long as you could remember. Often you would drag a pillow and blanket out to the field and spend an entire day reveling in the breeze and the chirps of passing creatures. On several occasions throughout your youth, a uniquely beautiful butterfly who boasted silvery-blue wings with strong black markings had visited you in. It was unlike any butterfly you’d seen in the region before, but you admired it wholly every time it came around to your home. You couldn’t help but hope that it would flutter into your path again today before you had to go.

“Is she out in the garden again?” You heard a familiar, bellowing voice call from the open windows of the orphanage. It was surely Beatrice, growing anxious as the clock ticked closer to noon. All of your things had been packed before you went outside, but there was still a lingering desire for closure before you departed. Reluctantly, you hauled yourself off of the plush grass and brushed at your knees before wandering back toward the house. 

Inside, all of the other children you lived with were gathered in the living room, engaged in various activities, and you were grateful that only a few of their gazes shifted to you. You were grateful for that, as the few stares you did catch made you feel an odd sense of guilt for leaving. A blush crept out from the collar of your dress, thankfully disguised by the sweltering heat of the day as the few members of the staff gave you tearful smiles. 

The grandfather clock on the wall played its tinny, high pitched song to announce the arrival of noon. Upon hearing the sound, a group of children rose from their spots and came to hug you in turn. The ones old enough to understand your departure breathed messages of thanks and farewell, while the younger children toddled over and hugged at your legs simply because they’d seen others do it. Sometime during the shuffle, Beatrice had gone up to your room to collect your single suitcase of belongings and was now standing solemnly next to the front door. 

“Dear, it’s time to get going...” she spoke softly, extending an age-worn hand toward you. She offered you the worn leather suitcase and you accepted it quickly; hugging the case to your chest protectively as you gave one last goodbye to the rest of the home. 

Your short walk to the train station was mostly silent. Beatrice had never been one for small talk, and you were experiencing so many warring emotions that you wouldn’t have even known what to say if you could manage to open your mouth. 

“Listen to me,” she said just as the bustle of people around the train station came into view. “When you arrive in town, you go straight to the Pharmacy as I told you. The woman who owns it is very old but very kind. I’ve known her for many years, and she’s looking for a new young soul to work at the shop, and she has a spare bedroom in the apartment above the place that she’s willing to give to you. I got a letter from her just last week that she was anticipating your arrival.” 

Suddenly overwhelmed with the new direction of your life, a few tears began to gather around your lashes but you blinked them away. Your head felt hazy, stuffed full of cotton as you took mindless steps toward the train station. Of course, Beatrice noticed your state right away and cooed comfortingly in the way only a mother could.  

“We’ll be just a train ride away, dear. And I do so wish you could simply stay in the home, but you must go on and live your own life...” her words dissipated as she dug through the deep pockets sewn into her dress, obviously searching for something. Finally she produced a simple burlap pouch that clinked with the telltale sound of coins. Your eyes widened at the idea of her carrying so much money with her for such a short trip, and then you realized that it was for you.

“Oh no, I can’t-” the old woman pushed the bag into your hands anyway, leaving no room for your protests. The bag was heavy in your hand, and a feeling of anxiety at having so many coins sprouted in your chest. 

“I save for every child to give them something on the day they leave. That money is all yours. I don’t expect a single coin back, so don’t even try.” Beatrice’s words were firm as she led you onto the train platform. More and more people were gathering around, making it clear that the scheduled time for the train must have been drawing closer. 

“Thank you,” you finally mustered just before the incoming train sounded its horn and began to slow on the tracks. You held both the suitcase and the pouch of coins tight to your body as Beatrice pulled you into one more bone-crushing hug, her thin frame melding into you without care for the objects between you. She smoothed down the back of your hair with a gentle pat, and before you knew it you were being pushed into the train by waves of travelers. 

----

The train ride to the next town over was rather quick, as you spent most of it worrying over locating the pharmacy and the old woman. As you left the train, still holding your suitcase and pouch of coins so close to your body that your arms had begun to ache, a warm breeze met you. Wind ghosted over your face, brushing at the curves of your face and pushing your hair away from the back of your neck. The push of the air against your skin calmed you enough to lead you away from the bodies pouring out of the train and toward your new home. 

You faltered in your path once departing the train station, unsure which way to walk to come across the pharmacy. The thought of asking a passing citizen for help entered your mind and then quickly dissipated. If you were going to live here, you may as well begin to familiarize yourself with the layout now. 

It was a sunny afternoon, bringing families out of their homes and shop owners onto their front sidewalks to tout their products and converse with passing customers. With the sun right above your head, the rays beating onto your scalp made you feel a bit dizzy, the air thick with humidity as it clung to your skin. A knot built in your stomach the more you wandered, eyeing up the town’s bank, biggest restaurant, a few small clothing shops, and a doctor’s office. The layout of the town was similar to your own, but the streets were bustling with well dressed families, and you suddenly felt insecure in your grass-stained hand me down dress. A particularly wealthy looking family brushed past you as you meandered closer to what you figured was the center of town. The older child sent you a snide look, eyes widening at the state of your tattered suitcase and dirty shoes. 

A currently empty schoolhouse stood a few feet taller than the one in your hometown, a pair of children sitting on the concrete steps and tossing stones between their hands in some kind of game you didn’t recognize. They smiled as you passed, stopping their game just long enough to regard the stranger strolling through their town. Kiddy corner to the schoolhouse, you spotted the brick walled general store. Beams of sunlight broke over the ceiling of the building, blinding you momentarily as you approached it. With a hand over your eyes, you finally regained your vision at the same time you rounded the corner sidewalk of the store. Just to the left of you was a similarity built brick building, boasting painted block letters spelling “Pharmacy”. A surge of excitement sped through your body upon finding your destination. Hands shaking, you approached the ornate door and pulled, hearing the bell tinkle from above you. 

The shop you entered was just as you had expected; tonic bottles and boxes of medication stacked onto oak shelves with handwritten price tags hanging below them. The red and white tiled floor below your feet was squeaky clean and shined underneath the bright lights hanging off the ceiling. As you approached the counter, you noticed that the building was seemingly empty. 

“Hello?” You called, voice loud as a firework in the vacant building. There was a shuffling noise from somewhere behind the counter, then a groan, then the abrupt scrape of metal against tile. A small, quite frail looking woman bellied up to the counter. She wore tiny round spectacles that rested delicately on her dotted nose, and a flowery apron that tied loosely around her waist.  

“What can I do for you?” She asked, hazarding you an odd glance as if she were trying to decipher if you were someone she knew and had simply forgotten. “Forgive me dear, but I don’t know your last name to retrieve your things...”

“Oh, that’s because I’m uh, from the 4th Street Orphanage. Beatrice told me that she had spoken to you about me?” Your fingers were slippery with sweat as you awaited her response. Her eyes lit up with recognition and then suddenly fell with a sigh. 

“Oh yes, yes, I know of you, dear...it’s just, there’s an issue with the arrangement I had made with Beatrice. You see, my dear nephew has fallen into similar straights as you...no where to go, in need of a room...” A hot iron of anxiety drove straight through your chest at her words. You knew exactly where they were going. 

“You see, family must come first, dear. And he’s already moved in.” One of her aged hands came up to adjust her glasses, the other laying across her chest apologetically as she gazed up at you. 

“I see,” you nodded politely, holding back the anxious tears sprouting along your eyelashes. Where were you supposed to go now? You had no backup plan, and Beatrice surely hadn’t anticipated anything this horrible to go wrong. “Do you happen to know if there’s a hotel around?” You asked, voice wavering and clipped. The old woman nodded calmly, giving you simple directions that would lead you back the way you’d came and to the only lodging the town had to offer. 

----

Checking into the hotel was easy enough thanks to your newly acquired bag of coins. The owner of the place had shown you around, and now you were sat idly in your rented room. An old four posted oak bed with simple white sheets and two duck-feather stuffed pillows was about all the luxury you were afforded. A simple wardrobe, whose wood was chipped and scratched on the legs, held what little you had brought along in your suitcase. The only saving grace of the room was the two large windows and the thin white curtains that attempted to cover them. Strong beams of sunlight were criss-crossing the room, giving it an ethereal glow that almost made up for the lack of comfort. Right now, you had both windows wide open, allowing the heat and sounds of people conversing to flow in and out as it pleased. Your face was dry now, all of your tears having been shed on your short walk from the Pharmacy to the hotel. As you gazed out the window, you tipped your head up to the clear blue sky. 

If only I could live up there; you thought. No money, no worries, no stress about what to eat in a day or when to wash your clothes. All you’d have to worry about up there was which cloud to lay on and what days it was going to rain. It was a silly, childish thought; but it helped calm you nonetheless. You hoped that if anyone was really living in the sky-perhaps like something in a fairytale book that had been donated to the orphanage when you were young- that they were happy, and felt as light and airy as they could. 

The longer you stared out of the window, the more you became saddened at the thought that you were never going to be able to magically disappear into the clouds. It was beyond all logic.

After a while, your stomach growled in protest, inspiring you to make a cautious trip down to the kitchen of the hotel to inquire about when dinner would be served. Much to your joy, you had arrived only five minutes before the beginning of serving. The few other people living in the hotel greeted you kindly but made no attempt at further conversation. Perhaps they had noticed the status of your dress and decided that they didn’t have time to speak with someone in your state. The thought pulled at your heart strings, causing you to question if you’d ever be able to forge a life on your own.

Once the food was available, you ate quickly and quietly, barely registering the taste of the soup and buttered bread that had been on the menu. Your earlier interactions made you self conscious, and you wished for nothing more than to sink into the seat of the oak chair you sat upon. The night was still quite young by the time you’d washed up and gotten ready for bed, but as you had nowhere to be you allowed yourself an early bedtime. You lit a small candle next to your bedside; not for the light it provided, but simply for the comfort of the flickering flame.

Dusk had begun to creep into the summer sky as you got under the comforter of the bed. A faint purple haze colored the sky, the warm breeze still as strong as it had been the entire day. A part of you had forgotten that today was your 18th birthday. None of your birthdays had ever been extravagant, but today had come and gone so hecticly that you didn’t even have a chance to enjoy being an adult. A sting of upset rocketed through your veins and you allowed yourself to wallow in it for a moment; to feel bad for yourself and your situation and the fact that the only thing you got for your birthday was a goodbye to the only life you’d ever known.

You clamped your eyes tight against the world, trying to curb your anger at the world as best as you could. With your arm over your eyes you could almost convince yourself that everything was okay, that nothing had gone wrong when you arrived at town this afternoon and you weren’t dreadfully lonely.

Just as you were about to stand and look down upon the chattering streets, a loud creak resonated through the room. It was unlike the cream that came from the bed you laid on or the door to the room. It sounded much more akin to the sound that the panes of the windows had made when you first pushed them open a few hours ago. Suddenly sweating, you laid totally still, hoping that what or who ever was trying to enter your room would walk away peacefully.

Moments passed, and you heard no new noises. Surprising even yourself, you sat up quickly and fearlessly, opening your eyes in a flash to scan the room.

“Who are you?” You yelled and then immediately regretted. What awful last words, you thought. The creak had apparently been borne from the arrival of a man, who looked just about your age, propped casually on your windowsill. Even in the odd lighting you could tell he was handsome, the sharp cut of his jaw and delicate drop of his nose leading into the curve of his Cupid’s bow were illuminated by the candle you’d lit before. The sight of a man so perfect made your heartbeat kick into overdrive.

His dark brown hair was fluffy, curled and sticking up at points in a charmingly messy way. He was dressed in simple white clothing unlike anything you were used to seeing around your city. The shirt he wore was long-sleeved but thin, form fitting enough to allow you a hint of the smooth movement of his muscles. A few small white buttons were open at the neck, giving off a glimpse of glowing, warm skin. You were almost disappointed that you couldn’t see more of him from this angle, but you were also far too nervous to change the way you were sitting.

Oddly, there was no feeling of anxiety running through your veins anymore. Although this young man had blatantly broken into your room and was sitting unnervingly still at the window, you felt no traces of anxiety. Something about him seemed oddly familiar although you couldn’t place why. Obviously you would have remembered a presence such as his but you came up empty. 

He stood from the windowsill now, making steps that somehow managed not to create a single sound as he approached the bed. 

“I’m Hueningkai,” his voice was even and soothing, gentle to your ears. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here... and how I found you.” You swallowed the anxious lump in your throat and finally made eye contact with him. His eyes were shimmering, a hint of amusement winking from behind his dark irises. 

“What do you mean? Do I know you?” 

“Ah, not quite,” he gave a small shy smile. “I do know you, though, Y/N.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he continued speaking anyway. “I come from a place that exists just beyond the world you know. We simply call it the Five Kingdoms- one for every element known to humans. My family has ruled the Kingdom of Caeli for many eons. In fact I-“ he stopped to scratch at the back of his neck, cheeks going uncharacteristically rosy. “I am the prince of Caeli, and my father is in his final days. He sent me to find you.”

Your head spun. This had to be some kind of trick, a clever rouse to lure you into some kind of danger. But you couldn’t shake the fact that Hueningkai seemed familiar; warm and believable in his words. It was really no shock to you that another world behind your own existed. In fact, the idea of escaping the world as you know it was exhilarating.

“What is Caeli- if you don’t mind my asking. It’s not an element that I find familiar.” A blush crept along the apples of your cheeks at asking such a daft question. Hueningkai allowed an easy smile that scrunched up the fat of his cheeks charmingly.

“It means air.” He answered simply before waiting as if to see if you had any further questions.

“What did you mean that your father sent you to find me? Surely there’s no way he knows who I am. I’ve never heard of you, after all. And I don’t live a very extraordinary life,” you chucked a little as you glanced around the hotel room that seemed even more drab with Hueningkai inside of it.

“You see, as a kingdom we have many prophesies, all of which are sacred guiding principles to the actions of our people. In fact all five kingdoms have these, but right now the ones of my people are most important. For many generations the men of my family have been carrying the information of a certain prophecy that tells the story of a young girl from earth visiting Caeli. She is supposed to be kind, quaint...” he trailed off for a moment, ghosting his eyes over your figure. “And her parents are to have been from Caeli as well. She is meant to return to the Kingdom and help us fulfill her prophecy.”

You nodded despite the knot forming between your eyebrows. He was certainly insinuating that the girl from the prophecy was supposed to be you, hence why you had found him here. And you wished nothing more than to believe him, but there was one massive problem.

“Well, my parents are-”

“Passed away, yes. I never knew them but my mother and father did. You and I were born in the same year but your parents left shortly before your birth to experience life on Earth. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but ever since I first heard the prophecy I wanted to meet you. Not only am I fascinated by Earth but the idea that my-” he stopped himself short, reddening again before clearing his throat. “Essentially, I’m here to collect you as the prophecy indicates. Of course, if you truly do wish to stay here...” he skimmed the surroundings with a skeptical eye. You figured that whatever royal quarters he came from was much grander than this. “I will not force you to come along.” 

“I-hold on,” you finally moved from the spot on the bed you’d been somewhat rooted to to rummage through your suitcase. In the single pocket sewn into the lining you had stashed the only photo you’d ever seen of your parents. 

“Here,” you offered the photo to Hueningkai with shaky hands. He picked up the weathered film and carefully scrutinized it. “Do you...recognize them? I know you said you never knew them but I just-”

“No, no. This is them. Your parents. In the castle we keep a detailed record of everyone who has lived in Caeli, and I’ve certainly seen their faces.” A surge of excitement bolted through you at the confirmation and it was enough to make up your mind about leaving. If this place was truly where your parents had been from, there was no way you couldn’t explore it given the chance. Decisively you began to fold your clothing back into your suitcase, blushing slightly at the thought of Hueningkai watching you. 

“So I take it you’re coming back with me?” He giggled a bit as you zipped the suitcase with fervor. When you whirled around again, clutching the cracking leather case, you saw that his eyes were sparkling, lips upturned in a gentle smirk.

“Oh yes, yes I’m coming with you. Uh, lead the way?”

——

The walk from your hotel room to the inconspicuous patch of tall grass that Hueningkai led you to was brisk. He kept an amazingly quick gait, breezing by all of the curious looks the two of you received as you breezed through town.

Now, the moon shone high above your bodies in the field, clearly illuminating the grass brushing against your knees. Hueningkai waved you forward through the grass patch and into the gradually thickening trees. The scent of dirt and leaves invaded your nose as you walked to an unknown location. At a seemingly random tree Hueningkai stopped and looked back at you.

“Take a step back, just in case,” he warned kindly the corners of his eyes scrunching. You did as you were told as he began to mutter something that you didn’t quite catch in time to comprehend. Right before your eyes the simple tree shifted, doubling in width and opening forward like a swinging door. Inside of it laid a beautiful wooden staircase that gleamed in the setting light of the sun. It seemed to go on forever, stretching upwards in an infinite fashion to a nondescript white light. Hueningkai took the first step easily before turning to look at you over his shoulder, encouraging you with a nod of his head. 

You suddenly felt hyper aware of your body, the beating of your heart loud in your ears and the tingling of your fingers feeling like sparks of lightning. Goosebumps rose all across your skin as the two of you ascended the stairs, approaching closer and closer to the white light at the top. It had become so blinding that you had to squint your eyes closed and hope that your feet didn’t miss a step on the way up. 

A few moments after shutting your eyes you felt a shift in the ground below you. It felt much softer than the solid wood of the stairs, and you could even sense that the scent lingering in the air had changed into something you could only describe as pure. Hueningkai laid a gentle, steady hand on your shoulder. 

“We’re here,” you could hear the smile on his face before you even opened your eyes. You instantly became grateful for that, as the sight presented in front of you captured all of your attention. The soft ground that you’d felt before was evidently a literal cloud; fluffy and white and cushioning the soles of your feet with the most luxurious feeling you’d ever experienced. A few feet ahead, you could see the beginnings of a town like the one you knew on Earth, except the buildings were all made of a beautiful white-gray material that appeared almost like marble. What you could see from there was built grandly, tall and wide and intricate in their structure. Everything was blanketed in the same hazy glow of the sunset that you were admiring just minutes before. 

Hueningkai let you marvel for a moment before he gently urged you along with a hand on your lower back. The pair of you walked past many citizens of Caeli, whom nodded or bowed politely at the sight of their prince. The thought made your face flush. Here you were- a simple, orphaned girl who until just minutes ago was helpless- flanked by the handsome and dignified prince of Caeli. You caught the eyes of a few people before shying away, noting the confusion poorly hidden behind their polite smiles. Hueningkai was immune to it all; waving kindly as he led you through the soft terrain. 

Finally his footsteps slowed at the presence of large gates and grey brick walls. Clouds gathered around the fence the same way that grass bunched around walls, reminding you for a moment of being back at the orphanage and laying in the garden for hours. The gates opened instantly, revealing the castle behind them in all its glory. It was sparkling in a way that was surely magical, every single brick and window glimmering down at you bathed in the warm orangey-pink glow of sunset. Clouds gathered tightly around the base of this building too, creeping slightly up the side of the turrets the same way ivy would. 

Guards dressed in shiny silver armor accompanied by similarly dressed horses. Upon seeing Hueningkai approaching they stood at salute, one frantically pulling at the chain which pulled open the gate to the main entrance. Your face grew ever hotter as you stepped inside of the castle, instantly greeted by ornate marble on every single wall. The floor beneath you was made of the same material but swirling in alternate colors of blue, black and white. In the middle of the room was a large staircase that wound upwards in two separate directions. It was obvious that the room extended back underneath the staircase too, and that was the direction in which Hueningkai lead you toward. His shoes clicked off of the marble pleasantly while yours seemed to do nothing but slide noiselessly against it. 

You’d never felt more unconscious of your clothing, as you knew for a fact that the dress you were wearing right now had a clearly stitched together tear somewhere around the left shoulder. In the brighter lighting of the castle you could tell that Hueningkai’s clothing was expensive and carefully crafted. When he finally stopped walking it was at the door of what was obviously a throne room, as two large thrones covered in velvet blue coverings were sitting at the front of the room, slightly elevated above the smooth flooring. A large portrait framed in silver hung on the wall to the left of the thrones, depicting Hueningkai’s family but several years younger, as evidenced by the boyish shape of his face within the frame. 

It seemed to you that there was no one within the room, but a voice suddenly sounded from a corner you couldn’t see. It was light and airy, obviously belonging to a woman. You heard the clink of heels against marble before a short, thin woman with graying hairs and a face scrunched in worry appeared right in front of the two of you. Instinctively you tried to hide behind Hueningkai’s taller frame before she could spot you but you could tell that your attempt was unsuccessful as soon as she let out a surprised squeal. 

“Oh, you’ve found her! And convinced her to come! Oh, honey, your father will be so happy to see you both,” she grabbed his hands jovially and you quickly gathered that she was his mother. Reluctantly you stepped away from the cover of his body, brushing your arm against his own in your haste. Her face melted instantly upon seeing you fully. 

“Oh, hello Y/N! We are so happy to have you back after all this time. Come on, you two,” she grasped your hand in her pleasantly warm one and lead you back the way you’d come. Hueningkai kept up behind the two of you, snickering under his breath when you turned your head back to give him a pleading stare. He simply shrugged at his mothers actions as you made it to the top of the marble steps. Down one more winding hallway you traveled, nodding politely at everything Hueningkai’s mother told you until you reached another grand wooden door that was guarded by another armored guard. He moved away immediately and bent into a bow. 

The inside of this room was considerably darker although still covered in the same blue and silver that seemed to have been the running theme of the castle. In the middle laid a large four poster bed with a man laid in the middle. He was obviously sick-large purple bags were under his eyes and a cloth laid across his forehead. His eyes were closed as you entered the room, and they didn’t open until Hueningkai’s mother gently shook him. You had noticed that Hueningkai was standing extremely rigid next to you. His eyes were glossed in a layer of unshed tears at the sight of his father in his sickbed. 

“Hello, son,” the man said weakly. Hueningkai stepped forward then to sit gingerly at the foot of the bed. In the short time you’d known him he had seemed nothing short of royal and composed, but in this very moment he looked like a child who’d just woken from a nightmare. He conversed quietly with his father before turning his angular face toward you. An awed look crossed his face for a second before he schooled it back to normal and beckoned you forward with a smile. Unable to resist it, you carefully treaded closer to the bed and stood beside Hueningkai. His father smiled to the best of his ability. 

“Welcome back to Caeli, dear. I’m sure you’ve been filled in fairly well-” he paused to take a deep, shaky breath. “ We have waited many years after the news about your parents for the day you could come back. I couldn’t be happier to finally have you here and to see you alongside my son. The two of you are going to be such a lovely couple, don’t you think, dear?” Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and suddenly your mouth had gone dry. Surely the old man was going crazy from his sickness, surely he hadn’t just said that...

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more. She looks so much like her mother, doesn’t she? I should look for those pictures of us together, don’t you think?” Hueningkai’s mother enthused as she moved about the room, opening the drawers of a dresser with fervor. 

You were still reeling at the idea of you and Hueningkai becoming a couple, as it was the first you’d heard of it. Meekly you turned your head to the boy in question to see that his cheeks were as rosy as you assumed they could get, head slightly bowed as he tried to avoid your gaze. Part of you wanted to question him immediately, put him on the spot in front of his parents and figure out why he had decided to neglect that fairly large piece of information. 

But one glance at the content smile on his fathers face and the way his mother was chattering excitedly stopped the words in your throat. 

“I- we should go, uh, look at the prophecy, I’m sure she’s curious,” Hueningkai stuttered, suddenly springing up from the bed and bumping into you in the process. Both of his parents stopped their actions and regarded the two of you before nodding their approval. He grabbed blindly for your hand for a moment before lacing his fingers between yours. His palm was just as clammy as your own and the thought calmed you a bit as you sped out of the room. Neither of you spoke as he led you back the way you’d came, passing by the wide staircase and leading you down another lengthy hallway. 

The room you found yourself in this time was not guarded but was obviously important. Dim lighting illuminated what looked a bit like a library with shelves filled with thickly bound leather books. Hueningkai dropped your hand finally and you saw his shoulders heave as he took a deep breath before turning to face you. His cheeks were still slightly rosy, having only toned down a bit during travel. 

“I’m so sorry they brought that up,” he rushed out. “I didn’t tell you about that part of the prophecy because-well, I figured it would scare you away. I told them before I left not to force it on you, that you’d already be in enough shock about the whole thing- and I wasn’t sure if you’d have someone on earth or even like me so I just-” 

“Hueningkai,” you finally tried to get a word in edgewise and he looked stunned that you already had something to say. “I’m not upset with you. Or your parents, really. I-I don’t mind the idea of-” you stopped, frustration bubbling in your gut as you tried to string the right words together. “I think you’re quite handsome.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed wildly in his throat for a second before a wide grin began to split his face. The rosiness in his cheeks seemed to have dissipated at your words and instead a satisfied glow shone on his face. Coolly, he brushed a hand through his hair and exposed even more of his exceptionally smooth skin. You hadn’t been lying. He was easily the most attractive person you’d ever met, and there was no denying the allure of his handsome features especially here in the cozy, dimly lit room. The stare he had leveled on you was steady, unwavering as he roamed a path from your eyes, down to your lips, even further down to your body, and then back up to your eyes. Suddenly shy, you drew in on yourself, tucking your hands underneath your armpits and looking away. 

“Well, it just so happens that I find you quite beautiful as well,” he spoke cheekily as his gentle fingertips traced their way across your left shoulder before resting at the apex of your neck. The warmth radiating from his hand made you smile, loosening your hold on yourself until your arms fell at your sides. Shamelessly, you stared right back at him; examining the pink petals of his lips and the honey rich tone of his skin. All time seemed to have stopped as the two of you stood and watched one another, breathing in sync. For a fleeting moment you wondered if he was feeling the same rush of nervous adrenaline to kiss you as you were feeling for him. 

Despite your experience with anything romantic, your body was screaming out to feel him closer to you, to feel the soft glide of his lips against yours or the way he would hold you tightly against his chest-

“Come on,” he giggled, and you suddenly realized that he must have been speaking to you while you daydreamed. Your eyes widened apologetically as you finally got your feet to move after his own. Off of a shelf so high that even he had to rise onto his tippytoes to reach it, Hueningkai produced a thick book bound in gray leather. He dusted off the cover and propped the book open in his hands. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. The words were written in a glimmering silver ink that almost jumped off the page as you read it, and almost every paragraph was accompanied by a large, extremely detailed illustration. Hueningkai seemed to know exactly where to find what he was looking for, as he whipped through several pages before finally settling on what appeared to be the start of a new story. 

The title page boasted mostly words that you didn’t understand due to the fact that you hadn’t been given much practice in reading beyond basic words. Luckily Hueningkai was too busy to catch the embarrassed flush growing from the collar of your dress to the top of your forehead. 

“This is your prophecy, look!” He shoved the book toward you and you caught it with unsure hands, looking down at the first illustrations which depicted the birth of a baby and then an image of the same child having grown into a young girl. You flipped to the next page and recognized something immediately. 

“That butterfly,” you jabbed a fingernail toward the page excitedly. “I’ve seen it before- its come into the garden at the orphanage so many times-” Hueningkai laughed shyly, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

“That’s because I sent it down to you. For a while I didn’t have the ability to visit earth, and I was always jealous of not being able to check on you when your prophecy seemed so important-” he stopped to scratch the back of his neck and you realized he must be alluding to the prophesied relationship. “So my father suggested I send a butterfly down to report back.” 

The thought made your heart swell. For a moment you imagined a younger Hueningkai bargaining with the beautiful and unique butterfly to keep an eye on you and report back to him. 

“Must have been some boring reports,” you joked as you turned to the next page to see an image which depicted you entering Caeli. 

“Oh, no, never! I loved learning about you. The butterfly was quite secretive at first, but before long it easily spilled everything to me. That was how I knew where to find you tonight.” 

It had to have been true, as you recalled seeing the butterfly resting on the windowsill of your bedroom as you packed up your belongings to move. 

The next page you flipped to had to be one of the last, as it showed the image of a girl being embraced by a royal family, wedding gown and veil firmly in place. You swallowed the lump in your throat and gingerly took in the next image which depicted the man and woman sitting in the same thrones you’d seen before, wearing elegant crowns and smiling down at a room full of citizens. Surely the words afforded more information but you didn’t bother with trying to understand them. 

Hueningkai took back the book and returned it to its shelf. 

“Now that you’ve seen the...ending,” he cringed at his own words, “I hope you understand why my parents brought it up. They’ve been waiting for this moment since I was born. I had been told this story so many times, but when I realized the prince destined to be married to the girl from earth-you- was actually me? I-I couldn’t wait to meet you. It surely is a shame that your parents passed away so young and you ended up in the orphanage.”

Your face must have turned sour because he instantly recoiled, doubling back on his words. 

“Oh! No, I don’t mean that you’re lesser- I just mean that we could have met sooner had your parents lived. I couldn’t care less where you’ve lived the last eighteen years,” he whispered, sensing the fallen edges of your face. “Truly, you are just as wonderful to me in hand me down clothes as you would be in the finest silks. The most important thing is that you’re finally here, and I can learn about you without the help of an insect. I hope you stay for a while.”

You let out a laugh and his shoulders sagged with relief. With a surge of unfounded confidence you wrapped your arms tightly around his midsection, pressing your face flat against his broad chest and muttering;

“I’m glad we finally met, too, Hueningkai. And I won’t be going anywhere.” 

----

“Y/N? Are you in here?” Hueningkai called as he walked into what had become your bedroom when you arrived. He was dressed in his finest suit, a light blue jacket with matching trousers layered over a white button up with ruffles around the collar. His hair was styled away from his face, boasting all of his strong features for anyone to see. For once your clothing matched his own; a flowing light blue dress with layers of fluff at the skirt that made it hard to sit down. Thankfully you had been allowed to forgo the corset, but the top of your dress was still comfortably snug around your stomach and chest. For the first time in your life you were wearing a small bit of makeup and an updo as well as a pair of small heels. 

Today was the day you were to finally be introduced to the people of Caeli. Ever since your arrival you had been squirreled away in the castle- not that you were complaining- and had become a distant memory to the few citizens who had seen you arrive weeks ago. In that time, Hueningkai’s father had recovered from whatever sickness had ailed him when you came, and most citizens were too overjoyed with that news to bother worrying about you. 

But now you had to worry about them. Hueningkai’s mother had been kind enough to tell you stories about your parents and teach you the basic customs of Caeli without ever pushing you to change who you were. She laughed at your jokes and the way you scarfed down whatever food was put in front of you and never once suggested that you fix your etiquette. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You asked as soon as Hueningkai was within your line of sight. A feeling of dread had been bubbling in your stomach since yesterday morning and was the cause of your sleepless night. “I mean I’m just...a random stranger that waltzed in and is now living in the castle...what if someone has a crush on you and they hate me for being real?” You gasped at the thought of some scorned teenage girl hurling a shoe toward your head as you were presented. 

Hueningkai sighed. “They will love you, Y/N. The entire kingdom has been awaiting your arrival, for the prophecy to be fulfilled. You are kind, and smart and understanding and beautiful. And if they don’t like you then too bad. I like you, and that’s all that matters. None of them would dare to go against the word of the Prince.” 

Your heart hammered wildly against your ribs at his words. There was no denying that you’d grown closer and closer to him as you spent so much time around the castle. The small kindling of a crush you’d had on him when you first met had turned into a raging fire of infatuation. 

He brought a hand up to your face and gently cupped your flushed cheek. Instinctively you nuzzled in closer, relishing in the feeling of his touch. “You are still the most wonderful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And if my kingdom fails to notice that, then they’re at fault.” His voice had barely come above a whisper but it sent a noticeable chill down your spine. Hueningkai drifted his thumb over your bottom lip gently, rubbing at the bitten flesh there. Your eyelids fluttered quickly, trying to keep focus on his face as he inched closer. 

“Can I kiss you?” He finally murmured. You nodded and mumbled a rushed yes before you could even comprehend the movement. Your body was buzzing as if it were filled with bees, but you kept your lidded eyes focused on him as he descended. Before you knew it he had attached his lips to your own and they were just as soft and supple as you always imagined. He was clearly testing the waters with a small peck, but it left you yearning for more as you captured him in a passionate kiss that had your fingers curling into the nape of his neck. 

“That was,” he finally spoke again, wiping at his now swollen lips with the back of his hand. Your chests were both heaving with the unbridled adrenaline you had just experienced. A feeling of warmth, one that had become so common around Hueningkai that you barely registered it, rippled through your body and calmed your frayed nerves. Hueningkai grabbed your hand firmly, fingers curling between yours in a perfect fit of palms, and lead you out of your room toward the front gate of the castle. A new, unknown chapter of your young life was just beginning in the one place you never thought possible, but the one thing you were sure of was that Hueningkai would always be by your side. 

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[krreader]

the story of our lives.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x actress!reader fandom: bts warnings: (high school!au) genre: fluff word count: 1k+

summary: how often do you spend the rest of your life with your high school sweetheart? jeongguk and you could answer that question.

a/n: ooooh I hope you like this my love, I thought a little twist like this was nice :)

“You still haven't told the story about how you and Jeongguk met and fell in love... please tell us,” the question you read out loud immediately brought a smile to your face, “I did promise to tell it, eventually, hm? Well, I guess now is as good a time as any. So grab yourself some popcorn and we'll have a story time today.”

                                                   ten years ago

Group projects. Something that everyone and their grandmother hated, each for their own reasons.

You either hated being paired up with someone that wasn't your best friend, or you hated having to depend on somebody else for your grade or maybe you just were more of a single, rather than a team player.

You were no exception to that. When the teacher announced this group project, you were one of the many that let out a frustrated sigh, even more so when the teacher announced that she was going to form the groups and you had no impact on the decision whatsoever. 

That way, you always ended up with someone that you really would rather not work with.

Only that this time, she surprised you.

“(Y/N), Jeongguk, you'll be partners for this project.”

Jeon Jeongguk, a guy that was as talented as he was handsome. Probably the only person that everyone in this room wanted to be paired up with. You haven't had a particular opinion on it, but now that he sat down in front of your table, you couldn't help but think: it could have been worse.

“Don't think we've ever actually talked, despite being in this class together for over a year,” he chuckled a little nervously, “I'm Jeongguk.”

“(Y/N),” you replied with a smile, “I watched your performance at the school festival last week! You were great.”

“Ah, you think so?” and despite being so popular, he still seemed to be extremely down to earth. A simple compliment such as this brought a heavy blush to his face that he quickly tried to cover up by pointing at the book in front of him, “I think I have a pretty good idea of how we can turn this into a great project.”

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you dropped the subject, not knowing that he'd actually be the one to bring it up again eventually.

This wasn't a project that would be done in a week, this would be an on-going thing for a while and so Jeongguk and you spent many days together to work on it.

Over time, you and him started talking more and more, stuff that didn't have anything to do with school. You got to know each other, what the other one liked and hated, what they loved and despised doing what they were interested in and what bored them. Favorite foods, favorite color, favorite anything, basically.

What the teacher once mentioned to you as a “beautiful friendship that was blossoming between you two” was actually you slowly but surely falling for him.

There was often this stigma around popular kids, that they were rather narcissistic, but Jeongguk wasn't like that at all. He was a kind guy that has never been selfish and you genuinely loved spending time with him, knowing that he was as interested in getting to know you as you were in getting to know him.

However, you were too shy to ever say something in regards to your feelings for him, thinking that he'd probably not feel the same way for you.

And the more time passed, the more you dreaded the day that this project would end, thinking that whatever you two had now, would be over then.

“Hey... can you help me with something?” he asked one day as you and him were chilling at a playground, him on one swing, you on the other.

You had met because of the project. But like so many days before, you ended up doing everything but school work.

“Sure!”

“Remember that audition I told you about? For this idol company? My mom finally agreed to let me go, but I don't know which song to sing.. can I..-?”

“Ooooooh!” that instantly got you excited, you immediately beginning to clap, “I'll be your fan, Jeon Jeongguk. Sing!”

He had thankfully gotten a lot more comfortable with you over the weeks. Talking about his singing or even singing in front of you wasn't something he was ashamed of anymore.

And how glad you were for that.

Because a private performance like this? It was... everything.

You felt so special in that moment as he poured his heart into this song and the more you heard, the more you liked to believe that this song was actually meant for you. But maybe that was because of how hard he stared into your eyes while he sang.. so deeply that it felt like he was staring into your soul.

And see, once it was over, you had nothing but positive things to say. He was a great singer with even more potential than he realized. You knew they were going to take him. They had to.

“I hope you become an idol, really,” you said once he sat down on the swing next to you again. For that next sentence, your voice became weaker, “But we won't be friends anymore then, right?”

“Right,” Jeongguk said, still looking at you. And once he had said that, your shoulders immediately slumped. It was now or never, “I hope... I mean... I thought... that maybe you could actually... be my girlfriend.”

You were so shocked at that, never having thought that the conversation could go in that direction. And because of how surprised you were, you didn't answer right away, but rather just stared at him. Jeongguk must have taken that as you basically saying no, as he got up and wanted to walk away, seemingly embarrassed.

But you got up just as fast and grabbed his hand before he could.

That day, you shared your first kiss. Which was essentially just you pressing your lips against his, hard and sloppy and leaned back as quickly as you had leaned forward.

But that somehow sealed it.

That day was when everything changed for the both of you. Where both of you realized: yes. I've found my soulmate.

                                                            now

“You told them our story?” Jeongguk asked later that night, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you, “Were they that interested?”

“It's not every day that their favorite idol has been in a relationship even since before they debuted. I guess they want to understand our relationship better... to understand us better.”

“I guess,” he kissed your cheek, “Who would have thought... little me and little you, eventually becoming a famous idol and actress. It is a story for the books.”

“And one we can tell our kids.”

Jeongguk smiled, his hand covering your small baby bump, “Rather sooner than later.”

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