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it-happened-one-fic · 3 months

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Ink and Magic - The Beautiful Oppressor

Author Notes: Part 5 of this sort of halfway non canon compliant what if with the overblots and their aftermath! A lot of what I said for part 1 counts for this section too. This isn't exactly romantic. in fact, I would say it counts as more platonic, but it certainly can be taken as shippy. This will also be a series, though the Diasomnia section won't come out until that entire matter is resolved in game. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Spoilers for Book 5: Beautiful Oppressor!

[Heartslabyul] [Savanaclaw] [Octavinelle] [Scarabia] [Pomefiore: You're Here!] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia: to be released!]

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fic series/ Can be platonic or romantic/ fluff/ angst/ comfort/ Spoilers for Pomefiore overblot.

Word count: 2045

The glossy ink slowly slid across the ground, reflecting the toxic green fog that Vil had created and making for a truly gruesome pairing that promised pain should one linger here too long.

But then, in the middle of all that hideousness, stood Vil. Crowned with a halo of gold feathers, from which hung a black veil, and dressed in dark robes that faded from a brilliant purple that spoke of royalty to a dark black, dotted with golden stars.

The cloth draped around him in a way that, despite its tattered seams, spoke of the very elegance that Vil always carried and held himself with.

Over the young man loomed the blot monster that reminded me of an old hag. The monster let out a raspy, howling scream as Deuce’s signature spell slammed into it, obliterating it almost immediately in a shower of black ink that rained over the stage in dark cloud.

Deuce stumbled, letting out a grin as he saw the poisonous fog begin to dissipate before he froze, staring at the end of Vil’s overblot.

The young man, who up until now had stood tall, snuck to his knees. Rich cloth puddling around him as he trembled, staring at his gloved hands that were tipped with golden claws that slowly began to fade from existence, “I will be…”

He looked up as the violet flame that had been over his left eye vanished and his amethyst gaze found my wide-eyed, heartbroken stare, “The fairest….”

His eyelids began to flutter, threatening close as he wavered, swaying and catching himself with wobbly arms that would not and could not support the weight of his weary form for long.

I scrambled to my feet, skidding slightly as I took off from a crouch, and desperately rushed towards Vil as he breathed out his final words, his eyes flickering shut in a way that somehow only made me more desperate to reach him as I raced past Deuce and barely caught Vil’s final whisper, “Of them all…”

Rook shouted my name, his voice raw with fearful concern, and I could hear Epel shouting angrily at Jamil to let him go so that he could stop me as my knees hit the ground hard.

I almost hissed at the stinging sensation of the cracked wood splintering against my knees and legs, but I still wrapped my arms around Vil’s slumped form. Catching him before he fell completely against what remained of the once grand stage.

Gone were the decadent clothes that had revealed his status as overblotted. He had returned to the Pomefiore housewarden, who’d been staying at Ramshackle dorm with the rest of the NRC Tribe for the past few weeks and who’d been striving this entire time to be his very best until he broke at the last second.

Exhaustion swept over me in a wave as I grasped his limp form, and I swayed as I strained to stay awake before I exhaled, surrendering to the overwhelming fatigue that washed over me as I fell sideways against the stage. Still holding Vil tightly in my arms as the world went dark.

But the world did not remain dark long before I was greeted with an image. The first of many as I now knew.

This first scene that greeted me was that of an unfamiliar living room through which a young Vil ran, hurrying over to an adult man and holding up a paper excitedly as he spoke.

“Dad, listen to this! I passed the audition! I’m going to be in a musical school drama!”

The child’s eyes were bright, glistening in a way that reminded me of jewels as he was congratulated. But then his face fell once his father asked what role he’d gotten.

The star’s rival. Another mean villain, as he put it.

Almost immediately, I recalled the phone call Vil had gotten that day at Ramshackle dorm and how frustrated he’d seemed at being offered the role of a villain.

It seemed that his plight of being typecast was nothing new. Though I couldn’t understand why he was always typecast as a villain.

The child before me was the perfect picture of a young prince, so full of life and possibility, just like how Vil as I knew him looked like a flawless male lead, ready to sweep a princess off her feet the very instant she needed him.

I watched in silence as Vil’s father comforted his son, a smile on the man’s face as he rubbed his son’s head.

“Sometimes productions are more selective about their villain casting than their hero casting. You should be proud.”

A smile appeared on the child-version of Vil’s face as he nodded just as the image faded out.

“But...villains never stay on stage for the whole play. Once their role is finished, all they do is watch from the shadows as the happy ending plays out. What I want is to stay on the stage longer than anyone else.”

I tensed as Vil’s familiar voice came from somewhere beside me even though, just as with the others, I could not see him in the darkness that surrounded us.

I could listen to him, though.

So that was what I did. I listened to Vil’s narration and watched the memories that slowly told me the story of Vil’s life. His rise to fame and how he was always entrapped by the role of the villain.

What initially seemed like something unfortunate began to worsen as others began to judge him for his roles.

“Hey, look! That’s the guy who was bullying the hero on the TV show last night!”

“How can anyone be so mean? He must be pretty messed up.”

I frowned as the scene played out right in front of me but left me unable to step in and help the child I knew would become a powerful young mage.

I felt myself smile, almost smugly, when a young Jack stepped in to ward off the bullies. Even if Vil told him it wasn’t necessary, I knew it was the beginning of a friendship between these two.

But I couldn’t help but wonder how often such things had been said about Vil?

It wasn’t hard to figure out how many children perceived him solely based on his acting roles.

He always played the villain, so he must be horrible, right? It was obvious that was what they thought. Especially since I’d heard more mature versions of the exact same thought at NRC, though I had never realized exactly how harmful they could be. Not until now. But as I watched Vil’s life continue to play out in front of me like a tragedy from the theater, it got steadily worse.

Any praise that Vil received was always met with someone else who had something else to say and took that praise and muddied it.

And it only became worse as Neige came onto the scene, giving the people someone to compare Vil to.

“Neige is just incredible. That friendly charm and wholesome vibe comes naturally to him.”

“Vil is pretty impressive as the villain, himself. He carries himself with real dignity. You’d never guess he was only twelve years old. He’s gonna be the hero one of these days.”

“The thing about Vil is, he’s TOO perfect. His beauty is otherworldly. Vil is too special to play the part of a regular teen that viewers can relate to. Without that relatability, I don’t think he’ll ever pull off playing a hero.”

Too perfect. Too special. Unrelatable. I couldn’t help but frown at the way the people described him.

It was bad enough that they had literally just said he could never have the lead role, no matter how talented he was. But special… I’d never realized what a condemning word it could be until I’d come to this school and become ‘special’ myself.

Special meant you weren’t like others, and it meant others would always look at you differently. Special meant that no matter how many people you befriended, you’d always stand slightly apart in a lonely beam of a spotlight reserved for those deemed ‘special.’

And unrelatable? That was just cruel. Saying people couldn’t relate to him was all but saying he wouldn’t ever find someone he could truly be friends with. They might as well have said that no one would ever understand him, so no one would ever side with him. And if no one sides with you… Well, of course you’re the villain. Because for better or worse, the majority usually wins, and the winner is always the hero because that is how history will portray it.

I grimaced as the world went black around me, leaving me with just Vil’s now frustrated voice that cracked with emotion that he normally kept controlled.

“Why? Why is it never me?! All I want is to stay on the stage until the end of the show.”

To stay on stage until the end of the show…. To be the hero that people love and relate to…

To not be singled out as special and put in a special slot. To not bear the weight of being ‘special’ amongst others your age.

I opened my eyes to find that I’d curled almost protectively around Vil, cradling him to me just as I had the others when no one interfered.

“Y/n?” Epel’s voice wavered just from behind me, and I slowly relaxed my hold on Vil without fully releasing him as I attempted to roll over, only to be held in place by the actor who clung to me. But even then, I could see the others.

Our friends were all around us, kneeling with expressions of shared concern. Proof that even despite what others had said, Vil had worked hard and found friends who didn’t deem him as just ‘special.’

Ace sighed, shaking his head slightly, “We already explained it all to Rook and Epel, but…. You did it again, didn't you?”

I nodded, still feeling worn out, as I swallowed thickly and pasted a tired smile onto my face that had Ace shaking his head at me. His expression one of fond exasperation.

“How are you feeling? Is the poison still affecting you?” Jamil’s voice came from just above my head.

I tilted my head in an attempt to look at him, eliciting a chuckle from the young man whose hand reached out and pressed against my head, gently stopping me as he spoke, “Don’t bother; just wait until Vil wakes up. You know you won’t be able to move until then.”

About that time, I saw Rook from my peripheral lean down, the worry on his face clear as he quietly spoke to Vil’s sleeping form, “Vil… Oh, fair Vil. Please wake up.”

There was a quiet groan, and Vil’s grasp on me tightened ever so slightly as he pressed himself closer to me before he at last relaxed and opened his eyes, looking at me with a gaze that was still hazy from everything that had just happened.

He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly clearing, before looking around in confusion as he slowly released me with a frown on his face, “How am I…?”

He didn’t get to finish the question as both Rook and Kalim launched themselves at him, landing on either side of us so that they could tightly embrace the young man.

I smiled at their exuberance, which at first seemed to confuse Vil before his memories slowly came trickling back in and he looked towards me.

I gazed back at him as his eyes widened with realization, “You….. Did you…?”

I hesitantly nodded, rubbing my arm slightly and letting Jamil step in with an explanation as Deuce wrapped an arm around me to help me to my feet, “Yes, they saw your memories and heard your thoughts. They’ve done that with every single person who has overblotted, including myself.”

Jamil paused, looking my way before frowning, and continuing, “We don’t know why or how they do it, but….”

He trailed off and I shrugged, “Let’s talk about it later….” I glanced around the ruined stage I’d been stretched out on this entire time and frowned, “We’ve got bigger issues anyway.”

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sculptorofcrimson · 1 month

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Thread/Soulmate Warhammer AU

Not really a soulmate AU, but more of "threads of fate" au.

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Ra’s thread is a thin, fragile thing. The Emperor had been loath to break it, had hesitated, His claws hovering over the delicate braid. He had held it, as delicate as the umbilical cord of a newborn, and grieved as He felt what He had to do. In the end He had wrapped it in gossamer like the finest of silk, and woven it, with infinite care, into His own.

When Drach'nyen thrust itself in, it had severed both threads.

Valdor’s thread is crimson. The Emperor had cut off at his wrist, with the only remnants wrapped around his forearm like a chain. The ends still twitch and tangle, as if waiting for a man he had lost before they even met. The Emperor took the frayed threads of the severed rope, and bound it to Him.

Now it wraps around Valdor’s throat like a leash. (Or a noose.)

Valdor does not mind.

(Once, only once, in mere moments before Constantin lowered the blade, he had seen the flash of recognition. The sudden unknotting of a thread of fate both had assumed severed so long ago.

And then the mercy blow. A horrible moment of terrible pity etched across his victim’s pain-stricken face, and the sadness in those tormented eyes not for himself but for Valdor.

And, finally, oblivion. )

Sanguinius’ thread is black. He can see it, twisting there, stretching onwards, inked across the sands of time. When he had met Horus, the Angel had stalled, a smile still stretched across his face, noting down the way his thread had wrapped itself lazily around Horus’ arms. Their threads had tumbled and tangled over one another, so deeply intertwined it was impossible to remove without severing one.

Horus did not seem to see a thing amiss.

Lorgar, his thread brilliant red, wrapped around the Emperor’s chest. The way he had screamed at the fury in His eyes when He had reached up and tore the thread out of His breast, snapping the thin thing in half beneath His claws. The way he had cursed Him, the remnants of the thread pooling around him like shed snakeskin, the scent of Monarchia’s ashes curdling upon his tongue.

Alpharius and Omegon’s threads, a single, thick cord that split in half, bobbing and weaving until neither could tell who was whose. It just seems to love knots, looping around itself, around others, dragging others together without abandon.

Vulkan’s thread, thick and dark and braided, glowing softly with a gentle warmth. It trails itself around his chest, wrapping itself around all near and wide, spreading like a kind coat of flame. It is tender, such a lovely thing. It has chipped, and knotted, and frayed over the eons, but it braids on, thick and resolute. Ashes are embedded in its strings now, but their warmth is still there, just buried under the charcoal.

Fulgrim’s thread was made of silk. A beautiful, perfect, fragile thing. It had bound itself around his hands, around Ferrus’ silver hands and his neck. The delicate silk, so pale against the silver. And how pitifully it had shattered, without a cry, without a song, only with the slithering of sick silk as he had snapped it when the Laerblade took Ferrus’ head.

Ferrus’ thread was a chain. It wrapped around his neck and hands. It had pooled itself slowly around Fulgrim, like a lazy snake, braiding itself together into intricate knots with his silk. When Fulgrim took his head from his shoulders, the links had shattered.

Horus’ thread, white and black. It tied itself so languishly over one of his forearms. If only he had known. If only he had seen. If only he had felt the thread tightening, tugging, unraveling as he had sped his way down a path, and never glanced back upon the road he had trodden. When it finally spun itself out of silk, it tied together in one, final blasphemy of angel feathers. Both tips of their threads had been charred together, one longer than the other.

It was Horus that undid the knot.

He did not even see it unravel when he cut the life out of his brother.

Malcador’s thread. Grey, seemingly thin, but with an impossible, resolute strength. There it was, underpinning the Emperor's thread like a shadow, together even in death. How brightly it had burned, like candlewick, as he sat upon the Throne, eyes bulging, nerves burning, feeling the cells in his body die one by one. It had charred itself to cinders, and then to ash, and finally dust, before his lord made it back home.

And finally, the Emperor's thread. It wrapped around Himself, and only Himself, but it branched off like the leaves of Yggdrasil. It curled itself into the veins of His Custodes, it dragged together the binds of His Primarchs, it curled together like one with Malcador. Some branches were frayed, their ends charred, some had curled up into a solitary knot that no longer held another, some burnt like living, writhing sunlight caught in flesh, but some were warm. Some still dreamt, lazily winding through the fog, one out of thousands. They would bind themselves not to men, or to women, but to entire worlds, to every last beating heart upon the land. It was not a leash, or a noose, or a chain this time, it was merely a bridge, the last heart of a dead god who had once gazed upon His people. And smiled.

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ceruleancattail · 9 months

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Stained

Nightfall Leona x reader

Suggestive content ahead!

They cover his back.

Inked into Leona’s skin, tattoo designs shifting with every breath. Waxing and waning, like a lonely candle’s flame. Flickering meekly in the dark.

His tattoos looked raw, as if someone took a knife to his skin, tearing up his flesh to print those elaborate lines on his back. Shredding Leona’s skin to reveal the endless night within.

A dark inky sky, devoid of stars.

Fingers trembling, you reach out. Resting on a line, before slowly tracing it. Your touch trailing down his back, following the curve of his spine.

His muscles tensed, rippling under your fingertips. You pause, pulling your hand away.

Tilting your head to the side, you ask, somewhat meekly:

“Is it alright for me to touch you?”

A grunt, followed by a sigh. Leona leans back onto his arms, bringing himself closer.

Closer to you.

Palm pressed flat against his back, heartbeat throbbing through Leona’s skin. You could feel his every breath, chest rising and falling. Every beat of his heart, tapping a calming rhythm against your hand.

A steady beat.

You could feel it lulling you into a relaxed state, shoulders loosening every so slightly. Honestly, you should be more tense. You’ve seen Leona’s body awash in crimson, his suit ripped and torn, bits of fluff swaying in the breeze.

To say he had blood on his hands was a understatement. It was pure naivety to assume that the blood stopped right there, like a pair of gloves to be slipped on at will. As if he could walk this path, and leave any part of him pure and holy.

Unstained.

Perhaps filling his back with tattoos was a way to represent that. Stained with black as a feeble way to atone for all the lives he’s taken. It’s a dog eat dog world, and Leona rather stay above the rest of the pack.

He doesn’t seem to take any joy in killing. That’s always been a point in Leona’s favour in your book. If he did, it was with the precision of a surgeon, quickly eliminating a pawn off the chessboard.

That cool, calculating expression that shrouds his face like a viel of mourning. Covering his face with shadow. His features a mask of stone behind the darkness. You can’t deny that that look still sends shivers racing down your spine, even after all this time.

Part of you wonders if Leona would ever look at you that way. That domineering gaze of a predator, staring down its prey. Narrowed eyes, a grim determination burning deep within. A calm gaze, killing intent clear within.

Your cheeks grow warm at the thought. Odd. Shaking these thoughts aside, you spin your finger in a spiral. Fingertip digging into his skin slightly.

Might as well make full use of this chance. After all, it’s not everyday a member of the mafia lets you touch his back ever so casually.

You resume. Gliding over each and every elaborate design stabbed into his back. Much like an artist, wielding their brush over their canvas. Leona’s back stiffens every so slightly, before his muscles relax, melting at your touch.

Taking that as encouragement, your touch slowly moves lower, and lower. Travelling down his spine, caressing the small of his back tenderly. Softly, with all the lightness of a feather.

A hitch in Leona’s breath, as a sigh slips through gritted teeth. Determined not to show any sign of weakness, perhaps. Especially not to the little cafe owner down the street.

You laugh, before dragging your hand downwards once more, stroking his skin like a cat’s pelt.

A purr, an rather audible one slips from Leona’s lips. Both of you freeze, staring at each other. His emerald eyes widen in shock, before they narrow, glaring at you. You raise your hands defensively, quickly shuffling away from Leona.

Unfortunately, he’s a little too quick on his feet. Pouncing onto you, Leona makes quick work of pinning your hands far above your head. With a swift movement, he has you squirming on the countertop, knee planted firmly in between your legs.

You wiggle, struggling against his grip. A growl rumbles out of his throat, a deep guttural sound. A warning.

Stop struggling.

A dark chuckle, before Leona leans in closer.

“You’ve certainly had your fun, huh?

Feeling me up all day.”

He drawls mockingly, running a finger down your chin. Leona’s hand curls under your chin. Fingers pressing deep into your skin, scarlet crescents left behind by his claws.

Forcing your head up.

Forcing you to look at him.

“It’s my turn now, darling.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Leona Kingscholar #Leona x reader #Leona Kingscholar x reader #Leona #nightfall au #lucky potion 🔷

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kingmagnificoofrosas · 3 months

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Prince of nothing

I thought I'd give you guys a little taste of the story I'm writing 📖 The following part is a snippet from my first draft, concering Magnifico's past. It's the moment he first meets Amaya. Don't worry, this little part of the chapter won't have any heavy spoilers. That's why I decided to share it in the first place.

To avoid confusion :

Sir Magnus and Lady Claudia [The couple that took Magnifico under their wings. Magnus is a low rank magician who owns a pharmacy. His wife is a seamstress and they share the shop.]

Standing in the middle of a forest clearing, Magnifico raised his hands and proudly watched the six tiny stones he'd picked up earlier swirl in a perfect circle.

Fascination rattled his soul at the thought that this was his doing. If things would go after his mind however, he would already do much greater things, command more magic. But he was just beginning, and he knew he had to take one step at a time and practise. And practise had become his mantra.

For some reason, air magic had come the easiest to him. He still remembered the first time he'd made a feather-pen float. Thrilled, he'd tried to lift the ink glass next but accidentally spilled it right on an unlucky client who just happened to enter the store. Sir Magnus had bursted into roaring laughter, the lady had made a huge fuss and Magnifico had felt so utterly ashamed he'd hidden below the counter with a face as hot as if he'd caught a fever.

Water-magic came right after air. Water was easier than the stubborn earth but still heavier than air. The only thing he still shied away from was fire. Everything in him fought against it. He couldn't go near it, couldn't even look at it. Whenever there was even as much as a tiny open flame, panic would flood his mind and throw him right back into the hell of that one night his world had been shattered.

He'd rather sleep with ten blankets than have the fire lit in his tiny room. And in situations he couldn't avoid a room with lit fire-places, he made sure to do his best not to look at it or get too close. He was more than grateful that sir Magnus and his wife tried their best to be considerate about it, but sometimes it also made him feel bad.

One day, Magnifico knew, he had to learn how to command fire as well. He had to in order to reach his goal.

Suddenly there was a gasp behind him, he flinched and the stones immediately dropped into the grass.

"Ay, dios mio!" A girl, not older than him, exclaimed, "that was magic! Wasn't it?"

"Yes." Magnifico picked up the stones, "and you startled me!"

"I'm sorry." The girl still mustered him. "My father and I came to the store and I decided to take a little walk. Then I saw this blue swirling light and ... so you're a magician?"

"Hm." Magnifico smirked, "I wish I was. I'm still learning." He opened his right hand with the stones again and with his left index finger made a swift gesture. The stones hovered back into the air and started swirling.

The girls mouth dropped. "increíble!" She'd heard stories of great magicians but never had she seen one in action before. At least not someone her age. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Four months."

"Four months? And you can already do such a thing?"

Magnifico turned, letting the stones drop back into his hand. "This is just for warming up, I can do more."

"Can you do that again, please? Just one more time!"

"Making the stones swirl?"

The girl nodded. Chuckling lightly, Magnifico let the stones go round once more.

If you want more of that chapter or more spoiler free snippets out of my fan-novel, let me know ✨️💙

#king magnifico #disney wish #wish 2023 #of stars and roses #queen amaya #disney fan novel

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smolnono · 5 months

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Crowley was hurtling towards hell; his already tinged grey wings turning black, black, black as if ink bloomed along his feathers.

Long red curls whipped and tangled in the air like a flame trailing behind him.

But worst of all was the scream ripping from his throat; entirely unaware the noise was even coming out of him.

Aziraphale slammed the file shut and jerked his hand away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes trying to will away what he had seen.

He knew though, he knew even if he could the sound of his screams would echo in his mind for eternity.

#good omens #gomens #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale #Crowley #archangel aziraphale #good omens angst #crowley fall

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fang-wolfsbane · 2 years

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Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia: Inked Feathered Flame: Intermission: Chapters Questions and Answers Session 01

Those that have read the previous Q and A post for Transformers Generation One: A Seeker’s Triangle would already know the idea behind this. But to clarify for those who haven’t seen it yet. Every fifty chapters of each fanfic I post, I will be opening an intermission where I’d like you, the reader, to pose any and all questions you might have about the particular fanfic, which I will then do my best to answer twenty-five chapters after said intermission.

I would appreciate your participation in this. Of course you’re not required to, but if you choose to participate, it would be greatly appreciated. I look forward to hearing from you!

Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia © Kōhei Horikoshi Inked Feathered Flame © Fang Wolfsbane

#Boku No Hero Academia #Boku No Hero Academia Inked Feathered Flame #Chapter #Fanfiction #Inked Feathered Flame #Kōhei Horikoshi #My Hero Academia #My Hero Academia Inked Feathered Flame #OC #Original Character

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nikkialena · 18 hours

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Take this brain rot...

A soft whimper fell from your lips as you squirmed in place trying to escape the ruthless slender fingers sadistically slowly rubbing away at your clit as they had been for the last thirty minutes.

The feel of the calloused fingers against your sensitive throbbing flesh made a delicious and agonizing mix of pleasure and pain. You gripped his arm tightly, silently begging for mercy but Zuko was having none of it.

His muscular arms were firmly snaked around your waist while his right hand sat between your plush thighs, thumb gently massaging your clit in a gentle rhythm as his index finger just rimmed your entrance. Almost as if he'd plunge his finger in at any given moment, but he wouldn't….you knew he wouldn't he wanted to make you suffer first quite like how you'd made him suffer.

He wasn’t done torturing you yet. You bit down on your lip hard in an attempt to muffle another sob as he pressed feather-light kisses to your neck and jaw, his warm breath blowing across your skin causing goosebumps to rise on the dark expanse.

But you couldn't hold back your moan, "shhhh if you keep making those noises one of the guards might hear you and come looking for us," his husky low voice rasped close to your ear. You shivered with embarrassing delight at his words.

And he chuckled "Oh does my little flame like the idea of someone coming in and seeing us in such a… compromising situation?"

He asked tilting your head up to his with a finger and locking lips with you, sucking and licking your pretty tongue into his mouth with practiced ease.

You writhed under his touch, hips bucking up onto his finger, your moans becoming more and more desperate, pleading almost.

"Fine…." Zuko relented with a sigh as he broke the kiss "since your so needy" he drawled as he removed his hand from between your thighs so he could prop you up and on the table in the throne room, you breathed a sigh of relief, and he slapped your right ass cheek biting his lip as he watched it jiggle.

"Don't be so relieved little flame I'm just getting started" he murmured slowly disrobing and blessing you with the sight of his broad masculine chest covered in damp hair that spilled down from his crown like a waterfall of rich ink spilling over smooth bronze skin.

Your eyes traced every scar and divot etched on his beautiful body with reverence and he yanked you by your ankles pulling you close until your legs sat on either side of his hips, grinding his hard-on into your aching drooling folds. "We're going to be here a while…so why don't we get comfy," Zuko growled low in his throat.

okay bye pookie~

#zuko x reader #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #smut

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months

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A Page, Turning

There’s another me on the page, another me in the mirror.

This is part 15… of 20. Your hand is frozen, afraid to see what lies on the other side.

(I have a goal to finish this saga in late 2023 or early 2024 so wish me luck on powering through the last few installments 😅)

The Tale of the Cursed Raven:

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14

“Do you know what drives a story forward?��

He asked the question without looking up from her manuscript. His tone was flat, but edged with sternness as he cut a line of red ink through a sentence. The color fuzzily bled into the parchment paper.

“No. I don’t,” she replied. Truthfully, innocently.

Her mentor slashed through another section, indicating off the offending areas in telltale red. Each strike of the quill made her flinch, as though those strikes were cutting through her instead of through her work.

“Time?” she offered, her guess echoing in the dark room.

He set his papers down and scoffed. The full extent of his gaze settled on his pupil. Discomfort gnawed at her.

His eyes were empty ones. They did not belong to a man, but what remained of one. Just a husk being blown around in the breeze.

“It’s the characters.”

“Characters…?”

“The people we write about.” He slapped the back of his hand against the marked-up manuscript. “A rock won’t cast itself into a lake, it needs someone to throw it. An adventure does not begin if the hero refuses to answer the call. And what good is a rich world and lore without beings to bask in it?”

A light bulb went off in her head.

“Oooh. So characters… make things happen!!”

“Not just that. It is through the characters that a story is shaped. The outcome, the ending… it is the result of all the characters, their choices, and their bonds and connections with one another.”

“Everything is connected?”

“Yes.”

In his circle of candlelight, his empty eyes seemed to soften the slightest bit. He slumped forward in his seat, pressing his forehead against a palm. When he looked down, written words were a blur.

“… I realize that now,” he murmured. A soft groan rushed through his teeth.

“Teacher?” She placed a tentative hand on his arm—the arm still gripping his quill. The raven could feel the muscles under his skin stiffen at the touch.

He pulled away. This time, he did not make eye contact as he spoke. The flickering flame of a candle was his companion, his solace.

“Readers have their reasons for seeking stories. They want to relate to someone, they want to meet new faces, they want to cry and to celebrate with them, they want to be loved. They want to escape.

“Stories make us feel things, child. And just as the characters impact their stories, so, too, do those stories change the world.”

He slammed both hands down on his writing desk.

The candle wobbled, and papers flew into the air. They slowly drifted down, big bales of white against and the shadows they projected along the walls. White feathers and black feathers in a gentle rain.

“The real world. It puts hope into people’s hearts, and it can tear them down just as easily. It’s your role as storyteller to bring the feelings put on the page to life.“

“Feelings…”

I don’t even fully understand my own yet, she wanted to protest. But the words and the composition of them eluded her.

The raven’s mouth remained sealed shut.

“There’s no soul to your characters. Rewrite it,” he commanded gruffly, jerking his chin to the papers scattered at her feet, “and this time, make it something worth reading.”

The gemstone set in her magical quill has not fully cleared yet. Once a clear, deep navy, it now has tendrils of black threaded through it. Plumes of smoke floating up sweetly into the night.

Raven closes her fingers around the writing implement. A book is on her lap, open to a fresh double spread.

Doubts louder than the screeching baby robin swirl in her head.

You’ve never gotten a grip on your unique magic. What happened all those other times you tried to tame it? You failed. Even when you try to cheat and use tools to help channel the magic, you fail.

High quality parchment, enchanted inks, quills made from the feathers of rare birds… No matter what you use, it never works.

The problem isn’t the magic or the conduits, it’s you.

Your own weakness.

Each nasty thought is a little black bird, taking root and roosting where it shouldn’t. The doubts collect into a familiar feeling, a dark cloud suspended above her heart. A group of them, a swarm.

An unkindness of ravens.

She frowns, pressing the nib of her quill into the corner of her first page. It leaves an imprint, a dent. Proof of her existence.

I know I’m weak.

Her confession causes the darkness to cave in, crashing upon her in a thunderous roar. What is left is the quiet that comes after a storm has settled, and a soft, resolute realization.

I was never strong to begin with, but… I can still give others strength, can’t I? That’s my role. Not a storyteller, but someone who gives support.

She crinkles her brow, shutting her book. Raven lays her pen flat against the cover, then her hand on top of it.

Maroon leather dappled with spots of sunlight. Pockets of light in a place of shade.

Characters are connected. To the world, to their stories, to other characters. And even to me. Then…

I should have the power to change it too.

To make that magic real myself. To turn dreams into reality.

Her eyes drift shut, and a match strikes, igniting a flame inside of her. A warm buzz skitters across her skin. Magic hums in her veins, manifesting at her fingertips.

“The future is but a blank page. Allow me to guide you through this story.

“Quoth the Raven!”

Something in the air shifts in response to her plea.

She sighs and reaches—this time not within herself, but outward.

To the robin.

There is momentary nothingness.

Then the ground at her feet falls away in one clean chunk.

She’s suddenly sailing through a void, book and quill slipping out of her grasp. The whirring of a great plummet rattles her bones, chilling hands tugging at her skin.

What is this?

Raven doesn’t entirely understand what’s happening, but for once the unknown does not frighten her. Curiosity pulls her deeper down the rabbit hole. Her insides skip, almost embracing the call.

It feels so natural, so expected, for an entirely new experience.

Is this… how it was meant to be all along?

An impact is her answer. Raven’s feet connect, spirit anchoring to a new space.

Sharp pangs spike along both arms. She hisses, expelling a deep breath through her clenched teeth.

But worse yet is the pain in her chest, a boulder cast into a raging river. Her eyes sting, and her throat is torn asunder, left raw and frayed.

The world explodes into another existence, painting everything over with a coat of jet black. The sky, the plants, even Raven, rendered by the night.

A curtain descends, falling across her head in silken waves. Chords of color dangle from the darkness. All shades of blue, all pulsating with pain.

She recognizes them.

The rich blue-violet of Fear, the palest pastel of Forgotten. A cobalt so deep that it was nearly black—Despair.

These must be…

Raven naturally extends a hand to the colors—introducing a new flash of pain down her arm.

Whispers snake along her skin and slink into her ears, indiscernible and unwelcome. There’s a slight shove against her shoulder, testing her sturdiness.

Don’t push me out, she coaxes the robin’s mind space. I’m a friend. I’m just like you.

The sky shudders.

A harsh wind roars, blowing her bangs and pigtails back.

Blue soars through the darkness, weaving ribbons of a pure and cloudless color. Those streaks, Raven realizes, are drawn by a whole flock. They’re loosely defined, existing as nothing more than outline of some bird-like shapes—but the air is theirs.

Her heart fills with melancholy, sadness seeping into the cuts and gashes already there. Salt rubbed in the wounds, reopening scars.

Her pulse picks up pace, her blood rumbling like thunder. The birds passing overhead are a scene put on fast forward, their shadows racing for the sunset.

This feeling is familiar.

Raven shakily takes Despair in her stiff, aching fingers, rubbing a thumb along it. There is no glossiness or sheen to the darkness, no light that refracts.

Icy images slam into her.

A nest. Shattered eggshells. Feathers and beaks. Robins clamoring together. Wings spread out. Takeoff.

Blue, endless blue.

Uneasy steps to the edge. Clumsy footing, a slip. Infantile wings flapping in desperation. A small body falling, falling, falling…

Fallen down.

Raven nods slowly.

Once upon a time, you were bright-eyed and hopeful. You dreamed of the sky, and exploring it with your loved ones.

One misstep and disaster struck. Your wings were injured, and your dream shattered.

Separated from your family and unable to fly, you don’t know what to do. You’re scared that you’ve lost everything—including yourself. You think that this is where your story stops.

She digs her nail into Despair.

But I’ve seen beyond ever after, and I know that ‘the end’ isn’t truly the end.

The deals offered to her. The hands she had held. The promises not kept.

All those times, I thought I was done for—but life still went on. No… I moved on. I continued living. I went to a new place, I met new people, I experienced new things. What hurt me before made me stronger.

Her shoulders sag, burdened by an unseen weight. She stands tall and lifts them, picturing arms supporting her on both sides and a hand upon her back.

“You’ve truly changed—here, at our Night Raven College.”

She smiles.

My wings are broken too. Not physically, but it keeps me from flying. They’re still healing. I’m not yet ready to see the sky again. But I know that, someday, I’ll be able to fly once more. The same goes for you.

Your story is your own. It’s only over if you let it be—if you let the story write you instead of the other way around.

This page can’t turn to the next without you.

Raven’s breath echoes into the ground, oscillating outward in waves.

Tha-thump.

She feels a heartbeat buried in the earth. Deep below the dirt, the sound dullened by the distance and the substance piled between them.

Her own pulse slows, matching it. Exhales, long trains of secrets unwinding themselves and drifting up into the sky.

Slow, steady—calm.

Tha-thump.

Their heartbeats align, becoming one.

Breaths coalescing.

Willing the flow of the feelings, guiding them with a channel formed by her hands.

A radiant blue pools in a circle around Raven’s thumb. The shade of the sky seeps into Despair, coloring the whole chord. It bleeds down into the others—Fear and Forgotten and more.

Before long, Raven is standing under a curtain of sky blue. Cool to the touch, and comforting. She feels like she’s surrounded by plush clouds.

A passing breeze pats her cheek as she sifts the strands between her fingers.

This is… my answer.

She falls back, setting the color to the wind. No grass or ground bothers catching her.

The world vanishes, and she’s tumbling through that vast, wonderful color. Sinking into a beautiful abyss with no bottom.

Free falling, flying.

Blink.

Everything implodes, converging in her tiny body.

The moon and sun and clouds and stars all fold up and pack tightly inside of her. Aurora ribbons and storms with silver linings. Even the shadows slip in, riding upon slivers of light.

The sky is bottled up.

Shoved into her.

And she’s back.

Raven opens her eyes. Real sensations slowly piece together again.

Wobbling wetness in her eyes, trails blazing down her cheeks. Her breath expels in deep, heavy pants. Head swimming, her slight form shaking violently.

The aftereffects hit her all at once.

Nausea makes its home in her gut, dampening her attire with sweat. Pressure presses down hard on her skull, threatening to crush it like an overripe fruit. A consistent, dizzying pain creeps at the corners of her vision.

She gulps and looks down.

The gem set in her magical quill is nearing a pitch black. A single thread of color hangs in the delicate balance, refusing to be overtaken by obsidian.

But the robin doesn’t move a muscle. It regards her with an eerie calmness, eyes wide and innocent.

Waiting for what is next.

“... So, here you are."

The quiet but resolute accusation pierces the forest.

An impish young man seats itself beside them at the lake. He wears a brilliant green vest, a jacket draped over his shoulders. When he grins, there is the flash of fangs and a glint in his big, ruby eyes. They beam out from behind uneven, dark bangs streaked with magenta.

"Vanrouge." Their smile is bitter. "How kind of you to join me in the audience. A bit late for it, though."

"I thought I sensed a familiar presence—and I was right. That magic was your barrier after all." He casually crossed his legs. "Tell me, old friend, what brings you to Sage's Island?"

They laugh. "Meddling in others' affairs, are we?"

"Isn't that precisely what you're doing?" Lilia meets their harsh words blow for blow. It comes as naturally to him as swordplay.

"We never did see eye-to-eye on these things. The path to true happiness never does run as smooth as we want it to, do we?”

"I see that you have no intention of backing down." He frowned. "You have a special interest in this one, or...?"

They dip a finger into the lake water, causing its surface to ripple. The rings rise and fall so easily.

"This story--her story-- was set into motion long ago. It is far past the point of no return. Whatever you do and say now cannot sway the path she has chosen to walk along."

"Ah, but you make exceptions for your own actions?"

"How is she to develop if she cannot overcome the simplest of obstacles?"

"Simple? Even I can see that you're being needlessly cruel and unusual."

"And you are being needlessly lax and indulgent. Time has softened your barbs, O’ Crimson Demon.”

“We don’t speak of the past,” he says quickly. “Not here.”

“You treasure your time here so, even when you are short on it yourself. Worry for yourself, and not for the juveniles you seek to coddle.”

The words hurt—but behind them is a blunted kind of darkness, something deeper and more sullen. An anger and a sadness not shown to the world.

He suddenly understands.

A personal vendetta, then, he ventures. "If this is concerning the Loveless King of old--"

"It is no longer about him. It is about his successor, the one who bears his legacy."

"What is the point of making the child--any child--suffer so? Does she truly deserve to bear the sins of her forefather? Can you not allow her to live and let live?"

The only sound is the water washing everything away.

"Answer me, Estella."

She holds up a finger, silencing him.

"... Listen. Watch. The next scene of the story is unfolding. The finale is afoot.”

A pair tromps through the woods, each person a considerable distance apart. A boy in a headscarf is far ahead, calling out into the thicket through cupped hands. His gloomy partner trails after him unenthusiastically, hunched over and muttering curses.

"No luck so far..." Kalim sighs, his shoulders sagging. "Poor Raven! She must be so confused and cold and tired out here all by herself."

Idia sighs too--much more despairingly.

“‘Poor Raven’ this, ‘poor Raven’ that… Where’s MY ‘poor Idia’?!" he muttered to himself. "I was right in the middle of a game when the headmaster put out that 'urgent' summons and it cost me the match!"

I’ve just been taking Ls left and right lately... First it was Azul-shi pestering me for 'just a little favor', and I felt bad for him so I caved!! That’s the LAST time I decide to have a heart! I had to give up that precious concert ticket to someone that doesn't even appreciate the art of idols!! Then Floyd doesn't do the ONE job he had to do, and I missed out on some limited edition in-game prizes… And now being sent on a rescue mission I didn't ask to be a part of...!

Hell hasn’t known true fear until it’s met with a raging gamer...!!

"Oh, I know! I'll have Jamil run her a hot bath and prepare a banquet to welcome Raven back once we find her. That way, she'll be able to relax and get comfortable again," Kalim babbles ahead of him, all smiles again. (His sadness never lasted that long, Idia had noticed.)

Kalim glances at his partner, then gasps. "Oh gosh, Idia! You look so worn out! You've been so hard at work trying to help us find Raven, it's no wonder you're tired! Should I have Jamil prepare a hot bath and a banquet for you too?"

"N-No!!" Idia snaps. "A-Anything but that!! I think I'd rather die..."

"You feel like you're going to die?! Oh no, should I call a doctor for you?"

"D-Don't do ANYTHING for me, I'm begging you!"

Idia's plea echoes through the forest, shaking the leave above them. They rattle, producing a light, shifting sound. And then...

A chirp comes from far away.

Kalim leaps at the sound. "Did you hear that just now? It sounded like a bird...!!"

"I-Is it really that surprising to find a bird in a forest? Even a shut-in like me knows that's basic common sense..."

"Eh, really? I'm more used to seeing birds in cages. They bring in lots of them at some ceremonies and property openings I've been to. Then we cut a big ribbon and all the birds get released into the sky!"

Kalim glances in the direction of the chirp. "Hey, maybe if we go to the bird, we can ask it for help!"

"H-Huh? That's the first decent idea you've had all day. Birds have the aerial advantage in a situation like this." And the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can retreat back to my bedroom to catch up on the event, Idia adds. "M-Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to be paired with you after all. It can be useful to have a party member with a high Animal Language stat!"

"Oh, I'm not good at Animal Languages at all!"

"... Wh-What?"

"I just kind of get a gist for what they're feeling by listening really hard!

"H-How are we supposed to communicate what we need help with to any forest animal then?!"

"I can try my best!"

"What if your best isn't good enough?! I-I take back everything I said, being stuck with an extrovert's the WORST!!"

"Don't be like that, Idia!! We can definitely power through this together!!" Kalim rushes over to his upperclassman's side and--to Idia's horror--links arms with him. "Come on, let's get going before we lose the bird!"

"W-Wait, don't just go deciding that on your own...! A-And be careful, I’m not an athletic otaku! D-Don't pull on my arm, you'll dislocate itttt...!!"

Idia's protests go largely ignored or not registered. In the distance, critters scatter on little paws and hooves. Away from him, away from them.

Kalim drags him along the twisted road ahead and toward an uncertain outcome.

Only the hope of a birdsong to guide them.

Elsewhere in the woods, another pair struggles.

"Tch. I can't believe I was woken up from my nap for this,” Leona groans, batting a branch out of his way. Leave it to the headmaster to call us in to do his dirty work. “If he can’t keep an eye on the canary, that’s his problem, not mine.”

“Oh, quit it, will you?” Vil retorts with a sigh. “It’s exactly this kind of attitude that reflects poorly on both yourself and your entire dormitory.”

“You can’t possibly be happy about this.”

“I’m not--but you certainly aren’t making this any more bearable for me.” Vil grimaces as he steps over a large twig. The path before him is long and littered with environmental hazards: rocks, mud, and bugs--none of which he had dressed for. “The least you can do is go about this gracefully.”

“Oh, I do apologize, your majesty. I didn’t realize we were on our way to greet the Queen of Hearts herself,” Leona spits. “Wouldn’t want to offend her with poor manners now.”

“So you think it’s appropriate to offend me with your poor manners instead?” Vil huffs.

“Not like I have a choice. You see any other sorry saps around?”

Their sour exchanges are nothing new, but it offers Vil temporary reprieve from the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like a pool of fabric clenched in a fist, it gathers, twisting into a concentrated lump. An inkling of dread.

“... Something is wrong,” Rook had said. He, who was always smiling, had unmistakable panic in his eyes that night. “Something is terribly amiss.”

Vil hadn’t thought anything of it until the summons had come.

They had all anticipated the same old thing. Another emergency meeting with some inane demand from the headmaster, some offloading of responsibilities onto the dorm leaders. Expected, shared reluctance and complaints to match the headmaster’s crocodile tears.

It was simply that his niece had gone missing, and he sought her safe return. There were groans and eye rolls to be had, immediate rejections of the request as he scrambled for a bribe or a blackmail that would convince them.

The man was so flippant--yet he pleaded with such an intense desperateness. Not acted, nor exaggerated.

From the night before, Rook’s foreboding warning had arisen fresh in Vil’s mind. And again, now.

Danger on the horizon. A tragedy on the brink of becoming reality. The huntsman had a penchant for sniffing them out.

“... Rook, you absolute fool of a man,” Vil grumbles. “What have you gone and gotten yourself entangled with now?”

“Bleh, why’d you have to bring him up all of a sudden?” Beside his fellow dorm leader, Leona glowers, his ears flattening. “Cut it out or you’ll will him into existence. It’s already bad enough I have to put up with one pain in the tail.”

The wind passing through set the leaves above them rustling. Papery thin and delicate, the foliage may as well have been papers being shuffled and sorted.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” Vil shoots back. “Do you mind?”

“Can’t help having better hearing than the average human,” he shrugs, infuriatingly smug.

“Oui, Roi du Léon! That is but one of your many charm points!!”

“Yeah, that’s... right...”

Leona’s face slowly falls. Vil’s own expression matches his. Neither of them had noticed a third person emerging after them from the thicket. Not a smell, nor a sound, to give away his presence.

He stands between the duo, the brim of his feathered hat obscuring his eyes. A blonde bob cut, the rich violet and crimson band of Pomefiore upon his arm.

Rook casually tips his hat, causing Leona to shudder and back away. “Bonjour. What a coincidence it is to meet two kings sharing a stroll. It must be destiny that our paths crossed!”

“Oh good, you’ve jinxed us,” Leona drawls, passing Vil a glare. “Go figure.”

He doesn’t deign to acknowledge the lion with a response. Instead, Vil steps toward his huntsman. “Rook, just what is going on here?”

“Hmm?” His smile is far too dazzling for the circumstances. “Are you curious about my day? I’ve only been out taking in the sights and sounds of nature myself.”

“Be serious!” Vil considers shaking him by the shoulders, but thinks better of it. “This wasn’t the ominous attitude you had yesterday.”

Leona scowls. “Your first mistake was to trust Rook with anything at all.”

“As though you’ve been of any more use?”

Their sharp quips are met with a voice like a gentle caress.

“Roi du Poison, Roi du Léon.”

Rook tenderly took each of their hands in his. He playfully swung their arms from side to side in a simple dance, his lips forming a musical chuckle. “Oh, I’ve had the honor of witnessing the most marvelous scene!! It sets my heart aquiver at the thought.”

“What...” Vil sways with him in a confused daze. “What are you on about now?!”

“Looks like he’s finally lost his senses,” Leona simpers. “Tragic, really.”

“You’re not providing any concrete answers, Rook,” Vil protests, tugging on their linked hands—as if to snap him out of his trance. “What happened when you went out last night?”

Rook smiles dreamily. “What indeed. You see, I’ve looked beyond the looking glass and glimpsed the birth of new magic not once, not twice, but three times! First Monsieur Spade, then Monsieur Crabapple… Fufu, I’m quite the lucky man.”

“The first years that came into their unique magic,” Vil recalls. “Yes, I’m aware. Then this third incident must be…”

A bird sounds somewhere in the forest.

Leona immediately catches on. Quick as a cat, he pounces on the opportunity presented to him. “You’ve seen the canary. Well, track her down for us. Poor old Crowley’s beside himself without his golden girl.”

Irises in slivers of green peer out from the shadow of his hat. “Non, I’m afraid I can’t allow that. We mustn’t interfere at a time as fragile as this.”

“You’re making this real unnecessarily difficult. Step aside before I make you.”

The frustrated growl in Leona’s tone does little to frighten him. Rook laughs softly, looking fondly upon the woods surrounding them.

“A flower of evil is most beautiful when left on its own to bloom. If plucked, that vitality dissipates with time.”

He wishes to see it at the height of its beauty.

Pure, noble, and true.

At the end of a path is a clearing--and in that clearing is a raven.

She's crouched to the ground and deliberately made her presence as small as possible. Beside her is a basket. She stares into it, as if afraid to disrupt whatever is inside.

"Raven!!"

She turns at the call of her name, eyes swelling at the appearance of Kalim and Idia from behind the trees.

"Wh...”

“You’re okay!” Kalim tackles her in a smothering hug. “Everyone was so worried!!”

“Speak for yourself,” Idia mutters. “Assuming that everyone will just smile and agree with whatever motivational stuff you spew out... Th-This is why I can’t stand the sparkly, outgoing types irl!”

“You came looking for me?” Her words are tentative.

“Bzzzt, wrong. The headmaster cried and begged for us to find you,” Idia sneers, refusing to meet her curious eyes. “Some of us have more important things to do than random side quests.”

“Uncle did?”

It’s surreal to say.

Shame and shyness well up in her chest. She wonders what he must have been feeling when he discovered her note, wonders if she’s worthy of such worry. Raven is trapped between an apology she can’t bring herself to utter and the questions that fill her head.

“We’re so glad we found you!” Kalim finds her hands and squeezes them. “Let’s go back.”

“Back…?” She’s bewildered by the word. Blinks several times to reacclimate herself to it. “To everyone… to Night Raven College?”

“Gahahah! Of course, where else could we mean? Right, Idia?”

“D-Do you really need my input on this… There’s literally no other place we could mean.”

“... That’s right,” Raven agrees, just barely audible. “Night Raven College is my one and only home. My nest.”

She cradles the basket to her chest, hanging her head low. Her shadow is cast over the contents, odd bobs and ends collected from the forest, remnants of the place she once resided in.

Both the old and the new, together. Something borrowed and something blue.

“... I want to go home,” Raven says quietly, “if you’re willing to have me.”

“Huh, what kind of stupid question is that? The quest was to come and find you. There’d be no point in it if they didn’t want you back with them.”

“There’s people that would miss you if you just up and flew away, Raven. Friends and family,” Kalim adds. He doesn’t speak with the same scathing bite as Idia. “You should have seen how the headmaster was acting, it broke my heart!”

“Yeah, ngl it was p pathetic.”

“That... certainly sounds like Uncle.” There’s a slight laugh concealed in her statement. Amusement at the ordinariness of it.

She sucks in a breath and wills herself to stand. Her legs wobble, no steadier than a newly hatched chick taking its first steps. “I’d better not worry him any more than I already have.”

“You can lean on me for support if you need it,” Kalim offers, offering his shoulder. “Let’s get you back safely!”

“Finally.” Idia turns and starts grumpily tromping in the way he came from.

He fumbles with his noise-cancellation headphones, wanting to wash away the outside world from his senses. As he slips them over his ears, he overhears Kalim and Raven behind him.

“What were you doing all the way out here anyway?”

“I was looking for something for the longest time. But now I think I’ve found it.” She pauses. “No... a little birdie helped me find it. A piece of the future.”

The junk in her basket? She was looking for that? Idia scoffs and tunes them out. Whatever.

Soft instrumentals play the opening notes of a song. The Fates will soon join in a harmonious choir, spinning the story of another hero. Behind him, Raven gives a rapt observation over the music.

“Ah... The sky is so blue today.”

Blue?

Idia inclines his head, a hand shielding his eyes from the shining sun. Above, a deep, permeating blue expands in all directions. He hadn’t much noticed it before--not when he was so often cooped up in his own bedroom.

It’s so bright, so hopeful.

A wind blows. Drying up tears and lifting their spirits up. Idia’s fiery hair whips in the breeze, shimmering in the sun as he braces himself against it.

Right before the lyrics begin.

“Oh yeah, the sky’s really pretty today!” Kalim notes. “I’ve always wondered what makes the sky blue? Sometimes it’s more and sometimes it’s less.”

“I wonder too.”

The Fates erupt in Idia’s ears, heralding destiny ever closer.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #Leona Kingscholar #Idia Shroud #Vil Schoenheit #Kalim Al-Asim #Rook Hunt #Lilia Vanrouge #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #light spoilers for episode 7 #these events happen in spring sooo #around the time Lilia is about to... you know #Tale of the Cursed Raven

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thomasisaslut · 9 months

Text

Amorentia || Severus Snape x F!Hufflepuff Reader

Chapter Seven: Dinner & Discovery

Word Count: 1000

Now dinner time in the great hall the smell of the food wafts into your nostrils, you smell steaks, chicken, and even lamb. You walk to your Hufflepuff table and sit by your decent friend Cedric Diggory.

"[First Name]!" He smiles at you as you sit down but for some reason, it makes you aggravated. You take your seat beside him.

"Cedric." You reply, you reach your hand for some of the food before you and grab a small plate of lamb chops, a salad, and a nice bowl of freshly cut fruit. You begin to eat when the boy beside you speaks again.

"How's your day been?" Cedric asks, a small smile on his face as he speaks to you.

"Fine." You reply blankly.

His face deadpans at your lame reply, a small frown forming on his face. He nods then returns to eating his food.

Once he looks away you glance to the staff table where the teachers sit. Your eyes instantly fall on Professor Snape. You smile at him and your cheeks begin to heat up again. You can't help the giddy feeling in your chest—almost butterflies, perhaps that is what it is.

Around 30 more minutes pass of you staring at the Professor, shockingly he hasn't noticed. Soon enough students start to flee the great hall—finishing their dinner. When you go to stand you glance over to the staff table once more, Snape has already left. Your thoughts are shattered when you feel a hand on your shoulder, you turn around to see him standing there.

"Ms. [Last Name]." He speaks, and your face instantly flushes from something as small as his words.

"You have a potion to get to work on, remember?" His tone almost sounds teasing.

You nod.

"Then let us go." His hand remains on your shoulder for a brief period before letting go—almost hesitant.

The two of you soon reach the now empty potions classroom—the cold eerie sound of nothing off puts you but you can't help but feel excited.

You walk to the same dome-like room as you did the day prior, twisting in the key and striking on the gas for the flame to emerge. Once the blood-replenishing brew is back to bubbling you continue to add your ingredients. Since you're brewing with a large cauldron you have to triple the ingredients, yesterday you added the first batch and today is when you add the second. You pour in another gallon of the standard potioning water then walk to the supply cabinet in the other room to grab the other two ingredients. Once you reach the cubby you grab the powdered unicorn horn and stewed mandrake. You then return to the dome room and add the two ingredients to the bubbling cauldron.

While working you can't help to think of the man who sits a few feet from you, you can hear the sound of the quill scratching the parchment, and the clink of the ink jar every time the feather runs out. But the sound that distracts you the most was his grunts. Oh, how you wish you could make him make those noises.

"Ms. [Last Name]?"

You flinch and snap out of your thoughts at the sound of his voice. "Yes, Professor?"

A moment of silence passes before he speaks again.

"Are you done with the second addition to the potion?"

You nod.

"Good, come here." He motions with two fingers for you to approach.

You can feel heat rush to your cheeks and you do as told, walking closer to him and then stopping in front of him. Before you can say another word he grabs your upper forearm and tugs you closer to him. He then undoes your bandages.

"Looks like your wounds have healed." He states blankly but there is a hint of mischief in his eyes—as if he is plotting something.

"Tell me, Ms. [Last Name], did you get any of the Amorentia potion in the cuts when it first happened?" His tone almost sounds knowing.

"Yes sir, I did." You reply.

He smirks, "And tell me, who have you been obsessive over? Im sure the potion must've worked since it looked perfect when you brewed it."

Your eyes widen a bit in shock, did he know?

"Yes." You hear from the man before you.

"I'm sorry sir-"

He cuts you off, "Don't apologize." You still see a smirk on his face, he stands, his 6'1 figure looming over you, his grip on your arm not loosening.

"Tell me, Ms. [Last Name]. What has it been like fantasying over me?"

You feel your heat flushes as you realize that he does in fact know, but the question is how?

You hear a small chuckle from him. "I'm a master at all arts, you think at one point I wouldn't learn legilimency?"

Shit.

"I didn't expect you to see my thoughts, sir..." You mumble, still looking him in the eyes, your chest filled with the same anticipation and excitement from before—except—now there is a hint of fear.

"Well a student in my class was brewing Amorentia and it seeped into her veins, you expected me not to look?"

"Well-"

"Shush." He snaps.

Your lips shut instantly and you look at him nervously, he steps a bit closer, letting go of your arm and he cups you cheek so you're looking up at him again.

"Tell me, [First Name], did you have these thoughts prior to the potion?"

You hesitate but nod, no point in lying if he already knows.

He smirks, his hand still on your cheek as he connects your lips in a deep and passionate kiss. You're shocked but kiss back, your hands moving to his shoulders before he pulls away.

"Why did you stop?" You ask, a bit disappointed.

He smirks before pecking your forehead.

"You're dismissed, Ms. [Last Name.]" Are his final words to you before he motions for you to leave.

Chapter Eight:

#severus snape #severus x y/n #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #cedric diggory #hermione granger

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santoschristos · 2 months

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Sun and Moon She was the sun that in her light scattered through each corner with the force of her love, she was fire, embers of a campfire burning in desires, in pleasure, in delusions, in madness... A volcano that in its stride melted my skin, my desire, my need.

I was the moon that at nights bathed his body in the reflections of my inspiration, I spent long hours keeping him company with my letters, with the flow of ink of my feather unleashed the chains of my hands to fly to his chest, to his belly, up to the warmth of its nest.

She was the sun, her beauty was breathtaking, exquisite and sublime, consuming all the air of my lungs in just a few minutes, disarmed the rigidity of my veins in the ceaseless impulses of her movements until reaching the peace of my agitated tremors and fluttering between her fingers each one of the drops of my sweat.

I was the moon, hid its secret, its mysteries in my silence for days, I moved away and returned in a different face, did not want to give in and sometimes escaped as if I were a thief of its encounter, because whenever I could love her, she in her magnitude of star achieved the best beats of my heart. --When Flames of Love Become Ashes

The sun and the moon art by David Shannon

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herzgeist-writes · 5 months

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As Sweet As Honey

A/N: A little something that has been lingering on my mind for ages and dusted up in my drafts for way too long. Oh and the header isn't mine!

Content: A short story for fem!reader who needs some wholesomeness with a hint of spice right now - something in between chai latte and mint chocolate to get the senses going

The song that inspired me to write this

Winter's night - often one's reason to overthink for hours and drowning in rhapsodies.

Law's fingers fidget around the coffee mug's handle, subsequently setting the cup aside - feeling strained and depraved, in need of something refreshing. Anything really.

He doesn't mind a bit of company for a change, instead of lingering in his office, glued to the books and papers piling up in towers on his desk.

Each step taken grows heavier, the cold chilling the surgeon to managable extent, yet enough to make him zip up his blue feather coat.

Feathers, that tickle his chin whenever he goes, each step taken reminding him of a man he wished was still among you.

Across the submarine's deck, his black shoes clack upon the wooden impact below. On his way to the local inn, where his crew decided to linger for tonight, the Captain's mind spins around you - when was the last time he saw you?

Felt like ages ago when he heard your delightful voice, hence his uncharacteristic longing of finding you.

The inn is less crowded than expected, only Shachi, Penguin and Bepo remain. Perhaps a few strangers here and there, but all in all the calm is more appeasing to Law's preference.

"Where are the others? Have you seen (Y/n)-ya?"

He asks Bepo, seemingly the last person approachable, for he didn't drink any mind fogging bevarages. What about Shachi and Penguin? Well, alcohol got the better of them, for they knocked their heads against the bar counter, snoring off in the distance. Thus the bear speaks:

"The others have moved on to the next tavern across the street. And (Y/n) should be around here somewhere. Oh, check out the common room in the back, Captain!"

The mink's ears wiggle and twitch in thoughtfulness, considering on wether to join the search for you, or not, however Law insists on going on his own.

What a strange place to be, the inn's taste in furniture bringing up more and more questions. The so called common room resembles a library, tall shelves filled with books and scrolls, for anyone to read and indulge in. It looks inviting, drawing the aloof man in like a moth to the flame.

"Captain! What are you doing here?"

Your voice reaches the surgeon's ears, eliciting a shiver down his spine. Seeing you seated on a couch in the corner, all cozy and wrapped up in a blanket, he accompanies you and lets himself fall into the plush cushions.

"Needed a break from work, so I thought I'd check in on you guys."

"Guys? But you're here with me."

"I trust Bepo's word. He told me the others roam the night life and get their heads ready to hang over tomorrow. They should be alright. Probably."

Listening to your Captain's adorable excuse, you take a sip from your cup. Steel eyes flicker to your lips, fixated on the cherry coloured skin earning more sarutation by the hot liquid flowing over it.

Desire begins to roil inside him and he clears his throat:

"Coffee?"

"No, warm milk and honey. Would you like to have some?"

"It's not exactly the healthiest bevarage to drink on late hours . ."

"Come on, only one sip. I swear I'm not contagious. Besides, it's better than alcohol."

As if you read his mind, he gives in to your cute pout and puffed up cheeks, frowning at him in a rather ridiculous way. It's almost able to earn a low chuckle out of Law.

So he does as offered and lets the warm liquid entice his senses, which it does to your surprise, noticing a spark of relish in those dark circled eyes.

"Good?"

"Unexpectedly."

"Let me get you a seperate mug then."

Before you're heaving yourself off the couch, inked hands hold you in place by grabbing onto your wrist. No words are needed for you to understand, that he wants you to stay, not in need of another cup.

Another set of hours pass by far too quick for both of your tastes and the warm milk in the jug gets emptier by the minute. Not to mention the honey jar, the golden delight basically vanishes into thin air.

It is the cozy and fuzzy spreading in your head, feeling as if influenced under the tangy effects of alcohol, in a more serene matter nonetheless.

With a book in hands, you turn the pages, your digit following the black imprinted letters. Law leans in, curious about the literature you are soaking in, his warmth engulfing you almost completely.

Until now, you haven't noticed that the Captain inched nearer. Legs touching and rubbing up against eachother. The closeness is electrifying - or is it your imagination? He already has taken on the scent of honey, opting you to inhale deeply, leaving you tongue tied.

"What kind of honey is this anyway?"

"I was told it is lavender, made from the inn keeper's own bee keeping."

Reaching out for the jar, his adorned fingers sling around the spoon and he leads it to his mouth. Delighted, he hums and praises the sweetness and flavor.

"May I try as well?"

Without a comment he takes another scoop and again licks off the sticky goodness. You aren't certain, yet it dawns on you that, according to this gesture, he is about to do something unexpected.

His face approaches yours, though in hesitance, lips slightly parted like a bow, ready to shoot it's shot. Law lets his digits graze along your cheeks, down your jaw and finally your neck. For his hand now rests on your nape, he gently pulls you in.

Tilting his head to grant further access, the kiss forms into a deep and longing affection. A surprised squeak escapes you as the sensation of honey enriches your mouth, combined with the cautious ask for entry of Law's tongue.

You hook your arms around his neck and recognise his body trembling and shivering by your touch. To confirm your theory about his nervosity, you press your chest against him, the faint of his racing heart beat noticable.

Syncronizing to his pace, your heart nearly pounds out of your throat and Law bites your lower lip in response to your interim mewlings. Tongues glide along another, savouring the sweet of honey, the appealing sounds enhanced by the stickiness.

Besides honey, you identify the smell of desinfectant and amber musk, oddly enough. All your senses go in overdrive, arroused by his hands on your curves, digging into your plush.

As he pulls away, you whimper in abandonment and he purrs:

"What do you think?"

"A-About what?"

"The honey . ."

Twirling his raven strands, you withold a dreamy sigh and flutter your doe eyes at him. Law lets out a shaky breath in your stead, comprehending your inuendo and brings his lips to yours again, this time with more force.

The kiss turns fervent fairly quick, as he drags you onto his lap, feeling down your back and squeezing your behind seductively.

"You're unbelievable."

"What makes you think so? Pray tell."

In between desperate gasps for air, the both of you nibble on eachother's sensitive skin and he whispers, stuttering almost:

"You beguile me with the simplest of things. Do you know how adorable you look while reading? Or how god damn appealing you are when smiling?"

"Oh am I now?"

His hands embrace your waist and the highly agitated man, in more than one way, pulls you even closer:

"You are as sweet as honey and it drives me insane . . you vixen."

"Quit your complaints Captain and give me another taste."

The tasting lasted longer than anticipated . .

#one piece #one piece law #fanfiction #x reader #fanfic fluff #trafalgar one piece #law x female reader #law x fem!reader #law x y/n #spicy content #a bit of spice

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thebelugawhalefriend · 4 months

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Feathers - Rengoku x Reader

CW: DEMON SLAYER SPOILERS, Gore, Death, Afterlife

Note: The "Feather Breathing" mentioned here is something I tried to draw up as the reader's custom breathing technique. Apologies if it isn't up to Demon Slayer canon ^^ Also, do let me know if you want a continuation 👀

Before you stood a monster of crimson and ink black. Formed into a wolfish monster of gargantuan proportions. Its body was covered in bloodied maws as tyrades of limbs clung onto the sides of buildings. This was no upper or lower rank demon, and yet it still had an animalistic prowess to kill and overpower. Colleagues below and over you litter the streets with claw and bite marks torn through their flesh and bones. Civilians laid next to them with their shared fate.

"Stay behind me! I'll protect you!"

You stood right in front of two children, a boy and a girl holding each other in horror. If you were drawn to do anything, it was to protect these two with your life. One giant orange eye opens from the main head's temple with its maw opening to roar down. Sword in hand, you readied your next attack...

"Feather breathing..."

A style passed on from generations of your own swordsman family. Your mother had taught you from an early age ever since your father's passing. She had to step up to the plate he left as protector, return to her role as an instructor for you.

"Third form, Gentle Swipes!"

The attack was four swipes all aimed at its false heads, gentle as to not disturb the whiskers it could use to detect your moves. Now with those threats gone, you could-

"(Y/N)! Damn it, fall back!"

The Hashira assigned is here- The Wind Hashira.

Yet, you couldn't find the heart to fall back and cower. Not when you were so CLOSE to defeating this beast!

"Feather breathing, first form!"

"(Y/N)!"

The Hashira could only stand in front of the two children you sought to protect in the first place. He was absolutely left at a loss, given the job Kyojuro left him before his passing.

"Bird's Calling!"

You took one giant swipe at its neck, the feathers from your attack dancing and swaying with your swing. Anyone watching could've sworn they heard a hawk's cry upon your strike.

Just... A little... More strength-

CLASH!

Did... Did you kill it? You could feel your vision blurring rapidly, yet a warm feeling came over you. A feeling of triumph, perhaps? Yet, through the falling feeling, you could just barely glimpse at the work you'd done.

"DAMN IT- (Y/N)! HANG ON!"

His words fell deaf upon your ears. The beast before you held your blade only partly into its bleeding neck. As for you? Ruby red poured from you and dribbled above your sight during your fall. Little could you tell that a giant bite had been taken from your side, leaving little of yourself in tact. It wasn't until the fall ended that you finally blacked out from the impact.

...

"My love?"

"Kyo...?"

"Darling?"

"Where..."

"Why are you laying on the floor?"

Curious red eyes peer down into you, a smile sprawled across his face. None of the pain followed you into this reality. The only warmth you felt now was this reunion. You know him! And yet, mourning and crying didn't come to mind in this paradise. You could only leap up and bring him in for a tight hug.

"Kyojuro! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Of course you would! I've always been here!"

"In this place?"

Your eyes wander curiously around the serene scene. Doves cooed and awed inside the treetops, while butterflies and bees all peacefully made their way to the lilies and irises. Leaves from the tree drooped and blossomed in what seemed to be an eternal spring.

"Not just this place, but with you. I always stayed with you in spirit... In heart."

He presses a gentle hand onto your heart, bringing back that familiar and burning hot love you'd felt all this time since you first met him. Your own hand goes to caress his hand, but you couldn't feel much of him.

"Is this it? Do I get to come back to you?"

Your words sounded excited, but the flame hashira only let out a hearty laugh.

"As if I would let my love die so young!"

His hands move to hold yours, looking into you with a new softness.

"You've been destined for greater than dying for nothing. Unlike myself, you've got much more life to live. A generation to raise and inspire, friends to support..."

He pulls you closer to him, now staring right down into you.

"It was always my duty to protect you and my friends. I have done so and will keep doing so... And so will the people I have trusted to care for you."

Your heart couldn't take just how sweet yet heartbreaking his words were. How you found out about his passing was Tanjiro's word, who'd taken the journey to your home to tell you of your love's passing. And yet, one thing stayed on your mind about his words.

"But I wouldn't have died for nothing, Kyo. I would have died protecting two children who've got even longer lives to lead. Even the littlest of lives are worth fighting for..."

With that, another one of his characteristics laughs erupt from his core, patting your head with a large and flashy smile.

"You always reminded me of that whenever you got yourself into trouble before! In fact, didn't you tell that to Sanemi when he almost killed that spider during training?"

"The spider didn't do anything to deserve a death under his foot! Much too smelly and honorless..."

Now this got a laugh from both of you, a weakness now taking over and bringing you to your knees. Kyojuro's smile softens into concern as he kneels down next to you.

"It's time for you to go, my love."

"Wait- Kyo, please, I waited for so long to see you again! Please..."

His hands come to cusp your face, placing a kiss to your lips for but one moment.

"I will still be here. For my sake, live your life to the fullest instead of waiting for death. Find another love and bring them peace. Continue to protect even the smallest of lives, no matter what you may face."

"You're asking for so much..." Your eyes well into large tears, the searing pain stopping you from absolutely sobbing, "I could never love another like I love you! I want nothing more than to wait for us to be together again!"

He tries to speak up, but your tears wound him too much for him to even utter a word.

"Every time a door opens, a part of me thinks you'll be there again! I'll have dreams about when we would eat together! You can't ask that I forget all of what we have just for another man to never live up to what you left...!"

He begins to hush you with a soft voice, pulling you in for a tight embrace. Kyojuro's own eyes pool into pained tears.

"I never asked that you forget me. I too want to meet you again... But like feathers, we must follow the winds of change. Take your time to dance in the breeze before you fall, because you? You deserve the full life that I never got to live. Heal, live, and I will wait patiently. Love again too, for your own sake. You will have my blessing, but only if the person you fall for can love you like I have."

Paradise begins to fade against your will, but your body tries hard to stay. In an attempt to get you to relax, he lifts up your chin and places a warm kiss to them. As it works, the vision fades quicker and quicker.

"I love you, (Y/N). Remember that..."

"(Y/N)..."

"(Y/N).."

"(Y/N)!"

"S-sir, you must not disturb the patients!"

The room feels so familiar... Oh, right, the injuries must have left you completely unconscious. Yet, the rough voice calling felt so... Comforting.

"Does it look like I give a shit?! I need to know if they're ALIVE!"

"They've b-been in a coma for weeks! I promise you t-they're alive-"

"... Mister Shinazugawa...? What are you..."

Both the Hashira and the helper fell completely silent upon your awakening. No one was confident you were even going to make it with a pierced kidney and a torn intestine. And yet, here you are, breathing and even talking.

"THEY WERE AWAKE AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?!"

"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!"

The ruckus erupts a small chuckle from you, which only causes a rough cough. The girl fighting with Sanemi had quickly left him behind to calm you down.

"(Last Name), please! You can't be disturbing your body so soon- Your injuries are too severe!"

The white haired boy stood at the doorway in pure awe, almost unbelieving that you were alive.

"I-I must let everyone know you're awake! Oh- they'll be so relieved!"

With that, the helper ran from the room to leave you two alone. For a moment, you could catch Sanemi's look of shame.

"Mister-?"

"Please. Sanemi is fine."

The gesture brought a soft blush to your face, watching him slowly make his way to the side of your bed.

"You look like you'll die any moment if you try anything."

"I'm not going to yet, Sanemi. I told someone close to me that I wouldn't let myself yet..."

"The same one who made me promise to protect you?"

"I'm sure that is he."

A long silence falls between you both.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

"Huh?"

"I broke that promise to him. I couldn't get to you in time..."

You raise an eyebrow towards him, letting out a weak laugh.

"Kyo's the one you have to apologize to, not me. Besides, it was my choice to throw myself in danger..." You pause for a moment, "Are the children alright?"

"Physically, yes. But, they've been orphaned."

"..." Your thoughts escape you for only a moment, "Is it possible to have them sent to my mother's estate?"

"Excuse me?"

"She's still relatively young enough to still keep watching young ones. It's important that they find somewhere to call home."

"You don't know if they have family to turn to, (Y/N)! Besides, why would you care after they almost got you killed?!"

"Someone reminded me that... Even the littlest of lives are important to care for. Every feather should have strong winds to guide them through life."

#rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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