#anxiety really is a cruel mistress

[ask-chef-teruteru]

i have generalized anxiety disorder and most times it’s really hard to believe the things people tell me. typically when im doubting things and people reassure me. do you have any advice? i try to stay optimistic,

“My apologies, hon, I just wanna be on the same page here— do y’all mean doubtin’ things in terms o’ self doubts, or somethin’ else? Is there somethin’ specific y’all tend t’ need reassurances on?

I ain’t no expert, I don’t got a formal diagnosis or nothin’ like that, but it’s fair to say I struggle a lil’ bit with anxiety sometimes too, so I s’pose I can tell y’all some things that work for me?

Used to be worse when I was younger— ‘fore I won a few competitions, got my ultimate title— back when the diner was strugglin’ financially n’ it felt like everything was goin’ wrong all the time all at once. Would get myself all in a tizzy, would start off worryin’ over one lil’ thing that’d snowball into another thing n’ another n’ another ‘til pretty soon I was a mess n’ needed help calmin’ down.

'I wasn’t feelin’ too confident on that last dish, it didn’t look as pretty as it did last time I made it. What if it didn’t look right cause I made it wrong? What if it was burnt or I forgot an ingredient or it was underdone? What if the person who ordered it’s a renowned critic n’ I blew our chances o’ ever doin’ any better? What if that critic doesn’t like the food cause I screwed up and writes an awful review and nobody ever comes back? How will we live? The diner’ll go under if we don’t get no customers, we won’t have no money to live, Mama won’t have no more money for medicine, what if Mama gets worse? What if we lose the diner’n that stress gets t’be too much for her? What if she hates me for it? It would be all my fault!'

I’m panickin’ picturin’ myself livin’ on the street n’ Mama in an early grave n’ hatin’ me with her last breath, n’ ain’t nothin’ ever even happened, mind you. Weren’t no complaints ‘bout the food, opposite in fact, n’ me worryin’ myself sick didn’t do no good.

O’course sometimes things do happen that don’t go good, but anxiety makes mountains o’ mole hills. Situations where y’all got the time to worry ‘bout somethin’ bad happenin’ ain’t usually gonna end with the worst possible outcome. Really though, even the times when it feels like things couldn’t get no worse, life still goes on. Always sounds like an eye roller of a thing t’ say, but it’s true. If ya screw something up for real n’ it ain’t all just nerves, things won’t always be just as bleak’s they feel at that exact moment. It’s hard to get outta your own head, but y’all really gotta try to take a step back, try to rationalize, think about it from somebody else’s perspective.

Next time you’re feelin’ anxious ‘bout somethin’ y’all did, try thinkin’ ‘bout how you’d feel if somebody else had done it. If Mama’d made a dish that weren’t good n’ we got a bad review from somebody important n’ it meant financial ruin, I still wouldn’t have started hatin’ her or worryin’ ‘bout how to go on— it woulda just been a bad thing that happened that we’d learn t’ live with, y’know?

Ya gotta not be your own worst critic n’ gotta not assume people’re just tellin’ y’all sweet lies when they’re try’na reassure y’all. A lot o’ things you’re anxious about aren’t gonna cross other people’s minds ever again. That time y’all answered a question wrong n’ only realized it once the person walked off n’ there was no good opportunity to correct yourself? Moment’s passed, that person would probably just go 'oh okay' if y’all told them later. Ever waved at somebody cause you thought they was wavin’ at you but they were actually wavin’ at somebody behind you? Now that person just thinks you’re friendly cause you’d wave back if they waved at ‘em first.”

“I feel like I’ve gone on a while now and I don’t actually know how on the mark I am with any o’ that, so please don’t hesitate to talk to me again n’ follow up if I weren’t helpful, so I s’pose I’ll leave it at that for now. I hope I’ll hear from y’all soon!”

#asks #velveeta mac #anxiety really is a cruel mistress #some days things are just gonna spiral n it’s hard to claw out of it #but sometimes you’ll catch it early n go wait maybe this is in fact my anxiety talkin n I ought not listen no more

[fueledbysano]

𝐓𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒.

♱ ft: Kakucho/Izana, Shuji Hanma, Ran/Rindou Haitani

♱ content/warnings: angst, cheating, alcohol consumption, unrequited love, second lead trope.

♱ a/n: so this has been in my wips since September. I have more characters in draft but I decided to post what I have finished bc I really miss putting out content here since I've been busy. enjoy 🤲

𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 — “I loved you first"

He was the man who had always been there for and with you; dating way back to your childhood.

Right from the moment Kakucho met you, he knew he had to cherish this girl as much as he can, and as long as he can, and he could never stop, not even for a second.

Every dumb banter you ever had, every Christmas mornings at five, every spontaneous Saturday afternoon, every speed bump, every pang of boredom and anxiety you ever experienced together—he carried that lesson with him.

and he carried that lesson with him when you married Izana.

As you bind the last of your vows to the silver-haired man before you, it was then that Kakucho realized that it didn't matter how much longer he's loved you; when fate put Izana in your life— in a marriage of convenience.

And most importantly, he carried that lesson with him when you started playing the martyr wife.

It was too good to be true— to have a man of status, attractive looks, and fascinating aura as your husband and all to yourself.

So it didn't shock you in the least when you discovered lipstick stains on his shirt that weren't yours, with a faint scent of a cheap perfume you don't bother spending your money on.

“He’ll change.” “Maybe, he isn’t used to marriage yet.” — were just one of the many things you told yourself into thinking that there is still hope for your marriage.

Kakucho finds it heartbreaking to see you act the part, and though he's never confronted you directly about it, he makes every effort to support you—something your own husband couldn't even do. and to witness you fall just as deeply in love with someone else as he did with you.

Because sometimes love means taking a step back. If you care about somebody, you should want them to be happy even if you wind up being left out.

One evening, when Izana had another not-so-secret meeting with his mistress, you stayed in while sipping wine and reading passages from a book of melancholy poetry. The wine had started to fuel the voices in your head and the lines began to hit a little too hard that you didn't realize the tears streaming from your eyes.

It was routine at this point; to cry yourself to sleep, wishing that the only man you wanted felt the same way.

However, you also failed to recognize the man who genuinely expressed his intents and feelings to you; who happened to pay you a visit at this particular moment.

Kakucho also noticed the fresh tears you've been shedding while you were asleep on the couch in the living room with the book held loosely in your hand.

Even if you haven't spoken yet, he already knew what's been upsetting you. So with a bitter sigh, he took the book from your hand before returning it to it's rightful spot on the bookshelf, and then sprawling a blanket over your body, fixing your frame into a more comfortable position before cleaning up the dishes you'd left on the table.

It really didn't matter that he'd loved you for years, because to be in love with someone half as in love with you is a cruel curse, and the fact that you too get to feel that way makes Kakucho's heart hurt even more.

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 — “Choose me.”

He was the one who said that he didn’t care about the ring on your finger; that this was merely an affair by sinful adulterers.

Your coincidental meeting at a bar led to a one-night stand which caused more than a little bit of friction when you came in as the new Toman executive and his colleague the very next day.

He then received the second dose of shock when he found out that you were, in fact, married, as your husband paid you a visit at the headquarters one day in a bid to resolve your tumultuous marriage

At first, you didn't comprehend the tinge of concern in your heart as you glanced over your husband's shoulder to meet the eyes of your secret lover. Will it be over for good?

Once your husband has gone off to your home, waiting for your return, Hanma finds himself locked inside your office, as if your man hadn’t just been in it minutes ago. “There’s my favorite adulterous whore.” He smirked, making himself comfortable on your seat as you were noticeably leaning against the tall windows in distress.

“This is just… great.” You sighed heavily, reaching to your drawer for a smoke. “What’s wrong, gorgeous?” Before you could even reach the handle, Hanma had already pulled you onto his lap in a firm grip. With sorry eyes, you smooth his chest and tugged on his collar softly, “I’m… married.”

With one push of his knees, your body fell onto his, letting his sinful lips lap on the cleavage exposed by your low neckline dress, “This— is wrong.” you gasped out, clutching onto his suit.

“Then tell me to stop, and I will.” He insists, but you were already too deep into his touch, and instead, your hands finds themselves discarding the buttons of his suit which landed you getting bent over on your own desk, at the end of the day, mutually claiming that it’s just sex.

But what you both didn't realize at that time is when your regular affair grew into taking on missions together, having dinner at unreasonable hours, and attending lavish events with each other.

Hanma is still clueless of what your marriage looked like, and he refuses to know. He was the other man, but he didn't feel like one. How could he when you constantly allowed yourself to be drawn into his antics and gave him your undivided attention?

That's why he started to worry when he noticed the crack in the glass— you have been staying home longer than usual, wearing your wedding band more frequently, then eventually having your husband fetch you at work.

And he finally gets the chance, in his car after a successful mission, your phone rang and displayed your husband's name on it, but instead of picking right up, you sent him a glance, a rather inquisitive one. “Okay, here it goes—” and with his words, the car brakes all at once.

“Your choice, it’s simple— him, or me. And I’m sure that he’s great, but, [ Y / N ], I love you.” And that was then you realized that it had already become more than a casual affair.

At the end of the day, Hanma only wishes that he is the first star you'll be gazing at when the night falls.

𝐑𝐀𝐍 — “What does he have that I don't?”

He was used to working towards everything he’s ever had. However, he’s envious of how Rindou easily had you under his touch. It’s a pity— how worthless all his efforts turned out when you fell right into his little brothers’ arms. Maybe, it was a “youngest sibling” thing; to be able to get anything they want at will.

He was never selfish with Rindou… But couldn't he be even just for once— with you?

“Hi, I’m glad you could be here…” Your embrace was the perfect Christmas present to him as he welcomed you into their home. This Christmas Eve, your gifts to each other is the precious time, the thought you put into it as you spend it together. So other than the wrapped chocolates and gifts beneath the tree, your Christmas didn't come from a store... and, you know what? It really did mean so much for Ran.

He appreciates your company, hell, even just your presence— to be with him and Rindou on aimlessly planned days, to the ones that matter most. And even if you hadn’t realized it yet, he wished you could give him the same attention you do with Rindou.

“Where’s Rin?” You question as he serves you a hot cup of cocoa, and he could feel his heart aching for a second. “He got some ice. He’ll be back soon.” He flashed a smile and offered you his company on the couch.

He wanted to be jealous of Rindou, but at the end of the day, he knows that the choice is all yours to make, and that harboring resentment toward his brother is the last thing he would do in this world.

He was savoring the remaining time he had to himself with you, listening intently to every word you beautifully spoke and cracking up at your jokes. But when Rindou comes back, he notices how your eyes shine.

That glimmer of admiration— something he looks for but never finds until the younger brother is around.

Being drunk switches off the best parts of your brain and leaves the fool to run your life, to run your mouth. But for Ran, it silenced the longing in his heart that you aren’t his to love.

It takes a lot of condensed pain to produce each drunk, and so to look out there and see the storm clouds is enough to break both soul and heart.

And as he returns after the fourth refill, he finds you and Rindou passed out on each other on the couch, with his face snuggled up to yours that flashed a faint smile. So with a bittersweet smile, he pulls the neighboring blanket over your bodies, and tuck your hair away.

Ran thought his heart would break seeing her love someone who is not him; although it did for a moment, he slowly felt full of life upon seeing the two most important people in his life finally get together.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #kakucho x reader #ran x reader #hanma x reader #shuji hanma x reader #ran haitani x reader #hanma x reader smut #angst #tokyo revengers headcanons #izana x reader #rindou x reader

[courage-doodles-blog]

Introducing Barry!

Design

Species: Cat

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Asexual

Family: Nathan(Father), Teresa(Mother), Marie(Grandmother), Brandon(Grandfather), Nathaniel(Ancestor), Miranda(Ancestor), Barrett(Ancestor) Lauren(Grandmother), Oliver(Uncle), Matt(Grandfather)

Likes: Roses, fantasy movies, action movies, his parents Nathan and Teresa, rabbits, cats, spending time with Courage, Bunitty(platonic love interest), becoming a detective, mystery shows

Dislikes: Courage in danger, Muriel in danger, danger, his friends in danger, spiders(except Tyrone and his spider crew), Toxin(worst enemy), spicy food, getting scared, violence, his family in danger, Eustace Bagge(enemies)

Friends: Courage, Muriel, Felix, Clive, Justin, Maxwell, Olive, Geo, Charlie, Bunny, Kitty, Bunitty(platonic love interest), Gabriel, Russell, Platinum, Milo(Uncle to him), Grayson, Shady(Childhood best friend/brotherly figure), Computer, Team Frostbite(Damien the Wolf, Malcolm the Mountain Hare, Snowflake the Arctic Fox, Chief Azrael etc), Absolute Six(Jasper, Cyan, Marina, Hurley, Jackson and Carmen), Aden, Eight Tribes of Honour(Lucifer, Claude, Nigel, Krimson, Iram, Blizzard, Twigs and Possum Mob), Fred, Lord Blade VI, Cannibals of Vintage City, Bon, Cyril, Hunchback of Nowhere, Bigfoot, Duck Brothers, Dr Vindaloo, Courage's parents, Animals of Fear Gang

Neutral: Shirley, General, Lieutenant, Banana Suit Dealer

Enemies: Eustace, Fred(formerly), Katz, Le Quack, Cajun Fox, Weremole, Black Puddle Queen, Clutching Foot, Mad Dog, King Ramses, Sirius, Toxin, Alan, Jacob, Raven, Cruel Veterinarian, Vore, Thursday, Tuesday, Saber, Slice, Dice, Amaris, Sin Clowns(Pride, Wrath, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Envy and Sloth), Fear King, Fear Slaves, Di Lung, Mecha Courage, Ma Bagge, Gem, Evangeline the Musical Mistress, Bone Antler

Facts:

He has a fear of spiders because of the abuse he got from Toxin who is in fact a spider himself.

Barry knows how to hold a gun, however it's a toy gun that shoots corks instead of bullets. He learnt his technique of handling his toy gun by his ancestor Barrett.

He is neutral to Shirley the Medium. He shows respect to her but worries about the curses she puts onto others.

After rescuing Bunitty from Mad Dog, the two became really friends, until they both start to have platonic feelings for each other.

His interactions with the General and the Lieutenant left him in dismay, due to the them fighting with each other or their "antics" as Barry refers it all to.

Barry has become a victim hunted down by Thursday and Tuesday AKA Feline Hunters, since he is a cat.

In the crossover; Straight Outta Nowhere! Scooby Doo Meets Courage The Cowardly Dog. Barry becomes allies with the Mystery Inc. His favourite members of it are Shaggy and Scooby Doo.

Barry loves watching mystery shows, which got him dreaming of becoming an great detective.

Barry's relationship with Computer didn't go well at first, because Computer became (of course) a bit of a jerk to him, until Computer was aware that Barry has anxiety. By that, he now helps Barry how to cope with anxiety.

Barry is allies with Team Frostbite, Absolute Six and Eight Tribes of Honour, he sees Team Frostbite and Tribes of Honour as family figures.

He loves his grandparents Marie and Brandon. Marie loves him dearly and Brandon has a soft spot for him, he tends to nickname him "Scamp" if he forgets his grandson's name.

Whenever Courage isn't around with him, he takes the role as Courage himself. He does remember two of his catchphrases and says them whenever he is in a dangerous situation. The catchphrases being "The things i do for love!" and "I know something bad is gonna happen or if my name is [random name]! And I'm glad it's not."

Barry has the ability to sense any danger that is coming

Barry is the one who set Lucifer free by his order and he fully knows that he has gained freedom.

Barry had an ultimate regret by setting Fear King free. This is because the King was abusing him psychological and uses his anxiety for his goals, but only to make it more worse, but then Barry finally stands up to him, telling him that releasing him was the worse idea he had done and he now sends him back to his book for all eternity and throw it out.

Despite having a fear of spiders, Barry became allies with Tyrone and his spider crew. It was said by Barry that he doesn't fear spiders that show kindness to him

#ctcd oc #ctcd #courage the cowardly dog #oc reference #digital artwork #digital art #artwork #art #ctcd oc barry #oc info #cat oc

[boi-muppet]

38 and I can't feed myself

I am in one of those fowl moods where the brain is a cruel mistress. Things that are a small annoyance or something I could logically think through have turned into things that make me want to throw a tantrum, crawl under a blanket and cry.

The one that i'm just really tired of is feeding myself. I have been dealing with not feeling like I have any connection or influence over my body for almost two decades. I've tried vegan, vegetarian, GF, DF only, no nightshades, no eggs, no corn AT ALL (Did you know that Aleve is the only pain killer that doesn't use corn starch as a filler?) as well as a combination of them all. This has led to restricted diets, anxiety, being 'that person' whenever anyone else tries to feed me as well as a nice trip back into some old disordered eating habits all with only minor or short-lived relief. I have now added blood sugar monitoring onto this in the hope of getting some answers and avoiding a genetic predisposition and that has once again led to more info and even more disconnect from my body. I could say 'fuck it' and eat a big meal with cocktails, wine, and things I am not fully sure what I'm eating and my blood sugar stays in range. Then I go to the movies with grapes, pistachios, and a few df chocolate chips and suddenly my average blood sugar for the day is high.

I'm discouraged. I'm 38 and I don't know how to feed myself in a way that nourishes my body and enables me to be in a good mood AND have regular bowel movements.

Is this all true? Yes.

Is it magnified by the fact that I'm hungry? Absolutely

Send help ....or a different digestive system.

[fluffcakeproductions]

Would there be a difference with how yandere tssm Otto is post lab accident? (I can stop reading your work akabakabav)

Yandere! Tssm Doc Ock (post accident)

* Not as shy anymore

* Mega confident

* He is far more intelligent, and he makes sure he plans ahead of anyone else.

* He makes sure every small thing he does goes perfectly as planned.

* He constantly spies on you via cameras, obsessing over you.

* Whenever he is with the sinister six or with anyone else, he makes sure to keep you strictly on his side.

* The doc is a little rougher, but he still has that same soft spot for you.

* He sure has gotten a lot more greedier as well, constantly being with you.

* Most of his original morality has disappeared.

* His kills certainly have gotten a lot more craftier now.

* Kiss kiss kiss everywhere on your body~

* He does become a lot more intrusive as well.

* Ock now no longer really hides away the fact that he’s A cruel murderer a pretty crafty man.

* He loves your expression ❤️

* “Oh god….”

* “Indeed, my dear. Isn’t it beautiful? What I’ve done for you? That expression on your face…simply adorable.”

* He knows when he goes to far and he either taps onto a specific phobia, trauma, or something else. He promises he won’t ever do it again.

* His gifts do become more elaborate

* He once saw Shocker trying to help you escape as he noticed your distressed state flirt with you, so he took him to a small basement under his base and skewered a man to show what he would do to him if he dared to speak to you again.

* Dinner dates are all too tense, but he makes them as romantic as possible by trying to be himself again.

* Spoils you

* Loves whenever you lay on his tummy like you did when he was still sweet ❤️

* Tells you that when this bloody world becomes his, he’ll make sure everyone knows who you are, and that he’ll give the world to you.

* During the gangland trade, he sent Adrian to do the business meeting with Tombstone and Silvermane.

* It was Valentine’s Day, for crying out loud! Couldn’t those lowly worms pick another day? He wants to spend every second of that loving day with you.

* Hehehe, as the Master Planner he likes to nickname you as his “little mistress”

* Takes Anxiety Attacks you have surprisingly well, as long as you’re alone. He kinda reverts to his soft spoken self and tries to calm you down.

* If you try to lash out on him, he has to gas you. (He’s extremely sorry)

* Whispers sweet nothings into your ears as he cuddles with you under blankets ❤️

* If Silvermane or Tombstone were to kidnap you, to show Doc how much more “stronger” or simply as him surrendering, he’ll make sure to just absolutely destroy their reputation along the way of getting you back. He’ll make sure to break them beyond repair.

* If Green Goblin kidnaps you, New York might not exist anymore after what he’ll do.

* Likes to nibble on your skin whenever he’s bored.

* Tries not to be as loud with you, if either you don’t like loud noises or just don’t like him screaming in general.

* Overall he’s just Totoro with Rabies ❤️

#doc ock #doctor octavius #doctor octopus #otto octavius #doc ock x reader #doctor otto octavius #reader insert #yandere x y/n #doc ock x you #yandere doctor octopus #yandere hcs #yandere x you #otto octavius x you #yandere+doc+ock #tssm otto #tssm doc ock #tssm

[citrus-watermelon]

you belong to me

Pairing: yandere!Dabi x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping, degrading language, forced kissing, threats of violence

A/N: this is a 3am fic and just a but of fun, this is my first time publishing a fic in a HOT WHILE so please tell me your thoughts <3

Today was just like any other, work at the store was boring but not too difficult, nothing particularly strange had happened, certainly nothing to warrant the deep anxiety building in your gut as you walked home

But all day you could swear there had been someone watching your every move, this hadn't been the first time you felt it, but it felt more severe than usual, like there was someone or something coming after you

So of course you did the exact opposite of what any logical person would do and took a hard turn into an ally that you knew would eventually lead to your home faster then the path you had previously been on, failing to realise that if this person really was following you, they now had the means the trap you in this secluded and hidden place

The sky threatened to rain as you picked up the pace slightly and held the house keys tightly in your hand until your fingers started to purple from the lack of circulation, you knew feeling this scared was silly but there was a nagging that told you you needed to get home as fast as possible,

This was confirmed by the footsteps seemingly keeping pace with yours, and the deep laboured breathing that has been inching closer and closer ever since you set off from work, now logically this could just be someone on their way home and you were just being paranoid, but once again something inside of you was telling you to run, to get far far away and not look back

Fuck

Which is just what happened, the footsteps continued after you and began to get louder, no longer keeping in pace with your own, echoing down the damp walkway just a small distance behind yours.

‘How stupid of you,’ a voice rang as you froze in place ‘you clearly noticed me following you baby’

‘Who- What d- what do you want sir’

You spun around on your heels fast enough to catch a glimpse of your pursuer as they closed the distance between the two of you and trapped you against the wall with their scarred arm,

you knew this man, of COURSE you recognised him, his charred face {along with his villainous group} had been all over the news since they attacked that hero school, why in the everloving hell was this wanted criminal chasing after a convenience store worker at near 1 in the morning

He chuckled at your words ‘sir? baby no need to be so formal’

Well, defusing the situation with politeness was clearly going nowhere, in fact the man only seemed to be getting closer to you, his face a mere inches from yours, you could clearly smell ash and burning but couldn't figure out weather it was from cigarettes or the man himself,

‘The names Dabi, but going by the fear in that cute lil' face of yours, you already knew that’

you decided in that moment that a quick get away was in your best interest, you would hurt him somehow, run as fast as humanly possible, and once you were home you would call the police from there, with one hand against his torso trying to keep what little distance you could, you swung up the hand with the sharp keys and attempted to strike him in the head

But fate is a cruel mistress indeed, and today it seemed to favour this villian over you, Dabi caught you with his other hand and began to heat it until it became almost unbearable, this is clearly going to leave a mark

‘Drop . them’ he growled into your right ear

You obediently did as he said and let go of the keys before the heat on your wrist became worse and left any permanent scars, although it looked like it may be to late for that, he pushed into you with his chest and grabbed at your chin with his now free hand, forcing your eyes to look into his, they looked as if they were on fire, at the same moment you felt a heat next to your body clearly coming from the man's hand, blue flames disbursed as soon as they appeared leaving a black mark on the brick wall that you were helplessly pressed to, this caused you to re-evaluated any plans of a get away

You stayed silent, not sure what exactly to do, running through a million plans to escape and all of them ending in you becoming barbeque

‘I really don't want to hurt you,’ the man's eyes shot to your hand and back to you, a tinge of an emotion is in his eyes but you were far too preoccupied with not dying to notice or care what it was

‘but if you act up ill torch you till not even your own parents could recognize you, understand?’

‘I said, do you understand’ this time with a much deeper voice, this felt more like a statement then anything, his grip tightened but not enough to leave any bruises, maybe really didn't want to hurt you unless he deemed it necessary, you decided to co-operate until you could figure out a better way to escape that didn’t mean your impending doom

You slowly nodded your head as much as you could with his hand holding it in place and stuttered out a quick ‘y-yes’

‘Good girl’ he released his grip from your chin and reached into his pocket to grab some sort of cloth

‘Now I'm going to take you someplace safe, it'll all be okay soon’ Dabi whispered in a strained and gruff voice, as he swiftly forced the rag onto your lips and you soon realised that this was some sort of anaesthetic,

In a panic you scratched at his arm and flailed around in his grip as your vision became spotty and dark, forgetting the no violence against him plan in favour of not being knocked out and taken to a second location for this man to do who knows what with you

‘Sleep darling, it's all gonna be okay, you’ll be safe with me now’ you hear him tell you as your body grows lifeless and you lose consciousness in a daze of confusions at this statement

-<3-<3-<3-<3-<3-<3-<3-<3-<3-<3-

you forced your heavy body upwards from whatever you had been sleeping on, with a little adjustment from your eyes you realised that you had been laid on an aged mattress within a dilapidated room, a loose chain fastened to your foot

A dull yellow light coming from under a gap between a door and floor was all you could see as you woke up from your drugged state, unable to fully move your body without feeling like you were dragging lead within your limbs

Clearly your captor had been successful in taking your unconscious body to some no doubt sketchy location in which he planned to do even sketchier things to you

‘Oh, i see you're finally awake, Y/N’ your name sounded odd from his lips, like he purposely elongated every syllable trying to savour the taste of it in his mouth,

‘Ple-please don't hurt me I'm, i haven't seen anything i don't know anything , just let me go back and ill- and ill- i wont tell i promise’ you began to tremble in your corner while whimpering anything you could think of to get this criminal to stay away, remembering every cliché horror movie you'd ever seen and realising that all of this was of course pointless and would most likely result in the same ending anyway

‘Shhh baby it's okay, its okay’ he hushed, kneeling closer, using his other hand to push the hair out of your face and get a closer look

Dabi quickly walked over where you had taken up refuge and reached out a hand to your face

Oh gods, this was it, you were going to die by being burned alive in some rundown excuse of an apartment without having any idea what or why, or even if anyone would ever find your body, your breathing began to pick up and everything was going into overdrive in your last moments as you waited for the harsh fire to come but, it didn't, instead there was a large hand on your cheek with the thumb rubbing circles in an effort to calm you while whipping away stray tears

‘I know you're confused and hazy right now from the drugs doll, but you're safe now,’ this only proved to confuse you more

‘your mine now, i'll protect you and kill any fucker that tries to hurt my baby’

He leaned his head towards yours but you pulled away harshly, causing him to release his grip on you temporarily, but just as quickly he pulled you back and chuckled lightly to himself

‘Your scared right now baby, but you'll learn soon’

He took an unpleasant breath, which was now close enough to warm your cold lips and graze the skin there

‘Everything is as it should be now’

The distance was closed this time with an unwelcome kiss, your hands raised and struggled against him, he easily grabbed at your arms and pulled them down lightly, until he pulled away with a grin gracing his grotesque lips

‘You have no idea how long i've been wanting to do that’

He once again pulled you in for a softer kiss this time, by no means with this any more enjoyable than the last

‘Or maybe - you do’ he whispered in between pecs

‘You've noticed me before tonight, i know you have’ once again stooping inwards

you continued to grip his shirt, pushing against him now, but coming to no avail, he was far bigger than you and much much stronger

‘Maybe you wanted me too-’ he snickered to himself , stretching the staples on his face

He stopped the teasing and grabbed at your legs, pulling you into his arms in an awkward position as he once again dumped you onto the make do bed

‘Stay there doll, i'll go get you something ’

He held the cup to your mouth and tipped it forward, giving you no choice but to drink

You had to stare at him for a moment as he walked out, leaving the door ajar letting you see into the rest of the shabby apartment, allowing you to formulate a thousand plans of escape, quickly distracted by the sounds of clanging and bangs

Oh gods he was probably getting a knife or other tool to keep you from fighting even more then you already had, maybe he even- you spiralling thoughts were stopped when he walked back in with a cup of something steaming in his hand,

‘Here doll, this'll help you sleep, you can explore soon if you earn my trust okay ?’

Oh, he was giving you tea, nothing special but not nearly as horrifying as what you had imagined he’d bring back

‘I don't understand’ you managed to mumble out, just loud enough for Dabi to hear and for you to instantly regret speaking, you were still shaking and visibly terrified of your captor, but his eyes lit up none the less as though you had lit your own fire

‘You're here 'coz you’re mine dollface, it took me so long to realise but you are just.. perfection, and now you can be with me forever’

oh

#yandere bnha #yandere dabi #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere touya #soft yandere dabi #soft yandere #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #bnha x reader #tw.dark content #yandere!dabi

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

---------------------------

“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew’ on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

---------------------------

In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

---------------------------

“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #love this lady<3

[bestialchorus]

“The Invisible String” (Falling for Donna Beneviento)- Chapter 2

The head of House Beneviento covers your hand with hers, instinctively making you look at her for a split second from the corner of your eye, before darting your gaze back to the doll on the desk. You pray the glance was more subtle than it felt, you’re not even sure if it was as quick as you imagined it for everything suddenly feels off, as if something uncanny was bleeding into reality. Whatever surrealism you speak of you don’t see, only feel as Donna’s contact continues to linger over your hand, making your anxiety start to rise by the second.

Seconds feel like eons as Donna stays frozen in place, her veil making it impossible to interpret what she could possibly be feeling or thinking.

You follow her lead by trying to keep a neutral face, staying silent as your mind begins to race. To say you were overthinker would be an understatement, you try unpacking everything from the gesture’s meaning to its sudden appearance, and whether or not this was all just a cruel dream. You’ve had daydreams similar to this situation but none that ever felt like this, none that ever felt so…..engulfing.

You feel that flutter in your heart, a flutter from the word you desperately try to avoid day in and day out whenever Donna crossed your mind, hope. You immediately fight back any hope of the woman ever returning your feelings, even the smallest semblance of it. A woman as distinguished as Donna Beneviento would surely never fall for a common painter…..would she? Donna had power, she had wealth, she had talent and passion of the likes you’ve never seen before….she could have anyone she wanted…so why do you find it difficult to come up a platonic explanation for her action right now?

Regardless of the reason, you feel your skin burn under her gentle touch. Even the simple gesture has Donna written all over it; deliberate but not hostile, soft but not limp. You also can’t help but notice how smooth her hand feels against yours, you wonder if it’s the result of an extravagant lotion or if she’s simply this soft.

The ticking from the old clock fills the air as neither of you react.

You decide it best to hide your internal distress, well at least as best as you can. You keep your face as blank as possible as you gently lower your paintbrush down. You stare down at the small doll, assuming it best to allow her the time to properly explain herself, away from the pressure of your gaze. You try your best to focus on how anxious she must also be right now as communication had never come easy for Donna.

Her voice almost doesn’t sound real as you sit in a dream like daze.

“I…what I’m about to say does not put you at risk, Y/N.”

The clock’s sounds are drowned out by your heart beating through your ears, your gaze stays on the unfinished doll.

Despite her concealed face, she turns her head away from you as she continues, her hand never leaving yours. She takes a small pause before continuing.

“I harbor feelings for you, Y/N. But I chose not to tell you for several reasons.”

Your mask instantly falters the second you hear the confession, eyes widening in disbelief and shock. You jerk your head towards her, she catches your incredulous expression from the corner of her eye, still not meeting your gaze. Something begins to flood your system, excitement? Fear? Hope? You’re not entirely sure but it feels as if each of your senses have awakened to an extreme.

“For one, I feared you would never return my feelings...” She ends with a whisper.

The statement makes something in you snap.

“But I do!” You immediately counter, louder than you intended, your tone earnest with a hint of desperation. You mentally chastise yourself for how dramatic the response must have come off.

The raise of your voice finally makes her look at you as she isn’t used to it. Once again, you have no facial indictors to tell you how she’s taken the response. But you realize her hand feels warmer…that must be a good sign, right?

You try to hold back as you feel months of repressed emotions try to take control of your tongue. The last thing you want to do is overwhelm or embarrass her.

“I care deeply for you, mistress…you don’t have to worry about that.” You say softly while instinctively leaning closer to her.

The dollmaker’s face is hidden but you assume she must be taken aback by her feelings being returned; you know you are. She silently processes your words until you suddenly notice her start to mirror your distance, whether by instinct or by choice you can’t tell.

Time starts to melt away as the image of Donna leaning towards you makes you both want to run away and never look away. You use every fibre of courage you have to keep going, you’re eventually close enough to smell the smallest hint of a floral scent, which is strange since normally Donna doesn’t wear perfume.

You’re both just a breath away…when suddenly Donna pulls back at the last second, removing her hand in the process, you instantly miss the contact. At first you wonder if you’ve been too bold, assuming too much but she quickly explains herself.

“No. You don’t understand, I’m not what you think. This veil hides my true nature….and it is unworthy of you. Unworthy of what you should have.” She says with sadness in her voice, tightly holding her hands to her chest while shaking her head. Even with the veil you notice the contempt behind her words, contempt clearly directed towards herself.

You start to frown the more you process her statement.

You feel a sting in your heart as you realize something. The rumours of Donna Beneviento having a monstrous disposition were more than just rumours, for her they actually held some weight. Whether it was an event, a person, or the entirety of her life leading up to this moment- she truly believed she was unworthy of experiencing one of the largest aspects of life, love.

Even if every rumour about her is true you don’t care, for you’ve fallen for the woman with the veil, regardless of what lies beneath it. Donna Beneviento isn’t a scary story, or a title to you but a real woman whom you’ve grown incredibly fond of. You lightly shake your head as you refuse to accept her words.

“You’re wrong. Even if you are headless under there-“

You notice her tilt her head in response to the comment but not the small smile that also emerges on her face, appreciating how you always seem balance out her melancholic nature.

“It won’t matter to me because…I already think you’re beautiful, Don-mistress.” You quickly correct yourself, still unsure if she’d be comfortable with you referring to her by her first name.

Once again, you miss the warm expression on her face as she addresses your self-correction.

“You’re more than welcome to call me Donna, Y/N. I believe we’re past the point of titles…..”

She looks away as she finishes her sentence, “…I think I’d like hearing you call me Donna.”

For once her veil can’t hide the flustered tone in her voice, you imagine her hands must also be getting warmer again. Unfortunately, Donna is not the only one effected by her confession, your own cheeks now wear a slightly pink colour to them.

But before you can answer her, you notice her hands slowly reaching towards her veil, fingers trembling. The room feels off kilter as you hear the courage in her voice.

“I truly don’t want to lie to you, Y/N. I want you to decide for yourself if this is what you really want….if I’m what you really want.”

You almost try to stop her, not for your sake but to make sure if this is really something she wants to do but you’re too late. Her voice lowers as she finally lifts her veil up.

“…I’ll understand if you never want to come back.”

And just like that, you’re finally face-to-face with Donna Beneviento.

A heavy silence follows as you take in her bare state, completely engrossed by how human and occult she is all at once.

The dollmaker shrinks under your gaze, anxiously rubbing her hands together as she looks at the floor.

At first your eyes can’t help but fall on the mutation over the side of her face. Her right eye is covered with small mounds as visible veins sprout from them; an image akin to eldritch horrors. You now understand how important her veil is to her, how much courage and trust it took for her to show you the flesh that laid beneath it. Anyone else would have run by now, screaming towards the hills of how Mistress Beneviento is as monstrous as the rumours spoke of but not you, for even now- she is anything but monstrous to you.

You take a step closer as you process the rest of her features, your hands moving by themselves as you gently hold her face to study them. The gesture makes her quietly gasp but she doesn’t pull away, she instead focuses on fighting back a blush as she fails to avoid your heavy gaze. You’ve never seen such alabaster skin, it almost glows under the light. But what stands out the most is how her dark hair and eye contrast against it. Without thinking, you lightly push a strand of hair away from her face, lightly grazing her soft skin. Every instinct within Donna is screaming for her to run away while also wishing the moment will never end, no one has ever treated her with such tenderness.

The air surrounding you both feels warmer as you stand just a breath away.

Your eyes finally fall onto the woman’s plush lips, and you can’t help but wonder if they’re as a soft as they look. You look at the woman in complete awe as you process the full picture of the woman you’ve fallen for and as you predicted, you love her all the same, perhaps more.

You feel yourself lean in closer and she mirrors your movement. Neither of you can hear the grandfather clock anymore as you become lost within your personal world.

#the invisible string #donna beneviento #donna x reader #Donna Beneviento x reader #female reader #ana oop #super excited to show...just how the reader appreciates donna next chappter

[strxngemxgick]

@cherryfinolahobbes continued from X

Sleep had evaded Stephen that night, as well. He was no stranger to spells of insomnia and onslaughts of night terrors. Memories touched by pain and death that he couldn’t shake, following him into the scant hours of sleep he managed to steal. It was why he gave up most nights, and rather than stare at his canopy and walls, he would spend his nights pouring over tome after tome in the Sanctum, or tending to the relics and making sure that they were satisfied and quiet, or watching the news for any potential threats closer to home. It was easier to ignore those thoughts, even in the quiet, if he could keep himself busy.

It had just happened to be one of those nights. And, apparently, he hadn’t been the only one struggling.

He knew that Cherry had spent much of her time in the Sanctum when he hadn’t been there, when it had just been Wong and her, and a handful of neophytes who had come from Kamar-Taj to help take care while half of the population settled in the limbo of the Soul Stone. And with Wong being away so much for his work, he could imagine that she still held on to the idea that, maybe, no one was there. Of course, she wouldn’t be expecting him there, settled in the dark - his own M.O. for sleepless nights so the lights and activity wouldn’t bother Wong, and the lights of the city that never sleeps were plenty to haunt the Sanctum by. And he really hadn’t meant to scare her.

But she had screamed, and it was jarring enough that it had torn a shout from him, as well, his body tensing up, arms drawn up to his chest, defensively for just a moment. He was quicker to recover, and guilt had immediately settled in. He had approached her, wanting to reach out and soothe her, but he knew enough to worry about whether touch would be welcome when she was so frazzled. So, he had tried to reassure her verbally, watching as the fear settled into her face as an unhealthy cocktail of exhaustion and lingering anxiety.

He frowned, watching as she shrank into herself, swallowed up by whatever hateful things her mind was telling her. Chastising her for her weakness, punishing her for not keeping her problems to herself. He knew, because he had heard those same lies in his own mind, which rang more truthful than any proven fact in those moments. “I don’t mind; sleep is a cruel mistress.”

Of course, he didn’t expect to reassure her. It was so hard to pull oneself out of those emotional holes. He also didn’t want to just let her go, though. He had no issue trusting her, at least for the moment, but he certainly didn’t want her to shoulder her burden alone. And, rather selfishly, he couldn’t say he wanted to be alone, either. His thoughts were far too loud, that night.

It was only a moment longer before he shifted, ducking down to try and meet her eyes, a soft smile on his face. “Join me for tea? Nothing better than some Sleepytime at three in the morning.”

#cherryfinolahobbes #across the multiverse /// rp #hell yes all of the feels!

[villainousshakespeare]

Stalking the King Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Henry V/OFC

Multi-Chapter

Historical AU, Historical Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Angst, Sexual Tension, Bathing

Lisabet is a high born Lady of Oleans, France. When King Henry V conquers her city, taking her brother hostage along with other nobles, she vows to be revenged upon the foreign invader and rescue her brother. Dressed in boys clothing she hopes to escape notice in Henry’s camp, but the English King has a much more perceptive eye than she anticipated.

A bit of a plot heavy chapter, but I hope you like it nonetheless!

Lisabeta had seen no more than a glimpse of Henry’s sun kissed locks as he strode away that morning. Not, of course, that she wanted to see the King. She had seen enough of him last night. More than enough, she added, as the image of him in all his naked splendor slipped its way into her mind.

That vexing image seemed to be branded into her brain, so often did she find herself thinking of it when she let her mind drift. His skin, dotted with freckles and crossed with scars that somehow failed to detract from his masculine beauty. The breadth of his shoulders that tapered slowly, over a long distance, to his narrow hips. How could one so unquestionably awful be so unquestionably awe arousing? It was simply not fair!

She had barely slept last night, so active had been her mind. Her body also seemed more alive than usual. There was a curious heat within her, to the point that she wondered if she was feverish. Her skin tingled, and her stomach felt unsettled. Most distracting of all was the odd ache she felt in her womanly organs. She was not due for her courses for weeks, why was she feeling so out of sorts there? She didn’t know, but she was more than willing to blame the English King.

She hated him, more than she had ever hated anyone. He had toyed with her, she knew it! And yet, how could that be when to him she was simply one of his pages. The fact that he had treated her with such disinterest and disregard only meant her disguise was working, for no well born man, even an Englishman, would ever behave so in front of gently bread lady. And yet it maddened her to no end that he had been so with her. She wanted more than ever to find him and run him through with her sword. If she had to wait on him again, no doubt she would do so.

And yet, it was even more insufferable that he did not send for her. Lisabeta was not a woman used to being overlooked, particularly by men. She commanded attention the moment she arrived in a room by virtue of both her looks and her natural spirit. To be forced to sit idly waiting for Henry to call on her was not to be endured.

Around midday of the day following the tent incident she had been sent for, but it was not the King who had called her. She was beginning to wonder what pages were expected to do in a royal camp, and how she was to maintain her anonymity. The night before she had simply found a place on the ground near a fire, using her saddle roll as a pillow and her cloak as a blanket. It was a long night, with only restless sleeping on the hard ground, but she had endured it. In the morning she had snuck between a tent and a wagon towards the tree line and relieved herself, frantic lest someone should see her. It could not go on like this for long, and she knew it.

When summons had come, she assumed it was from the King. After all, who else knew she was there? Instead, she had been brought to a smaller tent not far from where the Royal Standard flew. A desk took up most of the space, somehow both neat and cluttered with papers and ink. Sitting behind it was a thin, balding man who looked less like a soldier that Lisabet herself. She guessed him to be her father’s age, and dark circles ringed his eyes.

“You are Phillipe Cavot, the King’s new page?” the man asked in a voice as tired as his eyes.

“I am, my Lord, what would you have with me?” Lisabeta struggled to make her voice sound more like an anxious page and less like a confident lady.

“King Henry thought I might make use of you,” the man sounded uncertain as he looked her over.

What! The King was handing her off like so much unwanted baggage to one of his underlings? Lisabeta seethed internally. How dare he be so high handed?

“Did he indeed, how generous of him,” she bit off.

“I thought it so, if what he says is true,” the man’s voice was mild and slightly perplexed at her answer. “Your hand, I take it, is decipherable? If so, you will be better than the last. I am Laurence, Henry’s secretary. I have a stack of documents to write, and time is not a friend to me of late. You will assist me here with all my work. I know it is less exciting task to aid a secretary than knight. But here at least some comfort does exist. There is a cot for you to sleep upon, and there behind the screen a chamber pot. Perhaps it is no luxury for you, but when one reaches my age, one will find such niceties are of a great import.”

Lisabeta was at first inclined to be outraged, if only because outrage seemed to be her reaction to all that Henry said or did. To be stuck in this tent with a reedy man with a reedy voice all day was not the reason why she had come here. On the other hand, it did neatly solve both of her core problems. It was as if providence had given her a way to stay until she figured out the next step in her plan.

In addition to all of this, it occurred to Lisabeta that this could be just the place she needed to be. If this man was King Henry’s secretary, then the documents scattered about his desk took on an entirely new interest to her. It was possible that hidden among the mounds of papers that looked to be mostly correspondences could be maps, perhaps even battle plans, detailing the English forces’ intentions. If she could put her hands on those documents, it could be a turning point in this war.

In her mind, Lisabeta pushed away the picture of Henry mercilessly and in its place forced in what must be seen as a happier view. She would wait until the secretary had left, of perhaps gone to sleep as it looked like he must soon do. Once he was out of the way, she would find the betraying documents, copy them down, and slip from the camp. How easy would it be then to send them via courier, or maybe even bring them herself, to the French King and his constable in Paris? Lisabeta could singlehandedly win this wretched war for France!

It was a plan, and she would see it done. She need never cross paths with the arrogant King Henry again. Let him preen around his camp in the mud for another day or two, she would not be there to wash it from his body. And all the better for that, she insisted to herself, even as she fought back regret.

***

“Your Majesty, what brings you to our tents?” Sir Stephen Boyd asked, beginning to drop to one knee in the mud before Henry waved away the need.

“My restless legs that needed room to stretched,” Henry laughed good naturedly. “How goes it with our enforced visitors?”

“Well, my Lord, when all is said and done. One little lad no more than three years old did give us all some trouble at the start.”

“Precocious lad! How did he manage that?”

“With screaming morn and night, to wake the dead. I tell you Sire, I’ve seen my share of war. I’ve fought in wars whose blood would fill a lake, and thought my life was ended more than once. But never have I known a greater fear than when the cub did last drift off to sleep and any noise did threaten our brief peace.”

Henry could not but laugh at the thought of the bluff old knight fearing a lad of three. The very sight of him proclaimed the battles he spoke of. Still, there lived inside the blustery warrior a soft heart. Henry remembered being found out by Sir Stephen after his first taste of battle. An overwhelmed squire, Henry had been horrified by the carnage he had witnessed. Ashamed of himself, he had hidden behind a wagon to empty his stomach before crouching down trembling from the shock, terrified lest someone should see him so unmanned.

But when Sir Stephen had discovered him, the older knight had not mocked or scolded him. Instead, he had hunched down next to him and handed over a flask of water for Henry to rinse his mouth. After Henry had stopped shaking, Sir Stephen had spoken to him in a matter of fact voice, telling him that all men of intellect were shaken by the reality of war. It was only the dull or the cruel who escaped unscathed. Any man worth following would react as Henry had, he opined, and he was proud that his future lord was such a one. With a nod, he had risen and walked away, leaving behind the water and a more thoughtful Henry.

It was because of this innate compassion that Henry had chosen him to have custody of the hostages. Other, higher ranked men had chafed, wanting the potentially lucrative position where they could extort money from anxiety ridden parents. Henry had thwarted them all, placing in stead an honorable man who would do his best to keep the young hostages safe and well looked after.

“A mighty terror indeed, how solved you it?” he asked now with a shudder.

“I handed off the boy to Mistress Mead,” Sir Stephen replied, face reddening. “She’s wife to Seargent Mead, a doughty man, and raised a brood of children of her own. I know your Grace did put him in my charge, but at his age he needs a woman’s care. I hope you know I meant no harm by it. I’d trust the goodwife my very life.”

“As I trust you with mine, my blustery friend,” Henry assured him. “I should have thought to do so from the start. I thank you, Sir, for seeing to it now.”

They stood in companionable silence for a while, watching a pair of lads in oversized helmets batter at each other. Henry wasn’t entirely sure why he had come here. He had been at his desk going over the papers his secretary had left for him, but his mind was not really focused. He needed to walk, to exercise. To get away from his tent where his eyes and mind kept drifting over to the large tub where the Gascoigne lass had bathed him two nights before. He had not been able to stop thinking of her since.

It was only because he had been celibate, he assured himself. That was the reason why he had responded so strongly to the chit. She was completely lacking skill in her ministrations. Her touch had been hesitant, shy, barely skimming over his skin. And yet, that had changed as she proceeded. She had grown bolder, pulling slightly on his hair, rubbing his aching shoulders and back. He had been loud in his appreciation, moaning as he felt the tension and stiffness melt out of him.

Well, it had melted out of his upper body, his lower body had been an entirely different story. As her hands drifted lower, his erection had become painful in its insistence. She was just inches away, all it would take was a small dip down for her soft hand to be wrapped around his length. He had wanted it with an intensity that left him throbbing. If he had not sent her away at that point, he would have dragged her into the tub with him.

It was a thought that kept occurring to him through the night and all the next day.

He thought he had hit on the perfect solution by handing her off to Laurence. The man could use an extra hand, and he could only imagine the girl’s education had included penmanship. He could not have her running about his camp, just waiting for someone to realize she was a woman, for god’s sake. She was a scandal just waiting to happen, in no small part because she seemed incapable of staying unobtrusive.

Laurance, on the other hand, could be trusted implicitly with her. The man was discreet to a fault, as one who preferences were as his had to be in their society. As Henry suspected, he had sussed out her true nature the first day, but rather than confront her with it had quietly brought it to his King’s attention. When Henry indicated that he knew her identity, but wished to do nothing for present, his secretary had sighed but nodded, mumbling that at least she had a passable hand a quick mind, if an even quicker tongue. She would be safe with him until he decided how to proceed.

He just needed to find out more about her, which brought him to his current location.

“Tell me, Sir, how does the young Gascoigne?” he asked, attempting nonchalance.

“Little Phillipe? He does right well, my Lord,” Stephen answered, slight curiosity in his voice. “That be him over there, the one in blue. He’ll make a proper Knight if ‘ere he grows. A bit to clever, like to one I know. But taking to account his lineage and vast side of the force he’ll one day lead, that is no bad thing, as I think you know.”

Henry watched the boy as he traded blows with another a head taller than him. He saw what Sir Stephen alluded to. The larger boy clearly had strength and reach on his side, but Phillipe easily side stepped the attacks launched on him. He had an excellent eye for what his opponent was about to do next. If only he had a better control of his own weapon. Acting on instinct, Henry strode forward, grabbing a practice sword from the wrack as he did.

“Your grip is wrong, if I may intercede?”

He didn’t raise his voice, he seldom did, but the two boys drew back, instantly lowering their blades. Phillipe dropped to one knee, and after a slight pause the other boy did the same, removing their borrowed helms.

“Rise up, Phillipe, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he offered, along with his hand to help the boy to rise.

He was a handsome lad, Henry observed. Very much the boyish version of his sister. Henry was continually amused at how everyone else took her for a boy. Her hips were obviously those of a woman, and the combination of padding and binding did not completely hide her other curves. On top of that, the planes of her face were more feminine, if older and sharper than the boy before him.

He spent the next hour happily helping Phillipe improve his grip. The boy had stamina, and after the first few moments lost his stiffness with the King. Henry enjoyed physical activity of all sorts and had been unhappy with the idleness. The lesson was just what he had needed to restore his good humor.

“Well done, my lad, I think you have the trick,” he said at last, setting aside his sword and ruffling the boy’s hair.

“I thank you, Sire, for sparing me your time,” Phillipe said shyly, panting a bit. “I father doth despair of my poor skill. Why even my own sister Lisabet can best me when it cometh to the blade.”

“Ah, Lisabet! That is your sister’s name!” Henry said, remembering now that he had heard the lovely moniker before.

“Why yes, my Lord, but know you Lisabet?”

Henry cursed silently, damning his tongue for saying the name out loud. A lovely name, he thought, although perhaps too soft for the sassy brat who had infiltrated his camp.

“By reputation only, to my woe,” he said with an easy smile to, “I hear she is the jewel of all of France.”

“So all do say, though I do see it not,” the boy made a face all brothers of sisters would recognize before continuing to ramble. “A willful fury, with a biting tongue is more the face that she does show to me. But those who know the fashion of the world have dubbed her oft an incomparable. My parents seek to make for her a match with every single gentleman of name.”

“And is there any one she most prefers?” Henry asked, irritated at the idea that the innocent vixen in his tent last night might be promised to another.

“No, not when last I spoke to her, my Lord. Papa would wed her to Lord Constable, I heard him say the match was all but made. But Lisabet just curled her lip at that. I think she fancies more to be a queen, or empress who could manage one and all. She certainly does like to get her way. But do not, please, mistake me good my Lord. Though she can be a right pain in my side, she is at heart a loving sister still. She wept when I did leave to be our pledge.”

“Belike she thought I meant to use you ill. I hope, Phillip, that has not been the case?”

“Why no, my Lord, though I should say it not, the days that I have spent here in your camp seem almost as a holiday to me!”

“Then I am glad to give you such a treat. You must inform your sister of the truth.

“I will when I am back at home with her. She will just roll her eyes and scoff at me and tell me that I do betray our house. She would have had us fight till all were dead, or ere she ever flew the flag of truce.” 

“She sounds a truly formidable foe. How glad I am I had to fight her naught.”

 “As you should be, she wields a blade with skill!”

“Gascoigne, will you talk the good king mad? Come over here and help to clean the blades!”

Chastised by the should from Sir Stephen, the boy ducked his head and bowed to Henry before running over to assist in the work. Henry smiled in reply, but him mind was elsewhere. So, his fiery, would be page was set to marry the Constable of France? And, moreover, she was a fierce opponent of the peace with England. That would not bode well for Henry or for Fance. He hoped to settle the matter of his sovereignty, and the good Constable was a stumbling block in his way. If the man were wed to a woman of passion who stood against Henry’s claim, he would be only more likely to dig in and voice his dissent. No, Henry did not think he could allow such a union to take place.

It had nothing at all, of course, to do with his own attraction to the woman.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston​ @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @justthehiddleswrites @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza​

#The Hollow Crown #The Hollow Crown Fic #Henry V #Henry V Fic #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston as Henry V #Romance #Historical AU #Historical Romance #Eventual Smut #Slow Burn #Mutual Pining #Enemies to Lovers #Angst

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x f!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas​, @bnhastories​

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Vermilion

The night after (Y/N) found out that she was engaged with Bakugou Katsuki, was immensly exhausting. She had barely been able to find any sleep. Plagued by nightmares, she had tossed and turned in her bed until she had given up trying to find any rest after the first rays of sun peeked through her closed curtains. Her brother had hesitantly tried to describe what he knew about her future husband and although his descriptions remained vague and superficial, the young Miss Midoriya was quite good at reading between his meaningless lines.

„Bakugou is a loyal man of the crown who always act in its interest."

„He is a strong-willed and talented swordsman, who would be able to provide a safe home for you."

„He may be said to be rough tempered, but I am sure he will always treat you well."

It hadn't felt like Izuku had tried to lie to her. In a way, he had seemed to be convinced of his statements... and yet... no matter how many positive words he had used, his face had allways betrayed how worried he had been nonetheless. As if there had been a number of concerns that had slumbered right under his surface, which he eventually had not dared to express. (Y/N) had quickly realized that her brother had deliberately kept his true opinions to himself. She knew that he only had wanted to encourage her, but at night, while she had been all alone by herself, she had not been able to prevent her thoughts from wandering along darker places.

It was said that Bakugou's eyes were tinted in the blood of his enemies he had shed over the years as a Samurai. Those cruel red eyes hunted her within her dreams, followed her no matter which direction she had turned and found her no matter where she had tried to hide herself.

His mercilessness and explosive personality were almost as notorious as his talent with the sword. It was said that he had no qualms about turning his blade even on innocent people. These rumors, created the visions of screaming shadows within her sleep. Their cries echoed like panicked pleas to be spared by him, but the ground on which (Y/N) had stood was flooded in red non the less. Those imaginations had plagued the youngest Midoriya through the entire night, haunting her mercilessly until she had lain wide awake in her bed. With widened eyes she had stared up at her ceiling, while she had tried to imagine the man who was going to be her husband.

When (Y/N) had got up a few hours later, she had been incredibly exhausted. She had tried not to let it show, but she could not prevent her thoughts from drifting away over and over again. She had spent the morning as usual at her mother's side, who, in addition to her usual duties as the female head of the household, had also received several guests. Some of them had been mothers of various bachelors, who had cautiously tried to win Lady Inko over for a potential marriage, but all of them had been discreetly put off by the mistress of the house, without her telling them about the still unofficial engagement between Bakugou Katsuki and her precious daughter.

Now, however, the young girl sat alone with her mother and brother, lost in thoughts, at a richly set table that had been placed in the shade on the roofed engawa of their estate. The young debutante ponderously let her gaze glide over the well-tended garden, unable to fully absorb the true beauty of the scenery which spread out in front of her. With dulled thoughts, (Y/N) contented herself with impassively observing the birds as they bustled about the branches of the flowering magnolia in the middle of their courtyard, while she pondered over the missed opportunities to collect more marriageable candidates for her to choose from.

"I wish I could cheer you up a bit, my dear.", Lady Inko snapped her daughter out of her mopey thoughts after a few minutes of silence, as she carefully set the ornate teapot down between them. Slowly, (Y/N) raised her gaze, only to find that her mother had poured tea for her and her brother, although this would actually have been the youngest Midoriya's task. Swallowing, she bowed her head apologetically before gratefully grasping the warm porcelain of her cup. "Thank you, mother.", (Y/N) whispered, before she carefully pursed her lips to cool the warm liquid with gentle puffs.

"Do not despair. Who knows maybe you will learn to feel deeply for the young shogun. The gods sometimes shape the strangest paths for a person and yet it all makes sense in the end.", Lady Midoriya carefully reassured her daughter as Izuku tried not to choke on his own drink. "Who knows, Izu-chan probably would have introduced you to gentlemen like the youngest son of the Iida family, or the heir of the Kaminari family, who also have their residents in the capital. Both of these gentlemen are known to you. What do you think of them? Wouldn't the gods have led you to them if they thought that they would be the right choice for you?", she asked, knowing what her daughter would think, while gently patting her son's arm in reassurance. "Mother...please! I don't really think that this is helpful.", Izuku mumbled into his teacup as he averted his eyes from the ladies of his household. The latter, however, just waved it off with a soft smile before pushing the plate of pastries in her children's direction. Gulping down the warming tea, (Y/N) suppressed a sigh before engaging in her mother's musings:"Well... ", she began cautiously, taking a deep breath, before she continued: "I'd say one of Iida-sama's greatest qualities is his erudition! He's a very intelligent man.", the youngest Midoriya murmured vaguely, but at the same time she thought of his stiff manners. He was a strict man who did not seem to welcome curious woman. (Y/N) was a passionate reader, who acquired all kinds of knowledge. This would certainly not be a problem, she thought, but with theoretical knowledge often came the need to try out practical skills, and this was not always appropriate for a girl of her status. What would Iida say if he knew that the little sister of one of his best friends, for example, liked to shoot with a bow?

"and... Kaminari-sama's energetic nature is quite contagious and exhilarating!", (Y/N) added after a short pause, having remembered her mother's questions again. Thoughtfully, her mind wandered to the open-hearted blond man, while she remembered how she had often observed him flirting shamelessly with various ladies. Moreover, she had been dismayed to discover in the past that, unlike Iida, he seemed to avoid reading of any kind. It would have made it difficult to have a conversation with him that went beyond superficial topics. When she thought about it, these men would certainly not have been people with whom (Y/N) could have imagined a future on the first sight. Perhaps just like her mother had said, she should actually remind herself once again that not everything had to make sense immediately. Maybe the gods had actually set a path for her. But it was just so incredibly hard to see the positive in her situation and to keep herself open minded. She took it upon herself, but the thought that her mother might be wrong made her skin crawl in anxiety.

"I think it's all a matter of adjustment. After the gods have given me a path, it is up to me to walk along it.", she finished her terse answers half-heartedly.

The debutante's enumeration came to an abrupt end when her personal maid, Mina, announced herself with an apologetic clearing of her throat. When (Y/N) turned around, the young girl was surprised to see another unfamiliar female standing next to her, her upper body almost completely covered by a huge bouquet of colorful flowers. The various blossoms shone in full bloom, some of which normally should not even have been in their actual blooming season. No matter who had sent this bouquet, it must have cost a small fortune.

"Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but I was instructed to lead this young girl to you and your family.", the cheerful servant began, bowing as she folded her arms behind her back. The unassuming girl next to Mina also bowed dutifully, despite the fact that the bouquet certainly did not make it easy for her. "T-This is a gift for Miss Midoriya, my Lord!", the girl explained quietly, while she showcased the flowers with a bowed head. Izuku gave the young girls a gentle smile before raising his scarred hand in a placating gesture. "What a splendid bouquet.", his mother remarked with curious gentleness before turning to smile bittersweetly at her daughter, who had also put on a discreet smile on her lips. "Which of the noble lords had send this bouquet, Mina-chan?", asked (Y/N) with mild curiosity as she rose to take a closer look at the flowers. She knew better than to be lulled by anyone other than her fiancé, but the plants seemed so expensive and rare that it would be a shame not to give them some attention. Even more so when a maid of the local household brought them over personally. It could be taken as an affront against the noble,if she would simply ignore the gift.

"They're from the young shogun, Bakugou-sama, Miss (Y/N)!", replied Mina excitedly, as she clapped her hands together in front of her chest. "He also sends word that he will be visiting Midoriya-sama towards the evening to negotiate the wedding matters.", the unknown servant added. A loud clang sounded behind the girls, who flinched in surprise. Shocked, (Y/N) turned to her brother, whose teacup had slipped from his hand. A multitude of emotions spread across the face of her brother, but his discomfort seemed to stand out the most. The tension in his face clearly showed that Izuku was not happy about the news, but he nodded non the less.

.

.

.

The knowledge that Bakugou Katsuki would enter the Midoriya family estate that very evening had caused an incredible uneasiness in (Y/N)'s stomach. Uncertainty and curiosity tried to gain the upper hand of her shaken feelings, while she had tried to continue her day as usual, but even the surprise visit of her friend, Ochako, had not been enough to successfully distract her. No matter how hard (Y/N) had tried to follow her friend's recounting of her evening last night, the young Midoriya simply hadn't been able to block out the loitering feeling of nervousness.

Izuku had retired to his study some time ago when a servant had informed him that the shogun had finally arrived. The ladies of the house had not yet seen their second guest of the evening, but all present had felt the tension that had settled around them like a thick fog. At this very moment, Izuku and her fiance negotiated about important aspects, which would determine her entire future life. Lost in her troubled thoughts, (Y/N) imagined how they possibly were talking about her dowry at this moment, or setting the date of their wedding, while the young girl did not even know what her future husband looked like. Would he introduce himself to her tonight? Did he even care that they were actually only a few meters and a few thin walls apart from each other at this very moment?

"Hey... (Y/N)... how about we take a stroll through your backyard, streching our legs out for a bit?", Ochako carefully interrupted her friend's train of thought when she noticed that (Y/N) was starting to drift off again. Surprised, the young girl tore her gaze from the bouquet of flowers that had been placed on an ornamental table next to the salon's open sliding doors. "I'd love to.", (Y/N) answered as she blinked a few times, before setting down her cooled teacup, that had rested in her palms unmoved for a few minutes. Followed by the brunette debutante, she entered the gardens of the Midoriya family estate, which directly bordered the salon in which they had sat before.

The gentle breeze that playfully blew around them made the leaves and branches of the plants dance to the music of the birds, while the rays of the late afternoon sun engulfed their surroundings in radiant light. In the midst of a sea of lush green trees, lawns and bushes, the blooming magnolia that her grandfather had planted for her grandmother many years ago as a testament to his true love towards her, stood out in its proud splendor. Since then, it has bloomed every spring with its soft pink and white blossoms in the center of their small idyllic paradise.

Sighing, (Y/N) looked up into said treetop as she arrived at the precious memento accompanied by her friend. "My apologies for being so absent today.", the youngest Midoriya murmured before turning to Ochako, who looked at her with a sad expression on her round face. Shaking her head, the young brown-haired girl put on a smile as she folded her hands in front of her. "Don't worry about it. I understand how you feel. It's certainly overwhelming to be promised by the emperor to one of his subordinates right after your performance the day before yesterday."

Nodding hesitantly, (Y/N) stroked the gauzy white fabric of her upper robe, smoothing it over the lower burgundy wide sleeves. With erratic fingers, she then ran them over the gold threaded embroidered obi, adjusting the decorative ribbons that hung down the sides of her traditional gown. Seeking distraction, (Y/N)'s gaze wandered to the closed doors of her brother's study, which also adjoined the gardens they were strolling through. Knowing that behind those thin walls, hidden away from her gaze, was her fiancé speaking to Izuku, made her incredibly nervous. Quickly the youngest Midoriya turned away to look at her friend again, not able to gaze towards her home any longer. She didn't dare to look into the round window, which was supposed to let daylight into the room behind, for fear of having to face reality once and for all. At the moment her fate was still completely surreal for her, but what if she would see the man she was going to marry soon? It would make her whole destiny so much more real.

"I know it is an honor that the Emperor himself asked for this allegiance, but I must admit that this sudden change of events churn me a bit!" Ochako nodded in understanding before also looking thoughtfully in the direction of the house. "You know... The other side of the coin has its downsides, too. My father can barely afford the standard of living we have to lead as nobles. It will be difficult to find a family that will be satisfied with the little influence and the small dowry I am able to provide...", she murmured gloomily. Briefly, the young Miss Uraraka's expression changed as she looked longingly at the window that leads to her brother's study. How could (Y/N) have thought so selfishly only of herself, when she knew that her friend had it at least as hard as she did. With a fluid motion, the youngest Midoriya placed her hand on her friends upper arm as she stepped a little closer to her. "I wish I could support you somehow!", (Y/N) murmured comfortingly. "You know, you are really very very lucky. Your brother... I mean, Midoriya-sama will definitely make sure that you'll be fine by Bakugou-sama's side! He would never let him hurt you!", assured Ochako again with newfound energy as she confidently turned back to the daughter of the house. The sadness that had previously gleamed in the brunette girl's eyes had vanished without a trace. Sympathetically, (Y/N) smiled at her friend, knowing that she did not want to talk about the subject any further. Just as she was about to change the direction of their conversation, the sound of sliding doors distracted the two girls instantly.

Immediately, (Y/N) looked up to direct her gaze towards the house, only to finally discover her brother in the doorway of his study. When she realized that there were two other unknown figures standing behind him in the shadows of the room, the young Midoriya's breath caught for a moment. Two finely dressed, tall men slowly stepped into the light of the sun and, accompanied by Izuku, headed purposefully towards the young ladies. One of them had ash blond spiky hair, who was followed by a red-haired warrior. The clothes and the traditional katana they carried distinguished them as nobles of the sword, but it was quite clear even from a distance that the blond man stood rank-technically above the redheads. His attire was a bit more finer, than the others, but it was mainly the nature of his attitude that betrayed him the most. He came towards her as if he owned the ground on which he walked. Everything about his aura demanded that they had to submit to him.

Bakugou Katsuki.

At the sight of the handsome, albeit somber looking man, (Y/N)'s heart began to take a few leaps until it finally began to pound wildly against her chest.

"O-Oh, by the gods. Th-That has to be the shogun.", Ochako breathed softly. The young Midoriya could hear the trembling in her friend's voice, but she had to give her credit for standing firm just like (Y/N), trying not to let her intimidation show. A tepid breeze caused the light hanfu robes the two ladies wore, to dance around their legs, while a few petals of the magnolia blossoms rained down upon them. Despite the fact that she was surrounded by fresh spring air, (Y/N) felt like she couldn't catch her breath while facing the formidable gentleman. However, she didn't know if it was due to the unawareness of the powerful man's reaction towards her, or if perhaps this feeling had a completely different origin.

The expression in the gaze that Bakugou Katsuki had directed at the figure of the young Midoriya could only be described as penetrating, attentive and calculating. She had never met a person who was able to conjure up such an aura with only his bare focused eyes. Only briefly did he detach his attention from her to look at Ochako with his sharp gaze. Izuku's posture was tense as he walked up to his sister beside the shogun. Bakugou, on the other hand, looked as if he wasn't the least bit interested in the whole situation. He strode confidently towards his fiance, while his chimney red eyes once again stared down at her warily.

His gaze had been enough to free (Y/N) from her rigidity and ensured that she finally managed to get herself to move accordingly. Just before his arrival, she fell into a deep curtsy, which at that moment was more of a testament to her brilliant muscle memory, than a conscious act. But she managed to remember her manners, chastely lowering her gaze and remaining in the offering position long enough for the gentlemen to come to a stop in front of her and her close friend.

"So, this is your sister? Well, she truly is a lovely creature, Midoriya-san.", interrupted a friendly but unfamiliar voice the emerging silence. (Y/N) attributed it to the red-haired man, because the pitch seemed too friendly to belong to the notorious shogun. With downcast eyelids, she listened how her brother thanked his guest as he slowly moved to stand beside her smaller frame. The youngest Midoriya still hadn't lifted her gaze entirely, knowing that it was not proper for an unmarried woman to lift her eyes without further ado. However, her mind remained by the fact that the red haired men had spoken up before her fiance had said a word. It had surprised (Y/N), after all he was in the company of someone who outranked him. She had rarely seen anyone dare to speak openly in front of those who were above them.

"Oi, lift your gaze and look at me, girl!", growled Bakugou suddenly, without uttering a word of greeting. His companion clicked his tongue softly when he heard how his leader approached his fiance, while Izuku began to tense up in front of the shogun. Immediately, (Y/N) raised her fluttering eyelids and fixed her gaze on the nobleman's handsome face. Did Bakugou want her to look him in the eyes?

Despite her inner uncertainty, the young Midoriya's gaze wandered over the sharp edges of his contours until finally they slowly collided with the young shogun's iris.

Vermilion

His eyes had a vermilion color.

(Y/N) could understand why so many scary rumors circulated about the color of his eyes, but her first association was not the one she had heard from others. She could see why people associated them with the blood of his enemies, but the youngest Midoriya first thoughts were of the deep red of the sky as soon as the rising sun blinked out just a few inches above the horizon. Then, when the world was almost still haunted by the blackness of the night, before it was slowly but surely chased away by the first warm rays of pure light.

With quick breaths, (Y/N) looked speechlessly at her future husband while trying to suppress the nervous trembling of her body. She could sense Ochako behind her, shifting her weight, shocked as she tried to take in the spectacle in front of her as well. (Y/N), however, continued to do as she was commanded and looked bravely into the face of the shogun. It showed the indomitable will which lay dormant in the depths of his body. The will that was able to break even the strongest fighting spirit of his opponents. The youngest Midoriya knew that she should have felt fear at the sight of him, but all she could think of was the envy that arose in her when she realized what a strong character must reside in this man. How much power he posessed at such a young age.

Silence spread like a heavy blanket over the five nobles, all waiting for the highest ranked to speak again, but Bakugou seemed to be in no hurry. Almost testing, he delayed the moment as he looked down at her in a scrutinizing manner.

"Bakugou Katsuki.", her fiancé finally introduced himself impassively after nodding towards her. For a moment she had thought that she saw a positive emotion in the features of her future husband, but after just a single blink, the moment had already passed away. One more time, (Y/N) sank into a curtsy before putting on a shy, shaky smile. "Midoriya (Y/N). It's an honor to meet you, your grace.", she replied kindly. Silence spread out between the present, while the young couple looked at each other closely. However, Bakugou's companion broke it again before it was getting to be too awkward, waving at her with a radiant smile on his lips:"If I may introduce myself as well. My name is Kirishima Eijirou. I am one of the samurai who followed Bakugou-sama's lead. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Midoriya and Miss eh?"

Surprised that the young man next to the young shogun had again simply spoken up without hesitation, (Y/N)'s attention briefly swung to the red-haired, muscular samurai. How was it that he dared to speak even though his superior was standing right next to him? Bakugou, however, didn't seem to mind, as he waited a short moment, while Ochako hastily introduce herself, without taking his eyes off of (Y/N).

After the brown-haired girl finished her introduction, the shogun  cleared his throat in desinterest. He paid no further attention to his future wife's guest, clearly intending on keeping the conversation as short as possible as he began to declair in a business-like manner: "The negotiations for our engagement have been completed. After the proper engagement period has passed, I will come back to the capital to perform the wedding with you. Until then, I will travel back to my estate in the north." Overwhelmed by the statement, the young Midoriya swallowed down the rising lump before nodding hesitantly: "W-When will you be leaving?", the young lady asked after collecting herself. "In a week!" "In a week? But...", (Y/N) gasped, before breaking off her sentence. It was not her place to object, but she had hoped to at least meet Bakugou a few times before having to marry him.

Kirishima quickly stepped in again, smiling and trying to lighten the mood a bit, after noticing that his leader would say nothing in reply: "Duty calls, milady. But once we're back in town, Bakugou-sama will certainly be able to take up more time to get to know you before the wedding.", he suggested with a bright smile as he bumped his fists against each other in a confident manner. "Maybe... but now Kirishima and I will have to leave! The negotiatons took too much of my time already.", the shogun gave out without showing any interesest in indulgin any of them.

Surprised, (Y/N)'s eyes widened at the curt statement. Had she done something wrong? Why did he want to leave so soon, if he would be gone within the next week? Was he upset that she hadn't been able to hold her tongue? Swallowing, she searched the man's face for an answer, but could find no clues in his closed off expression. Strangely, a trace of disappointment spread through her as she watched the blond man resolutely incline his head in a farewell. Immediately, the youngest Midoriya and Ochako fell back into a deep curtsy as they bowed their heads in supplication.

Before (Y/N) could straighten up again, however, she felt a small oblong box being pressed into her hands. For a brief moment, rough, long fingers brushed against hers, but when she looked up in surprise, she realized miserably that Bakugou, who gave her the gift, had already turned away from her. With a wildly beating heart, she pressed the wooden box to her chest as she watched how Bakugou, was walking away from her without any hesitation in his steps.

How could she face her destiny and fight for her happiness when she was given no choice to do so? If she let him go without another word, wouldn't she have already failed in her purpose? She had to use the time she had left and pray that the gods would lead her graciously. On impulse, (Y/N) took a leap forward despite her intimidated self, before trying to build a bridge between Bakugou and her, even if it meant that she had to use her voice:"T-The spring Festival!" A shiver ran down her spine as the youngest Midoriya saw the shogun pause and turn to face her. "The festival to celebrate the cherry blossoms. The day after tomorrow evening in the emperor's gardens. W-will you be there, your Grace?", she asked, after having scraped together all of her courage. She could see Kirishima turn around as well and look at her with another radiant smile, while her brother looked like he was about to faint. Bakugou, on the other hand, looked at her appraisingly for a few moments before raising his shoulders in a vague gesture. "I'll be busy with the preparation for the following journey!", he replied impassively as he spun around again. Dejectedly, (Y/N) lowered her gaze, before she suddenly heard how her fiancé continued to speak: "I'll see if I can spare some time."

Eyes widening, (Y/N) gazed after Bakugou as she tried to comprehend what he had just uttered. A shaky smile spread across her lips before she bowed again, though the Shogun could not see this while he headed to the entrance of the estate. "Thank you. I look forward to eventually meeting you there."

#bnha #mha #bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bakugou x yn #Bakugou #Bakugou Katsuki #midoriya izuku #deku #Shogun!Bakugou

[robininthelabyrinth]

How would you describe your version of the Jiangs?

See, this gets tricky, because I often write my fics in close-person perspective and that means I write them as how the POV character perceives them to be rather than how they really are. So a fic written in the POV of Jiang Cheng will have a very different Jiang sect than a fic written from Wei Wuxian or a third person’s POV - even though their actions wouldn’t be in any way different.

That being said, my version of Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu (excluding Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli because that would take forever):

Jiang Fengmian is a calm, introverted, laid back person who tends to go with the flow. He hates confrontation and drama, and just wants to be happy, which is reflected in his preference to surround himself with happy people who similarly believe in not letting things bother them. He rarely pursues anything too aggressively because he thinks that’s just setting yourself up for disappointment, and tends to deal with difficult situations by looking for a solution where everyone will leave him alone/continue to play nice, without really thinking too much in the long term or too deeply about questions of right and wrong. If someone starts an argument with him or is annoying him, he will leave rather than engage; if someone does something that only harms him tangentially, he will ignore it in the hopes that it will go away by itself. He is a private person who does not generally share his emotions.

He does not have a happy marriage - he likes his wife a great deal, actually, but their communication styles are so utterly different that he honestly thinks she hates him, even when she’s trying to show affection, because he does not understand that anger/scolding can show care. His own methods of showing affection are often rejected by her (because she in turn doesn’t understand him), and he believes this means that she does not love him. He believes he was in love with either Cangse Sanren or Wei Changze or possibly both, he’s not entirely sure himself, and he regrets their deaths more than anything else in his life - except maybe the realization that his wife does love him, always has, and that he only figured it out right before their deaths.

He is, objectively, a bad father. He favors Wei Wuxian and neglects Jiang Cheng, and lets Jiang Yanli bear most of the emotional burden from that. He does not think of himself as a bad father - he doesn’t really think of himself as a father much at all. He doesn’t see anything wrong with what he is doing because he treats his children like adult friends, so he thinks it’s fine to spend time with the people whose personalities he likes (Wei Wuxian) and less time with those he doesn’t (Jiang Cheng). He is, unknowingly, rather misogynistic, and assumes that Jiang Yanli, who fits his image of a proper woman, is fulfilled by caring for her brothers and not burdened by it; ironically, the women he actually appreciates most are the ones who break his expectations. 

Madame Yu, Yu Ziyuan, is a lonely, highly introverted woman with an extremely strong sense of pride. Her personality is cold and standoffish, coming off as disdainful, and she doesn’t have any mode other than fully engaged and intense about everything. She does not suffer fools gladly, and has a truly nasty turn of phrase that does more damage than she realizes. She is extremely aware of etiquette and class divisions, and is especially angered by disrespect. She was an excellent cultivator in her youth and is an excellent trainer for the Jiang sect, remaining highly respected by her peers, although less so now that she no longer goes out on night hunts; she did not want to stop, but felt she had no choice once she became a mother. She is resentful of the fact that her husband does not involve her more in sect politics, and believes she would do a better job if given the chance, but she would never lower herself to ask because it would risk being rejected.  She misses her home very much, in part because she was last truly happy there, but she’s also extremely proud of being part of the significantly stronger Jiang sect.

She expresses affection through worry (often manifesting as scolding) and through acts of service, such as by trying her best to improve the sect’s reputation or make people stronger. As a result of her own experiences, she believes people need to be toughed up to deal with the cruel realities of the world. She is in love with her husband, who she believes does not love her - she interprets his gifts as trying to buy off her anger, which only makes it worse, his acts of service as condescension, and when he says sweet words to her she is convinced that he is only trying to use her as a ill-fitting substitute for the person he really loves, which also makes her angry. This is in large part because he persists in treating her like she is a soft woman who likes pretty things for the sake of being pretty, which she is not - she is highly practical and likes to look good because she knows it’s another weapon, not because being pretty is fun. Her best friend - who became Madame Jin - has an equally unhappy marriage, which she thinks should give her a cynical view of marriage, but in fact she’s still secretly a romantic at heart.

She is, in many ways, a bad mother. While she loves her children, she also sees them as key to her position as mistress of the Lotus Pier, and anything that challenges that position is disrespect to her - a sore spot. She does not understand how Jiang Yanli seems to be happy with what she is given, a domesticity almost to the extent of acting like a servant, but since it seems like Jiang Yanli likes it, she tries not to interfere. The fact that Jiang Fengmian won’t quash the rumors about Wei Wuxian makes her anxious that he is, in fact, planning on disowning Jiang Cheng in favor of Wei Wuxian, and she hates the fact that Jiang Fengmian prefers Wei Wuxian. She gets this anxiety and anger out by trying to make Jiang Cheng do better in the hope that if he is truly exceptional, the way Wei Wuxian is, Jiang Fengmian will finally like him - and maybe also her. She is aware to some extent that what she is doing is futile and hurting Jiang Cheng, but she cannot seem to stop herself. 

She does not hate Wei Wuxian himself, nor does she mean him any harm - if only her husband were not so partial to him, she would be very pleased with how he’s done as head disciple. She makes sure he has the best possible training and wants to cultivate him to be as strong and smart as possible, in large part because she thinks of him as her son’s future right hand. The main thing that bothers her is that he leads her son in trouble - the issue being lead. If Jiang Cheng were leading Wei Wuxian into trouble, she wouldn’t mind it, but she foresees that it will be a problem in the future; she doesn’t want her son to be a hollow sect leader who is a puppet for Wei Wuxian. 

#mdzs meta #jiang fengmian #madame yu #yu ziyuan #Anonymous

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: threads spun

Summary: In another life, Obi-Wan Kenobi would have fought plenty of other Jedi Masters for the right to train little Luke Skywalker. In this one, Luke is 19 and just lost his family when Obi-Wan teaches him how to do a proper Padawan braid.

AN: I’M BACK FROM NANO WITH NEW FANFICS.

The boy just lost his whole world, and he clings to Obi-Wan's robes with shaky hands. His eyes are bright blue, his hair a fair gold color, and for just one short moment, Obi-Wan isn't sure whether the child in front of him is nine or nineteen, whether his name is Anakin or Luke.

It is the reason he gave Luke to his family in the end, even when the Force and all his selfish desires were screaming at him not to. The newborn, the son of his Padawan, the child that was Luke Skywalker, had deserved better than a broken man who didn't even know who he was without a thousand lights illuminating him. A man who'd risk forgetting that he was not holding the child he had raised, the child he had left to burn.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and the moment passes. 

He doesn't ask the boy if he's alright because it is obvious that Luke is not and it would be cruel to demand an honest answer. Luke can't be standing straight after he experienced such tremendous loss for the first time, nobody would, and Obi-Wan is saddened that he can't give Luke the time to grieve.

Despite all this pain, Obi-Wan still dares to hope for light and life.

He is relieved to see that Luke doesn't take all the hurt and anger to hide it within himself. Obi-Wan has never taught Luke a single lesson about Jedi philosophy, the way they grieve and handle all the emotions that are too large for this world, those that are capable of tearing the galaxy apart. And yet Luke controls his feelings exactly as a temple-raised youngling would, not pushing them aside or letting them overtake him. He takes timed breaths, centers himself on the world surrounding him and not on his anxieties. Pride fills Obi-Wan's heart as he watches peace and balance return to Luke's mind.

In another life, Obi-Wan would have fought plenty of other Jedi Masters for the right to train him.

He can almost hear his family laugh at him, playful jabs about him being so eager to train yet another Skywalker and see what colors they could draw nebulas in. It isn't Obi-Wan's fault; he has always loved a challenge, and Luke, racing in Beggar's Canyon at an age no boy should step into that death trap, would have certainly been a joy to teach and guide.

He could have taught him so much, so much he still needs to teach him, but the clock is ticking and time has always been a cruel mistress. Not purposefully, she wouldn't dare, but she is absolute and eternal, and like death, she takes.

Obi-Wan silently wonders how much time he has left. He knows exactly where they are heading and despite the legends he has wrapped around himself in his exile, he's neither crazy nor a fool. They are attempting to pull off a plan that they wouldn't even have dared to suggest during the Clone Wars, not with so many untrained people. He's been called reckless plenty of times, his ability to talk himself out of seeming like an adrenaline junkie being his only saving grace. Still, Obi-Wan is acutely aware of the danger they are in.

But they have no other choice. They may have the Death Star plans in their hands – and wasn't it utterly predictable that it would be Artoo to carry the plans for a weapon of mass destruction? – but Leia can't stay in the Empire's hands.

Luke and she were so strong in the Force at their birth already. While Obi-Wan is convinced that Bail must have taught Leia at least some shielding techniques, half-trained children can't withstand a Sith Lord for long. Should Vader or worse, Palpatine, learn what Leia could become capable of, they would have so much more to worry about in the future.

The Rebellion might as well be lost.

"You have grown into a fine young man, Luke," Obi-Wan tells Anakin's son instead.

"I have?" Luke echoes, curiosity coloring his voice, highlighting a cadence similar to Padmé's despite his heavy Outer Rim accent.

"I brought you to Tatooine," Obi-Wan tells him. The journey hadn't been an easy one. They had to change ships multiple times and every time somebody had mistaken Obi-Wan for Luke's father, he had wanted to stop and cry like the infant in his arms. "You were a very sweet baby."

"Oh." Luke falls silent again, but his hands have stopped shaking. In his dirty white robes, he reminds Obi-Wan just a bit of a messy Padawan. He wears Anakin's lightsaber well, even if he doesn't know how to execute even the simplest of lightsaber forms. Frankly speaking, it is a bit terrifying to see how quickly he picked up the weapon and had gotten comfortable with it. The Force curled around Luke's every movement, guiding him like a beloved teacher.

Luke will need a teacher if he is to face the darkness that would catch up to them soon.

Obi-Wan feels much older than he actually is. The fault lies partially with the harsh marks that Tatooine has left on his body, but also with the life he has led. He isn't sure if he can teach another student, no matter how much he wants to, but he has to try at least for Luke's sake. That is, if the boy truly intends to follow the path of the Jedi.

"Luke," Obi-Wan says seriously, thinking of the one who gives life, the name granted to such a young child, "Do you truly want to become a Jedi?"

"Yes." There is no hesitation in Luke's reply. "I want to follow my father's footsteps."

No, Obi-Wan wants to weep. You don't. You can't ask me to cut you down as well; I couldn't bear it.

"It is admirable to want to follow the path of someone you respect," Obi-wan starts carefully instead. He can't tell Luke what became of Anakin Skywalker. The child deserves better. "But I am asking about your own inclinations. The path of a Jedi is not an easy one, and you have to follow it for your own sake if you want to succeed."

Now Luke does hesitate. He looks down at his hands, curls them into fists and relaxes them again.

"Yes," Luke finally replied. "Yes, I want to be a Jedi."

"Then I'll hope you'll give me the honor of teaching you. I'd like to take you as my Padawan."

Obi-Wan had said these words over three decades ago to another lost blond boy, the language a little different, their surroundings certainly more peaceful than the ship of a smuggler. He tries to banish the image from his mind.

"Padawan," Luke repeats slowly. "What does it mean?"

You should know, Obi-Wan thinks. You should know what it means and be overjoyed and celebrate this day.

He can't hold it against this boy, not even against himself or, dare he think it, Anakin because choices had been made, but away from it all, Obi-Wan can only blame the Sith who ruined them, continues to hurt them.

"It means that I want you as my student, teach you all I know so that you may surpass me someday."

Bring us back to the light, rebuilt all that we lost. Obi-Wan is asking him for so much when just days ago it would have been enough for him to someday see Luke marry that boy he's been crushing on for years and live the rest of his days happily, far away from the war.

And now he dreams of home again, the rooms full of plants and droid parts, poetry collections, board games, and warmth so kind and all-compassing that no nightmares can haunt you.

"You'd really teach me?" Luke asks as if he'd be honored and the right to be taught not already something he possessed since his birth.

"Of course."

"I'd be honored to accept," Luke replies with a shy smile.

Obi-Wan returns his smile and reassuringly squeezes his shoulder once. Luke leans into the touch and so Obi-Wan lets his arm linger around the boy's shoulders as he continues to explain traditions long lost. "Traditionally, we would now braid your hair and put in the first bead."

"Braid my hair?"

Obi-wan nods and thinks of all the times his Master ran his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, tugging at his braid and saying one thing or another he hadn't paid any attention to because he'd been too awestruck by the fact that he had a Master at all. "Yes, all Padawans of the Jedi Order have a braid. It shows your dedication to your studies and how serious you are about them. It means that you know that this is not an easy task or an easy path to take, but that you are willing to walk it anyway."

Luke thoughtfully looks at Obi-Wan, then he reaches up with his hand, putting a strand of hair behind his ear.

"My hair is not long enough to braid it properly," Luke mutters, dismayed.

He's pouting more than he is actually hurt by the thought. Nevertheless, if he lingers on it, he might ask more questions about what other chances life has denied him and because of it, Obi-Wan wants to distract him quickly.

The distraction comes at the price of remembrance, a fourteen-year-old Padawan clinging to what remained of his braid, burying his head in his Master's chest, and crying after enduring days of torment. Obi-Wan had fixed Anakin's hair then as well so he wouldn't have to deal with too many looks once they were back at the Temple. His braid had been short, but it had been there. For a moment, Obi-Wan tries to recall who had assigned that mission to them, whether Sidious had already sown his seeds of discord then.

He lets the moment go. "Don't worry, I can help you."

He had done plenty of braids during his as a Padawan and later as a Master. When the war had been going on, he had helped frenzied Padawans countless times with their braids.

There was an almost meditative process to the act of braiding and letting others braid your hair. It had soothed innumerous over the centuries and now it will once more calm another. Luke sits still when Obi-Wan begins to part the stray strands of hair on the left side of his head into three. Luke's hair really isn't all that long, but it is definitely more than enough to work with. Slowly and withs steady fingers, Obi-Wan braids another bond with his second Padawan. Luke is a kind child and this war will hurt him incredibly. Obi-Wan can only hope that what he will pass onto him will be enough to have him keep his path, to wander in the light even when the darkness reaches for him with the intent to consume.

Once Obi-Wan is finished with the braid, he reaches for his belt, takes an old leather cord from there, and wraps it around the tip of Luke's hair.

"And finished," Obi-Wan announces.

Luke, who had closed his eyes, opens them and immediately reaches for the hair, twirling it between his two fingers in a fashion reminiscent of Obi-Wan in his youth. He had only managed to get rid of that nervous habit after his won braid hat been cut. Whether Luke would act similar, Obi-Wan doesn't know, but the thought of seeing Luke ascend to the rank of Knight of the Order, no matter how small, splintered and broken it is right now, it makes his heart beat a bit quicker.

"How does it look?" Luke asks.

"As it is supposed to," Obi-Wan replies. "I believe Mr. Solo has a mirror in his fresher if you want to take a look."

Luke races off before Obi-Wan can say anymore. He returns a few minutes later, already with more color in his face than he had in the hours before.

"Thank you. Master." Luke tags on the honorific only belatedly, unsure whether it fits and it is all the convincing Obi-Wan could ever need.

"You are welcome, Padawan."

Obi-Wan Kenobi has a student once more and he will not fail him.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #Luke Skywalker #jedi #original trilogy #fanfic

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 2: Welcome to Arcadia

AO3

Ship: ???

Word Count: 3696

Warnings: None

A/N: Here’s chapter 2! I know it’s a little late, but I have it for you! I’m really excited to have more of this AU out and I hope you guys like it!

Previous

Next

“Luke, behave.”

“I am behaving! I’m just keeping a lookout!”

Solomon had drowned his companions out long ago. It had been a long time since he’d seen the royal family. Correspondence had been going back and forth with preparations, and he knew it would take a while to have things set up, but when he got a letter informing him that their wedding date was to be moved up to this month-

To say he was shocked was an understatement. 

The King of Arcadia was dead. It had been sudden and the circumstances surrounding it questionable from what Solomon understood. In light of the passing the crowned prince was to take the throne, and soon after the coronation Solomon was to marry the princess. It was a lot to take in even if he had been assured that all of the necessary planning would be taken care of. But that wasn’t the only thing that had him on edge. 

Deftly, his fingers brushed over the pendant on his chest. She was nervous, she’d been nervous for a while and Solomon could feel her anxieties building. Not that he could blame her really. Surely Lilith didn’t foresee the death of her father, and she certainly wasn’t expecting to get married so soon. And Solomon knew that he was a man she hardly knew. It had to be nerve wracking. 

But on the other hand, Solomon was finally going to get inside of Arcadia with all of it’s secrets to unlock. To him the unknown was exciting, and he was ready to probe into anything he could find. Besides, the marriage was arranged. They could be kind and cordial to each other, but Solomon doubted they’d be very close. The life of a royal was a lonely one. At least his bride had siblings.

He would be kind to her. That was no question.

Even in his fascination with Arcadia he would try to be a decent husband. He wasn’t sure what he could promise to her, and breaking her heart wasn’t something he aimed to do. However, the very idea of integrating into the family and infiltrating secrets he’d only ever dreamed about and heard legend of from travelling minstrels had a strange excitement bubbling deep within him that he was struggling to suppress. 

“Is everything alright?”

Simeon’s voice cut through his thoughts and brought him back to the little carriage. His hand left his pendant and settled back in his lap. “Of course, why do you ask?”

“Oh nothing, aside from the fact that your leg is bouncing the entire cart,” Simeon hummed, “I can’t tell whether you’re excited or getting cold feet.”

“Can you blame me?”

“For which?”

“Well I hardly ever get anxious.”

“Ah, so we’re playing games of deductive reasoning then-”

“Well you don’t need to worry!” Ah, lest Luke be forgotten, “We’re not going to let any monsters or evil-doers get to our king!”

Solomon couldn’t help but snort, “I doubt that my wife will turn out to be evil, and Arcadia is a place rich with old magic, but I haven’t heard tales of any monsters living there.” Oh to have the mind of an innocent child. He’d been like that once a long time ago, full of life with an active imagination. Sometimes Solomon wondered what life might have been like if he hadn’t grown up to be a crowned prince. Maybe he would have travelled the world and unlocked secrets that otherwise would have been lost to time.

But what use was there dwelling on something that he couldn’t change?

Of course he’d been a little bitter about it, but fate was a cruel mistress and Solomon had long accepted the lot she’d given to him.

He’d still make history as a king. He’d make sure people remembered him. He was going to accomplish great things.

“Well we don’t know that,” Luke slumped back into the seat and turned to look out the window.

“That is true, and it is very brave of you to want to protect your king,” Simeon winked at Solomon.

“Ah yes, very brave indeed.”

“Don’t patronize me!” 

Solomon had a special relationship with Simeon and Luke, one in which he could drop being professional for a few moments and enjoy being himself. Simeon was a gifted scribe and Solomon trusted him with his life. He’d also written a few short tales and created a collection of stories that he’d heard. Luke was his apprentice. Apparently, Simeon had taken the child in when he learned he had nowhere else to go.

They were like father and son, or so Solomon assumed. He’d had an odd relationship with his parents after all. Not that he was bitter. What reason had he to be? 

What happened happened. 

There was no undoing the past.

No undoing the life he’d been born into.

He had a sacred bond with his two companions. One he’d likely never replicate, and one he’d cherish till the end of his days. It wouldn’t be able to be replicated. He doubted he’d ever be this close to his own wife. 

A sad thought to some.

But you couldn’t expect much out of a mutual trade. It was politics, not romance. 

“Is that the castle?”

“I don’t believe so Luke.”

Solomon was snapped back to reality once more to his companions staring out the window. A large gate stood before them with watch towers on either side. Pristine bricks reached upward to kiss the heavens above them and absorbing the sun’s mighty rays.

“I believe this is only the outside,” Simeon’s voice was soft. Whether it was from awe or fear Solomon didn’t know. But intimidation was certainly something Arcadia didn’t back down on. Not with bows already drawn upon them. 

He could hear the demands for their business allowed and their caravan leader respond. But he has other things to focus on. He was a stranger in these lands and he’d be damned if he didn’t make a good first impression. Fixing his crown upon his head, he turned to look at Simeon and Luke, “How do I look?”

Luke turned back from the site outside to him and a wide grin spread across his face, “Like a real king! I bet you’ll have the prince bowing to you in no time and you’re gonna sweep the princess right off her feet!”

“Well I hope it would be princes considering there are six of them, but if the crowned prince does the rest should certainly follow,” he chuckled, seeing Simeon lean forward  to fix something of his attire. 

“Don’t be cocky. You want them to like you yes? So you can finally at long last be a part of Arcadia?”

“It’s all in good fun,” Solomon hoped he rolled his eyes hard enough for Simeon to hear, “Besides, if I can make the Crown Prince of Arcadia bow to me, I’d say I must be a pretty impressive sight no?”

“You’d better hope they’re all impressed. It’s a large family. A family whose father recently passed. Be respectful.”

“Of course. No funny business. How could they not like me? Am I not charming?” How could he not joke to ease his nerves? This was a big day and they’d be staying here for a while. He certainly didn’t want to make enemies of the Arcadian rulers, especially not when he was marrying one of them and not when he had so much to learn.

“But if they don’t like you and want a fight, we can always beat them up and show ‘em who’s  boss!”

“Pardon me.”

Oh what a terrible thing that fate was faster than Simeon.

Luke’s face went pale as he took note of the towering shadow that was the crowned prince himself in the doorway of their carriage. Pleased wasn’t the first word Solomon would jump to to describe the look on his face. Luke’s eyes were bigger than those of the owls that flew around the castle at night. 

The child turned slowly to look at the towering man before him.

“What makes an ankle biter such as this think that they have any right to threaten my family? We take threats incredibly seriously here in Arcadia, especially those made by outsiders.”

The child crumpled under the piercing glare of the prince and quickly retreated to the comfort and safety of Simeon’s cloak. “I assure you sir, my apprentice inteaded no such harm-”

“And who are they?” Lucifer’s attention snapped back to Solomon, uninterested in whatever excuse Simeon had waiting for him. Well, Solomon certainly hadn’t remembered Lucifer as the most welcoming person, but he hadn't remembered him like this at all. He’d been tense, sure, but this was an entirely different level of stress. 

Solomon put on a smile as he went into salvage mode. He had to find some way to diffuse this situation. 

So much for good impressions. 

“Ah, of course. Allow me to introduce you to my wonderful scribe Simeon and his apprentice Luke,” Solomon said, nodding to each of them individually, “They’re wonderful really. Simeon is such a talented writer and-”

“I didn’t ask for more,” the prince closed his eyes before collecting himself. Solomon was more than familiar when it came to recognizing techniques to keep your temper. Anything done by a crowned prince reflected on the kingdom and her people. It was a lesson Solomon had had to learn. “I came to collect you and welcome you to Arcadia, but I must advise you in one thing your highness.”

Solomon had never seen eyes like Lucifer’s before. Of course he saw them when they’d met the first time oh so long ago, but he hadn’t really paid attention to them back then. Now they were trained on him to kill and he had no choice but to take notice.

 “Be careful when choosing your company.”

Solomon wasn’t sure if that had been a threat, a warning, or both. 

Yet Lucifer stepped away and started to move away from the carriage. “Now if you would be so kind as to follow, my sister is waiting for you.”

Solomon didn’t blame him for not sounding happy. There were many things going on and to top it off, his sister had been arranged to marry a man he probably wasn’t fond of. But calling it off could also be risky. So many things could go wrong, and Solomon was a good match and an even better ally for the kingdom. 

Despite having not seen her in a long time, Lilith was just still as beautiful as he remembered her. Lucifer approached her first and seemed to be talking in quick hushed words. She still seemed tense as her brother spoke, but Lucifer tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled. Lilith relaxed only slightly and nodded towards him. 

They seemed close.

Solomon dared to step closer.

“You may walk the grounds with her and wander the grounds with my sister while we finish preparations with your room. But if I hear about a single misstep, if I hear that you’ve harmed even a single hair on her head, I will not take kindly to you,” Lucifer’s voice morphed into a growl as he spoke. It was clear that he would not be seeing the same kindness that the crowned prince showed towards his sister. 

“Will I not be sleeping with my wife?”

“No.”

The response was sharper than Solomon had expected. Like a dog who’s boundaries had been crossed by a stranger, and who was prepared to bite intending to inflict nothing but harm. Of course Solomon had no intention of doing anything to his fiance but it seemed like if he was going to get any privileges in Arcadia he was going to have to play by Lucifer’s rules. 

“I wouldn’t dream of bringing any harm towards her,” Solomon’s eyes met Lucifer’s, “You have my word.”

Lucifer hesitated for only a moment before squeezing Lilith’s shoulder, “Do not hesitate to call for me if you need me.”

“Of course Lucifer.”

And with that, he was gone. 

Solomon came closer and nodded towards his fiance, “It’s nice to see you again. I apologize, it seems that I haven’t gotten on the best terms with your brother, and I am truly sorry to hear about the passing of your father.”

He took her hand and brought it up to his lips. The smell of Arcadian perfumes and lotions invaded his senses once more, just as they had on the first day they met. Her hands felt even softer to him, softer than he remembered. He also couldn’t help but note that she wasn’t dressed in black, but rather in pink. He wasn’t one to judge. Perhaps Arcadia had different customs when it came to mourning, or perhaps it was because Solomon was here. 

Arcadia was extremely closed off from the rest of the world, but now Solomon had the chance to learn more about her lands and possibly the magic rumored to be lying within.

“Thank you, it was rather unexpected. It took me and my brothers by surprise. I lost my a while back, we’re not unfamiliar with death, but it still feels odd.”

Well, that was certainly a strange way to talk about the death of a father. Solomon had had odd relationships with relatives as well, but even this struck him as odd. It was another little item he tucked away in the space of his mind dedicated to learning more about his fiance and her family. 

The broach he’d given her then caught his eye. It sat proudly on her chest glinting in the sunlight. Questions could wait.

“I almost forgot, I brought some gifts for you,” he nodded back towards Simeon and led her closer to the carriage. 

Simeon smiled at the princess and started shuffling through the carriage that they’d been riding in. “There are some of the typical wedding presents. Gold, jewels, perfume, all with different meanings. And then my lord thought you would be rather fond of-”

“Bunnies!”

Lilith ran towards the small creatures as soon as she saw them. She poked her fingers through the cage to touch their soft little heads. Solomon remembered something in a letter somewhere that the princess enjoyed the small creatures. He reached up to touch his own broach, just to be sure. And as he expected, her anxieties melted away. Her smile was wonderful. Even if this wasn’t love, he could take care of her and make her smile.

Even if love didn’t exist, he could take care of her.

“Cute aren’t they?” Simeon smiled, “My lord made sure to pick the best in the kingdom for you, and they also symbolize fertility, so they continue on with the theme.”

Lilith froze.

“Fertility,” she repeated.

Oh no.

Solomon could feel the anxiety within her skyrocket again.

She turned back towards him ever so slightly, “You… You want kids?”

“Ah, well,” it wasn’t so much that Solomon wanted kids as he knew it was expected of him, “Fertility doesn’t necessarily mean children. Not in my eyes anyways.”

He had to save this. 

“It could be fertility of the land or perhaps even the fertility of the kingdom,” Solomon explained, coming closer to poke his own fingers through the cage, “Besides, fertility isn’t the only thing they could represent. They also stand for abundance, vulnerability, family, and new life among other things. All of which I think are rather fitting when it comes to wedding presents wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose.”

“We can worry about other things later, why don’t we go for a walk? I’d love to see more of Arcadia and to stretch my legs. Simeon can make sure your bunnies and presents are safe back in your home.”

His first few hours in Arcadia really weren’t going as smoothly as he would have liked. 

“I can take you to the market. The one’s set up where outsiders come in are always wonderful.”

Perfect. 

Arcadia was gorgeous, and he was only seeing a small section of it. The wall stood proudly in the distance, but the more Solomon saw the more he forgot about its presence. It became like a distant and faded memory. They had some of the sweetest fruit Solomon had tried in all of his life and there was so much variety. The plant life was unique and different from what he was used to. There were towering trees (some of which were apple trees) and vibrant flowers of all varieties. And to imagine that this was only a small section of Arcadia. There weren’t many people out in the streets though. Surprising, but then again, he wasn’t familiar with the culture yet. Perhaps they were too early… Or maybe too late. Maybe the crowds usually came at a different time.

 Even the craftsmanship of the Arcadian people was astounding. From the little trinkets being sold to the intricate designs on the stalls, it was all beautiful. Seeing Lilith relax was also lovely. She hadn’t realized that he’d missed her laugh until now. It was a soothing sound. She was excitable as well. Seeing her like this was like seeing a different person.

“I just have to show you my sector.”

She talked with her hands.

“It’s the prettiest out of all of them! I made sure of it.”

Her speech picked up when she got excited.

“Of course you can see my brothers’ sectors too, if you want to. But they aren’t as pretty as mine.”

Solomon hummed as if thinking it over, “That would be wonderful, but I would like to hear you sing at some point. You did say you would sing for me the last time we saw each other.”

Her smile became even brighter at the mention of music. Maybe things were turning around for him. At least he could make her smile. Maybe that would give him points with her family.

The only thing that rivaled her smile was what he saw in the castle upon entry after they’d spent hours in the market place. Eight stained glass windows decorated the inside of the main hall. Each one was made of different colors: blue, yellow, orange, green, pink, red, purple, and finally white. The blue one sat above the throne facing the white one which was above the doorway itself. The way they reflected onto the floor made it even more breathtaking. The walls were high and pristine and a carpet stretched from the door to the thrones. But those windows were certainly meant to draw the eye of anyone who entered. He tried to look at anything else, but he couldn’t study the room for long without being drawn back to the stained glass.

“Those are beautiful,” he mused, “I almost feel like I can see people inside. Were they made here?” 

“Partially, some of it was outsourced, but the idea that people came together on the project is beautiful is it not?”

That was a new voice. Solomon looked to see a man standing before them. He’d never met him before, but something looked familiar. The more he looked, the more he realized that the man looked a little like the late king.

“Hello Uncle.” 

Perhaps it was nothing, but Solomon swore her mood dropped.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but the baker would like to see you. I believe it’s about wedding cake preparations. They need you to taste test.”

Solomon reached up to the gem on his chest at the mention of the wedding. Anxiety. Again. It seemed like whenever she was reminded about their engagement her anxieties would flare. He didn’t blame her. It would be unfair of him to. This was an arranged marriage not one they chose. Well in a sense, Solomon supposed he had made a decision. 

He hadn’t thought as much about the wedding as he did Arcadia itself. 

She didn’t have that privilege. 

Solomon got so caught up in his own thoughts, he almost missed the man looking at him. 

“It’s time for you to run along now dear. I’ll keep your fiance company,” he moved closer to the pair. Solomon wasn’t exactly sure how. He wasn’t even sure how he could have closed the distance so fast. No. He couldn’t have. Solomon watched as he placed his hand on Lilith’s back and pushed her along. She hesitated only for a moment before a look from her uncle sent her on her way. 

“The rumors are true about you then? You are a fellow man of magic?” he asked, making Solomon perk up, “I see the pendant you wear, it is connected to your fiance is it not?”

“You have a keen eye sir.”

“We have something in common then! The very idea had me rather excited for this engagement. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Azazel Morningstar. Brother to the late king and advisor to his eldest son, the crowned prince. It is a pleasure to meet you, your majesty,” Azazel bowed and stood up quickly. He had dark hair and striking green eyes. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, and I hope we can have future discussions regarding magic.”

Solomon could have asked him about the rumors surrounding Arcadia but something stopped him. It wouldn’t be a good idea. He still didn’t know enough about Arcadia and the family. Solomon wasn’t a stupid man. He didn’t trust easily. It could also be rather rude of him, considering he just got here. He was allowed to keep his secrets. No one said he had to disclose all of his desires and what he wished to learn. 

“Indeed, unfortunately I must run. I was simply asked to fetch the princess for wedding preparations, but please feel free to explore the palace while you wait. It’ll be your home as much as it is ours and we want you to feel as such.” 

What a charming man. 

With a nod and a smile, Azazel left Solomon to his own devices. 

And so the outsider king stood in the empty room alone and unsure of where to go first.

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me luke #obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #ruewrites #solodeus #soloasmo #asmosol #asmodeus x solomon #slow burn #royalty!au #arranged marriage!au #tabol

[mylonelycompanion]

Short story

Characters: Jason Todd, Talia Al ghul.

Mature rating for violence and themes.

The bonds and blood

A few hours after the fight club had closed for the night, the 10-year-old Jason Todd was slammed into one of the lockers backstage and pinned to it, a big brute's hand around his neck lifted him off the ground as he leaned in, “You try something like that again, kid, I will kill you.”

“You owe me.” The boy grunted, struggling to get out of his grasp. “That's my money too.”

Corvy leaned in smiling. “I don't owe you nothing. I've been feeding and clothing you this whole time you been working for me. I was gonna give you your share when you were a little older, but after catching you stealing from me I think I'm gonna subtract your salary and extend our agreement a couple more years.”

“I don't want to work for you anymore.” He said as tears started streaming down his cheeks.

“You signed that paper, kid. I own your ass for the next three years. And I can do whatever I want with you until then.”  

“You can't do this! I've done all the work for that money!” He said as his tears turned to rage. “It's mine! You've done nothing for it!”

“I kept the creeps off your back, haven't I? You don't know how many offers I had on you these last several months, boy. I turned every last one of them down to let you keep your dignity, I even let you go back home to mommy and daddy whenever you felt like it. But now I'm beginning to see you've turned into nothing but a spoiled rotten brat. Maybe it is time you see what having it bad really looks like. Jerry!” He yelled at the person in the hallway.

A bodyguard opened the door and looked in.

“Send McCallins back here. I might just accept the offer he made on the boy tonight.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Corvy looked back at the boy and leaned in towards him. “Congratulations, scamp. You're getting out of your contract just like you wanted.” He grabbed him by the back of the neck and lead him to the sofa in the room and pushed him down onto it. “Stay there.” He said walking a few feet away from him and facing the door. There was a knock and the door opened to a man in a business suit. “You still interested in the boy?”

A few men came in discussing the price and arrangments for the boy when another man walks in. “Im looking for Corvy.” He said, interrupting the proceedings between Corvy and his guest.

Corvy stepped forward, “Im him. What is this?” He questioned the man in the suit jacket.

He stood tall with a suitcase in hand. “My mistress was interested in purchasing from you this young fighter.”

“Why does your woman want him?”

“She saw great potential to make him into a strong warrior to join her league.”

“A league? As in League of Assassins? That league?”

The man considered what he said. “Yes. Is seventy-five-thousand dollars a reasonable offer?” The man dropped the suitcase of money onto his desk and opened the lid.

Corvy stares at it dumbfounded then looks over where the boy is sitting quietly, and the other men who also seek to take the kid. “Shit.” He muttered, realizing he already has the bulldogs salivating over the boy, but this new offer is far better. He wonders if its a good idea to say no to those who came first.

The familiar face of the woman who was on the stage directing Jason in combat, and ultimately saving his life was outside by her limo waiting for her men to return with her purchase when suddenly the back door opens and a group of a dozen or so men come out leading a crying boy with them to the car, the very same boy she was attempting to purchase for herself.

She hurried towards them, her bodyguards followed close behind her. “Wait!”

They shoved the boy into the back seat and then turned to look at Talia.

“Where are you going with that boy?” She demanded to know.

“What's it to you?” One of the men in a suit said.

“I've sent my men in there to purchase this child.” She said glancing into the car where the beaten and distraught boy with tears on his face sat and listened. He wasn't missing a thing.

“We beat you to it. My boss has been pining for this one for almost a year now.”

“Where are you taking him?”

“That's our business.”

“What is your price for him?”

The man steps closer to her to intimidate her. “He's not for sale. So beat it.”

“How much did you pay for him?” She insisted again.

“fifteen-thousand dollars.” He said opening the driver's car door. She looked shocked at the price then glances inside the back seat at the boy again, his pleading eyes cause her stomach to turn with anxiety for him. “What if I gave you seventy-five-thousand?” She blurted out.

The man pauses almost as if to consider it, “We'll make more than that on him given a few months. So get lost.”

She lowered her chin as a cruel look comes over her face. “What will you do with him?”

The man gets out of the car again and looks down at her then grabbing her by the throat and getting an inch or two from her face, but one of her bodyguards quickly responded by throwing a dagger at him, stabbing him in the back of his shoulder. “AH!”

One of the other thugs pulled out his gun and fired at the group of foreigners as another bodyguard grabbed his mistress and ran with her to safety as the battle broke out. They hid behind the limousine. “You might hit the child!” She hollered to all the battle-hungry men, seeing bullets pierce the car doors and windows of the car the boy was in.

The firing didn't seize though, and neither side willing to run the risk of laying down arms.

“Talia!” Her bodyguard said, “I need to get you out of here!”

“We can't leave the boy with those men. God only knows what they'll do to him.”

Her bodyguard hollered to another. “Get that boy.” He said to him, “I'm getting her out of here.” He grabbed her arm and protectively raced her to the car, using his own body as a shield, and then putting her in the limo and telling her to deck down as he got into the driver's seat and drove away from the battle scene.

When finally the last of the men who had bought Jason was dead, Talia's driver returned to the scene with her. One of her warriors walked to the back of the car and opened the door then helped Talia out of the limo and walked her to the car that the boy was in.

“The backseat was empty by the time we got close enough to rescue him,” He said to her as she examines the scene of the bullet-riddled car and the few dead bodies lying around, the door on the far side was left open and the child wasn't anywhere in sight. “He was gone.”

“Have you been looking for him?”

“Yes, we scoured a two-mile radius, but we haven't picked up his trail. He vanished... Do you want us to keep looking?”

She looked down the street as she thinks about it, “No. We won't find him, there are too many places to hide in this city... I just hope he is safe... and free now.”      

#jason todd #kid jason #talia al ghul

[prettywordsyouleft]

Bloodstone | Part 8

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: another angst part

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

“You don’t need to be so serious right now, Yoongi,” you teased as he led you into the back, stacks of books scattered everywhere over his desk. You gasped at how much he had invested into researching the stone. Turning your wide-eyed expression towards your best friend, you shook your head in astonishment. “Woah, you’ve been busy.” Shoving aside some papers strewn on his chair, Yoongi placed you within it and handed you an opened book, pointing at the page.

“Read.”

It was another handwritten journal, and you blinked a couple of times before settling into the passage. You grinned when you read the words Stone of Blood and looked up at Yoongi. “The bloodstone!”

“Just… read it, won’t you?” he urged, his expression void of any happiness.

Troubled by Yoongi’s response, you returned your focus to the book you held.

Victoria had fallen greatly for the strange man who appeared from her dreams. As her lady’s maid, I was the only one privy to the man staying within her chambers. Mr Percy charmed her in the greatest sense and my Lady was overjoyed that her lonely days were over. They planned to wed in the spring and children were often discussed. After her troubled childhood, I was relieved she was smiling once again.

Just as strange as his arrival, was his departure. I awoke to the shrill of my mistress, and by the time I reached her side, she was hysterical. Her hands were bleeding as she held shards of a red stone within them and her cries woke the entire village.

She was never the same after that night.

You stopped reading then, placing the book down on the table and distancing yourself from it. Yoongi retrieved it and cleared his throat. “It goes on to say that Victoria ended up hanging herself from the second-floor landing of the manor home when she realised Percy wasn’t going to return.”

“It’s just someone else’s experience,” you murmured, trying to clasp your shaking hands together. “Perhaps there was a problem with how the stone embedded within him.”

“It’s not the only one. The stone seemed more actively used back then. In fifteen-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Y/N!” Yoongi exasperatedly called, placing the book down and reaching for your shuddering shoulders. You couldn’t quite look him in the eye, convincing yourself that what you had read was just a story from long ago. Shaking you roughly, Yoongi finally caught your attention. “You did as the book told you to. You fell in love. The stone has you both fooled that this union is meant to be because it’s controlling you. But the stone once overwhelmed with that love, will shatter. Namjoon won’t be here for long. If you keep up with this delusional love for him-”

“It’s not delusional. I know what is from the stone and what is from my heart!”

Yoongi raked a hand down his face in frustration. “Do you really? Because what you’re experiencing is just what Eliza and Victoria and all these people did. And look at the misfortune they all experienced. This stone will kill you both if you’re not careful. I don’t want to lose you. Please listen to me. You need to send him away, for both of your sakes.”

You couldn’t relax, not even when you returned home later that evening. The words on that page continued to haunt you, much as Yoongi’s urgent warning did. You were in a stage of disbelief, detached from your physical self, fumbling around the house for any sense of clarity.

Namjoon gripped at your shoulders firmly. “Maybe you should go rest. You don’t look well, my love.”

“That’s a good idea,” you murmured, slowly making your way down to your bed.

You slept soundlessly for several hours and then awoke with a start, relieved to find Namjoon beside you still. Whilst your slumber had been dreamless, you had jolted awake, shackled with fear that he was no longer in your world.

You couldn’t cope with this building anxiety.

Getting up quietly, you headed into the study, reaching for the journal Namjoon knew more intimately than you did. As you read each entry Eliza had made, you felt yourself relating more with the woman. Her joy had been yours recently. You understood how she felt when she gushed over holding Namwoo’s hand and how food tasted better at his side.

As you continued, the rollercoaster of emotions overwhelmed you. Reaching the final entry, you choked on your sobs, realising why Eliza had done as she had.

“Why are you in here?” a voice questioned softly and you turned to look at Namjoon, your emotions flooding from your eyes.

“I know why now. She wasn’t awful at all. Eliza gave up your father to save him.”

The statement shook Namjoon and he rushed to your side, brushing away the endless stream of tears as best as he could. You turned your head away from him as you tried to gather your emotions up into a box as you had earlier in the day. However, Namjoon stopped this, wanting to know more, wanting to see everything.

He couldn’t help you otherwise.

“She broke my father.”

“He would have died if she hadn’t!”

“Wh-what?” Namjoon breathed, his eyebrows knitting together. “Why would he-”

“Yoongi told me everything. The stone is cruel, Namjoon. It doesn’t want to harness long-lasting love. It just wants its fill of the emotion. And then when it’s done, it shatters, unable to handle the weight of that love anymore.”

“That’s… it makes no sense!”

You explained all that you had read in the bookstore earlier and Yoongi’s warning as well. You were distraught; clinging to the front of Namjoon’s bed shirt as if holding on would keep him there for longer.

None of it made sense to him and Namjoon gripped at his head. “You’re telling me, the stone will poison me if you choose to give me up, or it will shatter when our love grows too great?”

“Something like that.”

“But it states its binding two entities together in the truest of love. That’s powerful.”

“And deadly,” you wailed, a fresh wave of emotions trailing down your face. “I don’t want you to die like Percy did.”

“Victoria didn’t know if Percy actually died or just vanished,” Namjoon pointed out but you shook your head.

“He never returned and she ended her life. This is so tragic. Why did my grandmother give me such a terrible curse?!”

“Calm down, what we have isn’t a curse,” he soothed, reaching for your shuddering body.

As you sobbed on Namjoon’s shoulder, he tried to understand why the stone even existed if its sole purpose was to destroy the very love it sought out each time. He was certain there was more to understand in this lesson. The stone wouldn’t continue to bring two different life forces together like this for such a trivial need of love. The ongoing tribulations of sourcing out the right people felt like the path of destiny. His father had been the right fit for Eliza. He firmly believed his heart was meant to entangle with yours.

This couldn’t end so catastrophically.

Your emotions weakened you and you spent the remainder of the morning in bed. Although it pained Namjoon to leave you alone whilst unwell, he held a pressing need to revisit Yoongi’s store.

Setting off at a quick pace and following the route he had paid attention to yesterday, he eventually found himself standing in front of the building. Heaving in a deep breath, he strode to the door, the bell chiming above to announce of his arrival.

Namjoon still couldn’t understand what Yoongi said, unlike you. However, after an intense stare down, Yoongi sighed and nodded, gesturing for Namjoon to follow him. He stepped through a curtained doorway into the back room of the store and blinked at all the stacks of ancient texts littered everywhere.

For a moment, Namjoon was overwhelmed with admiration for the human. Whether or not they had their differences, he could appreciate that beneath that bristly exterior was an intellectual man who genuinely cared about you.

Yoongi shuffled towards the desk and picked up a book, handing it over to him.

Just as you had read, there was the tale of Percy and Victoria’s love before him. He, however, took longer than you had, perusing each page for a better indication of what could happen to him and you.

Namjoon wasn’t prepared to give up on your love. Although your time together hadn’t been very long, in all his years of existence, he hadn’t felt this way before. He was certain that meant something. Why else would he get to experience something this powerful if it was all meant to end in disaster?

He continued to think over Percy’s departure. If all that remained behind was a shattered stone, surely that didn’t mean he had died. Namjoon thought over this for some time, vaguely hearing Yoongi talking on his phone.

It wasn’t until he felt your arms wrap around him tightly that Namjoon snapped back into full awareness of his surroundings.

“Don’t leave me ever again!” you begged, clinging to him as you shook with your emotions.

Namjoon glanced up at Yoongi watching on from the doorway and then pulled you into his lap, sighing heavily with the thought of what he needed to say next. “Listen to me carefully, Y/N. I’m going to have to leave you.”

_________________

Part 9

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