#but the Moment someone comments something that contradicts what i thought and wished was happening i just. break . | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trashlie · 1 year

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hey it's lil anon again! wah thank you for always writing such elaborate responses, i really appreciate you taking the time and always giving me a lot to think about 💕💕

i especially want to thank you for going into so much detail on alyssa. tbh she's probably the only ily character i'm just not very good at reading, so your analysis really helps me understand her better. i can put myself in her shoes, but so many of her choices contradict my moral compass, i struggle to emphasize... and honestly, if alyssa knows that yui is awful and/or that something happened between nol and yui (it's hard to believe she never noticed how nol reacts to yui - it took shinae 2 seconds to figure out something's off - at the very least she must know he's not particularly fond of her), then those "i want to be just like her"/"i'm jealous i wish she was my mother" comments to his face are even worse. like if her microaggressions towards him are unintentional, that's one thing, but if she's purposefully pouring salt into his wounds, even if she doesn't know the extent of those wounds, that's evil :/ sigh. anyways alyssa being aware of yui's true nature at least to some extent and possibly wanting to escape the trap (even if not yet, then possibly in the future) is a really interesting thought! the 7-10 year contracts as well, thanks for pointing that out. i'll keep that in mind.

very briefly re: dieter. i joked about it to cope but yeah i do feel horrible for him :( "the winner takes it all" and "of course i'll let you break my heart again" 💔💔💔 thank you for elaborating on his feelings, it's important to acknowledge what he's going through. i think this will be a strong undertone in the story for a while…

on nol and pushing people away to protect them: you've touched on the emotional aspect in your recent post beautifully, and i would like to add that even rationally, teaming up is the best strategy going forward. like i would love his fear of losing her to kick him in the ass, but if he can't bring himself to accept his feelings wants and needs, if he still wants to insist he doesn't deserve any of this, then the rational approach will work too. if he's smart LOL (i have hope!) he will understand that driving a wedge between them is the last thing he should do if he wants to a) make sure she's okay (not that she needs to be protected but ykwim) b) actually help her escape yui, and c) make up for dragging her into all this (even if unintentionally) instead of running away like a coward. it probably hasn't clicked yet because he's stubborn as hell and still deep in this pool of guilt and regret, but this might be an angle shinae can use to get through to him. that it's, rationally, best to deal with the danger together. and if being a team then comes with those moments of calm and peace, even better. she's not alyssa 2.0 and he knows this. the trust, the bond, the commitment is there, they just need to communicate gdi!!! aaargh. actually, writing this a mental image of shinae doing like a powerpoint presentation for him popped into my head LMAO something like "how to deal with the hag 101: ditching me -> bad strategy 👎🏼🚫🙅🏻‍♀️ ; teaming up -> good strategy 👍🏼💯🙌🏼" fgdhsjdkd hey maybe he's a visual learner who knows.

actually… i've been wondering if nol will remain closed off until the article comes out, and that's how shinae and friends will learn more about his past… and everything else, obviously. it's not ideal to have your past "exposed" like that, but hey, yu jing is unstoppable and the article is coming out anyways. the article isn't centered on nol, but it covers enough to give shinae & co enough insight. and i can actually see it alleviating some of nol's pressure, because a) someone else "tells it for him" and b) the article is a catalyst of change; a silver lining that things are turning around for him. i think it'd also help shinae and friends understand nol better in the sense that, oof, it's A Lot, everything is worse than they could've expected, so it's understandable why it's extremely difficult for nol to talk about all this, that he doesn't want anyone to be dragged into this mess. i can imagine it being much easier to talk about everything afterwards, when his friends have dealt with the initial shock and have a basic understanding of the events from an unbiased source. maybe even help him process the article bc a lot of it will not align with his own perception of the past. it's actually extremely important that the article is an ✨objective✨ retelling of the events, because nol is an extremely unreliable narrator. from a storytelling perspective, it feels a little too convoluted to let shinae hear nol's warped, skewed version, and then let her learn the truth from the article, no? i think that for the sake of driving the plot forward, it's enough that she understands that it's something very serious and that he blames himself for everything. idk what do you think?

related to that, i've been thinking a bit about how the article would impact nol himself. it's just… a lot to process, isn't it. to realize that you were punished again and again for nothing, that they've villainized you and messed with your head to the point that your entire perception of yourself and reality is inaccurate. all those years of self-loathing and anguish and guilt and grief. while the actual perpetrator is revelling in the sick satisfaction of breaking and tormenting an innocent kid. gosh. i don't see nol as a vengeful person, but who knows how all this is going to affect him… a while ago i saw a post that was like "sun-coded character but not in the typical sunshine way, but in the sense that they're bright and powerful and burning hot like a raging fire of anger and passion and fury to the point of self-destruction" and ohmygod. this is complete speculation, but i couldn't help but think of nol and his future development. of course i don't hope he would reach a point of self-destruction, that would be really tragic, but the potential is just 🤌🏼

anyhoo back to the present <3 the three days make me soooo hopeful OH GOD i'm trying so hard to keep my expectations low… like you, i think an apology/honest conversation would be ideal, but even if nana can give shinae some encouragement and ease her heart, that would already help so much. also, if the guy wants to be a wall then can he at least find a way to be a wall without hurting her?? like my boy you're not a bad guy because of whatever you think you did in the past, you're a bad guy because you keep hurting shinae!!! stop being consumed by the darkness for a second and deal with the situation at hand, please. 152 was strike one, this was strike two. don't make me teleport into the comic and bonk you like nana did 😾 and fgdshfkjthepossiblekissdontevengetmestartedaaahhhhhhhhh ahem not to be like that but walk with me for a moment ok. walk with me ashlie. remember that "will this make it all better?" drawing quim posted on patreon a couple of weeks ago? not saying anything so i don't jinx it but 👀 shinae's not wearing her bandana in that drawing btw 👀 anything can happen in three days right. teehee 🤸🏼🤸🏼🤸🏼

alright. take care 💗 -lil anon 😼

LIL ANON!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIL!!!!!!!!! ANON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCREAMS GOD god you just GET ME YOU GET ME YOU GET ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lmao (I, too, would like to bonk Nol Nana-style)

PLEASE I NEED a little spin off sketch doodle of Shinae giving Nol that powerpoint presentation where he starts off with his usual grumpy face and maybe even starts to roll his eyes but can't help but start laughing because I SURE DID LMAO PLEASE I WANNA SEE IT SO BAD?! Sprinkle in some tips from Nana's How to Banish Witches LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Let me try to go in order, though! I get so tangled up in my own words so... so easily lmao

I do feel you on Alyssa - and I get why she's so hard for most people to digest. I think she is one of the most intentionally hard to read characters we've met - we know just enough about her to make us think, but not enough that we can say anything is for certain. That's one of the reasons I feel like there must be something being held over her head, because I guess I do tend to have a rather naively hopeful view of her, and like to imagine that it's not that Alyssa is this terrible person as much as, like everyone else, she's caught up in some kind of terrible trap. Of course, it could be that she knows what a horrible person Yui is and what she admires still is the raw power. Maybe she doesn't want to wield power the way that Yui does, but rather just possess it? We've seen a glimpse of her mother and father's relation and can get a sense for why she wants to be a part of a power couple where the partners are independent, separate entities who, most importantly, don't control the other. (But we know that's NOT actually the case of Rand and Yui at all.) So one thought could be that she likes the IDEA of it, just perhaps not the execution?

But yes, true, the way she speaks about Yui feels so much like it's rubbing salt in Nol's wound. Another thought I've had though regards the timeline. Where was Nol living when he was hanging around with Alyssa? Was Yui around enough for Alyssa to have picked up on the nature of their relationship? Was she possibly so blinded by her idolatry that she DIDN'T noticed how Nol feels about Yui? But on the other hand, Nol specifically used the line that she knows he's invisible to his family and friends. I feel like Nol has possibly opened up to Alyssa more than he has to Shinae and their other friends. Maybe early in their relationship, when he was trying to make it real (when he had a crush? if he had a crush? when he wanted to make it benefit him in a pleasant way?) he opened up a little, and it didn't go over the way he wanted?

I don't want to paint Alyssa in a bad light because I feel like she's intentionally set up to be a misunderstood character for the reasons you've mentioned. She doesn't fit most peoples' moral compasses, she makes choices most people like to think they wouldn't. But just as I said in the last ask response, characters are shaped by their own experiences and traumas, right? Just like how Nol is so lost in his rightful fear and pain and cannot see the possibility that he's not the monster he thinks he is, perhaps Alyssa is so trapped in her own feelings that it was hard for her to acknowledge (or to correctly interpret) Nol's reactions? I get the feeling that in the past he covered it up more, but if he was trying to talk Alyssa down from her Yui fascination.... how direct was he? Did he have to dance around it without opening up too much? I feel like he HAS to have withheld a lot of information, otherwise you're right, it makes Alyssa seem far worse than she already does. And because perception is important per character, it goes back to that point of perhaps favoring certain ASPECTS of Yui and what they could mean for her, if not the way she uses them?

I always wonder when we'll get to know more about Alyssa. A part of me hopes to see her and Shinae reconcile (but she has to actually apologize for their past or else I don't want it lol) which I think could be possible if/when Alyssa has her public fall from grace. I still feel like that will eventually happen lol, and maybe THAT'S when we'll get more insight into her? I feel like she will remain intentionally withheld from us to continue to keep us guessing. But yes, I do always want to know more and more about her relationship with Nol, and how much she really knows about him, if she's been disregarding his feelings, if she's just blinded by her own needs, or if she really is just a kind of selfish, terrible person LMAO. I think we've seen that most characters seem to be redeemable - or at the very least, we can empathize with their situations and understand why they've made their choices - barring Yui and lol Sangchul (the whole of the Kims?) so it's a question of where does Alyssa really fit in? I continue hoping we'll find that she, too, has circumstances we will eventually understand.

this might be an angle shinae can use to get through to him. that it's, rationally, best to deal with the danger together. and if being a team then comes with those moments of calm and peace, even better.

YEAH YEAH exactly! Like, all romance aside, strategy and story-wise, I think it's really important for Nol to find the importance of being able to be a team with people. It just feels better to have that established at this point of this story, rather than to wait until years and years pass? But yeah, I definitely think Yujing's story might play into it, if at this point Nol is unable to make the (right lol) choice to team up with Shinae, I think, yes, having the pressure of not needing to actually be the one to open up would help. I think that expose is incredibly important to Nol, even if it's not directly about him. I think I've previously mentioned it, but I really do worry that Nol's feeling that he's a monster and that he's responsible for the loss of his mother came from his stint in the mental facility. Therapy and medication are fantastic for those who need it - but that doesn't mean it can't be used against them, either. For instance, think of conversion camps/therapy and what it can do to a queer person. I feel like that's why it's such an adamant belief of his, and why it's impossible for anyone to change his mind. It's more than just teenage angst and stuff.

Shinae is starting to see that bigger picture - that someone like Yui gets to get away with messing with and hurting other people while never having to face responsibility for it. She's already watched Nol take the fall for Sangchul. Sure he's the one who pleaded guilty against his lawyer's advice, but look at how the media was already turning against him, ready to believe that he was a monstrous rapist. So for Nol to be able to get to see that bigger picture, too - that Yui DOES make those choices, that it's not just about him, but about her own amusement at other peoples' expenses, be able to better see that she targeted him and hopefully be able to comprehend that it wasn't a thing he did or didn't do. People are responsible for their choices.

And yes, he, too, is responsible for his own choices, therefore he, too, is responsible for always hurting her. Again, I know I am SO naively hopeful sometimes, but I just have to HOPE this three-day extension is for exactly that - for him realizing that hurting Shinae doesn't protect her, hurting her doesn't help her.

like my boy you're not a bad guy because of whatever you think you did in the past, you're a bad guy because you keep hurting shinae!!! stop being consumed by the darkness for a second and deal with the situation at hand

THIS IS EXACTLY IT LOL!!!!!! I just have to hope that seeing the kind of regret he's wearing, the likely disappointment he was met when he took off that bandana and she was gone, means that he is rethinking. Or, if not rethinking, that he will have a moment of weakness as Shinae spoke of lol and that he'll make the choice to stop hurting her (yknow. intentionally lol). It just feels so strongly to me that Nol stands on the precipice, that he's going to make a choice he hasn't before? When he left Shinae in the rain, he was resigned to his choice (though was shaken up so much he ended up retching...) and this time, his regret seems to be shaking him a little, making him waver. It would be one thing if she decided to wipe her hands and go home, but if Nana gets to her and gives her that encouragement and reassurance... It's easier for him to accept her leaving as making the choice for hm. But if he has to keep pushing himself to make the "right choice", it's going to eventually wear him down, right?

I JUST WANT HIM TO ACCEPT THAT HE CAN'T MAKE CHOICES FOR PEOPLE. TO ACCEPT THAT IT'S BETTER TO BE HONEST THAN BOTTLE THINGS UP!!!!!!! I'm not begging him to tell her his past I'm just begging him TO REASSURE HER I'm begging him to FEEL DESPERATE in a healthier way lmao desperate in a way that makes him feel safer and secure, that makes her feel reassured, that makes them feel like a team!!!!!!!!!

I think you put it really well when you essentially said he needs to, to some degree, that responsibility for unintentionally dragging her into this - because no matter what he does, she's still going to be a part of it, and they might as well have each other's backs. He owes her that much lol. I know even if he explained it, she wouldn't hold him responsible for her involvement, anyway, but it's just the thought that counts lol. It's the way he keeps acting like abandoning her is the safest choice INSTEAD OF JUST! TEAMING UP WITH HER!!!! MY GUY PLEASE I AM JUST BEGGING YOU treat my girl better okay? I know you can. I KNOW YOU WANT TO. THAT'S THE THING!!!!!!

Again, I reiterate. HE LITERALLY WAS SO STRESSED AND UPSET BY THAT ALTERCATION WITH SHINAE HE WAS RETCHING. And NOW he's actually aware he has feelings, AWARE of the effect she's got on him, aware of what he wants. Before she even mentioned him leaving and got him crying (LMAO god when you think about it that way lmaoooooo) he was already asking her to dance in the most intense possible way lol CHANNEL THOSE FEELINGS BUDDY just ;~; Treat her right! Cos you are right lmao he's already got 2 strikes! And while I think Shinae will be more lenient than us SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO BEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Anyway lmao just to repeat myself: this three-day extension feels significant, I'm hoping it's significant in the Nol making the decision to change his mind way and not the Nol making yet another choice that only hurts Shinae and further hurts them by leaving them vulnerable to Yui and her power when they could instead be stronger together. afljakfajkfjkf

ALSO LISTEN. /LIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTEN/ I have been DYING to talk about that post? It just lives rent-free in my brain, 24/7. I think about it so much WHAT WAS THE POINT OF DRAWING THAT, QUIMBERLY ANNE CHEE?! WHAT WAS THE POINT?! Like!!!!! afjafjafkjjf it sounds like she's been really busy, right? She's had her assistants off for different leaves has been occasionally having to take care of a lot of the work on her own. But she had some time to make a silly little sketch to torture us with?

(I mean, okay to be fair, she also did the April Fool's one, too......... LMFAO)

BUT LISTEN LIL ANON I JUST!!!!!!!!!! SCREAMS i feel so taunted I feel like she looked right into my stupid little soul and went "I'm gonna mess with your head SO HARD"

ALSO I HAD TO GO RUNNING BACK TO CHECK THAT POST AND YOU'RE RIGHT?! SHE'S /NOT/ SHRIEKS fljafafafjafljafjaflkjafkjafjk and you know what's even funnier? I DID THINK ABOUT THIS AT THE TIME! I remembered double-checking her outfits to see if it was the same day and going "okay this can't be real because that time passed" BUT NOW YOU HAVE ME GOING WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT IF LMAO heck.

FLKAFJLKFJKAF NO YOU KNOW WHAT'S WORSE?! WHEN I WENT TO SEARCH I STUMBLED INTO THINGS THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN 2, WHICH I HAD FORGOTTEN /ALL/ ABOUT probably to protect my fragile, tender little soul FLJAFKJAFJK LMAOOOO SCREAMS i'm about to start swinging from the rafters and it's your fault LMAO AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHY DOES QUIMCHEE DOOOOOOOOOOOO THIS LMAO

Now i'm just. Gonna. Sit here and stare at a wall and think about these things lmaooooooooo

Wait NO I got sidetracked!!!!!!!!!!

You raise a really important point about how Nol is likely to be affected by what he learns from Yujing's scoop - especially if it's so that yes, his time in the mental facility was far more like conversion therapy as far as turning him on himself and seeing something horrible where it didn't exist and, to some degree?, brainwashing him? Because how does he reconcile the truth with what he believes? (Hey, that sounds familiar... any advice, Kousuke?) How does he contend with the grief of learning WHAT possibly really happened to his mother? Because listen, I stress this point again. I lost a friend to suicide and it's been almost five years and it still hurts me to think about. But part of my making peace was understanding that he was in so much continual pain, so much misery, that it was the only option he saw for himself. That's SO difficult to accept, because especially as friends, especially as someone who cares about him, you want to believe that things would have gotten better, that it wasn't always going to be that kind of misery. In Nol's mind, he has probably made "peace" (used loosely because BOY it's not peace) with the idea that in some way, he drove his mother to it (or that his existence did it). Especially if they argued, if he said something hurtful as children sometimes do. So how do you contend with the reality that it wasn't a choice at all? Death is a terrible, painful thing to grieve in whatever way, but sometimes I think you can kind of understand WHY someone made that choice, even if you don't agree with it, even if you wish they never had. But murder? Murder feels far more senseless. Murder is someone ELSE making a choice to take someone's life.

And whether or not Yui got her hands dirty, if she slipped Nessa something, if she was on a medication that pushed her into it, if it was something staged, the point still stands that IF it was not Nessa's choice, that means someone ELSE made the choice, and that is just senseless and cold and right I don't know what it would do to him? As much as fandom wants to see anti-hero Nol go on a quest for revenge to destroy those who destroyed him, I do get scared of the idea that he might go too far, and in his quest for revenge he could become the very monsters that tore him up, and god I don't want that. That feels SO BLEAK and, frankly? heartbreaking? lol I think that IS the kind of thing that could possibly ruin ILY for me, because I guess I'm so invested in the idea of Nol being able to heal and move on from the past and, idk, create a new journey for himself? lol I mean, I've definitely had the thought of Nol starting to go too far and Shinae being able to be that tether to his humanity, of reminder of the good in a world a dark and maybe that could stop him from succumbing to that kind of darkness?

But yeah.... thinking about it, I can see how it would start a quest for revenge. I like to hope that it would be more something that can piggyback off of Yujing's article, because we've talked before about how it's likely that this will only be the tip of the iceberg, it won't completely dethrone Yui, it won't completely take her down. But maybe, yeah, it could piggyback off it in terms of them fighting to make her and the Kims pay for their dirty deeds, to get the deserved retribution, without going down a path too dark to return from???

I think that quote is absolutely GORGEOUSLY Nol-centric, but my GOD I hope he's not a dying star. The mental image of him a burning star is SO tragically incredible BUT MAN more than ANYTHING I want him to retain the parts of him that we saw in Nessa, that we see in Yeonggi. I want him to maintain that humanity aaahhhhhhhh oh man this really tapped into some strong feelings!

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #ILY Ask #ILY FP #ILY Spoilers #Lil Anon #Shinae Yoo #Nol #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Stalkyoo #Aegi #not really discussing the shippy stuff this time entirely but it's a continuation of my last post #so it applies to some degree lol #Alyssa Cho #Yui Hirahara #Nessa Hirahara #suicide cw #like not just MENTIONING or talking about a character's suicide but also talking about my own grief about a friend's suicide #just in case anyone needs a heads up about that kind of thing #i kept it brief though!!!!!!!!!#this response is so funny lmao lil anon just knows how to get me worked up LMAO i always love your asks #literally gonna picture a lil chibi strip of shinae and her powerpoint presentation all day lmao #'divided? bad! we get hurt!'#'teaming up? good! strength! you big man! me smol person. hard carry!'#lafjkajfjkafkjafjkafkjafj someone draw this for me PLS i just have this specific image in my head? shinae is wearing the bandana her face i #stern. she is PRESENTING LIKE HER LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. nol is edgy boy refuses to be swayed except he can't help it #'TOGETHER WE CAN DEFEAT THE HAG'#also did you know that hags are apparently featured in Irish mythology? as in like that's a specific point?#i don't think that's actually tied to this story at all lmao i was just trying to look into some specific lore #like witches being melted by water lmao

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jeontaeil-archived · 3 years

Text

Greenlight //

Pairing: Beomgyu x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut. Some Fluff, Male Receiving, Fem Receiving, Unprotected Sex.

Words: 2.7k+

Warnings: 18+ content.

Tagging: @hoehousenet @kdiarynet @chwe-yeeun @hoe2z @jayvoir @giveortake @lqsience @choijwiss @jisungismymom @rosiehoon

Beomgyu constantly flirts with you, while all you do is play hard to get. He likes you and you like him, but things have never progressed from there. So what happens when Beomgyu finally decides to take things to the next level? Are you willing to give him the green light or not?

Your close friend Jay had invited you over to his place to play some video games. You both had been at it for hours and decided to take a small break before continuing. While taking said break, Jay ended up falling asleep in his chair, leaving you sitting around in his room awkwardly with nothing to do. Now that your mind wasn't focused on your games, you realised how thirsty were. Not wanting to wake Jay, you left his room and ventured towards the kitchen. You had no idea where anything was. All you needed was one glass. If you tried, you figured it wouldn't be that hard to find. So you looked around in the cupboards, eyes brightening when you finally found them. You had to reach up on your tippy toes, but even then, your fingers barely grazed over the glasses. And then, out of nowhere, you felt someone push you into the counter from behind, reaching up over your head to easily retrieve a glass. It didn't take you long to realise who the sneaky being was.

It was Beomgyu. Jay's roommate. You didn't know much about him other than the fact that he was a shameless flirt who sat at home all day doing god knows what in his room. He was always holed up in there and the only time he'd come out is if he needed something from the kitchen or if you'd come over.

Beomgyu loved teasing you. It was fun and he enjoyed the playful banters you both engaged in. Beomgyu was into you and he hadn't hesitated to let you know. You were totally his type, confident and cool. In your eyes, Beomgyu was a pretty decent individual. He looked good and was fun to be around, though you acted like he was a pain in the ass. But he was your friend's roommate and you still didn't know him well enough to really be able to initiate anything with him. Plus you knew that Jay would always 'forbid' it, not wanting to potentially end up becoming a third wheel between you both.

"You didn't even tell me you were coming around.", Beomgyu pouted, filling the glass he'd taken for you with water. You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. "I thought jay might've let you know. Besides, it’s not like I have your number or anything."

Beomgyu took a sip from the glass before passing it to you. You grimaced but chugged the water down nonetheless. "We could take care of that don't you think?", he said, raising his brow indicatively. You set the glass down on the counter behind you. "Nope. I don't think so. I've reached the geezer limit in my contact list. There's no space for your number."

Beomgyu was the one to let out an amused scoff at your comment this time. "Geezer limit.", he repeated, smiling to himself at the minor insult. "Well that's a bummer." he frowned and bit the inside of his lip. "Wanna go to my room?"

You laughed airily at his proposition. Way to change the topic. Props to him for that. Pushing yourself off the counter, you walked past him and went back down the hall. "Hurry up before I change my mind.", you called, entering his bedroom which was the one opposite to Jay's. He walked in behind you, shutting the door behind himself. You raised a brow at this.

"Why'd you close the door?"

Beomgyu grinned, turning the lock while he was at it. "No reason. Why? Does it make you nervous?"

You knew what he was doing. Unfortunately for him, you weren't going to give in so soon. Shaking your head, you plopped down on his bed. "I'm fine with it. I just thought you'd have a hard time controlling yourself, nothing else."

Beomgyu smirked at your words and stood against the wall. "Don't worry about me y/n. You aren't only girl I've had in here behind closed doors."

You wouldn't lie, his retort had you impressed. He was a natural flirt. You admired that. It was an attractive characteristic in your opinion.

"Oh really? Is that so? You wouldn't mind telling me a bit about them would you then?"

Beomgyu gestured for you to move over as he came and took a seat beside you. You scooted up his bed, leaning against his headboard. Beomgyu laid down before you, propping himself up on his elbow. "Firstly, I'd like to say that none of them have ever been as hot as you."

He was sucking up to you. Smiling at his compliment, you motioned for him to continue. "Secondly, I'm no narcissist, but I've never gotten a bad review once. They always enjoy how I make them feel. They thrive in it and hope that it never comes to an end. So I guess it kinda sucks for them considering I'm a one time over type of guy."

You snickered to yourself. "So what you're telling me, is that you're basically a sex god?"

Beomgyu nodded triumphantly. "I try to be humble about it, so you didn't hear that from me okay?"

You gave him a thumbs up, pretending to seal your lips. It was quiet between you two for a while. You just stared at each other, small smiles on your faces. Beomgyu seemed to be thinking about something. You could tell by the way his eyes kept wavering between your own. "Wanna fuck?"

Your smile fell, eyes widening in disbelief. You couldn't believe he'd just said that. You gasped, face heating up at the bluntness of his words. The way he'd said it, as if he were simply asking you to help him do his laundry or something had caught you off guard. He was so straightforward and for what?

"Just say yes or no. I won't start anything if you don't want to. We can just, do something else if that's the case.", he assured you, not a sign of panic or regret in his expression. His calmness made you feel like you were overreacting. Why couldn't you be so nonchalant like him. He made it seem so easy. You envied that. Beomgyu laughed at your flustered state and sat up. "Why so shy princess? Don't wanna be bitchy now?"

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. He was on fire today. Never once had you felt so timid because of him. And now that you were, you had no clue what to do. Beomgyu shifted over to you, trapping you between himself and the headboard. He tossed the pillow on your lap to the side and replaced it with his hand. You could've escaped from the side, but you didn't. You were lowkey eager to see what he did next. "Tell me what you want y/n. I swear your wish is my command."

Beomgyu's voice was laced with desire. He was so close to getting what he wanted. All you had to do was give him the green light.

You refused to look at him. You felt so vulnerable and you couldn't even think straight because of his proximity. "Look at me princess. Give me an answer.", he urged, squeezing your thigh gently. A soft moan escaped you at his touch. Beomgyu smirked and trailed his hands higher up your thigh. He leaned into you, lips ghosting over your ear. "Yes or no y/n? We haven't got all day. Jay's gonna wake up any time now so if you want this, just say yes."

You placed your hand atop his, taking a deep breath. "I don't know Beomgyu. Jay wouldn't like it." you could barely form coherent words. Beomgyu hummed, displeased. He twirled your hair around his finger. "I didn't ask about Jay though, did I? I want to know what you want." You wanted to say yes, but you were nervous. The tension between you both was only now making you realise just how much you were attracted to him. So much that you were certain you had feelings for him. Since you'd never given much thought to it, it had never occurred to you before. But now you were afraid he didn't feel the same way. Yes, he had admitted that he liked you, but you weren't sure if he was being serious or simply joking around like he always did with you. Maybe he just wanted to get in your pants. After all, he was the one who said it would only be a one time thing. Now that was something you didn't want.

"Talk me through whatever's going on in your mind right now. Maybe I can help you out.", he suggested. He didn't sound impatient. He was willing to give you time even though that contradicted what he'd previously said to you, and you appreciated that. It helped you calm down a bit. You shrugged. "I'm not sure Beomgyu. I think I like you. but I don't know if that's just because of the way you're talking to me right now or if its because I haven't thought about it before. I'm confused."

Beomgyu laughed softly. He nodded and tucked your hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek. He made you look at him. "I like you too y/n. And I know I've told you this before, but I'll tell you again. I'm not just saying this so that you'll have sex with me. I genuinely really want to be with you. Its kinda cheesy coming from me, but its true.", he admitted, laughing at his own words. It was a complete 180 from his usual flirtatious self. His eyes were sincere.

You nodded, unable to contain your smile. This was such an odd moment for you both. You'd never confessed to someone in such a heartfelt manner ever before and neither had Beomgyu. "Well isn't this cute.", he commented, giving you a smile you'd never seen before. He was happy, as were you. "So," you began, trailing a finger up his arm. Beomgyu's eyes followed your hand. He bit his lip, containing his smile. "You wanna get on with it?"

Both of you tried your best not to laugh. "Tell me Beomgyu. Yes or no? I swear I won't do anything if you say no." you mimicked his words. Beomgyu broke into a smile, crashing his lips onto yours cheerfully.

Humming against his mouth, you threw your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down on you. Beomgyu melted into your body, kissing you earnestly. His hand slipped up your shirt, resting at your side. His touch was enticing. You found yourself guiding his hand upward, placing it on the curve of your breast instead. Beomgyu smiled against your lips, pulling away from you to place wet kisses on your neck and jaw. His thumb brushed over your nipple, feeling it harden underneath the material of your bra. You let out breathy moans, turning your neck to the side to give him more space. Beomgyu swiftly popped open your bra's hook, pushing his hand underneath the garment. He squeezed your breast, just as he had your thigh, groaning as your back arched against his body.

Beomgyu sat up, peeling his shirt off and tossed it to the side. You did the same, discarding your bra along with it. Beomgyu smirked as he took in the sight of your bare upper body, licking his lips in anticipation. He'd always found you hot, but you were really exceeding his expectations now. Starting to get impatient with his intense and shameless stares, you pushed him down on the mattress and straddled his lap. Beomgyu's hands shot to your thighs as you leaned down to kiss his neck. You ran your tongue over his shoulder blades, grinding your hips down on his crotch. His palms kneaded the skin of your thighs, breaths getting heavier and heavier as your kisses got more proactive. You could feel his member hardening underneath you, the sensation making wetness pool into your panties. You began kissing down his chest, looking up at him from your lashes. He was loving the sight. It was sexier than anything he'd ever imagined before. You tugged his pants and boxers down in one quick motion gasping at the size of his length. Beomgyu whined, kicking his pants onto the floor.

You took his cock in your hand, pumping it slowly. Beomgyu bit his lip, watching you with keen eyes. You circled your thumb over his tip, leaning down to press a soft kiss on it. Beomgyu sucked in a breath. Licking his tip, you wrapped your lips around him, running your tongue over his cock. He balled his fists, not wanting to interfere. Taking more of his length in your mouth, you began bobbing your head, not too slow, but not too fast. He cursed under his breath. Gosh if felt so good. He could tell you knew what you were doing and he was glad that you did it well. "Fuck, princess, it feels so nice.", he praised, trying his best not to buck his hips into your mouth. He swore he was going to cum if you kept it up. You unexpectedly released his cock, pumping it as you signally for him to get up. "If you wanna finish you've gotta return the favour baby boy."

Beomgyu growled at the nickname. "That's so fucking hot of you.", he murmured, pushing you down on your back. "Say no more mommy." he ripped your pants off of you, tugging your panties down your legs soon after. Settling between your legs, he pried your thighs apart, marvelling at the sight in front of him. He licked a stripe up your pussy, groaning at the sweet taste on his tongue. Without wasting a second, he dove into your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at his roots every time his teeth grazed over the sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue felt so amazing. He hadn't been lying when he said he was good at what he did. Beomgyu pushed two fingers into your needy hole, pumping them in and out of you at a steady pace. His tongue flicked at your clit ravenously. He'd been dreaming about this for months.

"Fuck, Gyu- I'm gonna cum.", you warned after a while, moaning loudly thereafter. Beomgyu reluctantly rose from your cunt and wiped your arousal off his chin. "Not so soon princess. You're gonna finish on my cock.", he seethed, rubbing his tip along your slit. You spread your legs wider, eyes screwing shut as he pushed himself into you. "You're so fucking tight.", he muttered, bucking his hips into you. He'd barely started yet he was hitting all the right places. He hovered over your body, jaw clenched in concentration. Your needy moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder. "Oh my god Beomgyu!", you exclaimed, holding onto his shoulders. "You feel so good princess.", he groaned, raising your knee to your chest, he pushed his cock deeper into you. He could tell you were close. Luckily, so was he. He continued slamming his cock into your walls, wanting nothing more than to see your face as you came undone over his cock. And then, you finally did.

He felt your walls clench around his cock. Your back arched off the bed, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashed over you. Your fingers dug into his skin as your basked in the pleasure he gave you. The sight itself set him off, making his cock twitch inside you. Beomgyu was quick to pull out of you, emptying his cum over your pussy and thighs instead. It was a mesmerising sight. "Well that was certainly a nice way to inaugurate our relationship wasn't it?" Beomgyu concluded. He fell next to you, pulling you into his side as he draped the covers over your naked body. You smiled and kissed his cheek, wrapping an arm around his waist.

You heard a knock on the door, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was Jay. "If you guys are done I just wanted to let y/n know that we've got a tournament in five minutes."

#beomgyu smut #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #txt smut #txt scenarios #txt imagines #kpop smut #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt beomgyu #hoehousenet #kdiarynet #tomorrow x together smut

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monamourbladie-mb · 3 years

Text

19 Years Later... [Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader x reader miniseries]

19 years have passed since Y/n’s husband Anakin’s death, and she has become the leading General of the newly founded Rebellion alongside her past Jedi friend Obi-Wan Kenobi, now known as Ben Kenobi. When her children Luke and Leia Skywalker gets kidnapped by Darth Vader, the man who killed her husband; her and Obi-Wan Kenobi must come rescue her. But when she finds out who’s behind Darth Vader’s mask, the truth is something she never thought she had to prepare herself for.

——————

i’m so freaking excited for this fanfic, holy shit. i’ve had this idea since April 2020 and i decided to say fuck it since you guys seemed interested. i hope you enjoy it!!! get ready for an angst and sex train, cause it’s coming in hot 🥵 😏

Index:

prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 [Coming soon]

Warnings: None

WC: 1.3k

——————

People say love is a forever thing. But for Y/n and Anakin Skywalker, their time together was cut short the day Darth Vader murdered Anakin almost 20 years ago on Mustafar.

Y/n remembered the day so vividly - it was the scariest, saddest, and all the same happiest day of her life. It was the day her twin children, Luke and Leia Skywalker, were born; and it was also the day the love of her life was killed.

Y/n didn’t remember much of that, between the two events. According to Obi-Wan Kenobi, he had said that Anakin was behind the attacks at the Jedi Temple, and the man behind the murder of countless Jedi. Y/n couldn’t bring herself that the man she was married to could do such a horrible, despicable act.

She didn’t believe it until she saw first hand his anger - the way his voice changed, how cold his gaze had become. He tried to sugarcoat his villainous words to her, speaking gently, “Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me.”

But when he had noticed Obi-Wan was on the ship alongside Y/n, Anakin lost all sense of reality and tried killing her.

The last memory she had of seeing her future husband was tainted with fear - the sight of him angrily raising his fingers to choke his lover.

When she awoke, she felt her body give in and start to writhe from excruciating labor pains. The pain she felt throughout her back and belly, however, were nothing in comparison to the never-ending ache in her heart that started when Obi-Wan muttered the words, “Anakin is dead.”

Barely able to cling to life, Y/n was able to deliver two healthy children, whom she had named Luke and Leia. Obi held her hand gently, smiling testy eyed, “Anakin would be so happy to see his little family. I promise I’m here to support and protect the three of you.”

Tears from pain and sorrow streamed down her cheeks as she cradled Leia close to her breast, sobbing as her body shook.

He should be here. I should be squeezing his hand, not Obi’s. He should be holding his son, not Obi. I shouldn’t be a widow.

When she found out the truth about how Anakin died, she was even more torn apart. Anakin didn’t even get a chance to explain his actions at the Temple - he was murdered by a man named Darth Vader before he could repent. She lost her husband to a murderous sith lord.

Obi-Wan took it upon himself to take care of Y/n, Luke, and Leia and got them a home on Tattooine. He knew that Y/n was never good on her own - even though she was a Jedi, she hated being alone. So he stayed with them, helping her raise Luke and Leia with just the two of them.

Knowing they were a target from Darth Vader, Obi-Wan knew that they’d had to change their names. He changed his to Ben Kenobi, a nickname an old lover gave him; and Y/n changed her name to Cecelia Jonas, a drastic difference from Y/n Skywalker. When it was just them, they would refer to each other as their old names for old time’s sake.

Raising twins without their biological father was very, very hard. There were many nights Luke or Leia would ask about their beloved late father, causing her to get teary-eyed remembering.

Nights when Luke would play around with the droids, speaking with C3-PO and laughing reminded Obi and Y/n of Anakin.

Having a son who looked just like a young version of Anakin was no help to her healing heart. Yet, no matter what she swore to never remarry — her heart belonged to Anakin Skywalker, and Anakin Skywalker alone.

By now, it was 19 years since Anakin had died. The Galactic Empire was rising, and the Rebels rose in contradiction, hoping to defend the Galaxy.

Meanwhile, Darth Vader stormed around his Death Star ship in an angry stance, slicing anyone who dared to comment on his more-so than normal angry aura.

He crossed his arms, looking outside the Death Star, “What do you mean you lost the plans?” His breathing labored and heavy as usual. The mask wasn’t even needed for him — the cocky bastard just wanted to come off as more intimidating.

“Someone... someone had sold the plans. And now General Jonas-“

Vader grunted and raised his fist, beginning to force choke the man mercilessly, “Find me who sold the plans and bring them to me. I want their death slow and painful. And find me General Jonas, I want to have a chat with them.”

The man’s eye’s rolled back as his vision blackened, then he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.

Vader strutted off, his signature Skywalker strut all the more prominent and powerful enveloped in his robotic suit of armor.

Ever since his fall, Vader had one thing on his mind. Completing out his Master’s will so he would finally teach him how to bring people back from the dead.

Vader reached his quarters and shut the door, locking it using the force with a simple flick of his wrist. He begrudgingly walked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and hunched over the sink, his breathing getting more rapid until the noise irritated him to let out a yell in anger.

He took off his black mask in frustration and slammed it down on the countertop, his hands gripping it’s sides so tightly he felt his flesh hand feel numb. He looked up in the mirror, his ear-length brown hair dampened down with sweat as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Who the hell even are you,” he grumbled to himself, running his gloved fingers through his hair. He sighed heavily and shook his head, the memory of her gasping for air replaying in his mind as his anger grew, “It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault you and our child are dead!” he yelled to no in but himself, tears beginning to prick his yellow eyes.

With shaky hands, he dipped into his pocket and took out the necklace he crafted for her all those years ago, smiling sadly down at it as he rubbed it with his thumb.

“This is all for you, my love bird. All of it, so I can bring you home to me.” His voice trailed as he kissed the necklace, putting it back in his pocket gently as he let out a heavy sigh, wiping his tears quickly.

Vader thrived on pain now. Once he found out his wife was killed by his own hand, he lost all sense of himself. Anakin died when he knelt and took Darth Vader’s name, but Anakin truly died the moment Palpatine uttered those words.

“It seems, in your anger, you killed her.”

“Shit husband I was,” he growled, putting his glove back up on his flesh hand after he glared at his wedding band.

It gave him a mixed feeling - he missed his wife dearly, but yet it was also a deadly reminder how much of a horrible man he was.

The separated couple went to bed in tears that night, wishing and praying that somehow, someway they could be reunited.

But the both of them knew the only way that would happen is if they died, which was out of the question.

So they laid there awake in agony, their heart crying out to be reunited with their lover once more.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #anakinskywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars smut #hayden christensen smut #starwars #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader x reader angst #darth vader x reader smut #suitless vader x reader #suitless vader x reader smut #suitless vader

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 25 - The Battle of Hogwarts (Part One)

Thanks to my gif maker and friend of course, @abimess.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. || Words: 5.550 K

A/N> The third to last chapter is here, a little late because I just forgot to publish it yesterday. Well, good luck and good reading everyone.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 25 - Part XXV - The Battle of Hogwarts (Part One)

The first thing you notice when you arrive at Hogwarts is the sky.

Maybe it's because you fell backwards onto the ground, and the high was what was within reach of your gaze, but you can see clearly that the exact moment Wanda apparated you and Charles into the castle, was also the exact moment when the protection spells broke.

The great force field placed in the castle, breaking into luminous pieces in front of your eyes, would be beautiful to watch in any other situation.

Now, it just means that you arrived just in time for the fight to begin.

A gentle touch pulls you up, helping you stand.

Wanda's concerned face checking to see if everything is okay, and you have to push the ringing in your ear from the adrenaline to absorb her words:

"[...]Charles is not breathing, Y/N! Help me!" And suddenly your heart is beating so fast that you have barely stood and are kneeling again, now next to the man who has fallen to the ground.

"What happened?" you asked worriedly, watching him squirm, the wide wound in his throat.

"He splinched! I don't know why I-"

"It's okay, Wanda, give me your hand." You interrupted her trying to calm her down, pulling her close. "Do as you did with me, I'll help you."

"I-I don't know how, I-I-"

"Trust me, then, babe." You guided quickly, as Wanda lowered herself down beside you, and you intertwined your hands at the height of Charles' wound who was almost passing out. "Breathe, let your magic flow with mine. The same way you healed me, help him."

Wanda tried to control her nervous tears, taking a deep breath. Her hands trembled on top of yours.

But as soon as you felt her magic, you focused.

It was a strange feeling, healing someone with Wanda's magic.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and then it turned into a laugh of relief as the wound began to close.

Within seconds, Charles was blinking in confusion, trying to sit up, breathing normally.

"Hey buddy, how are you feeling?" You asked, touching his shoulders, and he shook his head.

"O-okay." He replied breathlessly, impressed. "Thank you, ladies."

"What happened, Charles?" Wanda asked worriedly, helping him stand. The sky exploding around you.

"We appeared a second before the protection spell broke, girls." He explained as he looked up at the sky, "I figured it would be worth absorbing the damage, rather than putting you two in danger."

"That was stupidly brave, buddy." You mutter making him laugh.

"Let's hurry up, I think the fight is on the other side."

You were near the entrance to the stone circle, just before the Wooden Bridge. There was no one there, but the force field was disengaging almost completely at that point.

Grabbing the Sorting Hat that had fallen from your head, and the sword that Gryffindor Charles had made a small belt for you to hang on your back, you ran beside them toward the castle.

As the distance diminished, your body began to shiver.

Wanda was in danger here.

You pushed the feeling away, trying to ignore it.

She intertwined your hands together, trying to give you a minimum of reassurance as you crossed the wooden bridge.

"Don't come any closer!" Someone shouted from the edge of the entrance, his wand raised.

The person saw Charles, who was in front, first. Hence the hostility, you guessed.

And then he recognized you and Wanda.

"By merlin, it's them!" Shouted the boy. "Tony, it's your sister!"

You choked, stepping forward.

Tony stumbled out of the area he was covering, and had half a second before he recognized you for you to catch up to him, jumping on his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Idiot, your friend almost stupified us!" You fought between tears as he laughed in relief and hugged you back.

He let go of you to hug Wanda too, but the loud noises of explosions in the distance made you exchange knowing glances about continuing.

"We need to go, the walkers are coming through the front entrance." He directs, but before you guys can move, there is a loud whistle.

You turn toward the bridge entrance again.

There is a large group of wizards there, who have probably appeared in the forest.

"That's why we're here, Y/N. I put a bomb on the bridge. Come right in." Tony says quickly, pulling you guys off the bridge.

The group of wizards is led by a grim-faced man with a huge scar on his face.

"Stop hiding, children!" He shouts as he walks.

Tony exchanges a look with the boy who was watching, and shouts.

"Come on, don't you think it's pathetic to attack a school, Digger?" Tony teased, clearly wishing the man would advance on the bridge. "You sound desperate, buddy!"

And this Digger guy seemed to get annoyed, but his gaze fell on you and Wanda, and his expression flashed with anger.

"My, my, is the Scarlet Witch am I seeing? You guys are fools."

You would have moved forward, wiped that sick smile off his face, if Tony hadn't cast an incantation on the end of the bridge, which caused a huge explosion.

He rushed to get you guys out, pushing you back into the castle as the wooden bridge was destroyed and that whole little horde of walkers was defeated at once.

"That was incredible!" The boy from earlier commented as soon as the explosion was over, "I'm Scott Summers, nice to meet you all."

You frowned at the outstretched hand. The name was not unfamiliar to you. But it wasn't until Wanda discreetly whispered in your mind that he was a friend of Jean Grey's did you recognize him.

He greeted everyone quickly before Tony turned to you.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?" He asked, now almost annoyed. "Mephisto is here, somewhere outside the field. Neither you nor Wanda should be anywhere near him."

You started walking back to the castle, as you spoke. "You shouldn't have attacked now, Tony, you don't understand. He can't die, it is an ancient magic, it's called horcruxes and-

"Well, break it then!" He interrupts impatiently, because you guys are running and he is trying to get to the others soon. " Actually, tell me how to break it, and go back to Strange's room, that psycho can't lay eyes on you."

"No chance, I'll fight with you." You contradict, and Tony turns around with a grimace, but doesn't have time to protest, because by the time you reach the inside of the castle, it's insane.

There are many wizards in there, from the order, from the ministry. Also, a lot of classmates and children. Your first thought is to mentally curse Stephen for not sending the students home.

But someone jumps on your neck. It's Gamora, hugging you so tightly that she almost knocks you to the ground.

"By Merlin, what you're doing here, you can't be here-"

"Good to see you too, little sister." You interrupt in a tearful laugh, some members of the order recognizing you as well, but they keep moving on out, probably to deal with the rest of Mephisto's army.

"She said something about death magic, Gamora, just get her out of the castle before he knows they're here." Tony warns and he looks at you for a second before following the crowd of wizards outside, wand in hand.

"Let's go down the top hallway and-" Gamora says, already pulling you along, but you don't move from your spot.

"No you don't understand, I need to destroy two things, and I need to know where Pietro is." You say quickly, and Gamora blinks in confusion before answering.

"I think Piete was covering the Suspension Bridge entrance but-"

Wanda is already running before Gamora is finished, and honestly, no chance in hell you won't follow her.

Gamora shouts your name about four times, but the crowd of people keeps her behind.

"We should get back to Agatha, girls." Charles tries to ration, but you and Wanda keep running.

Hogwarts has never been so crowded.

The students are getting desperate, and you think that's why they seem to be running everywhere.

The stairs are changing very quickly too, and you and Wanda grumble impatiently as you struggle to get to Pietro by them.

It's when you reach the third floor frame that you lose your breath all at once, and almost fall into the gap between the stairs, but Charles holds on by the cover.

"Stark, what is wrong?" he asks worriedly, and hearing this Wanda stops running, turning to check on you immediately.

But you're not listening.

I know you're here, child. And I'm going to kill every one of them if you don't give me back what’s mine.

You choke, shaking, blocking your mind. Mephisto had managed to get in for a second, long enough for you to fall to the floor.

"It's him." You gasp accepting Charles' help to stand properly. "He got inside my head, and he knows we're here, Wanda. We need to hurry."

"I have to find Pietro and-"

"I know, let's find him first and destroy the Horcruxes."

In the Suspension Bridge area, a duel was going on.

A small group of walkers were trying to invade the castle through that zone, and Professor T'Challa, along with Pietro were covering the place.

You didn't recognize any of the wizards, but it didn't matter much, because Wanda attacked them the next second, her magic going by the free space between Pietro and T'Challa to hit the three wizards with a wave of energy all at once, which threw them off the bridge.

The two boys turned around confused and impressed, but Wanda jumped on Pietro the next moment, hugging him tightly.

"Sestra!"He said, shocked, matching the squeeze with a tearful laugh. You smiled at the scene, but looked forward, and your stomach gave a complete flip.

"How touching, a family reunion." Hela mocked as she slowly approached, behind her, Loki and three other wizards you didn't know, "It'll be worth killing you all together then."

T'Challa attacked first, but Hela used a magic you had never seen before.

It was a black claw, coming out like an extension of her own hand. It didn't break apart with your teacher's stupore spell, but rather darted through his chest.

You let out a loud exclamation, widening your eyes.

T'Challa fell down to the floor, dead.

"Did you like my new trick? I learned a few months ago, when Maximoff brought us out of the forest. I needed to learn how to never let my bunnies run away again." Hela narrated as she pulled the claw back. "Nothing fairer than to use that on him don't you think?"

But you attacked, furiously.

A shower of spells began. Agatha's lessons had been worth it.

You were dueling three wizards at once.

Charles joined you at your side, while Pietro pulled the professor's body out of the way, sniffling softly.

And then Hela was aiming her claw at you again, and you had no idea which spell to use.

You know the spell. Kill her.

Hela missed as you pushed that sinister thought away.

Wanda hit her in the ribs with a wave of magic and she let out an angry and painful scream, the claw hit the wall behind you, narrowly missing your face.

You muttered a “Thanks, babe”, realizing that the claws had a regarch time.

Your problem for the next ten seconds was to keep your mind blocked from Mephisto, ignore the trembling in your body from having Wanda in danger, and dueling three witches at once.

Everything was under control.

Until Hela took aim at Wanda.

"No, she belongs to the dark lord!" The witch next to the woman shouted, but too late, because Hela shot.

And Pietro reached Wanda before you did.

He pushed her to the ground, and the claw went through his chest.

"N-no!" Wanda screamed, and everything exploded around you in a bright red light that threw you and everyone around.

You shook your head as you tried to understand what had happened.

But you raised your eyes to find Pietro on the ground, and Wanda standing there, a red circle around her before she attacked Hela with a energy so strong that completely disintegrated her.

And then the other three witches were targeted.

You reached Pietro, choking on his own blood.

Just like in Wanda's vision.

"Piete, no." You gasped tearfully, as you pressed your hands to his wound. "Please, buddy, keep your eyes open."

He just stared at you, losing his strength.

You could feel Wanda's liquid fury in your veins as she kept fighting.

And if you couldn't help her now, you would help Pietro.

The sorting hat fell from your head as she cast the spell, and you looked at Charles picking it up off the floor, a confused but impressed look on his face.

On the brim, the Hufflepuff's cup.

You remembered Agatha's memories in the same second. About the cup healing the wounded, like it healed Thanos' colleague.

And Charles threw it to you before you even asked.

As soon as it touched your bloody hands, the cup filled with a transparent liquid.

You recognized the appearance because Charles was an excellent potions mentor.

Pouring the fluid into the wound, Pietro cried out. His skin burned as it closed, but the wound gradually cleared.

"Wanda, he'll be okay, look!" You shouted, and it was the same second she was going to aim at Loki, who was already on the ground, his hands raised in pity.

She gasped out her own magic, turning to you.

Pietro was pale, but he was healed. And Wanda quickly knelt down to you, and you stepped back so she could hold him.

"Destroy it now, Miss Stark!" Charles directed as soon as the cup rolled from your hands to the floor.

You waved frantically, but when Wanda threw you with the magic, the sword fell forward as well.

And it was Loki who reached for it first.

"Give it back!" You ordered, wand raised to the boy with the mixed look of fear and anger in front of you.

He just shook his head, and seeing the validity of the item, and understanding that he had no chance of facing you all, he ran to the edge of the bridge, sword in the air.

"Stand back or I'll throw it." Loki warned, and you obeyed, your hands raised in the air.

"Loki, please give it back."

"What is it?"

"It doesn't matter, just give it to me."

"She killed my sister, Y/N." Loki accused then, his eyes filled with tears.

"And Hela tried to kill Pietro. I'm sorry, Loki, but we're not the ones fighting on the wrong side."

"Wrong side?" Loki let out a humorless laugh. "You have no idea what he's done do you?"

"Who, Loki?"

"Odin." He retorted in disgust, his sword swinging over the edge. You swallowed dryly, trying to think of the possibilities of reaching Loki before he threw the sword.

"No buddy, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You think you're fighting for the right side?" He angrily accuses. "Odin killed my parents!"

You frown in confusion.

"Is that why you are fighting for Mephisto? Is it for revenge?"

"I am a child of late autumn, Y/N." He clarified, and you widen your eyes. "Odin killed my family."

You shake your head. "No, Loki. Mephisto searched for the children, he wanted to find Wanda. He-"

"Do you really think only the dark lord was looking for the children of the prophecy?" He interrupts angrily. "Everyone was. And when Odin came into my house, my parents thought he was a walker, and they attacked. And Odin killed them. And because he loved to play the good man part, he took me to live with him. All these years, I never knew. Until Hela told me the truth."

"Do you think fighting for Mephisto changes that? Odin made a mistake in lying to you, that doesn't give you the right to follow a dictator."

"None of them had the right to lie to me." He continues angrily. "Your side pretends to be good, covering the lies for each other. But it was Odin who broke into my house and murdered my parents. He stole me. He stole my life."

"And I'm sorry, Loki." You said sincerely. "But teaming up with someone worse doesn't fix things. Give me back my sword."

"What is it for?"

"To destroy horcruxes."

Loki hesitates. He looks at you doubtfully, and then at the object at his feet.

"You are lying."

"No, I'm not." You return. "Please, Loki. We are friends. Don't make me take the sword from you by force."

Something in his eyes changes for a second. “Friends? Even after what I did?”

You swallow hard, nodding. “You knew it was me. That day. But you didn’t say anything. I think it’s because you’re not like them. You’re scared, like the rest of us.”

Loki just looks at you for a moment, then throws the sword on his other hand and advances against you.

But it’s not on yourself that he aims, it’s in the object at your foot.

The second the blade pierce the cup, a dark magic energy flows out of it. It throws you and Loki away, right to the floor.

You see the image of a furious face emerge before it completely fades away.

The second horcrux was destroyed.

Coughing a bit, you feel this sharp feeling behind your neck, and close your eyes.

Fool child. I will not have mercy on any.

It’s Wanda’s touch on your face that brings you back to reality. She’s pulling you to stand, worriedly looking at you as Charles carries Pietro inside.

“I’m okay, love.” You whisper weakly as she checks you, but you’re looking at Loki, who has the sword in hand, sitting on the floor. “You did it.”

You tell him, somewhere between proud and impressed, but the boy just seems tired. He swallows hard, as if trying to control the urge to cry as he stands up.

“There's little I know about my real parents, Y/N." Loki says approaching. "And one of those things is about their contempt for magics like Necromancy. There are things I need to figure out on my own. Loose ends in my story, that will now be harder to unravel without my sister, or my mother. But I will not follow anyone who is willing to kill others to avoid his own death. I think I'm pretty evil already."

Loki hands you the sword. You swallow dryly, holding his hand over the item.

"You're not evil, Loki." You say. "You just made the wrong choices."

He gives you a sad smile, the explosions getting more powerful. The fight is getting worse, and he sighs, moving away.

"Hela said he was looking for a chamber in the castle, something underground." He tells you, and before you can thank him, he has disappeared before your eyes.

You turn to Wanda, and she already has an understanding look on her face, knowing where you should go.

"Go. We'll join the main entrance." Charles said, but Pietro moved to protest, and Wanda touched his shoulders.

"No, I'm not leaving you two alone!" He shouted, but his sister shook her head, ignoring the tears.

"Up here, you'll be safer than with us." She said with her voice full of emotion. "Please, Piete. Just...go."

"Wanda..."

"Now."

Pietro swallows dryly, and hugs his sister one last time before heading back inside the castle with Charles, running towards the loudest noises.

"Let's end this, darling." You say as you intertwine your hands together.

//-//-//-//-//

It is in between stumbling around the crowd of wizards running through the third floor to the stairwell that you remember that you don't know how to get into the chamber of secrets.

"Wanda, wait." You say giving a gentle tug on the hand that remains entwined with you the whole way.

And she turns around curious and concerned, but you just shake your head.

"We don't know-"

"Let's find my father then." She interrupts and you give a short laugh.

"Stop reading my mind." You tease as she pulls you to walk, a mischievous smile on her lips.

You make your way down the stairs back to the second floor, and an explosion in the nearby hallways catches your attention immediately as a group of first-year students scream and run away from that direction.

You and Wanda exchange a glance before moving forward, only to reach the almost completely destroyed hallway. A huge crater had been opened in the wall by a giant outside, who was looking in.

"Witches!" Said the monster in a loud, slow voice, as it noticed you inside.

You choked, stumbled and pulled Wanda away, before the giant could stick his hand into the hole and grab you two.

“Okay, not this way.” You comment as you run the opposite direction, screaming to the students outside to go the other way around.

Back in the Grand Staircase, there are wizards on brooms.

You frown, not understanding what the point of that is, but you figure that in their desperation, the students have tried everything.

And then there are walkers coming in from the upper floors, and you understand that whoever is in the air was trying to prevent them from coming down.

"Darling, where do you think your father is?" You ask worriedly, looking up to see two seventh-year witches knocking out a walker on the uppermost stairs, flying between the staircases with their Quidditch brooms.

Wanda didn't respond as one of the walkers hit a staircase, blasting the steps with a bright spell, and she quickly stopped three students from falling, pushing them back to safety with her magic.

Slightly out of breath, she turned to you.

"Upstairs." She says.

You let out a sigh. The upper floors, and the main entrance are where the fighting is at its worst. That's where your bond will leave you breathless due to the danger Wanda will be in.

But you just nod, and guide Wanda between the stairs, occasionally exchanging spells with the walkers who make it down.

Professor Erik is nowhere to be found.

You and Wanda are running for about twenty minutes, and it’s getting hard to ignore the way the bond is begging you to take her away from danger, as you feel an insistent headache and chills around your body.

As you stop to catch your breath, around the fifth floor, you keep your head down, as you lean against a wall with your hands on your knees.

“What is it, babe?” Wanda asked worriedly, her hands coming to your neck. “Merlin, you’re pale.”

“I’m o-okay.” You say back, feeling a bit nauseous. “I think we’re close to ending this, love. That’s why i-”

But a strong explosion cuts your line, the magic doing it’s job to protect Wanda for the wreckage that came flying all the way around. Someone just destroyed the sixth floor, the remains of the explosion flying to the halls, all the way down the stairs.

Coughing a bit, you get up, helping Wanda stand properly as well.

Before any of you can understand what happened, there’s a wizard jumping on you.

“I got the protector!” He screamed as you two fell through the air, in the gap between the stairs. The walker could turn into some kind of flying mist, and even though you were struggling against his grip, you couldn't get loose, and the ground was closing in at a considerable speed.

Your ears had an irritating ringing, and from the way your whole body shook, someone had reached Wanda too.

But then the feeling diminished.

And as you fell, you saw the characteristic light of Wanda's magic, before the walker's mist overwhelmed your vision, and you crashed against the steps, cascading to the last floor, as your back hit the stairs many times before you hit the ground.

Groaning in pain, you felt your whole body aching as you tried to blink and locate yourself, all half blurred around you.

You thought someone was calling you, and trying to ignore the whole accident to focus on the feeling that you needed to protect Wanda, but just as you started to get up, something came around your ankles, and started dragging you.

"Keep them busy, you useless bastards! The dark lord just needs the protector for the ritual." It was the last thing you heard before the bruises from the fall knocked you out.

//-//-//-//-//-//

There was an insistent ringing in your ears when you opened your eyes again.

And the floor was cold and damp.

It took you a few seconds to realize that besides the water, your clothes were wet in places with blood from your wounds.

Your whole body ached, but you didn't mind.

Because every cell was screaming Wanda's name.

Find her. Protect her.

You choked as you forced yourself to move, noticing your surroundings.

“Wanda?” you gasped breathlessly, trying to locate yourself. It seemed like a long hallway, and it was dark.

You could hear the explosions from the castle, even if they were muffled.

Someone chained you to the walls, and you realized that there were voices in the distance, and as you sat up, you tried to understand what they were saying:

"Harkness is going to help with the ritual." Someone commented. "Our master and his apprentice are finally united again."

"I thought he wanted to kill the girls." Retorted the male voice.

"The dark lord wants the scarlet magic, but he can only get it with Agatha's help, because of the fusion she did. I think she managed to convince him not to kill the children. For now at least."

The voices grew closer, until two tall, frowning wizards with their faces hidden by skull masks turned down the corridor, catching up with you.

"Hey, the sleepyhead is finally awake." Teased the taller one, raising his wand toward you to make the chains force you to your feet. "Come on, they're waiting for you."

Fighting the chains was useless, but you did it anyway.

And your head began to pound. Wherever Wanda was, she was in danger. Or maybe it was because she should be in great stress right now.

As you were dragged down the corridor, you were startled by the magnitude of the snakes embedded in the stones.

And then it occurred to you where you were.

Salazar Slytherin's chamber of secrets.

The walkers led you to the center, and as you reached the place, you noticed that colorful runes were drawn on the pillars, and candles were flying around. And in the middle, a pentagram that you didn't recognize.

What frightened you the most, was the gigantic basilisk skeleton in the corner of the room, perched like a work of art. You deduced that many years ago, the mortal remains of the creature were moved back into the chamber to avoid the curious.

It was no less frightening.

The wizard from before, hit your knees with a colorful spell, and you fell to the ground, facing the pentagram.

"Wait here, protector." He said, and then gave a little laugh. "Not that you have a choice."

"Fuck you." You grumbled but then gasped in pain, the torture curse hitting you in the ribs then making you curl down on the floor.

"Stop it, Zsasz!" Asked the wizard next to you, pushing the other's wand away, and consequently making the spell stop. You gasped with relief. "She's not ours to play with."

"Tell her to behave herself then, Vormund ." Retorted the angry Zsasz fellow. "I hate those half-bloods."

"Calm down, you idiot." Warned the other. "This will be over soon. Don't do anything to annoy the dark lord again. He's already pissed off enough with the destruction of the darkhold."

You widen your eyes, and let out a humorless laugh.

"Ouch, your master lost his little book? What a pity." You teased helplessly, and almost regretted the kick to the stomach you received, but the infuriated faces of the walkers made it worth it.

"You won't keep that little smile on your face when I rip out your spine!" Threatened Zsasz, causing you to lock your jaw by the wand on your neck.

"What's going on here?" interrupted a female voice, coming from the hallway.

It was a woman you didn't know, without a mask like the other two. And her confident posture, or perhaps her presence, made the walkers jump away from you.

"N-nothing, ma'am." Answered Vormund quickly. "The half-blood was being rebellious an-"

"And you two assume you have any right to correct her?" Cut the witch snidely, moving closer. "This must be a joke."

The wizards exchanged glances, but bowed their heads.

"Forgive us, Lady Mystique, it won't happen again." Said Zsasz, but the woman just held up her hand telling him to keep his apology.

"Go back to the entrance. No one must interrupt the ritual. And the dark lord is on his way." She said simply, and the wizards looked at you one last time before they started walking off in the direction they had carried you.

The Mystique woman waited until they had disappeared down the hall to look at you.

"I'm sorry for the hostility, dear, in the best of words, they are brutes." She said, waving so that the knot in your chains loosened a bit, which lessened the pain, but did not free you. You also felt a slight push on your back and legs, forcing you to stand gently.

"Do you expect thanks for the mild torture, ma'am? Not going to happen." You retort between teeth, trying to look around for some way out. But the chamber was dark and you didn't know the place.

The Mystique woman seemed to find your harshness amusing, and gave a short laugh, following your curious gaze.

"Even if you try to run, they will catch up with you." She says, making you lock your jaw.

"And even if you escape the spells, you won't be able to ignore the bond."

You have no argument really, so you just sigh. "What are they going to do to me?"

"The dark lord wants the scarlet magic." She answers. "And he needs to break Agatha's spell to get it now."

“But if he kills us, the magic will be gone.”

“That’s why he’s breaking the spell before killing you two.” She states simply, as you feel your stomach turn. But her eyes are gentle, and makes you confused, so you try to bargain.

“Please, you can’t let him do that, he’s insane and-”

“Enough with the begging, i hate it.” She cuts impatiently, but not cruelly. “Just do what you’re supposed to do and don’t freak out.” She whispers and you can hear steps coming closer. “We’re ending this for once.”

You frown, but Mystique is putting her hands on your arms to spin you around, making you look forward.

Widening your eyes, you take a step forward.

"A-Agatha, help me!" You ask quickly, watching the woman come out of one of the hallways to meet you in the center, wand in hand. "They're trying to do a ritual and-argh!"

Your speech turns to a groan of pain as Mystique's magic throws you to the floor on your knees, bending you over.

"Kneel in the presence of the dark lord, child." The woman warns beside you, and you choke as you feel your whole body shudder.

In the tunnel beside Agatha comes a man, whom you recognize well.

"Agatha, what's going on?" You ask confused as you see her walk beside Mephisto, to the center to meet you. And her expression is impassive, and you want to vomit. "Professor, what...?"

"Just look at that child, old friend." Mephisto interrupts, assessing you as you walk. "How did someone so weak get chosen to protect my sorceress?"

You lock your jaw, staring angrily at the wizard. He nods to the witch beside you, who also bowed.

"Raven, dear, thank you for taking care of everything." He says. "You may go, we will need privacy for the ritual. Go up to the castle, my sorceress needs to stay busy as much as possible until we're done here. And then you can leave it to me, I'll go after her myself."

“As you desire, my lord.” Raven says before getting up and leaving.

"After everything, you're going to betray us?" You accuse Agatha angrily, but she says nothing, just deflects her face to Mephisto, who gives a short laugh.

"Only a fool would believe that wizards like us do not belong together, Miss Stark." He says, and with a flick of his hands, all the candles in the place display a green flame. "Let's get on with it, Agatha. I need your help now that that fool destroyed my book."

"Yes, Faustus." Agatha replied before nodding toward you, and the chains glowed purple, steadying you tightly against the pentagram, which also lit up. "Let's begin."

//-//-//-//-//

Tag list > @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @helloalycia // @ensorcellme // @aimezvousbrahms // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld |

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x yn #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy

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astrababyy · 2 years

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Rereading the KOTLC series Pt. 2

Same message as before: Rereading the KOTLC series, starting with the first book. Most of this is just me joking around but some of it is me actually complaining. How you’ll be able to tell the difference is your problem, not mine. Also, I am a staunch Forbidden Cities stan and Lost Cities anti. This will, in fact, reflect in how I reread this series.

She woke up in a cold sweat and decided sleep was overrated.

Sophie’s inner thoughts can be so entertaining something lmao. Would’ve been interesting to see how different it’d be if it was in first person POV.

But the color brought out the gold flecks in her eyes,

Of course, Sophie has gold flecks in her eyes because there’s nothing interesting with warm, solid-colored brown eyes. They have to have gold flecks. It is, obviously, very important since so many authors have their brown-eyed characters have gold flecks.

“Missed me bad, huh?” he whispered, flashing a cocky smile.

Man, I wish Sophie wasn’t so shy so she could put him in his place lol. I love Fitz, but he can be real cocky sometimes. Entertaining as it is, it’s also a little cringy.

Elf or not, she had a life here, with classes she could fail and parents who could ground her.

This line alone literally contradicts everything with Sophie’s later reactions.

I get that the opportunity to be with people like her was a big deal for Sophie, but the lack of real fight she put when they told her she needed to up and leave her entire life and family behind was genuinely absurd.

Adding in the way she kind of deferred to the Council so easily, trusted these random strangers, and everything in between, it just felt so weird to me. I get that she’s been through a lot, but she barely even put up a fight.

“How am I supposed to trust you when you won’t even tell me anything?”

Isn’t that what you’re doing with the majority of people in your life later on in the series?

You can’t listen to someone’s thoughts anytime you want to know something. There are rules.”

No one who comes to the mind-boggling (/s) realization that no one’s gonna know unless you tell them cares, Fitz. Unfortunately, the people who have come to that realization haven’t told us so we don’t actually know who they are.

Also, why would Sophie care about the rules at that moment? Why should she? Why should you? Especially considering your “assignment” also happens to be illegal –– probably much more than reading someone’s mind.

He grinned as his eyes locked with hers. “Your future.”

Oooh so ominous.

(When in reality, it’d just been a grumpy old man in a young-ish man’s body, a cheerful dude with a massive crush, and a shy-spoken little lady who looks like the elf version of the stereotypical princess that was judging her “future”. Not nearly as impressive or intense as Fitz likes to make it sound.)

She could feel her cheeks flush. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.”

Why does she blush about everything? Alden was just commenting on how unusual her eyes were compared to that of other elves. I get that she’s not the most tractable person out there, but this is getting a tad excessive, don’t ya think?

“Humans,” Alden muttered.

Elves, I retort.

“Kidnapping is a human crime.

Um not in this book, it seems.

Also, why would he even know that? Is it because of all the research he’d done while looking for Sophie? He’d known about the horrors of humanity, and he still sent Fitz out unsupervised to go gallivanting across the globe like he wasn’t at risk constantly? Is he stupid, or is he stupid?

but it was the kindness in Alden’s eyes that made her agree.

Really? Those eyes would only deter me. eYeS oF bRoKeN sEa GlAsS tf that’s so freaky. I’d be so weirded out.

Alden clamped the bracelet around Sophie’s right wrist, twisting until it fit snug.

Does she really have no reaction to that? Random stranger clamps a thick, ugly, and bulky bracelet around her wrist and she doesn’t care in the slightest? Man, I don’t care how pretty or kind his eyes are. If some random dude tries to clamp some ugly ass bracelet around my dominant wrist, he’s getting a punch to the nose.

“I got mine off early. My concentration is strong enough for three people––which is why we’re fine. Sophie’s not even the least bit faded, and you know it.”

Fitz seems to be a bit arrogant in his abilities. (I didn’t note that in my first time reading this book. I should do an analysis or something of the characters’ personalities since they always seem so difficult to tie down.)

Being overshadowed by Sophie was probably a big blow to his ego. I hope he gets his time to shine in later books instead of constantly having his ability and power be dragged down to being the Moonlark’s Cognate. Must be annoying to deal with after spending so long in the spotlight and constant praise. I’m surprised it hasn’t been brought up more often.

“Isn’t that glowing fungus?”

Yes, Sophie, it is, but don’t tell the elves that. They don’t want to admit that they’re terrible at names.

The idea of going to an elvin academy made her head spin. Would she have to sneak away every day?

The fact that they didn’t even explain to her the true weight of setting down roots in the Lost Cities (ie. getting tested to see if she’ll attend Foxfire) pisses me off. They should’ve explained that to her first before making her get tested. It’s such a weird way to sort their priorities. I get that it’s for plot reasons, but there isn’t that much harm in letting Sophie settle before doing any of the other things they did with her. It just feels so unnecessary and, frankly, insensitive.

“He feels your upbringing and lack of proper education should disqualify you.

Isn’t that the entire point of school though, Bronte? To attend so that you can get the proper education you’re complaining about?

“So . . . you have gnomes as servants?”

More accurately, they have gnomes as glorified slaves, but yes, that’s what they are. Just because the elves are too pathetic to admit it doesn’t mean it’s not true. I still have no idea why that was included. It was not necessary, especially when the horror of it isn’t even resolved or acknowledged. It’s just there.

A second too late Sophie realized that she should’ve curtsied––not that she knew how.

It still baffles me how, nine books into this series, Sophie still hasn’t learnt how to curtsy. Has no one seriously taken half an hour of their day to teach her? I know it’s probably just something kept in to make her seem qUiRkY aNd ReLaTaBlE but still.

“How long do elves live?”

How is she just okay with that? She gets over it immediately. My thoughts would go straight to my family, the fact that they’re humans while I’m not, and panic over them eventually aging and dying while I remain eternally the same age. Kind of surprised this hasn’t ever been brought up, actually.

Kenric and Oralie’s jaws dropped.

I wonder if they laughed about this later, and how cringy they acted throughout the entire thing.

“Sounds like Alden’s golden boy isn’t as infallible as everyone thinks.”

Yeah, it must really suck to know that one of the only people that’s succeeded in reading your mind is the same girl that read an Ancient’s mind without training and barely trying. I mean, I’d be absolutely distraught, unable to move on from that. /s

He needed more? Seriously?

[Sophie just lifted the goblet after being asked to lift something as heavy as the pole from earlier and Alden suggested to try something small. Bronte’s not very impressed.]

I mean, I don’t like Bronte’s characterization in the first couple of books very much, but he’s got a point. It’s probably not very impressive to watch some random kid lift a goblet.

She dropped one of the Councillors.

I know! And it was amazing!

“I vote against––and you will not convince me otherwise.”

I still don’t get why he did. Bronte’s intentions, goals, etc. were never very clear. It just seemed like he was being the villain for the sake of being the villain. There’s nothing wrong with that, but his character does a sudden 180 later on and it doesn’t make sense. His relationship with Sophie shouldn’t have changed so suddenly when we didn’t even know his original intentions.

That’s all I’m going to read for now! I’ll start again later.

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #sophie foster #fitz vacker #alden vacker #astrababyy rereads #mr forkle #councillor bronte #councillor kenric #councillor oralie #lost cities #shannon messenger #astrababyy

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darkcircles4lyfe · 3 years

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retrospective & predictions

Since we're on a hiatus week (between 320 and 321) I feel like waxing poetic about the depth and growth of bkdk for a bit. Especially because it seems like we’re right on the edge of their biggest development yet, I’m getting the urge to lay all my perspectives and insights I’ve picked up from others out on the table. This is ultimately only my subjective interpretation of subtextual material in canon, though. If you’ve never quite understood what people see in their dynamic and you’re actually open to hearing me out, maybe from this you can at least see where we’re coming from. And if you don’t like my takes after all, well, we’ll see who’s right in the coming chapters, won’t we? What I have to say can be taken platonically or romantically; I appreciate both.

putting it under the cut, since it’ll be long:

At the risk of projecting, I want to start by examining a couple things based partly on personal experience.

From many different directions, I often hear people expressing that Deku’s persistent attachment and admiration for Bakugou is baffling at best. Despite the bullying, despite Bakugou’s loud, rude, and uncompromising personality, he still puts effort into their relationship and frequently describes him as amazing. It seems like Deku himself is aware of this as he’s said things along the lines of how he’s difficult, BUT... etc. Although I don’t think it’s exactly that Deku finds Bakugou’s personality hard to be around, but that he’s deliberately expressing patience for Bakugou’s emotional turmoil.

I have to say I know what this sort of patience is like, as I went through it with someone I love. I only chose to put up with their behavior because I decided the possibility of what our relationship could be was worth it. I wasn’t blind or submissive to how they treated me, and I wasn’t coerced. I simply expressed myself and established my boundaries while still allowing them the opportunity to join me in my world once they got over their own hangups. And guess what? It worked out in the end. That doesn’t mean there aren’t circumstances where it’s better to cut ties, but I want to stress that true reconciliation is possible sometimes. I used to worry that other people around me thought I was delusional for seeking it, but what really helped was my therapist reminding me that I’m smart and strong. So I think Deku deserves to feel the same. In a way this is his whole mission in life, his approach to being a hero as well as his personal relationships.

Let me also be clear though that I don’t mean Deku is only tolerating Bakugou’s personality, his mannerisms, the parts of him that will likely never change. I’m drawing a line between those things and his emotional state (they so rarely align anyway, but I’ll get to that later). In fact, I think Bakugou’s general attitude is part of what Deku admires. This is gonna be hard to explain without inserting personal experience too, sorry. As a writer myself I’ve noticed I’m drawn to writing characters that are brazen and bold and don't mind telling people off. Really it’s because I operate in the world in the polar opposite way. I try not to draw attention to myself, I’m quiet, and I’m a people-pleaser. People who project confidence, especially in an impolite sort of way, fascinate me. It’s good to take cultural context into account, too: I've heard people who’d know better than me that part of the reason Bakugou is the most popular character in the Japanese fandom is likely because he contradicts a lot of their social norms. His disregard is refreshing and cathartic. I can speculate that Deku has a similar point of view based on what he thinks but does not admit about Bakugou being his image of victory and how this sometimes makes him mimic Bakugou’s speech and mannerisms:

There’s also the bit in this fight where Deku realizes he's the only one able to receive Bakugou’s emotions. This is because he’s the most intimately familiar with him and his situation, but I think there’s another layer. Deku, as we know, has a self-sacrificing tendency, and in the current chapters we’re seeing the worst side of that. But let’s also not forget that to an extent, it can be a positive trait: resilience. When it comes to Bakugou, he has an almost comical ability to dodge the potential fallout of his outbursts. The example we all jump to (and fight about..) is how in ch1, apart from the initial shock of Bakugou suggesting he jump off the roof, the most he reacts is to criticize him for saying such a ridiculous thing. However, I think their interaction post- sludge villain is a lot more interesting:

Note two things: 1, in his head, Deku is practically making fun of how Bakugou’s acting as he stomps away without waiting for a reply. It doesn’t faze him. 2, Deku thinks, optimistically, that he can now focus on a different career choice. This is astonishing really. Up to this point, none of Bakugou’s attempts to put him down have worked; he just kept pursuing his dream. The only reason Deku concedes in this moment it because for the first time, he has been shown that he really couldn't do anything in a fight against a villain. All Might told him he couldn't be a hero (although he’s literally about to take that back in the next few pages lol) and the other heroes at the scene gave him a lecture about it too. It was those experiences, and not Bakugou’s words, that truly affected him. And when All Might tells Deku he can be a hero after all, it’s not thinking of Bakugou’s bullying that makes him sob and fall to his knees, it’s the memory of his own mom never telling him those words he so desperately needed to hear. Having spent most of their lives together, Deku must have been aware all this time that Baukgou was influenced by larger societal forces rather than a core judgement, so he didn’t take it personally. He separated the person from the action, and because he’s resilient and patient, he is thus equipped to handle Bakugou’s emotions. It’s a testament to his maturity and emotional intelligence, really.

But I can almost hear some of you saying, “that doesn’t mean Deku should have to be the bigger person here!” Correct! Just because Deku is perfectly alright bearing all of that, doesn’t mean atonement-era Bakugou sees it this way. We can track his awareness of Deku’s care and selflessness as follows-

The bridge scene, when they’re little kids: Bakugou conflates Deku’s heroism with pity, and subsequently thinks Deku is looking down on him because Bakugou’s own insecurity makes him defensive.

The Sludge Villain, and also Deku vs. Kacchan Part 1: Bakugou witnesses first-hand how easily Deku jumps to risk his own life, but still thinks he’s being looked down on.

The Sports Festival: Bakugou fights Uraraka and recognizes her endurance strategy and refusal to give up as very Deku-like. He’s half right. He thinks Deku advised her in the fight, when in reality she just mimicked Deku because she admired him. I want to draw attention to his very sober comment about her not being frail. It’s a great endearment of Uraraka’s character and Bakugou’s respect for her when others didn’t take “fighting a girl” seriously, but it also reflects on his opinion of Deku. Deku isn’t weak either. He never was.

Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2: Deku finally corrects him about the whole looking-down-on-him thing, and Bakugou is informed that Deku’s selflessness is in fact the reason All Might chose him. Since Bakugou had been in search of what he himself was “doing wrong” for All Might to favor Deku over him, he now has to reconcile the fact that selflessness is a heroic trait, and moreover something he lacks. This is also possibly the first time Bakugou is able to see his past actions toward Deku as bullying since he previously thought it was more mutual. Additionally, Bakugou can now link Deku’s selfless behavior to what he perceived as pity/contempt, and realize that Deku has been giving him A LOT of grace. Maybe too much. Maybe more than Bakugou deserves, and definitely more than Deku should have to. Holy heck- now Bakugou has to figure out how to live up to all the faith that’s been placed in him.

Subtextually, we can see Bakugou’s feelings about atonement reflected in the Todoroki family:

1, Shouto is another example of Deku growing a friendship using his selflessness (since their fight in the sports festival) and their relationship is being acknowledged here where it hasn’t been in Bakugou’s situation. Perhaps Bakugou is wishing it could be so simple for him, to be able to thank him for being his friend like that. Deku saying the pleasure is all his also probably calls to mind how a mere apology from Bakugou would probably be dismissed because that’s just the kind of accommodating person Deku is. Bakugou has to operate more quietly in order to actually make up for their past. I personally don’t interpret this scene as Bakugou being jealous of Deku and Shouto’s friendship, exactly, just the lack of emotional baggage. Side note, Deku and Fuyumi are kinda similar in their desire to repair relationships. I like that she’s the one to give him some credit.

2, With the common terminology, this can be interpreted as Bakugou receiving a model for atonement, one that is about action, and nothing to do with receiving favor or forgiveness. It’s a sense of duty.

Many of the above sentiments are repeated in the flashback conversation between All Might and Bakugou right before Bakugou’s sacrifice.

Bakugou acknowledges his bullying and that it happened because of his own insecurities, but aside from that, it’s interesting he neither confirms nor denies All Might’s suggestion that he’s trying to atone, or that Deku doesn’t see it that way. All Might is a bit of an unreliable mentor sometimes, but I don’t think he’s misreading here. Rather, Bakugou is displaying his tendency to hold back when talking about things that would make him really emotional. Besides, admitting to what he’s doing kind of defeats the purpose. He isn’t seeking acknowledgement. All Might has gotten to the crux of the issue here when pointing out that Deku doesn’t recognize the atonement, likely because Deku doesn't think Bakugou even needs to atone. Am I reading into it too much to say Bakugou looks wistful at this? It’s kinda frustrating sometimes trying to interpret Bakugou’s actions because he’s so paradoxical. Loud and in your face, but also extremely reserved. Sometimes I feel like I’m grasping at thin air, but hey, being hard to figure out is part of his intrigue as a character. The simplest way to look at him is to assume that unless he’s really showing vulnerability, he’s probably deflecting and hiding something.

Speaking of Bakugou’s tendency to to hold back emotional stuff, there’s his apparent lack of issue with Deku calling him Kacchan. Maybe to begin with, in his warped perception of things where he thought they hated each other, Bakugou saw it as Deku’s way of getting back at him for calling him “useless,” and didn't dare give any indication that it actually bothered him. However... consider how betrayed Bakugou has appeared when he was noticeably thinking Deku was looking down on him- the bridge scene, and the beginning of their first year at UA when he thought Deku was hiding a quirk all along. He looks shocked and hurt. That kind of emotion couldn’t be invoked by someone Bakugou didn’t actually care about his relationship with. “Kacchan” comes from a long time ago, before their relationship was strained, so it’s connotations are pure. Maybe somewhere deep down, Bakugou has always been hoping that Deku’s continued use of the nickname was not simply a matter of habit or teasing, but a vestige of friendship they’re both clinging to, and Bakugou himself was too afraid to admit to himself that he felt this way about it, so he mostly ignored it. (These are not original thoughts I am having here lol, this is a common interpretation. I’m just laying everything out like I said.)

And now we turn to the current situation. Personally, I’ve been looking frantically back and forth between them wondering who’s going to break down first (Deku vs. Kacchan Part 3, this time it’s just a fight to get the other person to cry? ha.) Both have looked like they’re approaching a breaking point for some time. Also, I’ve addressed this before, but I think it’s significant that Bakugou is no longer wearing his mask with his hero costume, in contrast to Deku recently donning his own. It feels symbolic of Bakugou about to be upfront about how he feels.

The question is, what is it going to take to get Deku to accept help? If you ask me, Deku has dug himself so deeply into the I’m-doing-this-for-everyone-else’s-safety-and-smiles hole, no common sense argument can possibly reach him. By the end of 320, Deku’s mask is off, and we can see how desperate he truly is. But he has not cried, yet. I predict we’re going to see a bit more of his defiance, this time on full display on his face as the remaining class members and his other friends take their turns. But then I think Bakugou has to be the one to break down so Deku can witness his actions having the opposite effect he intended. People have been pointing out that Deku is currently ignoring Bakugou, and oof, that’s gotta be intentional. Regardless of what Bakugou says, it’s going to be wrapped up not only in his understanding of Deku’s self-sacrifice, but also the betrayal Bakugou feels at being ignored/left behind that ironically echoes his previous perception of being looked down on, as well as a need to express how much he cares about Deku before it’s too late. He must show that the two of them are inseparable because they both act to save each other without thinking, and both feel like losing the other would be like dying themselves. All Might may have been right when he told them they could learn from each other after Deku vs. Kacchan Part 2, but he didn’t fully realize that idea by making sure they stuck by each other for support and balance.

I can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when they do finally get to that point, totally in synch and in tune with each other. They’ll be a powerful force no one is quite prepared for. Who knows when that will be, or even which chapter will be their big showdown, but I know the day is coming.

To speculate even further, I think the 2nd user is going to be really important really soon. And no I don’t mean to suggest that the 2nd user is Bakugou. But I do think their resemblance is key. Okay this is gonna be convoluted...

See how 2nd is the only one still standing? I think that’s symbolic of him withholding his quirk. Deku may not even know what it is at this point, let alone have unlocked it. Given that 2nd approves of Deku’s strategy at this point, it seems odd for him to withhold his quirk based on lack of faith. I think if his quirk was something that would help Deku in combat, he would have shown it to him already like the others did. So what if those gauntlets of his are support items that are meant to make up for his lack of a combat-oriented quirk, rather than to augment it? Mind you, I still have no idea what his mysterious power might be, but I’m dead set on it not being explosion-y. Regardless, I think 2nd looking like Bakugou is more about aiding some grand visual parallel, so! You know how 2nd and 3rd were probably intending to do away with Yoichi but 2nd changed his mind as soon as they made eye contact? This is really a long shot, but I wonder if 2nd’s quirk has something to do with that exchange. Maybe it’s something psychological, or some 6th sense about people he meets. So... in that way 2nd’s quirk could play a role in bkdk reaching a deeper understanding? Idk! But it could be significant at least that 2nd left Yoichi’s question about why he reached out to him unanswered.

One more thing- while I was gathering screenshots I found this. I think “you’re the last one I’m telling” might be foreshadowing for Bakugou revealing his hero name to Deku and it being a Big Deal:

As for other lingering threads in the overall plot right now, such as the UA traitor, Stain, whatever Tsuyu is apparently about to do, All Might’s car maybe in the background of the last page of 320... man I have no idea. All I know is there’s literally 320 chapters’ worth of build-up to this confrontation that can’t be interrupted.

See you next week <3

#phew that was a lot #I just wanted to show how things are aligning #I know a lot of this has been said #bnha manga spoilers #bnha 320 #bnha 321 #mha #bakudeku #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bnha meta #lin speaks

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an-annyeoing-writer · 3 years

Text

vulnerability. – prologue

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 6th May 2021

Word count: 2 653

Warnings: dark thoughts, general angst (in this chapter, it gets lighter later)

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi--kpop--fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you're shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Prologue

“What do you need?”

Another question to which, despite your sincere effort, you are unable to find an answer; spoken in a cool, collected tone that makes it no easier to adjust to. You stare blankly at your hands, folded in your lap in a position that was supposed to be modest, but right now – betrays insecurity and uncertainty.

“Do I have to answer?” you ask quietly, struggling to find the right thing to say; your mind gets as blank as your stare, the stress deeming you unable to create a reply.

“Do you want to waste my time? If I ask a question, I expect an answer.” The man taps the surface of the close-by table, a clear message goes through – don’t test my patience. The notebook that he holds on his lap, with his other hand over it, hasn’t been written in for the past few minutes. The two of you are sitting on tall bar chairs, facing each other. You wish the tall table on the side, imitating the bar counter, was actually in between the two of you – maybe you’d feel a bit more secure with this form of a barrier.

You don’t want to waste his time, but you feel like you’re wasting yours right now. It’s as if you were at a job interview that completely didn’t align with what you had expected it to be like. It’s the moment you feel like the interviewer is only asking the questions out of politeness but does not pay much attention to your answers, and you know your case is a lost one. That’s exactly the way you feel right now – as if he’s at this point only tormenting you for the mere fun of it, although it doesn’t look like he has any fun in this at all; his face is stern and ridden of emotions. Terrifying.

“I think I need stability, and safety…” you try to utter something sensible. “But not boredom…”

You feel silly as soon as these words leave you, and, as you expect, they earn no reaction from the man. You soon realize he must have heard such things dozens of times before you – it’s a textbook answer.

“Some of your replies contradict each other” the man suddenly states.

“I didn’t lie” you argue back.

“Maybe not, but I’d recommend therapy.”

You only continue to stare blankly. Such words don’t faze you anymore – partly because you started to grow indifferent to whatever is spoken in this conversation, and partly because you’ve heard these words enough of times, spoken by your family, friends, even classmates or strangers. It’s embarrassing, but you’ve learned to push such thoughts away every time they surfaced; and this time, as well, you knew you wouldn’t think about them anymore as soon as the topic changed.

“Yeah, I know” you mutter, only for the sake of having an answer. You feel bitter; the case is lost for sure, you can tell – what he keeps you here for anymore, you don’t know.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Uh… No, not really.”

“Is there anything you want to ask me?”

Of course. So many things, so many thoughts that appeared in the anticipation for this meeting. Excitement that slowly died down; you remember the questions you wanted to ask, as well as the ones that emerged during the conversation itself. Yet, you don’t think that any of them are worth being spoken aloud anymore.

“I don’t think so.”

“I see.”

The man reaches for his notebook and writes a word or two inside, then tears the page out; you flinch at that. You can’t tell what’s written on it as he places the piece of paper on the table between the two of you, the clear side upwards, while the text is underneath. You stare at it with new-found curiosity.

“I need to leave for a few minutes. Write your number there, or e-mail address, whichever you prefer. I’ll be back.”

He stands up without asking for your reply and heads towards the bathroom; you only follow him with your stare as he disappears in the crowd – it’s Friday evening, and the bar, The Queen of Spades, is as full as on any typical Friday evening, except there’s an aura of loneliness surrounding you. You’re a bit uncomfortable in the bar chair – you’d rather sit in the leather sofa that’s behind you.

The leather sofa on which you saw Byun Baekhyun for the first time.

* * *

The Queen of Spades was a quite spacious, but not too well known bar that your friend had been promising to take you to thousands of times before a good occasion actually came up – the end of your winter exam session, all exams passed by a miracle. The bar was just fifteen minutes from your house, and you were astonished the moment you entered through the glass doors, feeling as though you went back in time by a few decades. Wooden furniture, warm lights, soft tunes of jazz and RnB – not your vibe, but one that made you fall in love with this place at the first sight.

However, as much as the interiors were dazzling, there was one more thing that caught your attention the most – the man sitting in the corner of the bar, on a leather couch with only the tall counter-like table on the side, probably too tall to reach to, but he wasn’t drinking anyway. He sat with a middle-aged woman, leaning gently into his side, casually and trustfully. The leather collar on her neck did not match her age-accurate attire, and that was exactly what caught your attention in her whole visage.

Whether the pair knew that they’re observed or not, you couldn’t tell – and, in fact, it seemed as though they don’t necessarily care. When the man’s hand found itself on the woman’s leather collar and pulled it backwards tightly, a small scowl on his face, you freaked out; at least until you saw her smile softly, no attempt to struggle, no worry, as her face reddened with the restraint of blood flow that the motion must have caused. Their eyes met. The man’s gaze softened. He released the collar and held her chin in his hands, and soon, they were resting again.

You stared at the scene, mesmerized. But it would be inappropriate to pay it any more attention; yet, you felt intrigued. You wondered what else would you see if you came back to the bar another time.

And, in fact, he was there the second time as well, just as you were with your classmate, trying to listen to her personal stories, but with your glance drifting off to the man’s direction.

He was with a woman, again, but one that could have been around your own age. It confused you, but, without any other cues, you did not want to judge. This one, also, had a collar on her neck – or more like a necklace, made of chain with pearls tied into it, a dainty and girly piece. The man patted her head gently as she rested with her eyes closed, maybe even sleeping. Nothing else happened.

And the third time you went there, alone this time, after a particularly long day at work, hoping to get some of the stress off your shoulders, you sat by the bar alone, and therefore, did not need to worry about annoying the person you were with – you could stare to your heart’s content; at least until someone would notice and find you weird or creepy.

It was a Friday evening again, so you concluded he comes here regularly. Although the bar was quite crowded, no one sat by the table next to the leather couch, probably not wanting to disrupt the pair – two men sitting together now. It did catch you by surprise. This one’s collar was made of silver squares linked together. It looked simple, but elegant. With a little bit of tequila, for once you felt bold enough to shoot the bartender your question.

“Yeah, oh, him? Baekhyun, he’s local. Why? You’re interested? Well, if you really are, he’s not into one night stands.”

Neither were you; you didn’t want to jump into such things abruptly, not at all. You wanted to know more first.

“He’s not into relationships, from what I know. Or more like, his relationships aren’t what they may be to you. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then just leave it, there’s other fish in this sea, just look around you.”

But you weren’t interested in other fish; this one spiked your interest and you just needed to know more. Your motive was obvious, and so, the bartender kept talking, taking pleasure in enlightening the silly kid that you were in his eyes.

“Ever heard of BDSM? If yes, then you’ll understand. If no, then leave it be.”

Your first impression, the thought you had in the first moment, was finally confirmed – it was like opening a cake you’ve only seen in the packaging and finding out it looks exactly as the packaging’s shape hinted. You chose this cake because of the shape, and now you feel even more excited about seeing how it tastes. And you did, in fact, truly want to devour it.

“So, you want to get on with him?”

You knew you did. There was no doubt in that. The bartender, who initially seemed persistent in discouraging you, suddenly seemed to enjoy the role of a sort of broker.

“I can set you two up.”

* * *

That’s how your story led you to this particular point; to the dark, old-styled walls of The Queen of Spadesthat you’ve started to memorize well by now, to the table you’ve only observed from afar, to the man whom you also could only look at, until today.

And you feel like the figurative cake is now made of nasty, bitter chocolate, and empty inside.

You glance once again in the direction in which the man disappeared – the bathroom. You probably have a few more minutes to relax. Your gaze lands on the torn piece of paper.

It shouldn’t be an issue if you decided to have a look – right? He left it in front of you, maybe even for this particular reason, for you to check if he hasn’t written anything wrong about you. Whatever is written in there… You can’t think anymore as you whip the paper to the other side.

[F/n], 24, fem. & stud. available weekends mentally unstable, possible childhood trauma sensitive

No lies are detected.

Moreover, you feel as though each statement is awfully accurate; you are sensitive, and the words hurt. You feel reduced to these few random phrases, as if your whole personality consists just of these traits.

Mentally unstable.

Childhood trauma.

Sensitive.

You angrily turn the sheet back over and make sure the number you just wrote is correct, although you’re not so sure if you wantit to be correct. You consider changing it to a wrong one. Or standing up and leaving. You’re angry and frustrated, and lost. Your desperate need for this deal to work out collides with your desperate need to go back to your safe zone; the one in which you can rely on fiction and your own imagination, and where no other person can hurt you. You could just stand up and leave, for sure; who would try to stop you? Do you even have the guts to stay? You feel disrespected; you wish to disappear.

Yet, you don’t find yourself doing any of these things. You sit in your place, staring at the sheet blankly, until familiar steps echo nearby and the man takes his place again. The time for making decision has run out. Byun Baekhyun sits in front of you again, staring at you intensely.

“Did you look?” His tone is accusatory, and a bit angry. Were you not supposed to look, after all…?

“N-no” you instantly reply. Your voice falters, you know you’re not a good liar. But he can’t blame you for something you won’t admit; you’ll leave, and you’ll be safe, he won’t be able to say anything more hurtful anymore.

“I see.”

The lie eats at you; you fiddle nervously as he takes the paper and slowly puts it back in his notebook. He doesn’t look at you while doing so, but you watch him full of nerves. You can’t lie, you never could.

“I-I did” you utter after a moment of silence.

He freezes in spot and you start fearing again; his eyes raise to meet yours, and you don’t dare to reciprocate the gaze. However, you can tell he’s not angry – whether it’s pure disdain or disappointment, you don’t know. But, at the very least, you can tell you won’t be yelled at, and it’s enough to be a relief.

“I’m sorry” you add in a mumble filled with shame. Your gaze lowers even further.

Byun Baekhyun doesn’t say anything about it. He observes you in silence for a while, as if deep in thought, and you don’t know if you’re being judged or analyzed, you do your best not to let your mind drift towards the areas of insecurity and fear.

He puts his things back in the leather bag he carries – the notebook, phone, leather gloves. Seems that the meeting is coming to an end. It’s not even 8 PM.

“Will you find your way home? You need a drive?”

“I live nearby, I’ll be okay.”

“Can I walk you, then?”

“Sure…”

It’s slowly getting dark and you don’t find it in yourself to oppose the offer. More than to run away, you feel an urge to just give in, and you’d rather he yells at you for lying than asks you anymore questions; you’re worn out, both mentally and physically – with your muscles cramping for keeping them tense for so long.

No more words are said, though, there’s no yelling and no accusations. He acts professionally the moment you leave the bar, letting you lead the way and only staying by your side, not too close even, no touch and no words – as if he’s following you rather than accompanying.

Throughout your whole conversation, you didn’t see him smile even once. It pains you. But you slowly come to the conclusion that you haven’t necessarily done anything wrong, and it’s just the way it is.

“Thank you for today” you utter politely. You want to run back into your apartment and be safe again. “And thank you for walking me.” Sorry for wasting your time, too, you also wish to add, but you don’t want to victimize yourself; you don’t want to believe that you’re at fault for it, either – apologizing would be like taking the whole blame upon yourself, and you don’t want to accept that.

“No problem. Thank you for your time. Sleep well.”

He opens the door for you but doesn’t look at you or say anything more. You utter one more small “thank you” and “goodnight” before entering your small apartment again.

The day finally comes to an end and you want nothing more than to rest it off in the bunk bed of your bedroom – the sweet and safe comfort zone that never betrays you, never plays with your feelings, and always welcomes you with its warmth.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: I know it feels a bit sad thus far, but bear with me, it will get better soon!

Next (Chapter 1.)

#exowritersnet #kdiarynet #bbh-net #exosnet #exo baekhyun #exo bbh #bbh x reader #exo #byun baekhyun #bbh #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun x reader #vg: vulnerability #vg: exo #vg: baekhyun #vg: series

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shattersstar · 4 years

Text

bluebelle

and if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent (part one)

pairing: alucard x reader

excerpt: it seemed as if each corner of the castle held something of you; a bouquet of flowers you had picked for one of the halls in the east wing, a book you half read discarded in a barely used study, the faint flour fingerprints on the railing from when you made banana bread and had gotten so excited it turned out well you dragged Adrian into the kitchen despite the mess on your hands. The brush of your lips even lingered on his skin, the softness revered and remembered. It was warming to find all the parts of you in the tomb that had become his home yet again. (title comes from bluebelle by frank carter and the rattle snakes)

warnings: alucard being loved and appreciated, fluff, minimal angst

a/n: well I couldn’t work on requests till i got this out of my system. kinda stressed abt posting for castlevania bc i dont think? ive talked about it on here before? buuut i can’t stop thinking abt alucard after rewatching season two so here we are. anyways feedback is appreciated.

—

You weren’t by his side in the morning, the sun slotting from the vaulted windows cascaded a stream of warmth that didn’t touch your skin. He startled, fingers curling into the cool sheets. You’d been gone for a while and he hadn’t heard you leave, he—

Adrian had slept. Through the night.

That thought was almost as jarring as your lack of presence. He let his palms dig into his eyes, sliding out from under the covers and dressing quickly. His steps were always light, even against the old floors of the castle. You once mentioned you didn’t think he walked around the castle, merely hovered when you first moved in. Mostly because it was easy to find you, your step not nearly as cautious as his, your scent always lingering through the air, like a trail of crumbs.

Although now, it had become harder to find you because of it, it seemed as if each corner of the castle held something of you; a bouquet of flowers you had picked for one of the halls in the east wing, a book you half read discarded in a barely used study, the faint flour fingerprints on the railing from when you made banana bread and had gotten so excited it turned out well you dragged Adrian into the kitchen despite the mess on your hands.

The brush of your lips even lingered on his skin, the softness revered and remembered. It was warming to find all the parts of you in the tomb that had become his home yet again–but still, it made finding you down a bit more difficult.

He’d begun to rely on sound more, listening from the dragging of ladders around one of the many libraries, the boiling of the kettle or even your voice muttering nonsense to yourself. Sometimes singing, but once you realized he could hear it at great distances, your face burned hot and you only hummed absentmindedly these days.

Your love also reached great distances, bounding higher then the gothic walls you two dwelled in, tendrils of your affection brushing over him like calming waves, as if you somehow purposely emitted your feelings. A secret empath perhaps, humming with love and nudging at his scarred chest until he let you in.

He knew all of that was facetious, nearly musings to keep his thoughts on you as he made his way calmly through the labyrinth castle. You had called it that, still getting lost in it to this day and shouting for him when you’d get frustrated enough. You’d pout when Adrian would casually walk over to where you found yourself, nonchalant and even a little amused. Though, the spike in adrenaline that flowed through his system each time that happened contradicted his calm demeanour each time he approached. He always moved in a flurry, zigzagging and hunting through the daunting walls till he could locate you. He didn’t want you to worry, to see his first thoughts went to danger, he knew you wouldn’t be happy with that. He knew you’d stop calling for him if it meant his fear would take over, that you’d likely stay lost for a lot longer all for him.

It was a dangerous thing, the way you loved him.

He sometimes wished you had been together before his mother died, so that his love wasn’t weaponized against him. There was always going to be a fear attached to his love, everyone waiting for the day he’d break like his father, that his love for you would drive him mad and the cycle of destruction would repeat. It was destined to happen in so many minds, cycles were tricky like that, promoted to be broken, but never as easily as suggested.

That was until you made it easy. You pulled him to your chest and toyed with his hair, skin drying from the bath and voice speaking all the truths he needed to hear into existence. It seemed as if the path he was supposedly destined to be on crumbled before him. He didn’t actively choose to be different, be good, be better, there simply was never the option to be bad once he realized he loved you.

Even now, unable to find you, fear trickling into his stilled heart, there was no anger bruising his soul. The thought of losing you hurt, more than any adjective could place, but it’s a wallowing kind of hurt, the cold grief stricken kind that doesn’t ignite hellfire, but tears. Adrian hadn’t even realized his eyes were brimming with them until your voice carried, a small shout followed by a laugh. His head all, but snapped up, focusing on it and soon he was in the doorway, a sense of calm replacing the creeping anxiety as he found you atop a desk, trying to place a box onto one of the many shelves in this study. The study you had claimed as your own, in love with the large circular window that overlooked the forest instead of the crumbling estate. You didn’t fear the Belmont’s as many had, but rather didn’t find the appeal in staring at a pile of wreckage.

A huff of amusement echoed in the back of his throat when you’d said that casually over dinner, coming to regret the statement when it was passed onto Trevor the next time he visited. Amusement almost laced his mind now as he watched you for a moment, you shoved the box a few times, its contents rattling as you were just a bit too short to rest it securely. He contemplated offering his help, but sure calling attention to himself would startle you, the box likely to fall.

Instead he moved swiftly, behind you in a half a breath and reaching over your shoulders to push the box the rest of the way. You still startled, jumping with a small gasp, your arms dropping back down. You both stood there for a moment, your back rising and falling against his lean chest, his arm slipped to his side, fingers brushing yours as he did. You glanced over your shoulder at him as he climbed down from atop the desks surface. You smiled as he extended a hand to help you, palm face up. He guided you to step onto the chair before settling on the floor, fingers shifting to interlace with his as you pulled him close, chests bumping. “Good morning beloved.” You hummed.

“I believe it’s past noon.” He commented, earning an eye roll.

“Well then good afternoon.”

“No beloved?”

“You’re being quite the tease for someone who’s slept in—leaving me to my own devices this morning.”

“I can see that didn’t go too well.”

You feigned offence, both hands now in Adrian’s as you stepped back, a mix of a gasp and scoff falling from your lips.

“Someone’s in a mood.” He contemplated the statement, drawing you back in with a light pull in his direction. It used to be alarming how easy it was to get you close, how you didn’t shy away, how you were ready to feel him as long as he’d let you. Your chests bumped again, your hands sliding up his arms and around his neck. “And don’t say its because you woke up alone.”

“Hm.”

“Ah, I know you too well. That means you owe me a kiss.”

“It does?”

“Of course, my intelligence deserves a reward, no?” A grin flickered over his face, fangs flashing as he let his slender arms wrap around your frame, one hand resting between your shoulders blades—urging you even closer, your head tilted and lips meeting his slowly.

“Everything you do deserves a kiss.” He sighed, breath fanning over your face.

“Maybe I’ll hold you to that.”

“I don’t object.”

“Good.” You kissed him again, this time a little harder, a bit more than a greeting. Your fingers curled minimally in his hair, tongue swiping against his bottom lip, a silent ask of permission. He granted it with ease, tasting the berries on your tongue and inhaling the warmth of cinnamon radiating from you. Maybe you had been baking again, he wondered momentarily, lips still moving against yours. You pulled away first, chest rising and falling visibly as you let another smile warm over your features. He was almost a little dazed looking at you, barely noting the strands of hair that fell over his face, your fingers quick to tuck them back behind his ear. “Your hairs messy.” You commented, holding his face in your hands as you leaned back, taking him in. Your smile shifted into something curious, brows pulled inward as your gaze flickered across his face. You studied him, the gears in your brain churning out questions you already had the answer too. “Did you think I’d gone? When you woke up?”

You did know him, far too well.

“For a moment, yes.” He had learned it was better not to lie to you, to hide things at times, yes, but to outright lie left a bitter taste in his mouth (and you’d always figure it out anyways).

“Well I’m sorry for worrying you my love, if I had left the grounds I would’ve written a note, or woken you up even, but I didn’t think about doing that if I wasn’t far.” You explained, eyes full of sincerity. It was so human, something he mimicked, but never obtained in the same way you did.

He nodded at your words, forehead resting on yours.

“But is that not it?”

“What?” He recoiled slightly, unable to hide the surprise that found its way onto his face.

You did know him far too well that this had to be magic, you had to have read his mind and understood something deeper. He still found himself alarmed at this moment, your ability to read him surpassed even that of his mother.

“There’s something else isn’t there? You’re upset about something else.”

“I’m not upset—“

“Adrian,” You warned, his mouth snapped shut, “Please don’t lie to me.” He relented, his shoulders tight with defence dropped as your thumb brushed over the porcelain of his cheek. “But we can talk about this later. Okay?” You knew when to push and when to pull and when to give in to him just as he needed. You smiled up at him, nose nudging his affectionately. Love dripped through your words and danced in the corners of your eyes

Yes, later is fine. Right now he needed to be held.

You let your fingers slip into his hair, toying with it, nails kindly swirling against his skull. You were good at soothing him, words, actions, everything. It all calmed the choppy waters that stirred beneath his rib cage and he melted into you. Adrian let his eyes fall closed as you pulled him into a hug, one hand still tangled in his hair while the other wrapped as best it could almost the expanse of his shoulders. He let his arms hang limp, nose pressing into the side of your neck as he breathed you in. Taking in your scent, not where it hung in the stale castle air, how it lingered on door knobs to forgotten rooms you likely tried to open or dwelled on the various pots and pans.

He took you in from the source, your perfume and rainwater from the previous night washed over his senses, along with that still confusing note of cinnamon. Maybe he’d bring it up later, but for now he wanted to love in the safety of your arms.

#i just wanna hold this half vampire for..hours #alucard x reader #alucard imagine #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes imagine #castlevania x reader #castlevania imagine #castlevania #writing

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bloodstainsontengensfloor · 3 years

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The Star Plasma Vessel:

When I first read Gojo’s past arc, Riko Amanai and the whole dynamic created between all of the characters and how fast a strong bond can grow, really interested me.

⚠️Spoiler warning ofc ⚠️

But... I was so confused over the Star Plasma Vessel. I was so confused and thought I missed something because I didn’t even know who Master Tengen was. And the site I was reading the manga didn’t have chapter 72, but after re reading it... the Star Plasma Vessel and Master Tengen are... still suspicious as hell.

So Let’s talk about it!

Who is Master Tengen?

In the Nara Period (710-794) Tengen spread Japanese Buddhism and ‘preached what would become the foundation for Jujutsu sorcerers(JJK.wiki)’. They were first mentioned in chapter 53 by fake Geto.

At this point, the only information about Master Tengen was that of their jujutsu. Jogo asks Fake Geto who’s stronger; Tengen or Gojo? Fake Geto simply states that “it’s immortality not anti-aging” and that Master Tengen doesn’t interfere unless it involves the barrier. He also makes this comparison with a tree? However, I’m not sure if the tree metaphor is comparing Tengen and Gojo or describing/comparing Tengen’s technique.

During Gojo’s Past Arc, we find out more about the specifics of their jujutsu and how powerful and important they are. Tengen’s jujutsu is immortality but it doesn’t stop the aging process. The cursed technique tries to switch bodies roughly every 500 years. If Tengen doesn’t get a vessel, then they will ‘evolve’ or ascend to a higher state where they have no will. If in this higher state, they could become a threat to humanity. If they do get a vessel, then they rewrite the body’s genetic information.

On top of all that, Master Tengen’s ability strengthens the barriers that protect the jujutsu world and keep the amount of curses limited to Japan. The Jujutsu world wouldn’t be working the way it has for so long if not for these barriers. It isn’t specified whatsoever what Tengen would do that would make them a threat to humanity, but my guess is that it would have something to do with allowing curses to run free and unrestricted.

In the reccent chapters, Fake!Geto used a remote activation technique that Yuki orginially mistakes as an attack on the barrier. He’s disrupting the balance that’s for sure, but I believe that he could have broken the barrier. He had the option and probably the power, but he didn’t. This implies that Tengen is a force that even our antagonists fear or don’t wish to get involve. They said that they were stabilized even after Riko Amanai died, but... considering Ep. 18 where Principal Yaga goes ‘I’m going to see Tengen” after the Curses break onto school grounds implies that maybe he is weaker. Gojo even talks about how in the end, Tengen’s barrier hides rather than protects and that it’s weak once infiltrated, which raises a lot of questions. And maybe Tengen plays a part in this whole scheme because of the talk of how much chaos the world would be thrown into had the barrier been broken by Yuki and Fake!Geto’s questionable response.

Who is Riko Amanai?

Riko Amanai was the Star Plasma Vessel in 2006. It is implied that she was pretty wealthy, and when she was younger, her parent’s died in a car crash, but she survived. Between the years of her parents’ death and her death, she was cared for by Misato Kuroi, a non combatant jujutsu sorcerer who can fight curses, well educated in the curse world, but might not be able to use cursed energy/techniques. It is unknown with who Misato is affiliated with and if Amanai became aware of her status as the Star Plasma Vessel at an early age.

When first introduced, she is very willing and seemingly okay with the merger. When Gojo expresses his surprise over Amanai’s reaction to her attempted assassination attempt and the whole concept of the merger, she simply proclaims “Master Tengen is me and I am Master Tengen!”. She then goes on a rant about how the merger and death are different things and how after the Merger, her will and spirit will live on. However, this statement was contradicted earlier, when Yaga describes the Merger as an ‘eraser’. Later, Geto even talks about how after the Merger, Amanai will just be forced to be beneath the school and has to get rid of all mortal connections. It just happens to be that, she has no relations besides Kuroi... suspicious....

Riko is spunky and fiesty. During her rant, Gojo and Geto comment on how she probably has no friends based on how she talks. She is clumsy, and honestly just... funny. I keep on hoping someone in the main timeline says something similar to the “Liar, you look a liar... and whats with those bangs” line in reference to Fake!Geto. Getting back at hand, Riko is also brave. When Kuroi gets kidnapped, she insists on coming with Geto and Gojo despite having no fighting or curse capability. When nervous or in an emotional confrontation, she has a habit of scrunching up part of her skirt in her fists.

Despite putting up an image of content with the Merger, Riko is a normal teenage girl. Moments before her death, Riko’s inner monologue focuses on how she was always told she was ‘special’ and ‘different’, and how despite everything that happened, she always survived. Now, being told that you are special and different at a young age is something that affects people heavily. Weather it is being told that you are a ‘gifted’ kid or that you are just ‘different’ can lead to a lot of self separation from others. One might see themselves as better than others because of these skills or believe that someone else like them can’t exist and struggle when meeting someone similar or in a similar situation. Before her appearance in the story, it is implied that she had good relationships with her friends, classmates, and Kuroi, but didn’t really value them as much as she should due to this idea of being special or having a destiny. (Damn, a Gojo parallel maybe hmm) This led her to be really lonely and she believed that she would be okay with the merger because she thought that the loneliness and sadness would disappear. In the last three days of her life, Riko got to spend time with her friends at schools (the last she saw of them was them teasing her for her ‘hot cousin’ Gojo), spending time with Kuroi, and developing a strong bond with Gojo and Geto. She realizes that the sadness and loneliness could and would leave as long as she had strong bonds with others.

“I want to be with everyone more! I want to go to more places, see more things with everyone... More!!”

After Riko comes to terms with what she really wants, she dies at the hands of Toji Fushiguro/Zenin. Her death sets an entire series of misfortunes and rifts between the Strongest Duo and she serves her part as... well the plot tool she doubles as.

A Choice:

Before her death, Riko is given a choice. Geto gives her instructions on where to go for the merger, before saying “Or you can turn back and return home with Kuroi.”. He gives her a choice. A choice to go through with the merger and ensure stability despite no one truly knowing what is happening, or a choice to live a life of her choice. We find out that Yaga gave hints that there is something wrong with the Merger due to the way that he described it as an ‘erasure’ and how he isn’t one to ‘beat around the bush’.

We find out that Gojo and Geto decided beforehand that if the Vessel wasn’t willing to go through with the merger, they wouldn’t do it and that they, the strongest duo, would fight Master Tengen. Gojo and Geto were the strongest and Geto says that no matter what she chooses, they will protect her future.

Riko decides to go home, wherever that may be, instead of the merger, but of course, dies.

As established before, this whole concept is suspicious. Yaga knew there was something wrong with this. Gojo and Geto both knew there was something wrong with this.

In chapter 138, Yuki goes “it’s about time I confront Tengen.” This opens a box with even more questions. What does she mean by this? Why is it ‘about time’ and how casual is it for sorcerers to talk to Tengen? As mentioned before, Yaga is apparently in communication with Tengen when he needs to be. And Yuki is the one who told Geto that Tengen was stabilized after the failed merger and that the vessel was probably reborn...

Conclusion:

I honestly hope more than predict that we get to meet Riko Amanai reborn or the next SPV. Tengen is a name that is getting thrown around recently so there is no way that he is just.. not going to be relevant in the coming chapters.

I know a lot of people have found comparisons to Buddhism and the Jujutsu world, and I am not that well educated in this area, I do know that rebirth plays a big role in it. Rebirth is viewed as a negative cycle one should want to escape from called “Samsara”. I personally headcanon/theorize that the Star Plasma Vessel and the soul of Riko Amanai, is one that gets reborn constantly and is stuck in a cycle where they experience a lonely and sad life before getting a taste of a full and happy one right before the merger. In terms of the 500 year thing, the Star Plasma vessel would have first been born( created?) during sometime in the in between of the Heian Period (794-1184) and the Muromachi Period (1392-1573). The Heian Period is implied to be the Golden Age of Curses and when Sukuna was in full power despite being known in history as a peaceful time for Japan, so I definitely believe that there is some connection if my math is correct (which it probably isn’t. I hate math).

Right now in the story, vessels... are really important. According to Fake Geto, he released what is like a thousand Itadori Yujis, so I think that bringing back the star Plasma vessel would fit really well. However, they would roughly be around 12 years of age in 2018, meaning that they might not even be able to do the merger because I think the vessel has to be sixteen and older and have a full moon.

(Edit: added 4/1/21: Also, it might not be Riko reborn, but just another Star Plasma Vessel. Like Yuki says that either they had another vessel at hand, or another one was already born. So like... the new SPV might be the age of our main characters or possibly even one of the characters we already know!)

I also think it will be really interesting to see how it would play off with the fact that Gojo/Geto are no longer involved in the story. Gojo is sealed and the real Geto is dead. When thinking about how the SPV would be in the story, I imagined a picture of a younger girl in a uniform and with a braid holding the sealed Gojo and staring up at the fake Geto. I’m not over what happened to Riko Amanai if you haven’t noticed and I feel like she deserves to have this other chance. I also think it’ll set up the eventual meeting or confrontaion with Master Tengen which I’m personally dying to see.

So what do you think? I don’t really have any solid predictions other than that the SPV reborn will make an appearance, but what about you? Do you guys think Tengen will play a big part? Do you think Tengen may end up becoming a big threat or a good ally? Do you guys want to see Itadori and the SPV interact? Or am I just over analyzing this?

Thanks for reading!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk spoilers #gojo satoru #geto suguru #riko amanai #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk theory #yaga masamichi #yuki tsukumo #jjk brainrot #kuroi #jjk mangacap #fun times in jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen geto

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

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Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 2 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

When you're done freshening up, dinner's already underway. The scent of vegetables and broth hits your nose, and the cold temperature left behind by the storm brings forth an additional hint as to what the monster's cooking up for dinner. You try to stay soundless as you sneak off to the kitchen and stand behind him, looking over his shoulder when you make it there.

"I can tell you're here, pal," Sans says, chuckling.

He turns to you with a spoon held out in his hand. There's a sample of soup on it, waiting to be tested. The scent reminds you of having missed lunch break due to the stormy weather, with the hours it lasted bringing forth your boss's decision to call the rest of your shift off. You were supposed to be at your last meeting by now, but the rain and wind had proven to be superior, canceling all plans. Less work meant less pay, though you try to refrain yourself from worrying too much about that right now. "Taste it." He offers it out to you, still waiting. You, on the other hand, take a while to do anything, overthinking the situation as you then debate on whether to grab the spoon or taste it right off his hand. The first option had the risk of you brushing hands with the monster and spilling the soup in the process, yet tasting it right off his hand was almost unthinkable to do.

Another thought pops into your mind, and that's whether it was fine to trust the skeleton by tasting the food and giving him the benefit of the doubt about it not being tampered with. Though you knew him for a few months now, it's still impossible not to acknowledge a possibility like that one. If a man you'd known for so many years had ended up leaving you, only to make a scene like yesterday's when trying to get back with you, who's to say a stranger with customs far different from yours wouldn't do something similar -- or worse?

You remind yourself of your main and original task: confronting him and the rest of the monsters over the choices they made back at the Underground, regardless of how charming and kind they were being with you currently. Sans was no less of an exception. This wasn't only for Frisk's safety and their overall state of well-being, but for your reputation as their parent -- and for your peace of mind, too.

You figure you've taken too long based on how the skeleton backs the spoon away.

His grin widens, and he then sips the contents off the spoon, leaving it empty. "I promise it ain't poisoned." He gives his back to you as he goes to wash the spoon, offering it to you after it's been cleaned. "You can taste it now." Sans moves aside, creating space for you to step forward and scoop a bit of the soup still bubbling in the pot.

Just as you're about to eat it though, he says, "I'm not the best cook around, so go ahead and lemme know if it tastes funny."

A smile forms on your face when you hear that, captivated by the idea of him having no clue how to begin cooking, and even more considering he was at your home instead of his. If it was often difficult for beginners to cook in the familiarity of their own home, you can't imagine how it must feel doing that at another person's place. For a moment, you wish you could've seen him in the process of cooking, an opportunity you'd lost while you went off to shower and change.

When you taste it, what's missing drops into your thoughts; years of having cooked at home reveal the capability of identifying that quickly. You consider the suggestion and confirm what the soup's lacking when you clean up the spoon and take a second sample off the pot. "It's good," you say, setting it aside. "Just needs a bit of salt and more time to stew. The rest is fine."

"Thanks," he replies, hands going back to his pockets. "Paps wants to improve his cooking, so I figured I've gotta better mine some more before I teach 'im anything."

Again, your mind finds itself in a conflict. While it's charmed by the thoughtfulness of that comment, it's also clouded by the morose reminder of why you'd asked him to stay for dinner in the first place. To distract yourself, you add the missing ingredient to the soup and walk with Sans to the couch while it finishes boiling.

It feels strange to sit so far apart from each other, but he doesn't close off the distance, nor do you.

You prop a leg over the other and rest a hand over your knee, bouncing the one on the floor when you lack anything more to say. Your thoughts scramble around as you try to find a way to make the situation less awkward. When you glance back at him, you see it's something he also seems to want to end; your gaze meets with his when you both decide to look at each other's side -- synchronizing.

He shifts closer and you do the same, continuing until your hands touch.

Almost immediately, you pull back, yet your gaze remains locked with his, eyes drifting down to his teeth. Even as he gets nearer, you stay put, lost in your thoughts and the risky scenario unfolding. Your brain and heart scream at you to stop; your body -- conversely -- refuses to move out of its current spot and rebels by inching closer to him, until you're near enough to catch the scent of the only soap brand you often bought for showering: soft-scented, cheap, and antibacterial. It's strange to catch that aroma from someone other than yourself. Frisk preferred using a different kind, making the situation much more intimate than you would like it to feel.

You grab his hand again as he leans into you, only stopping himself when your back presses against the armrest. Then, he pulls his hand back and uses both to hold your shoulders and corner you right into place. Height difference makes it so that his legs stay knelt on the couch while yours hang off it, these tucked aside as you focus on the matter at hand. He brings himself closer as he tries to level out your heights, grip on you staying. The sound of your heart and of the soup simmering by the kitchen are the only two other things to keep your mind occupied from what's happening; anticipation makes your breaths waver.

As if the situation couldn't get tense enough, the door of the living room opens and in barge two people, leaving you in an iced state.

Rather than Frisk and Toriel, it's Frisk and Jerry who stand at the frame, one casting a look of betrayal at the monster while the other scrutinizes the scene. You try standing up, yet the monster's hands hold you back, body held up over yours -- still cornered. His face reveals nothing but conflict, an expression similar to your state of mind regarding how freely to act with him.

Jerry leaves without a word and shuts the door too slow for it to even click. Frisk does the rest of the job for him by locking it, checking it again, and saying nothing themselves as they look at you in the eye and sign, "Can we talk later, ren?"

Still in a tough position, you nod once, lacking strength or words to say anything out loud.

Sans doesn't move even as Frisk disappears into the hallway.

You see his irises falter when you look at him; his gaze isn't fully there. A few drops of sweat are present on his forehead, and you can feel his hands grow colder with each second. "...Are you okay, Sans?" you ask, voice faint. "I, um... I think the soup should be ready now."

You hope that's enough to snap him out of it, only to have that contradicted when his hold on you stays. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he mutters, huffing, "I failed you."

Sans moves back while you sit up straight; silence returns. He stands up and goes to turn off the stove, all done within more time than you would expect as he chooses to stay there a few more minutes, staring aimlessly at the kitchen's wares. You rest your hands on your knees, and you wait to see what he does next. There's not much you can do now that you were caught in a moment like that one, and there's no time to beat yourself up over it, either. All you can do's admit your blame where it best seemed fit, and that was in letting your inner voice act before you. You'd given it your strongest efforts to wait until your first year of college to date Jerry, only to then wait until you had a stabler job by your second semester to actually do anything more serious with him, and later waited six more years alone, watching as Frisk grew up in your care for most of the time, only to let your wants show through now of all times.

Excuse through excuse -- be it valid or not -- you'd restricted yourself at every moment you saw possible.

All that, and yet it still felt as if you hadn't done enough.

You wanted to be stronger.

"Frisk told me 'bout your situation," Sans says, distracting you from your thoughts. "Not whatever happened with Jerry, but the way you see monsters, and well… me, in general." He turns away from the kitchen and sits back down on the couch, looking directly at you, though for wholly different reasons than earlier ago. His hand stays over yours, more comforting than sultry. Were you to know him for any longer, you would've assumed he's holding his soul on his sleeve, yet you remind yourself he's still a stranger. "Maybe this's my habits showin' up, but if I were to judge you based on what they told me, I'd say you're labeling yourself as the bad guy." His fingers intersect with yours, squeezing your palm. "Of all the things I've gotten to learn about you, this's one of the least you should be blamin' yourself for. If anything, you're not exactly the only one responsible for all that's been happenin' right now."

Your breaths grow tighter the longer you keep listening to him. Your heart's racing again, yet it's not the same as before. The monster lets your hand go, continuing with, "I can't tell you just how different we are from each other, and how much I wish I had a fraction the amount of willpower you and your kid have." He sighs; a hint of a smile shows despite the furrow in his gaze. "You've got some things right about me, and one of 'em's havin' chosen to act too late. Being unable to be there for those I care about, more specifically." His nose cavity flares as he lets out a stifled laugh, remorse showing in spite of his best efforts not to let that happen. "I hate who I used to be, and even now, I still feel like I could've done more. I wanna try harder, but I don't have a clue on where to start with that."

Sans tries to stand up, yet fails to. He heaves out a breath as he closes his eye sockets and surrenders himself back on the couch; he rests his elbow over the armrest and lets his chin rest on his hand. After that, he looks back to your side, an apologetic gaze showing as his grin widens and his crease deepens, the way his monster anatomy worked allowing him to further display similar movements to that of a human narrowing their gaze. "Keep taking credit where it's due, (Y/N). And when you've got somethin' you want to improve, try your best to overcome it." He pauses, and the crease in his gaze lessens as he casts a fonder look at you. "Not that you ain't tryin' already. But you're still takin' up too much of the blame, and not realizing when you can be free. It doesn't have to be with me -- or anybody else, for that matter -- but try to live life a lil' more. Don't just dwell on the past and restrain yourself from stuff you want to achieve for yourself. You should live for you, just as you're tryna live for others."

He closes his eye sockets and brings a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead until he lets out a hushed sigh. Then, he opens them and straightens up on his seat, hands resting on his lap. There's a brief pause, broken when he breathes in again, saying, "...So a skeleton and a single parent walk into a bar," he takes another stop, continuing with, "One bares their skin to the bartender, earnest down to the bone," his breath hitches, yet he composes himself quickly, "the other sits back, looks into the past, and then wonders why he's feelin' so lonely."

He huffs and ends it all with a chuckle and an attempt at covering his face away from your sight. You stop him with the brush of a hand, taking his cheekbone when he turns to you. His body's shaking and a few tears escape his sockets, these he tries to wipe with his free hand, only for you to hold him back by doing that yourself. Caught in the moment, you kiss one of them away, the expectance of a salty taste proven wrong as you receive a hint of sweetness instead -- reflecting the memory of your day with him at the pâtisserie. His shoulders shake as he chokes back a sob, breaking down. His hands grab your back, bringing you in for a hug as he seeks more comfort. In that embrace, you can feel how his rib cage rises and falls at quick intervals, slowing down when you hug him back and wait until he breaks it apart.

The wait's as long as you expect it for someone in his state; the weight of his breaths diminish as he calms down and lets you go.

"Sorry about that," he comments, chuckling. "Wasn't really myself for a moment there, huh?"

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nurseofren · 3 years

Text

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 27 (NSFW)

Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Read Chapter twenty-six

Title: There is No Redemption

Words: 7.4K

Summary: Happy trail worship? Happy trail worship.

ST Rambles: Hello readers, I hope you enjoy this part. I am in my final semester for my ADN and cannot promise even monthly updates at this time. Please, please, please comment your thoughts because I don't want to produce content that is not enjoyable. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER / @elmidol

Stress enveloped your skull in throbbing pain, Karmen’s six-hour rundown stinging your senses and drawing you inward. Halfway through, you had already begun to feel the excess of information take its toll; Zag’s voice – unpleasant in small doses – grated into you, each word coming too fast and leaving too soon. Thankfully, no doubt to cover herself, she had left you with a thumb drive; it summarized everything she’d mentioned.

After the ordeal, when she left by the sharp click of her heels, you understood why it was recommended to arrive two days prior to the initial hearing: you were utterly and dreadfully exhausted. After unpacking – ensuring easy access to your favorite socks and keeping Snoke’s letter tucked into the back drawer of a desk – you had sat in bed for an hour trying to refresh with the thumb drive’s contents; you’d were determined to be prepared for tomorrow’s shift at Canto Bight’s recovery wing. If nothing else, you would not make a fool of yourself during your practice here. This you swore to yourself.

At some point you had drifted to sleep, waking to find your cheek stuck to the datapad that’d been propped up before you. The sunset woke you with a searing ray of light, screaming fuchsias and hazy purples warming your outstretched arm as they cast through open curtains. The breeze rolled off of the bay and tickled loose hair over your nape, a deep breath stretching your lungs awake before you unfurled from yourself.

The radar at your wrist indicated Kylo Ren was near but not in his quarters, probably not inside the building. It was a confusing feeling – the unsteadiness you felt when revisiting your earlier interaction, the vagueness of his words contradicted by the certainty in which they’d been delivered, but simultaneously this calm in your chest since you had left him. Although you had no idea what he’d gone on about, or what in time meant, his mere presence – the fact that he was near and would continue to be – allowed you these glimmers of peace.

Not since Starkiller. Not since Snoke. Not Mason and his baseless confidence, no matter how much you wished to latch onto it; not Talia, who had helped you back from your darkest moment. The only things that stilled you were the known proximity of your master, and the nature of the words he’d earlier spoken. You’d felt it that recent night on the Finalizer, how it lingered in your muscles just before you’d dozed off, how it seemed his presence had scared your nightmares away.

However ridiculous and backwards, Kylo Ren – the one whose pain is printed on your skin, who led a slaughter just strides away from you – had become a constant. It was never what you had expected, but when you thought of the trial now, what eased your nerves was nothing less than the raven-haired warrior whose face was slashed with midnight hues of pain.

Much like you, you’d come to realize, he had survived Starkiller, and the event changed him. Though you could not know for sure, you began to wonder if what had gone on had not only left him with the wounds that’d wet your skin, but perhaps ones that were deeper – ones that were not so visible. Something happened before that explosion, something more than whatever fight had earned him that scar.

You shook your head; this was too much to think on right now. With a throw draped over your back, you trudged through the room and out into the chill of your side-balcony. This sky held more beauty than any you’d ever seen; you watched the sun descend, spying a domed, octagonal pavilion at the far left of the side gardens. It dripped with violet-petaled ropes and emerald ivies, was supported by scalloped columns entwined with twinkling blooms welded from gold, the whole stage centered around a sunken fire pit.

Considering for a moment, you saw it would have a better view of the sunset, and you’d been cooped up since arriving. It was a quick decision, catching view of a spiral of stairs that led to the grounds, but only after noting the pair of doors a few paces left of your room’s. They were closed, and the inner curtains seemed to be shut, the room behind them dark. Empty.

No, Kylo Ren was not here, but – a thumb over your radar – he was not far. Somewhere off on his own business. Training, maybe. At least, that’s what you supposed kept you from traveling with him, the thought frustrating. Maybe – no, undoubtedly – he would never admit to it, never show it, but he was still recovering.

Ten days ago he was in a medically induced coma talking about someone named Ben and how he’s dead. Bacta works wonders, but it means nothing if a patient is noncompliant with post-operative restrictions, like swinging around a plasma sword for hours on end, or doing trial runs with the Force – which, although you knew little about, one could easily assume it put strain on the body.

Maybe you were wrong and your master was completely fine, maybe the Force aided in healing. No matter, you worried; for him, mostly, never forgetting how he appeared in that medbay, but also for yourself. It was clear that you cared for him – for fuck’s sake, when you thought you’d never see him again you wanted to tell him you loved him – and you knew his pursuits could very likely be the death of him. Stubborn as you might be to acknowledge it, so long as he was okay and not recklessly shredding through healed wounds, so long as he returned to you, you could rest somewhat soundly.

Hugging your blanket, tighter when the wind blew, you wandered down to the courtyard’s trim lawn, along the overflowing flowerbeds that brimmed with brilliant colors, until you met the few steps that led to the pavilion’s stage. Flames shocked you when you stepped onto the eight-sided base, your presence triggering a hidden system. The rectangular pit exploded into a rainbow of fire, thin veils of flames ascending elegantly into an ordered myriad. The pit was massive, consuming the base but for a few paces from each support.

Much like everything else, the pavilion was grand in size and decoration; the hearth’s hues danced along the draped flora, at least ten paces separating each gold-threaded pillar. Everything here was explicitly luxurious, so big and gorgeous. You wanted to settle into it, but it was temporary, and you would not know how fatal that fact was until it was too late.

Farther out, flames rippled over the bay; the sinking heat of the sun endeared your skin, the warmth at your back growing in distance as you gave in to the silent call of the scorching sky. First tracing the tip of one of the gold leaves woven to a pillar, admiring the detailed stems and ridges, you curled up against the column’s wide base. Head caressed by the smooth, cool stone, knees curled close to your chest, you were glamored by the water’s rhythmic sway, wondering if you would ever have the chance to feel it on your skin.

It took little effort to keep Karmen’s lecture from your thoughts, too lost to the burgundy of dusk that bloomed as the sun wilted toward the bay. A stillness surrounded you, and then you tuned into the chirping whispers of bugs that remained hidden with the fall of night. It did not bother you in the slightest, their distant songs a reminder of your life before the academy. A passing thought, fond amusement lazily humming in your chest – there are no crickets in space.

You remained folded against the pillar for some time, watching night creep over the city, more grateful for the heat on your back as warmth waned, the moon climbing higher with each lulling minute. The stone iced into your cheek. You went to leave, but your commlink buzzed at your waist, and you knew it would be wiser to keep this particular conversation outside.

Elbows to your knees, you ruffled a hand through your hair, closed your eyes, and answered Mason’s call. “How’s your day, McCarty?” There was no use in starting an argument if he had moved on from earlier.

“Probably better than yours, if I had to guess.” He sounded chipper. It was a relief.

“Well, what went on? Where’d you go? Who’d you see? What’d you eat?”

“I’ve really just been hanging out at the house since getting here. Caught a nap, which was nice. Soto sent me a transmission detailing updates on a few patients.”

He wasn’t hostile at all. Hopefully it meant he was done being weird. “I also got a nap. Which, agreed, is definitely nice. Especially after being kept in a room with Zag for six hours and trying to keep my head from exploding.”

“Six hours? With Zag? Are they trying to get you convicted of murder?”

You shared a laugh, scooting along the stone floor and peering up to the ceiling. It was tiled with mosaics, the fire’s vibrant colors reflecting off of it and shifting along the intricate designs. The view of the city was wider from this position, distant lights shimmering in windows that peered into whatever parties were undoubtedly happening.

“She isn’t that bad. It’s just her voice. And I barely have a handle on anything other than the fact that I have my first shift tomorrow, and then two days after that is the initial hearing. And I don’t even want to think about that to begin with, so…”

“Well,” he sighed your name, “I’ll be there. Bright and early, just like you. Wearing my second-best attire, saving the very best for the official trial, of course.”

“Jeez, that’s another thing, right? They fly us out here, put me up in some military-grade villa, but they give me nothing to wear, are aware that my residence just exploded on Starkiller, and then still say I can’t wear my uniform. I just find that a bit unfair. But that’s what I think, which we both know has not mattered since the very beginning of all this. I don’t even know why I expected anything different. I’ll just have to request transport to the shops or something. And then make credits appear out of thin air to pay for it.”

With notably increased enthusiasm Mason said, “Actually, I, uh, I was going through the house earlier and there’s actually a lot left over from my family’s recent trip. You’re free to come over and take some stuff back to your embassy if you want.”

“Alright, first – not my embassy, and if we’re calling it anything, I vote palace. Seriously—” you stared at a trellis that overflowed with wild blooms of every shade of red, the dead, fallen petals mocking you in the familiar way they pooled beneath. “—this place is too beautiful for any of the old businessmen who stay here. It’s actually ridiculous.”

“So it’s not homey, after all?”

A bellowing laugh came from the center of your chest, echoing up to the domed roof and into the growing dark. “No. No. Not homey. Not quaint. None of that. Just giant and spectacular.”

“Well, whatever it is, do you want to come over and grab some clothes?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. That’s a lot better than spending credits I don’t have. Although maybe I’m worrying for nothing? Don’t they forgive your debt when you die, anyway?”

Mason did not laugh, did not even speak, and your amusement fell into alarm. An edge menaced along each pointed word when he spoke; “Maybe they’ll forgive your debt, but I won’t forgive you for dying.” He grunted in rejection. “You’re not dying, so I don’t know why we’re discussing this.”

Silence swallowed you both, and for a moment you could hear him trembling, hear the shakiness of his breath. A sharp exhale startled your hand from your ear. And then it was quiet again. He cleared his throat, and you noticed how thick it had become. Was he crying?

“Mason, you need to tell me what’s going on. And don’t say-,”

“Nothing is going on. It’s fine. We’re fine.”

“Funny, because when you say that, when you tell me we’re fine when I didn’t ask, it makes me think the exact opposite.”

He sighed, but at this point there was a good chance it was more exasperation or fuming than anything else. “I’m not having this conversation when I can’t see you.”

“Well, I’ll just turn my transmission on and we can-,”

“No.” Clipped, barked. Final.

It concaved your chest. Mason had never spoken to you like this. Your teeth scraped at your bottom lip. “Should I be worried?”

He paused. “No,” as it gritted through his teeth, your name was contoured with wisps of ire. An ounce less of restraint and whatever he was holding back would crack this hardened, taut façade.

The worst came to mind. All you could manage was a terrified whisper, “Are you revoking your seat to testify? Is that what this is about? Am I about – fuck – am I about to- I can’t lose you. I can’t-,”

“I told you. I told you I will be there.” Frosted fury swept through his following pause. His flat tone was laced with quiet hurt when he next said, “Do you really think I could do that to you? Leave you in the dust like that?”

“No. I guess not.”

“You guess not,” he thought aloud, a long drag of breath crackling into your ear. “I’m glad that you’re settled in, and… good luck during your shift tomorrow. You don’t need it, I know, but nonetheless.”

He was dismissing you. You hated it. “I’m not hanging up until I know we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” he said simply, too fast. Mason cleared his throat. “Request transport for the morning after your shift. You can shop around the closets and after, we can order lunch and… and we can talk. About things. Everything.”

It was apparent he would not give anything more away, but you knew from his flat tone that whatever it was, was detrimental to him. Or you. Or both.

“Yeah. I’ll put in the request after shift tomorrow.”

Another long, aching silence. You listened to his breath, trying and failing at ignoring the knives in it. The line remained silent, the hanging static a backdrop to the hidden, harmless creatures humming in the night.

“I love you, Mason,” you prompted, teeth catching your trembling lips, time choking you with every halved second that trudged along.

It killed you, every inhale adding to the weight in your chest, every empty, wordless moment he spent cutting into you with a silent blade.

Another second and you turned back to the heightening tide of the bay, the clear night sky dying it a deep navy. Even as you tried to focus on the waves that foamed along the distant shore, there was no sound louder than Mason’s nonresponse.

“Goodnight,” Mason said, small, far enough away that it splintered through your heart like ice wedged through rock.

“Good-,” the line went dead, the static dying, a night-kissed wave crashing in your periphery, “-night.”

The iridescent veils of hearth rippled before you now, turning away from the seemingly infinite expanse of water. Even so, you shivered, and you were sure it had nothing to do with the weather. Tucking your commlink into your waist pocket, loosing a long-kept breath, you stood from the stone and clasped your blanket over your shoulders. With a final glance, chin to your shoulder, you appreciated the beauty of your first night here.

Whatever awaited you tomorrow, the next day, and in the weeks to come? It would remain. For now, just this one moment alone, you could pretend that everything was okay. Just for a moment.

A soft touch brushed your shoulder, but when you turned to meet whoever it belonged to, you found there was no one around. But a light caught your eye, one that had not been there before. Maybe that interruption to the dark captured your attention, but not at all was it what kept your gaze above the gardens.

Through the clear night, a breeze danced through the flora, glittering scarlet petals into the shadows. Above those dwindling rubies, leaning over the balcony’s curve, was Kylo Ren. Behind him, the golden light of his quarters caressed his back, small fragments draping over the sharp, toned muscles of his shoulders. He was staring down to you, his gaze laving along your figure, eyes those of a predator aware their prey was no match for them. The ever-heightening moon was all that lit his front, but it was enough. No, so much more than enough. Entrancing. Captivating. Beguiling.

Light cascaded along the taut strength of Kylo’s abdomen, his broad, thick chest emanating with the smooth white of the dusk’s sun. Once more, like it always did, the scar skating through his features kept your attention. From a distance it was less intrusive, but its presence sank your heart like the sun had wandered into the sea.

A whip of night air pushed his hair back to tease his ears, his head slightly cocking to the side when you found his eyes again. There was no color to them, none that you could see so far away, but you felt their heat slink along your lips, then your neck, over your chest, and lower still. When they claimed yours once more, they were sculpted with steadfast steel, strong and slithering, ordering your compliance to the smoking promises beyond.

Without noticing, that chill from earlier had left you, and you gathered the blanket so it hung from your forearm. Kylo held you with his eyes, the fire’s warmth falling away when you stepped off the platform and wandered, in leisure, down the steps and into the plush lawn. A dew was readying to form on the grass beneath your bare feet, the coolness welcome under his blazing attention. One step, two, another, and a final; small, shuffling, like you were hypnotized – truthfully, you could have been, but there was none but your own intent in the steps that carried you closer to him.

Only when he straightened to his full height, standing away from the balcony’s edge, did you halt your advance. He paused there, watching you, so gracefully still you were unsure of his breathing. From his new position you could no longer see his hands, but – you could feel them. A pressure along your cheek, your heart stammering at how its span so completely matched his own, and then around your throat, dizzying when it teased your carotids. Breath shivered from your slack mouth, catching when that – his – ghosted touch skimmed down your sternum and pushed into your rib cage.

Kylo made no sound, but when the night’s quiet scattered around your faint, gasped moan – feeling the whispered hands smooth over your hips, around the front of your thighs – you saw his jaw flutter, darkness and moonlight tangling when he gave you one final glance. The phantom touch left, a feline smirk flickered along his lips, and when his brows descended and veiled those deep, deep eyes, Kylo turned and sauntered out of sight.

But you understood his message, the silent one that only his body spoke, and you knew that his leaving was not goodnight, but an invitation. One you fully intended on accepting.

The trees swayed above you, the beds of perfectly spaced flowers blowing with the gentle breeze and combining with the sea behind to fill your head with the salty, fresh aroma of a Canto Bight night. Each step you took along the patterned grass shimmered anticipation through your veins, heady, wanton thoughts brimming in your mind.

The cold stone that marked the ground level’s patio shocked through you, wet crimson petals that had pooled below the trellis now clinging to the soles of your feet. You did not have time, or at least were desperate to not waste any, to pluck them off, allowing them to travel with you as you led them up the curved staircase. As you climbed the steps, you stole a fleeting glimpse of the bay; from this height the city’s nightlife sheened along the shore, a few private ships zooming above the skyline and carrying their passengers to events unknown to you.

Events that you could not have cared less about, not when you arrived to the second-level balcony, not when you saw the swaying curtain beyond Kylo Ren’s open, waiting door. No, those events meant nil, exceedingly so when you found the beginnings of a trail leading into his room, the first crumb that of pooled, discarded athletic pants.

Instant, overwhelming chills clamored about your skull, the blanket draped over your arm joining the black bottoms when your limbs went wobbly. Through the wind-swept gossamer you spied the second addition – one long, impossibly large, black sock – and when you came closer, the cool of night waning as you met the threshold, your heart thrummed louder at the nearing shaft of light that fled the refresher’s entrance.

Heated tiles warmed your first steps into Kylo’s room, the coquettish curtain kissing the tip of your nose before the door at your back locked shut in near silence. You brushed past the veil of fabric and took in your surroundings, quite different from what they were earlier. The golden rays of morning had since been overridden by soft panes of night, only the moon reflecting onto the light tile, not a single star to join it. The bed’s canopy remained shut, its thin sheets cascading around the bed so there was ample space to walk within its soft confines. And from that canopy, from the circular track above, bloomed delicate, mild light; it melted midway down the canopy, fading to nothing before it breeched the polished ivory below.

Another step and you noticed the trail of scarlet, dew-drop-covered petals you were leaving in your wake. On the step up from the bed’s level lay a second sock, so you padded to it, and tuned into the sound of heavy, rushing water that became louder as you delved further into the dimly lit room. This level was dark save for the glow of the open refresher; you followed that light like a lost vessel in space, hands trembling as you passed through the sitting area with soundless strides. Finally, as you’d calculated at the earlier bareness of his chest, you found the piece of clothing that signaled your final destination lying at your feet.

Atop the refresher’s threshold lay a pair of black boxer-briefs – unfolded, just as they’d appear fresh off the heated, muscled body from which they’d come. A smile played at your lips, remembering how the pair he’d so generously provided you the morning after you’d first slept next to him had hugged your hips with subtle compression. Those, unfortunately, were undoubtedly obliterated with everything else that had exploded with Starkiller.

Kylo Ren was nowhere within view, but running water tucked behind a corner to your left, and when steam swirled around an inlet that bordered a sleek, unbroken wall of ash-grey tile, your lungs lit with need, with want, your thoughts only focused on the body and man that waited for you just beyond view, just out of reach. Suddenly you became aware of how overdressed you were, so you turned to your right and found a mirror that ruled its own wall and plucked open the top button of your uniform.

The fogged silver expanse provided a blurred, softened outline of your near-bare body, scalding goosebumps scraping up your neck at the thought of Kylo’s slicked, dripping body. Hands hooked behind your back, you loosed your bra and smoothed the straps down the sides of your arms. And then all that covered you were the lack-luster panties the Finalizer had provided all those months ago, but they soon joined the small pile at your feet, leaving you naked and anticipatory and adamant.

Plopping your watch onto your clothes, you squared your shoulders, fixed your posture, and approached the heat of the hidden shower. Its warm embrace evoked such a calm through you, first loosening your shoulders, then steadying your breath.

Beyond the smoke hued barrier was a chamber of luxury, the water cascading from above like it came from an invisible storm cloud; its volume suggested a harsh pressure, but, stepping beneath the jets that seemed to span the entire stall, your skin was graced with the pleasant fall of a spring shower. Looking up, blinking through the misted warmth, you found the navy night sky peering down at you through the clear glass ceiling.

All light but that of the moon left the stall, and when your attention shifted down, you saw him through the sheets of water that kept you apart. The air was thick with fog and mist and night, but he remained the most devastatingly gorgeous person you’d ever seen, ever known. You needed him to be closer, you needed to be closer to him. No matter if you’d been with him those few nights ago, and though you’d spoken just hours ago, there was a tautness that tightened as your steps brought you to him.

Arms at his sides, stance strong and confident, Kylo Ren was a stride away from you, and you stopped. Inky black hair dripped down his neck, and his mouth was set in a flat, unreadable line, but all you could think of was how it felt you were seeing him for the first time all over again. He was different now, body scarred and worn from the passing of time. You did not stare at the red and black that had only been there for such a short time now. You appreciated it.

Kylo observed you, and a measure after your gaze followed the ebony ribbon rested in his countenance, you lifted a hand to it. He tensed and you caught his eyes, giving him a small nod before the very tip of your fourth finger kissed the start of his scar. You watched him, vaguely aware of your hand slipping along the marked path through his brow and down his cheek. Breath pushed from him in eased waves, his eyes danced between yours, and when you reached the line of his jaw and tapped your finger to the raised, pinking skin there, you closed your eyes and leaned up on your toes so you could press an aching kiss to it.

That tenseness that’d clanged into him at your touch was instantly gone, the heated streams above not a match to the stifling relief that fogged from his nares. So near to him, a second hand pushing through wetted, onyx locks, you remembered how he’d stared up at you on the Command Shuttle, how unreadable his expression was when his new scars had still been fresh wounds.

Your touch found the tail end of his healing flesh, and you swallowed down a thick, betraying sob. “Why did you believe me?” you whispered, not looking up to him. “When I told you I hated you and I wanted to quit. When I said,” you winced, “when I called you a bastard and said I wished I could forget you. Why didn’t you fight it longer?”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, body still but not reluctant to the steady meandering of your fingers. Something haunted him when he said, “Irredeemable bastard, if you’ve forgotten.”

“No,” your throat bobbed, “I haven’t. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day. Any, any part of it.” Looking up at him, you smoothed your hand over the scar settled into his shoulder. “After that morning, after everything, why did you believe me?”

“You were saying goodbye,” he murmured, like he’d mulled over that day time and time again and never considered the possibility. “Before Takodana. You knew. He’d gotten to you by then.” A note of betrayal sharpened his tongue, a snarl lighting when he referred to Snoke.

The hand that wasn’t tracing circles along his scarred muscles now toyed with his ear, the tip of your index finger molding to the curved pinnae. “Kylo,” just a breath, nearly drowned by the water ricocheting at your feet, “answer me. Please.”

Smooth, low, he began, “Because who could-,” he swallowed, considering you before starting over, “Because I’ve never known anyone who didn’t hate me. And I’ve always been a bastard. So when you said those things, after that morning, after you’d ran through Starkiller to tell me and kept saying them…”

Memories fluttered behind his eyes, and as their burning brown centered glittered against the navy night, you lifted your hand so you could hold his face, hold it like a parent would caress their child’s tear-sodden cheek. Kylo blinked back to you and you comforted the purpled skin beneath his eye.

He did not want to voice the answers you sought, but you watched as, piece by piece, you dented one of those walls he’d erected in that time-stained interrogation room. Perhaps it was a hopeful thought, but you swore you felt him ease into your hand.

“I stopped fighting because only a fool counters the truth of his life.” Kylo’s throat bobbed, his deep, shadowed gaze swallowing you whole. He caught your hand and led it flat along his broad chest, and then to the panes of his abdomen, placing it over the bruised, raised flesh of the scar you’d yet to explore. “I believed you because there was no reason to doubt you.”

The showering heat from above shielded that which was blurring your vision. He believed you because he believed those things of himself. After seeing him wear so many masks, physical or phantom, you saw it in his eyes that he still thought those things and had for his entire life.

And then it made sense, and the realization dragged jagged, thorn-wrapped talons through your heart. You whispered through the water, wondering if you were speaking only for yourself when you said, “That’s why you didn’t look inside my head. You didn’t think it would show you anything different. You didn’t think I could ever feel differently.”

You ran your thumb along the uneven ridge of the scar forming over his side and tucked your other arm around his waist. With the force that kept moons anchored to their planets, you pulled him in and nestled into the notch of his breastbone.

Through your teeth, “You are not a bastard. Or irredeemable,” your fingers dipped to the center of the healing tissue, “I’ve learned that we make the choices we think are best, and if that’s true, if I believe it? What do either of us have to be redeemed for?”

Kylo said your name, clear as the night that loomed overhead, and a patient finger tipped your chin up. “Nothing. Because there is no redemption for those who do not want it.”

Intensity hardened his face, and once more you felt that sense of equality between him and you. Long fingers smoothed into your drenched hair, and you found a prompt in his brow. Sighing, lungs stuttering, you asked, “What, then, if not redemption?”

The hand that he’d set over yours shifted to your hip, thick fingers prodding at your flesh. Kylo’s touch left your chin and the pad of his thumb rolled over the faint scar that cut into your hairline, a twinge of pain lighting at the memory of its origin; it had healed days ago, but you would never forget the sound of it cracking open when Robbie knocked your skull against the durasteel door.

Kylo stopped musing when he heard you wince, his eyes meeting yours in a stark, unwavering gaze. He smoothed over the blight a final time and proceeded to skate his fingers along your jaw, his thumb coming to rest over your bottom lip. Similar to this morning, yet colder and with a quiet fury breathing beyond his eyes, he looked at you with solidarity.

Calm, sure, adamant, Kylo said, “Retribution.”

A moment to process was spent in his gaze, studying how unbreakable it was, swimming in the shadowed hazel that poured into you. Kylo’s eyes flicked to your lips, and before he could look away, you leaned up so you could reach his own. The swirled hair at his nape slithered through your fingers when you swept you hand from his abdomen and up his torso. Massive, enveloping hands trailed praise along your body until they were mirrored under your breasts.

Exploring his skin, your fingers took residence over the small of his back, digging red trails along the slick surface. You moaned into Kylo’s mouth when a capable hand claimed your supple chest and kneaded into you. He growled in response, a predatory sound that rippled through your nerves and tightened deep, deep in your belly. The pliant pads of his thumbs circled your nipples, the very tips of his nails flicking upward before he added his forefingers and pinched the sensitive peaks to his will.

Kylo mouthed the hinge of your jaw, the bridge of his nose slipping along the bone until you surrendered your neck to him. He hummed against your artery, sucking away the beaded moisture that’d collected for the past few minutes – or had it been hours? Time evaded you further when the schemes of his tongue at your throat delved deeper, revealed themselves further when he laved at your clavicle, shifting between kissing and biting and marking as he made his way to your breastbone.

His muscled back flexed as your fingers routed to his front, dipping low until you found the haze of soft, wet hair that grew from his pelvis. Kylo continued his endeavors and pulled you in by the curve of your back so he could bare your chest to him and run his nose under the base of your breast. His need for your body was evident in the way he bent you to his will, cradling your back so he could have you, but also permitting a sense of safety in the relentless strength that flowed from his forearms through to your marrow.

Near limp in his hold, you tread your fingers down his pelvis and savored the feel of that patch of hair, feeling his pulse beat beneath it, reveling how water collected and fled in such a slow, teasing manner. His chest was to yours, so you felt, rather than heard, the pleasure vibrate from him, deepening when you grazed the very foundations of his hardening shaft. He breathed into your skin, mouthing at your breast and sucking painful paths as he went. The heat of his mouth melded around your nipple, and he bit, and even when you winced and writhed with satisfied hurt, Kylo kept on; not until you were sure he’d drawn blood did his teeth – their unique ridges now throbbing into your breast – leave you, replaced by the salve of his plush, scorching lips. The body of his tongue was structured with adamant, laving over your pebbled peak until poems of pleasure groaned from the depths of your chest.

He leaned you back up and shifted his attention to the remaining half of your body, but you needed him just as much, and you wanted to litter his body with the same pleasure he’d given yours. So, snaking your hands to his jaw, you kissed the hinge opposite to his scar and pecked harder and longer, sucking at his skin like the blood that bruised would grant you eternal life. Falling to your knees in a steady, unrushed descent, you kissed every inch of his abdomen, every bump and ripple of skin that was present around the mending injury. With eyes peering up, hands cherishing the fronts of his thighs, you tongued the scarred tissue and watched him shutter with ecstasy, eyes half-lolling, mouth slackening for a second before he swallowed down whatever satisfaction would have left him.

You teethed at the soft, raised skin, watching him, content when a guiding hand pet down your slick hair. Shifting to his middle, you hummed from one hip bone to the next, feeling the tickle of hair that fled from his naval and dispersed in an even, thick layer of black atop his pubis. Hunger ravaged your throat and you nuzzled into the soft bed of obsidian hair. A kiss to it, then a nip, and then the tip of your nose swirled around the dark patch, his cock twitching at the side of your face.

Anchoring your eyes to his yet again, you dragged the flat of your tongue through the maintained, drenched hair and pushed both your hands along his inner thighs. The muscles beneath your touch sang, streamed just as fluidly as the droplets that were trickling down your spine. Pulling away from him, you faced his cock and observed how it bobbed with your eyes on it, watched it strain for friction when your hands teased both sides of his base, sifting through the dark curls beneath.

The moonlight painted his shaft with subtle, breathtaking contours – a shadow cast under the spongey ridge of his head, light glinting off the misted moisture that’d caught on his flushed shaft. Each prominent vein cast a winding whisper of darkness just a measure from the next. It hypnotized you, the way they overlapped and crossed at points, bulging out from his cock and shifting with each throbbing pulse of blood that clamored through him.

Curious fingers flitted along the heavy, hot column of flesh, tapping it and listening to the thickening breath from the man watching you through ravenous eyes. A smirk curved your mouth, and you peppered a light, whispered kiss to his slit, pushing his cockhead just so it met your teeth, and leading your lips away so the teasing burned through him. You pulled a hand away from his leg and sat back on your calves, taking a breast into it and kneading as he had before, plucking your nipple through each space between your fingers.

“A teasing little whore tonight,” he purred, voice thick.

You hummed, pleased you were getting to him. “I’m your little nurse, remember?” The tip of your tongue teased circles into his frenulum. “And you are my master. Isn’t that right? Master Ren?” Fuck, the title even got to you, cunt fluttering with the hope to be overflowing with him.

“Good girl, teasing whore, nasty slut? Little nurse? You have so many names now.”

“And all of them belong to you.”

You teased his tip and finally laved a flat tongue on the underside of his shaft, flicking it side to side and gripping into his structured, rippling thighs. Something animal, completely primal, roared in his throat, and sooner than you knew, Kylo Ren had joined you on your knees, the weight of his cock slicking down your middle and slapping up to your slit when inertia bounced through it.

A masterful tongue slipped into your mouth and licked your hard pallet, next dropping down and pushing against the side of your own tongue. A muffled moan – one that you were unsure was his or yours or both – clouded through the shower’s downfall. But then a throat-thick huff, aggressive and impatient, gnarled through the air and you were spun on your knees so your back was flush with his chest.

“Yes,” he rumbled, “they do all belong to me.” A possessive hand pushed you into him with might, taking residence in the valley of your breasts. “Your names, your body. Everything.” His hips canted, and the tip of his cock knocked against your clit, fire billowing in your belly, quicker and deeper now.

“Everything,” you echoed, finding his free hand and guiding it so it lay over the permanence etched into your thigh. “I’m- everything. It’s yours. I am yours.”

Unrelenting digits bruised more marks around the one he’d made prior, and when you felt his cock fall in line with your entrance, you thrust into him as he did the same, and you took all of him, at once, in one, fluid, aching motion. An unabashed cry echoed euphoria throughout the moonlit stall. Before you could fully recover from the first thrust, his hand – the free hand that didn’t remain under your own, clutched to your thigh – dipped into your folds and that blooming fire from earlier mushroomed at the graze of his thick digits against the buzzing nerves.

Thrust after thrust after thrust, fucking into you and filling you to the brim and then some each time, knocking the air from your lungs and burgeoning those sweet spots within with each paced, violent pass. All of that pressure combined with the winding circles and strokes he racked your clit with, you felt the breath of climax rise first in your chest, and then upward into your throat.

Kylo was panting by your ear, sucking the skin behind, clutching you to him so it became uncertain where his body ended and yours began. You hooked your arm above your head and clutched at his drenched tresses, flailing for a better grip and settling on clasping your hand onto the back of his neck.

“I feel you,” he groaned.

“Feel me,” you huffed.

“I know you.”

“know me.”

“You’re mine,” your name was laden with yearning claim, lilting from his tongue so it caressed your mind, body, and soul all in one fell swoop.

“Yours,” you heaved, “all, yours.”

You came. Simple. Body swimming in the schemes his fingers and cock and tongue and voice forced into you until it became too much. A few thrusts more and his pace faltered, cum spurting against your walls and dripping out of you as more and more left him. Full lips pressed fleeting, lulling praise into your nape, your shoulder, until he angled your head to his and branded his lips to yours.

Spent, emotionally and physically, you fell into him and enjoyed the image of his legs framing your own. But then your eyes lolled shut and you simply breathed, settling into this moment as best you could, and tried to memorize the tide of his chest slicking against your back.

Barely aware in the vague, misty stall, you only realized that Kylo had begun cleaning you when he guided you back to your feet to rinse you free of soap. Even then you just leaned into his chest and let the jets spray silken streams down your skin. And then you were wrapped in a heated towel and cradled in his arms, leaving the steamy refresher and coming into the gentle atmosphere within the golden gossamer canopy.

With less than a word, maybe a breath, the light from above waned to nothingness, and the room was black save for the glinting eyes that studied your own. The towel discarded to the floor, you now lay beneath the thick comforter and linen sheets of Kylo Ren’s bed. Both naked, you huddled together in the center of the expansive mattress, legs wrapped together in an impossible knot, each breathing in the other’s warmth.

Ease trickled into your muscles, and you shifted so your forehead could rest in the heat of his chest.

“What changed? From the other night?” you yawned. “What convinced you? About Snoke.”

He was tired, too, you knew, the hand tucking you into him tracing lazy, distracting circles into your back to keep him from sleep. “Perspective, really. Seeing things clearly for the first time in… Seeing things clearly.”

For now, fatigue caressing you, that was an answer you could accept. He’d given you more of his mind tonight than ever before, and you did not care to mar that fact with a half-wit interrogation. Perhaps you would listen to him this time, given how little you potentially had left, and do as he’d said this morning.

Trust me first.

It was sound advice, and not worth questioning on the eve of your first shift on Canto Bight. So you nuzzled into him and giggled when the tip of your nose nudged that black healing ribbon over his collar bone.

“I like your scars,” you hummed.

You could not be certain, sleep plunging you into its riptide, but just before it pulled you under, you swore you heard the fatigued rumble of Kylo Ren’s voice whisper, “I like yours too.”

#keeping your promise #st kyp #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren smut #angst #fluff #ao3 #wattpad

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