#plain and sweet and feral sons

[hellolulu]

I'm so glad ???'s voice is just the exact same voice. No vocal changers or anything, just literally Shigeo's voice. I love that. I was a little interested in how they'd portray him, I admit it!

#anyway hope you all enjoyed meeting the third kageyama sibling #I love my sons #my three sons #love them #plain and sweet and feral sons #mp100 spoilers #mp100 #mob psycho 100

[bradshawsbitch]

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: nick goose bradshaw x reader

nick has been away from home for a while, and receives a very warm welcome home from you.

warnings; smut 18+ only, afab!reader, dry sex, cum play, silly goose (i love him), tit worship

word count; 1.8K

disclaimer; I heard the sentence 'I'd be happy to find a girl and talk dirty to her' and went (absolutely feral) with it!

tagging for funsies; @fandomxpreferences @jupitercomet @roosterforme @roleycoleyreccenter

Soft, warm sunlight flitted in through opened windows. The rustic kitchen was bathed in an orange glow, as you moved across wooden floors. The long day had finally started to fade to evening, and the cooler air felt welcome on your skin.

It had been an unusually hot day, and your body was only covered by a plain black, ribbed leotard. You knew it was your boyfriend's favorite, in part because ‘it shows off the girls, honey!’ and in part because ‘your hips and thighs in those high cuts makes a man want to do sinful things’. Goose’s words, verbatim.  

Sighing sadly, the longing seemed to be reverberating deep within your bones. Nick had only been away for a couple of days for some stint with Mav, but God you missed him already. You knew he wouldn’t have access to a phone, and he’d been unsure of when he’d been able to come home to you.

So you spent the days trying to keep occupied, helping the sweet old lady next door with her gardening and keeping her company for a cup of coffee as she told you scandalously about the other old woman down the street. Her son had been caught for tax fraud, apparently. 

After assuring her Nick paid all his taxes, and promising to spread the gossip along to your boyfriend (he had unfortunately become old Mrs. Baxter’s favorite gossip partner after he had whole-heartedly engaged in a 30 minute conversation, being just the right amount of outraged, according to Mrs. Baxter), you had headed home with a smile on your face. Which was how you found yourself getting some chores done, washing up the dishes you’d left since yesterday, de-cluttering and vacuuming (which was when you rid yourself of your jean shorts).

A glass of water in hand, you heaved a deep sigh as you glanced through the open window, the curtains fluttering slightly with the breeze. Distantly, you could hear a car approaching, not thinking much of it until you heard it come to a stop, and the distinct sound of a door slamming shut. You barely had time to put your glass down before you heard Nick’s tell-tale happy-noise, something that had bewildered you at first, but now only warmed your heart and put a big grin on your face.

“Goose!” you’d run towards the front door, and sure enough, the vision of your tall, hawaiian shirt clad man stood before you.

“Aw, fuck, honey!” Nick’s beautiful brown eyes looked almost pained as they roamed over your body. “You know what this does to a man,” a giggle fell from your lips as Goose unceremoniously dropped his duffle bag to his feet before moving over to you - that small mischievous smirk you loved so much adorning his lips. His knuckles trailed down your bare arm as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Mm, what does it do, Nicky?” another weakness of his. He’d told you in his sternest voice that this weakness was strictly classified Honey knowledge only. A soft groan left Goose at your soft tone, eyes playful as you leaned into his touch.

“Honeyy,” there was definitely a whine in there somewhere “it drives a man insane!” he grinned as he drew another soft giggle from you, the hand that was not trailing up and down your arm now coming to grab at your waist, large palm splayed over the fabric. Leaning up, you couldn’t resist claiming his lips with yours, having longed to feel them pressed against yours for too long. 

“Missed you, Nicky,” your breathless whine had Goose tightening his hold on you, arms winding around your midsection to keep you pressed to his chest as his lips strayed from your lips to your jawline, leaving a trail down to your clavicle. 

“Hi, girls,” the relieved tone as Nick palmed at your tits had you balking before you swiftly landed a soft slap to his shoulder “Goose!” he chuckled but didn’t stop his ministrations, kneading the soft flesh and sporadically pinching your nipples through the thin fabric. Letting your head tip back, a soft moan flew past parted lips.

“I could tell they missed me, honey… had to check up on ‘em,” Nick murmured teasingly against your neck. For a moment, you thought a scoff might make its appearance from you, but Goose chose that moment to latch on to the soft and sensitive flesh below your ear, right as he rolled your nipple between skilled fingers - which turned the scoff into a loud and needy moan instead. 

“Atta honey.. so good for me,” hushed voice, husky in your ear had your eyelids fluttering shut as Goose started leading you towards the sofa. He stalled for a moment, letting brown eyes search yours, a thoughtful look upon his features before he decided “Honey, I’m gonna disconnect the phone.” laughter rang out in the glowing red light of your living room, and Goose smirked as he made his way towards your phone. 

 The swiftness with which your boyfriend lost his jeans and button-up on his way back to you was astounding, only leaving your touch for a moment or two before his arms embraced you again. Turning the two of you, he nudged a knee in between your thighs to spread them before he sat down, bringing you with him to straddle his lap.

Goose was now only clad in a loose fitting pair of boxers, which you noticed were already tenting. As he slowly grabbed your hips and fully lowered you onto his lap, you gasped softly at the feel of his hard length against your core - arousal flooding your very being from the way he held you. Rolling your hips experimentally resulted in a low groan from your boyfriend, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

Labored and shallow breathing echoed through the otherwise silent house, Goose’s hands now guiding and grinding you down on his now rock hard cock. Your hands gripped at broad shoulders, forehead falling down to rest against Nicks, lips chasing his as they met in an open mouthed frenzy.

“Nicky!” you whimpered out as the head of his cock strained against his boxers, hard against the opening of your clothed core, where he ground hard trying to seek the pleasure of your welcoming heat.

“S’okay honey, Nicky’s got you babe, I’m here,” his voice was strained from the way your cunt tried in vain to clench around him, his tip just reaching deep enough to feel your attempts at getting him deeper despite the barrier of your clothes. Bringing his arms around your back, he guided your head to his shoulder, his lips pressing into your hot skin as his palm splayed over your lower back and ass. Rutting up into you, he pressed you down at the same time as his grip on your hip guided you against his length. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’” his moan caressed your skin, the thickness of his length now adding delicious pressure to your clit. Glancing between your bodies, you saw the bulge of his tip in his boxers, and the wet patch that had spread across it. A loud, needy moan fell from you, and you were grasping at Goose’s neck now, desperately needing to feel him closer.

“Need you, Goose– please, need you,” whimpering, you ground more desperately into him now, hips rolling down hard to feel more of him. 

“Shh, honey, we ain’t in a rush,” strong hands stilled your hips, gently detaching you from where you sat leaned on his chest. Soft lips pressed against yours, and you needily tried to deepen it, nipping at his lower lip, desperate to feel his tongue on you. 

“Baby…” his tone was warning, but his touch soft as he splayed one hand on your sternum, the other guiding your arms away from his neck. He guided your hands so they were grasping behind you at his knees, his palm pressing your chest away from him. 

“Fuck, honey…” Goose groaned low in his throat, the sound emitting a whimper from you, brows knitted together as you hesitantly tried canting your hips in your new position. “That’s it honey, fuck yourself on my cock, needy little thing,” you knew Nick liked talking dirty, but this had your mouth falling open, head falling backwards as you kept your pace - again and again dragging your cunt along Goose’s length. 

Reaching down, Nick grabbed at his clothed cock, guiding it to put pressure on your clit before slipping it towards your entrance, bucking slightly as he found it. The knuckle of his thumb dragged against your clit as he rubbed his straining head as far as it could go into you, desperate and high pitched moans leaving you as he started moving his thumb slightly. 

“Please, Nicky!” Goose only groaned, using his forefinger to slip the wet material of your body to the side, fucking his cock just a little deeper into your sensitive hole. Brown eyes had been transfixed on your cunt, but now roamed your body on display for him, landing on your heaving chest, eliciting another deep moan from your lover. 

Reaching up, he swiftly yanked the straps down to free your breasts, hands and mouth latching on to them as you continued rocking against him. Warm tongue and rough mustache created an overwhelming sensation as Nick suckled at your nipple, palming roughly at your other breast. 

“O-oh, Nick - I’m–” your orgasm built fast, and had snuck up on you as Goose loved your body. 

“Give it to me, baby, let me have it,” Goose grunted against your tits, and it was all the encouragement you needed as you cried out, hips rutting faster to get you there. 

“Oh, I’m gonna cum so hard on your cock, Nicky” you knew your boyfriend liked it when you talked dirty back to him, and the moan he released at your words was enough to send you hurtling over the edge, a blinding orgasm having you mindlessly moaning, thighs quivering on either side of your boyfriends’, only vaguely aware of Nick’s hands palming hard at your tits. 

Harsh breaths and grunts met your ears as you came down slightly from your high, and looking down between your bodies, Nick’s straining cock appeared and disappeared between your folds as Goose fucked into you. Moaning softly at the sight, you let your hands leave their place to tangle into the short hair at the nape of your boyfriend's neck as you whimpered “Coat me with your cum, Goose,”. Whilst you weren’t as well versed in dirty talk as your boyfriend it seemed to work as Goose came hard with a long moan, his white spend spreading and leaking out of his boxers and on to your swollen clit. 

 Lazily, he rutted his hips, spreading his cum over your pussy, drawing soft moans from you as his lips found yours in soft kisses. Chests heaving, you let your fingers card through his blonde hair, as warmth filled your chest.

“Welcome home, stud,” Goose smiled against your lips as he held you close to his chest again. 

“And what a welcome it was, honey!”

#nick bradshaw x reader #nick goose bradshaw x reader #nick bradshaw smut #nick bradshaw x you #nick bradshaw imagine #my writing #smut

[novelsnovelsnovels]

Chapter 1

Home Sweet Home

“Ow, son of a -”

The sudden jolt of the coach car sent Luric's head in collision with the cold, hard window frame, the sharp flash of pain on the left side of his skull making him forget the nightmare he had been having moments earlier. He rubbed his concussed skin through his disheveled, thick locks while a low hiss escaped his lips. Still a little drowsy, he slowly became aware of the violent way the wagon was now wobbling; a sure sign that the train had left the even plains of the Anlalize province and was now chugging down the old, worn out tracks of the north-western highlands. Home sweet home, he thought sourly while looking at the dreary landscape.

Luric had been eagerly waiting for a chance to be sent back here for years- the Institute choosing him over his more experienced colleagues due to his familiarity with the region- but his excitement had subsided quite a bit over the course of the long journey. He dimly recalled the dreadful dream filled with angry, accusing faces and then the brutal way he had been awoken from it, his mood darkening further. But then he also remembered why he had dreamed of the angry, accusing faces, who they were angry with and the reason behind their accusations, and he felt his zeal to see this endeavor through successfully return. No, he would not allow anything to spoil this for him.

“Your face is unpleasant.”

Including her.

Sitting on the bench opposite of him, posture stiff and expression stern, was his companion. Her presence on this trip had been compulsory. Or so his boss had insisted when he protested. He had still tried to change his mind until the last moment.

“I know quite a few women who would strongly disagree with you on that.” He shot her his most feral smirk, wondering if he should let a little bit of fang peak between his lips to add to her discomfort.

“That's not what I meant,” she said rigidly. “Can't you feel it?”

He looked at her confused, but then took notice of how her eyes were wide with alertness, shoulders raised with tension, how her hands that were nestled in her lap had balled into tight fists. She tried to hide it, but her entire body was poised for either fight or flight, and he tried to suss out what had triggered this reaction. There was no immediate danger he could sense and right now it was him she was staring at intently.

That made him pause.

Him?

He turned back to the window, but this time instead of looking through the glass out into their surroundings he focused on the faint, transparent reflection of his face, and he finally understood what she meant.

Whether it had been the nightmare or him hitting his head or both combined, he didn't know, but something had triggered his fight or flight response and for him that meant something else entirely. Forget a little bit of fang- he had brought out both rows of white, razor sharp teeth, his canines gleaming menacingly as his jaw dropped a bit. How had he not felt them when he spoke just now? His eyes had bulged too, pupils unnaturally dilated and irises now a just a thin ridge of bright yellow. Even his ears had turned a little pointy. Unpleasant, indeed.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled in her direction, and then focused on retracting his monstrous features.

It wasn't hard; not much of the beast had seeped through. There was only a sliver of agitated force vibrating around his skin, a feeling he had become so used to that it was no surprise it could move past his barriers and out into the open without him noticing when his mind was too preoccupied or his heart too perturbed. Still, it shouldn't have happened. Not to a Graduate. And definitely not in front of someone who was tasked to monitor his conduct and report back to his boss. Shit.

She wasn't looking at him anymore, head turned pointedly towards the window, but eyes too unfocused to claim there was anything of interest to her outside. Luric frowned. If this was all it took to make her so uncomfortable, then she was definitely in the wrong line of work.

He closed his eyes, let a long-practiced calmness wash over him, then reached out towards and around the edges of his essence, and slowly started to push back the prickly energy he found there, radiating outwards. He pushed and pushed until it dwindled and disappeared somewhere within the deepest part of his being, taking the fangs and the yellow eyes and pointy ears with it.

There, all better.

“Nelle?”

She only turned her head a little to look at him, nodded once, and then shifted her gaze back to the window, shoulders still tense. It would seem that calming down didn't come as easily to her. Unfortunately, that would likely reflect on her assessment of him.

He sighed and leaned against the cushioned backrest of his seat, aware again of his aching head. Suddenly, a long-forgotten memory dislodged itself from the crevice of his mind, and the new-found irony almost made him laugh. Back then, when he had been riding these same tracks out of the high lands, he also had an injured head. That particular bump, though, had been courtesy of a special perpetrator. Recalling his face - recalling all of their faces - made him feel that initial excitement return, though not without a healthy dose of resentment. Beneath his skin, the beast's energy simmered tepidly.

He couldn't wait to get back home.

To call this a train station would have been too generous. The cracked platform that they had stepped onto was shorter than the entire length of their train and barely three meters wide; a tiny, lone cabin for the station master stood at the other end. It was empty. As was the rest of the station. No one else had gotten off here, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why. The image that greeted them was as uninviting as it was sobering. The station was situated at the top of a small, flat hill and it gave them a good view of the bleak-looking town stretching before them. A canopy of rust-colored roofs punctuated here and there by rickety prayhouse towers. Everything was in shades of brown or gray, and it matched the dreariness of the overcast late autumn sky. The few crows swirling overhead - their harsh caws though loud and piercing somehow accentuating the silence - completed the picture of a desolated Podunk town at the arse-end of nowhere. If only this were as bad as it got.

“This doesn’t look so bad,” Nelle breathed.

“I’m sure the people of Pelase would be happy to hear you say that.”

Nelle turned to look at him in confusion. “Pelase? You mean this isn’t -” She reached into the pocket of her overcoat and retrieved a neatly folded paper map. She opened it only enough to look at their location, eyes quickly finding the name written sloppily in bright, red ink next to the printed one that marked Pelase. “It should be the next town over. We got off at the wrong station.”

“I’m afraid not. Whoever wrote down Runrick so close to Pelase on your map has obviously never been around here. And trust me, Runrick is nowhere near as pretty as this. No railroad leads to that shithole.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, then looked back at the ratty little town, probably trying to imagine something worse and unable to. He didn’t blame her. Under any other circumstance he, too, would’ve rather chained himself to a cliff than accept an assignment that would take him so far from civilization. And he spent the better part of his childhood here. Nelle was born and raised in the capital. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had never even seen a cow before, much less smelled its dung.

He flung his travel pack over his left shoulder and bent down to pick up hers as well. Startled, she quickly grabbed her bag before he could touch it, shot him a curt “I’m fine, thank you!” and scurried ahead without looking back. Working with her will be so much fun. With that solemn thought he followed suit, albeit at a much lazier pace.

He caught up easily enough, the hillside gravel road leading into town proving to be a bigger challenge for Nelle’s pavement-crafted legs. Idly he wondered how another offer to take her luggage would be received, then realized he intended to word it as patronizingly as possible, so the outcome could only be one. Getting under people’s skin was a favorite past time of his, but Nelle was proving to be surprisingly unamusing when irritated. He decided he preferred the silence but loitered behind just in case her flimsy legs failed her. He would want front row view for that.

It took them an hour and an absurd amount of money to find a coachman willing to take them even near Runrick. And by near, he meant a good hour-and-a-half on foot from where he left them. The wooden sign next to the crossroad where they had been dropped off was chipped and the paint no longer readable, but it still pointed dutifully towards the path they had to take. Before them lay a dirt road, just wide enough for one carriage, that cut through a tiny stretch of grassland before it got swallowed up by the forest.

Luric dared a glance at his companion. The long journey had obviously left its mark on her poise. When he met Nelle just a few days ago in Lord Ashladd’s office, the very first thing he noticed about the woman was her prim and proper appearance. Nothing else about her stood out. She wasn’t anything noteworthy as far as beauty went; a simple bowl cut framing a fairly insipid-looking face with a pair of emotionless, dark, gray eyes staring back at him from underneath blunt bangs. It was obvious that she cared about her appearance though, not because of vanity, since there was nothing cosmetic to be found on her, but because of decorum. There was not one hair out of place, eyebrows were expertly plucked and even, clothes clean, ironed, and befitting an employee of his Majesty’s Institute. Now, her neatly combed blond hair was slightly disheveled, her attire wrinkled and flecked with mud. She looked tired and weary, as well as a little unsure when she gazed into the dark shadows of the forest they now had to enter. Nelle must have sensed his eyes on her, because she suddenly drew herself up, fastened her hold on her luggage, and pressed on.

Thankfully, the road snaked around the hills instead of over them, keeping their hike on even ground, but the muddy, bumpy path proved to be too much for Nelle either way, and she soon fell behind. Luric was trying to slow his step without it seeming deliberate, but even he was starting to lose his patience. He was almost completely caked in mud beneath the knees, and that pissed him off far more than it should. He cared about his looks too, though in his case it was about vanity. He liked looking good and important. Especially now. Especially here.

It was well past sunset before they even caught a glimpse of lights in the distance. The wind had picked up as the darkness fell, blowing dust and dry leaves in their faces. The clouds had looked heavy with rain for most of their journey from Pelase and it seemed like the downpour was ready to start.

Nelle was now several steps behind him, staggering against the gale. She was walking hunched, face half buried in the collar of her coat and eyes scrunched up to slits, trying to shield them from the biting wind. He almost felt sorry for her. It was obvious that she had tried to prepare for this journey, judging from her thick coat and long boots, but her choice in clothing still spoke loudly of the inexperience of someone born and bred in a southern city. Around here, a woolen coat alone didn’t cut it. Boots didn’t have to be just long, but also warm and impervious. She hadn’t thought to bring a scarf either, probably thinking the roll-neck pullover and collar of her coat would be enough. It would’ve been, for the mellow winters of the capital, but a north-born would’ve known to choose something with a fur cowl. Would’ve known to choose fur instead of any other material.

On the other hand, Luric was north-born, knew what to expect coming here, and still dressed as if going for a stroll through the park on a drizzly day. His long, black cashmere mantle adorned with a loose shoulder cape of the same material provided barely any protection against the harsh weather. But he didn’t need it to. He could withstand the cold on his own; his clothes served another purpose. Until the rain began he wouldn’t even bother to pull up his hood, the wind having messed up his hair enough already. Something else he was slightly annoyed with.

Another strong gust blew over them, the loud howl joining in with the cacophony of rustling leaves. From somewhere behind, them a low branch broke off and fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and with that sudden sound, the last remnant of Nelle’s composure finally snapped. She let out a terrified cry as she whirled around, hastily dropping her luggage in case she needed to run from whatever her imagination was telling her had caused that noise. She tripped and fell backwards on her behind, eyes still frantically searching the darkness. Earlier, he would have found the sight amusing, maybe would’ve made a joke at her expense, but as he was running dry on patience himself, he found it pitiful instead.

He casually sauntered over to her and picked up her bag, confident there would be no objections this time.

“There’s nothing there. I would’ve known if there was,” he said calmly.

She looked up at him over her shoulder, still shaky and scared, but the words seemed to have registered. He turned around and continued, walking past the scattered brief case that she had been carrying alongside her duffle bag. He knew better than to even attempt to reach for that. He knew exactly what its contents were and it was a weight she could still carry herself.

It wasn’t long before he heard Nelle’s hurried steps behind him, struggling to keep up and stay close to him. He didn’t slow down this time.

________________________________________________________________________________

It took a lot longer than the coachman had told them to reach the outskirts of Runrick, but even then they had yet to come to the end of their trek. As far as Luric could remember, the only halfway decent inn around was near the market square, at the center of town.

They made their way through the dark, empty streets, barely any light streaming through the tightly-closed wooden shutters of the candle-lit houses. Every so often a guard dog would start barking at them from behind a fence, but otherwise the town was deathly quiet.

As they approached the center, the houses grew a little bigger and were more densely-packed, most of them made of stone or clay bricks instead of cob. This is where the good folk lived. And would you look at that, some of them even had lanterns hanging from their frontage now. Luric was impressed. Ten years ago, any sort glass oil lamp would’ve been considered a modern commodity and only a few households could afford them. Paraffin, together with many other far more essential things, was hard to come by in these parts. It seemed, though, that Runrick wasn’t ready for cobblestone yet. Perhaps it was for the best, since shit tended to stand out less on muddy streets. Live stock was still free to roam wherever its owner pleased, apparently. Most towns these days forbade animal trade inside its bounds, precisely because of the mess it left behind, but obviously that memo had yet to reach Runrick.

Luric looked around. Nothing he’d seen up until now had awoken any distinct memories. There was only so much he could make out in the dim light, but he still expected to recognize at least a few street corners, or a broken-down shop front, a run-down alley. It was almost a little disappointing. He’d thought the sight of this old home town would’ve stirred his mind, and heart, a little more. Perhaps he had misjudged the impact this place had left on him. And that worried him a little.

To Luric, this excursion was all about personal gratification, and that depended solely on the importance this town and its people still had to him. He had tried to put his childhood behind him only out of sheer defiance, and to help mold himself into a better, stronger person, but he had always made sure that somewhere in the depths of his soul a wound remained open just enough to help him remember this place and what it did to him. If that wound had closed over, then there was no pain to feed the bitterness he needed for that gratification. And coming here had been a mistake.

It wasn’t until they reached the main street leading up to the market square that he started to feel a vague sense of familiarity, but nothing beyond that. He spotted a large stone house with glass windows from where the inviting glow of the fireplace beckoned. It looked presentable enough to be an inn, so he made a beeline for it, Nelle in tow. But instead of entering immediately, he paused in front of the window to peer inside between the iron grills. The dining hall was empty, save for a lone woman sitting behind a wooden counter. She seemed to be struggling to stay awake, her head constantly dipping forward as her eyes fell shut before jerking back up. He tried to get a good look of her face to see if he could recognize her.

And he did.

Recollection hit him with such force that it left him momentarily stunned, and when the shock subsided he felt an unexpected surge of emotions wash over him.

She was older, fatter, but he recognized her. She had been there that day. This woman hadn’t been someone close to him in the past, had only seen her in passing as a child, and he couldn’t even remember her name, but he was certain he had seen her face in the crowd he still had nightmares about. She might have even been there in the one he had on the train earlier. And that was all that mattered.

Guess the wound is still very much open, he thought, relieved.

He moved away from the window, started to formulate a plan on how he wanted go about this. Beside him, he felt Nelle shift, probably wondering why they hadn’t gone inside yet. Maybe he could use her.

“Would you mind being the one to talk to the innkeepers?”

Nelle frowned up at him and opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it in resignation.

It was obvious that this didn’t make any sense to her. Why should she be the one to talk to the locals when he was the one who had lived here in the past? It seemed, though, that his gentlemanly deed from earlier had paid off; without asking any questions, she went for the front door and opened it. Luric was right behind her but pulled the hood over his head before stepping inside. He didn’t think the woman would recognize him immediately, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t alert anyone of his presence before he wanted her to. When Nelle saw this, her frown deepened, even looked a bit exasperated with him. It hadn’t rained yet, he hadn’t used the hood at all while they had been out in the cold, why on earth would he pull it up now, indoors? – was written all over her face. To her credit, she still didn’t ask any question. Just sighed and turned around to walk towards the woman.

Said woman was now fully awake and alert. She looked at them in disbelief, hands sliding slowly behind the counter. He wondered if she had a rifle there. Runrick was so remote even the innkeepers were confused when they actually had customers, he thought bemusedly. Though he supposed two strangers clad in black, appearing in the dead of a stormy night on your doorstep, would put anyone on edge. She did look a little scared. Good.

“Um…,” was all the woman could muster.

Nelle didn’t wait for her to get her bearings.

“Good evening, madam. We are from the Institute of Occult Science and Affairs, and we have been sent here to aid you in your plight.”

“In my….” The woman was obviously still having difficulties.

Undeterred, Nelle went on. “Your town executives have sent a message to us about a shadow critter causing havoc in your community?”

A beat.

“Oh - OH!” Apparently, it had finally hit home. “You’re the - you’re here to- OH, THANK GOODNESS!”

The woman brought her hands to her chest as she heaved in relief. She was still a little shaken and tears were now welling up in her eyes. “We thought it got lost on the way. Or that…m-my husband said, city folks don’t bother with people like us.”

And they normally don’t, thought Luric. The woman was now throwing worried glances in his direction. He had kept his distance and stood silently near the doorway, hood half-covering his face. He must’ve cut a frightening image. Nelle interjected, trying to keep the woman’s attention on her.

“We apologize for taking so long. The Institute will offer compensation to anyone who has lost livestock during the time it took for us to answer your call.”

The woman looked at her oddly, as if unsure on how to answer that. She then mumbled something in a small, broken voice that even Nelle had trouble hearing.

“I beg your pardon, madam, could you please repeat that?”

“P-people, m’lady,” she stuttered. “It stopped commin’ after cows and sheep weeks ago. It kills people now,” she finished with a sob, and the tears were now freely running down her face. Luric raised his head in surprise. Nelle, on the other hand, had gone rigid.

“Mother’s love, we keep hearing ‘bout someone disappearing every couple o’ days now. We even tried - when we saw that no one was coming, we tried to kill it ourselves, a-and it-it - OH, those poor boys!” She had completely broken down now, palms frantically wiping away at her face.

We’re dealing with a man-eater? Well, he had encountered monsters like that plenty of times before, so he wasn’t all too worried. He looked over at Nelle. Her back was ramrod straight, her entire frame completely still and silently watching the crying woman in front of her. It was probably fair to assume that she was quite a bit worried. The initial message had been about a black-furred pest with bright red eyes, lurking at the outskirts of Runrick, and stealing their animals. The people at the Institute had concluded that it was a shadow critter that had outgrown squirrels and rabbits, and was now looking for larger, easy prey. Sheep and the occasional bovine, nothing more. But shadow critters never went after people. Whatever this was, it hunted humans, and that changed the parameters of their mission. Something else she hadn’t come prepared for, judging from her reaction on the road earlier.

“Please stop crying, madam. We will take care of it.” Nelle’s voice was steady. Luric was impressed. She had pulled herself together far faster than he had expected. Well, to be fair, she knew it wasn’t her that had to fight the damn thing anyway. She was only here to observe him.

The woman had settled down somewhat and started pacing back and forth, as if she couldn’t decide which way to go. “I have to run to tell’em. Oh, but I don’t wanna go out into the night alone. But they have to know.”

“We will inform the town council of our arrival first thing in the morning, madam.”

“But they’re havin’ a meetin’ right now. At the prayhouse. “

Luric perked up at that.

“It got another today,” she explained. “Bramber. Oh, that kind, sweet boy.”

He paused at that name. Bramber. Bramber….Bramby?! Suddenly, the image of a short, stout, blond haired boy sneering at him popped up in his mind. He remembered him, only he had been neither kind nor sweet. Bramby had been one of the meaner kids at his school. They hadn’t been friends or even gotten along. Younger and smaller than others, Bramby had liked following the bigger kids around; being with them made him feel more important, higher up on the food chain of the school yard. And if those kids liked to pick on Luric, then so did Bramby. Still, Luric was a little sorry that he died.

He sure would’ve liked that little kiss ass to see him now. Would you have started following me around this time? He huffed, amused, to himself.

The sound had caught the woman and Nelle’s attention. Nelle looked at him disapprovingly. If only she knew how little he cared about propriety right now. Ignoring her, he addressed the woman with a calm, even voice. “Leave it to me then, madam. I’ll go now to let them know we’re here.”

She looked at him with a mixture of gratefulness and uncertainty.

“Would you, m’lord? Thank you!“ She was leaning in a little, trying to see his face under the hood.

He let her. “It’s my pleasure.”

Luric turned to Nelle, who had gone from disapproval back to confusion.

“I assume you can handle it from here?” he said while dropping their luggage unceremoniously on the floor. As he turned to open the door he heard the woman say hurriedly.

“Wait, m’lord! I haven’ told ya where our prayhouse is.”

He paused. He turned back to her, pulled back his hood so she could see his face fully, and smiled at her.

“Don’t worry, madam, I still know where it is.”

She blinked. She didn’t understand. She didn’t recognize him. But as he was closing the door behind him, he saw her face twist into something like realization. Pleased with himself, he stepped into the night.

#The Shadows in Runrick #Novel #novel writing #fantasy novel #horror #halloween #acerbic little shit main character

[unohanabbygirl]

Please give us a sent to the wall Luke fic. It would be serving Jon and Robb realness. Mayhaps this is the jaceluke inspiration you were looking for?? I really like the idea of the nights watch commandeering totally just being soft for Luke so he says that Luke isn’t allowed to swear his oaths until he’s 16) Also can you imagine how feral Arrax would be? Eating wildings and giant whales in the ice sea. But also the magic of the wall def messed with dragons and made them fearful of crossing it but arrax growing up with that magic pushing against him and Luke? They would fight against it and become feral and bit mad to compensate. Not Luke amassing an army to march down the eastern coast of Westeros to cut the greens off in a pincer move. NICE!

The sent to the wall fic is def the jaceluke inspo i’ve been desperately in need of! The yearning between these two brothers who’ve been ripped apart for what they think will be forever, the guilt Jace suffers through each day knowing the only reason his brother was taken to the north is because he did what he could to protect him, the few and far in between letters that will never be able to truly express their feelings over the years. It’s so bitter sweet, mostly because even as a child Luke takes to his fate as proudly as a boy his age can to stay strong for his family.

He’s terrified on the inside, everything’s so cold and gray. That is until he finally meets his new “brothers” and all these men take to him like a son yet still making sure he toughens up.

Little Luke crying one night because he feels bad for what he did to his uncle Aemond only for the current commander to give him a big hug before hitting on the back. Telling him he should never be ashamed or feel guilt for defending his brother’s life.

The magic of the wall has always interested me because it’s so bizarre. Not even creatures as magical and powerful as dragons dare to cross it and Arrax is no different. It actually agitates him to the point where hunting down something whether it’s for food or just plain sport scratches that annoying itch. Becoming nearly feral is the only plausible outcome for a baby dragon forced to live in that environment.

Also, this is just my little headcanon but Arrax loosing a bit of his color to blend in with the snow covered environment. The little bit of orange coloring he has turns completely white over the years, not to mention he’s growing much faster than he should. An all out menace that almost seems like a rabid wolf rather than a dragon.

#asks #plus gerardys might have gone along to the wall with his favorite prince ☺️

[coolgirl32]

How they met

Dog Logan

Simple you met him at a bar you were out with your friends and he was out with his brother and some other guys on a guy's night out when you caught dog Logan's eye he went over to where you were sitting he bought you a drink you two talked and had fun of course however you both decided to have a little one night stand the next morning you wake up just smelling crackling bacon in the morning with a side of eggs toast and some orange juice does being poured into a glass you never expected to eat breakfast with the guy you just slept with but who knows what my in store for you many years later you are married to dog Logan and you have kids of your own and that's how you met him

Wolverine

You met him at the x mansion where you are a new teacher there of course you caught the eyes of wolverine. So after you got settled in your new room in the mansion you were going to the professor's office to have a conversation with them about what schedule do you need to be on and what class are you teaching that's when you accidentally bumped into wolverine you said your apologies he forgave you his own wolverine Way. He told you that he'll show you around and give you a tour around the Mansion just so you won't get lost it was very sweet of him weeks and months went on and by that time you and wolverine started dating of course you'd sneak out of the room just to have sex with your boyfriend and boy oh boy were you trying to keep yourself quiet from waking everybody up. Years went on and you ended up marrying wolverine you eventually had kids of your own of course you and wolverine adopted his son daken when he was only a little kid and he turned out to be a great guy. And that's how you met your husband

Saul Creed

You met him because his sister introduced you to each other it was a little awkward at first but you both soon got to know each other very well you felt bad about what happened to him when he told you about his past and that his big brother would always abuse him and his big sister and how is Father wasn't really a great dad you felt really bad for him so you told Saul that if you win at a game of pool he'd take you out somewhere but if he wins you take him out somewhere you ended up winning only because he let you but he won't admit it he really did had a good time with you and was hoping to have another good time with you the next night you both ended up going out together one night he asked you if you'd like to go with him to his brother's wedding you were shocked and you said yes you asked him who was the bride and you were surprised it was your friend Jacqulyn also known as snow leopard who was a feline feral mutant just like Victor Creed but way different. So at the wedding you and Saul we're having a really good time when it was time for the bride to throw the bouquet the bouquet of flowers were caught by you and you were standing right next to Saul both of you were very surprised of course a few years later you ended up marrying saul Creed and ended up having kids. And that's how you met your husband

Omega Red

You met him on a dating website of course this would be your third time the second and first guys you went out with were really big jerks and big pricks third time's the charm so when you saw a mega red you were very curious so after he pulled your chair for you and you sat down You to begin to have a conversation section you talked about your likes and dislikes you both amended that you were both nervous and you two were getting along very well after dinner you both walked around looking at beautiful lights and saw a ice cream shop that was open you both decided to get some ice cream he had plain vanilla while you had a banana split you told him that you love banana splits they're always so delicious so after you two had dessert he took you home you thanked him and asked him if he would like to go on another date with you he said yes and you were excited you both said your goodbyes. Months went on and you too begin to date it was really great you moved in with Omega Red. You learned so much about him that he can cook he likes to read he likes to knit he prefers to be indoors instead of outdoors and he's a really good lover and really good in bed he even taught you how to speak Russian of course he tried not to laugh because you kept on saying the wrong thing in Russian I thought it was funny of course you thought it was funny too yours went on and you ended up marrying Omega Red and you ended up having kids with him. And that's how you met your husband

Hi so I hope everybody like this I'm going to do Victor Creed next so I hope you all enjoyed it and please do not copyright after my work or anybody else's work

#xmen x fem reader #xmen x my oc's

[inheritorofmemories-archive]

TOG immortals and vices

Been thinking about the way half the guards smoke like chimneys in the comics, the consumption of alcohol shown in the movie, and what bad habits they would have picked up and never let go of throughout their lives.

So here, my little headcanons about which vices each of the immortals have:

(vices used loosely, more like bad habits or things they like that they cannot help or do without)

Andy and food. And sweet stuff.

She has known hunger and plain, out of necessity, food for so long she’ll indulge gods help her she will ingest as much sugar as she can get her hands on. Absolutely demolished Yusuf’s stash of sweets when they met her. She doesn’t like cooking, or baking, because it takes too much time and investment and feeding herself was a chore for most of her life but she loves to go out to eat. She absolutely hates the snobby michelin type restaurants with no food on the plate and stupidly long name and she’ll take a good meal from the corner food truck or that family held recipe over that pretentious crap any time of the day. Can only feel alive when eating food with enough spice in it to burn off anyone’s tongue but she also likes the greasy and filling stuff that sticks to your throat for hours. Food as a bonding experience for friends and family, she believes in the power of bread, good wine, sweet dessert and a full stomach. But mostly the desert to satisfy her huge sweet tooth.

Quynh and fashion.

That woman wouldn’t be caught dead in clothes that don’t fit or look ridiculous, you and I both know that. She’s reasonable most time and keeps their money in check but more than once she gave too many coins for a dress/tunic/shirt or a fabric that caught her eyes. In general she loves to take care of appearance, clean and combed hair styled nicely, clean and good clothes, makeup and jewelry that doesn’t look too bling but bring just enough class and bring attention. She likes beautiful things in general (aka her wife Andy but also that collection of knives she has that is centuries old, there’s some Damascus steel in there Joe found for her). Was definitely the one to dress the team and the one who took to new trends the fastest, even when she had Opinions on said trends. Would also be the type that would rather be overdressed than underdressed at an event, as opposed to Andy which makes for the funniest couple ever.

Nile and physical activity (not just sport, anything physical).

I see her as the kind of person who cannot relax and needs to be doing something at all times. She’s the eldest daughter in her family and in comics canon she had like 5 jobs before going into the army, tell me this isn’t the behavior of someone who hates to be idle because it makes her feel useless. She’s working out to process her emotions in the military base, and when Andy leaves to fight in the church she’s walking in circles trying to find something to do, go help Andy or pack or anything really. She’s absolutely the type to go for a run because she has nothing else planned and it clears her head, or the one to stress bake in the middle of the night to keep her hand busy, or who would learn to knit because reading isn’t enough to keep her brain in track she has to do something concrete with her hands. People telling her to calm down, stop jerking her legs or just take a day off awake strong murder urges in her. It’s not like she can help it so let her tear this piece of paper into smaller pieces of paper because she hasn’t been on run in days and she’s going crazy with pent up energy. Patience is vertue that never bothered to visit her.

Joe and arguing.

He loves to pick arguments. He’s the cerebral guy in the team and he will get into heated debates even if it pisses off him, the other person talking, everyone else around the table and the neighbors on the other side of the room. He can’t help it, that’s just in his genes to argue and share his opinions and confront the way other people’s brain work. The best kind of arguments are about the most pointless and petty things like how to drink your coffee, the best time to nap, which citrus is the best or the correct way to store books. The haggling falls under that category too, Yusuf “son of a merchant” al-Kaysani was raised right by his baba and he knows a scam when he sees one, no he will not calm down that price is twice it’s value, you thief.

Nicky and gambling.

He just likes it. Knows he shouldn’t but he enjoys the excitation of a bet and the risk involved and the thrill of winning too much to stop. As soon as an opportunity to bet arise it’s like a switch in his brain cut off all common sense coursing through him. He can hold back if the situation is dire but with enough teasing and ribbing he will take part even into the most stupid and useless bets, yeah, 20 bucks that chicken gets to the barn before the goat does. I have to thank @polarcell for this one, wouldn’t have thought of it without her posting about it and the image of calm and collected Nicky going feral over bets and just running headfirst into them is an incredibly humanizing quality that I appreciate.

Booker and alcohol.

Goes into the unhealthy side in the movie but I truly believe he’s the kind of man who would sell his kidney to get that bottle of good liquor he’s been eyeing all week, if not dying in the process, simply because he likes the taste of this one. The kind of man to be a snobby asshole over wine and good whiskey from time to time but mostly he wants to share it with his friends (ie. the small family that gets all the best alcohol he can find to drink with them). A bit of a social drinker I think too, like Andy with food: it’s best when it’s shared.

+ Bonus:

Lykon and adrenaline.

Have you seen the way that man smiled at Andy when he was almost gutted by a spear in a fight? You can’t tell me Lykon wasn’t the og Jackass back in BCE time. He can be calm and collected but present him with the opportunity to ride a wild beast or jump off a cliff/waterfall/ravine and he will do it. A bit of a thrill-seeker, often getting himself, and then Andy and Quynh too, into trouble because he just couldn’t help it, it seemed too fun. He’s here for a good time not a long one and a long one too. If he was still alive he would 100% be the kind to discover motorcycle, promptly dies about 10 times riding it too fast, and then enroll in a circus just to jump through on fire hoops every night. He would have been so thrilled when humanity started to invent stuff to fly too, just imagine him grinning as he jumps off a plane with the first-ever parachute strapped on his back.

#me over analyzing fictional characters for fun #the old guard #the old guard headcanon #tog headcanons #the old guard meta #tog meta #andromache the scythian #quynh #andromaquynh #nile freeman #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #kaysanova #sebastien le livre #lykon #tog #em speaks #tog hcs

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Precious Inexperience

A/N: Welp. Should I be posting this on Easter? Probably not. This was written under the influence of the lack of sleep and the over-abundance of wine. This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​’s “What’s Old is New Again" Challenge. I used the prompt #14,  “I do not know how to kiss or I would kiss you. Where do the noses go?” - Ingrid Bergman 

Pairing: King!Robb Stark x F!Reader

Rating: M for DARK THEMES including dub-con, death, death of children, Robb being a dick, a bit of smut, and canon-typical sexism

Warnings: Again, dub-con/dubious consent, talk of pregnancy, men being terrible-PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The King in the North was now King of the Seven Kingdoms. Peace reigned. But Kings need heirs.

The King in the North they called him. King in the North even as he sat on the Iron Throne. Robb Stark was King of the Seven Kingdoms—won with bloody battles and dead wives. Alliances were sewn with marriages and Robb had easily taken a wife when it meant more men for his armies, more food to feed them, a stronger claim to the throne that had taken the head of his father all those years ago.  A Frey girl. She’d been pretty. Pretty for Frey with small hips and a nice smile. She died in childbed—their son along with her.  Then there was Margaery Tyrell. The beauty of the Reach. With the Reach under his command, Robb was unstoppable. Food was plentiful even as Winter came and went and the remaining forces loyal to the Crown starved and died. 

Yes, she made a beautiful queen for a year. When her face turned purple and blood poured from her eyes, everyone cried “poison! Poison!” and pointed fingers at the Greyjoys, still refusing to bend the knee to their new king. No one ever truly knew who had murdered The Gracious Queen Margaery, but the heads of hundreds of Greyjoy bannermen decorated the pikes outside the Red Keep until the last Greyjoy, Yara, finally accepted his rule.

The Realm had peace, it seemed. The Dragon Queen had stayed in Essos with her army and her dragons and the Wildlings to the North had been eliminated under the command of his bastard brother, Jon Snow.

Peace, they said.

But, Kings need heirs.

The Westerlands submitted their prettiest maids from the best houses. The Stormlands, too. The Vale followed, along with the Riverlands, and the North. And Dorne, who had skillfully played both sides of the board during the war with the lions, had been slow to send a proposal.

The Martells were skittish, for good reason, to marry into another royal family. But that did not mean they did not want a Dornish woman to marry their new king. Robb had been kind to Dorne; knew their worth and history. He met with Prince Doran in the Water Gardens, personally, to broker an alliance and laughed with Ellaria Sand and Prince Oberyn at their feasts. The Northern King knew the power Dorne held. It had been no secret that Robb had sought Dorne’s council on many things.

But it came as a surprise to Y/N when Prince Doran sent for her and her father to come to the Water Gardens and meet with him. Her house was small and held modest power, nestled on the westernmost coast of Dorne, just south of House Dayne of Starfall. It was mostly a small naval fleet port and trading post with merchants from the Reach and Westerlands. As the fifth child of her family, she was often over-looked in many regards as her elder sister was groomed to one day take her place as head of the family. It was no bother to her, mostly. She was able to read and spend her time racing horses. Her Northern-bred mother was aghast when she had first learned of a few Dornish customs, but had softened immensely when she learned her firstborn, her daughter, had not made her a terrible wife. She’d produced an heir, after all. But the one frivolity she could not and would not condone was any sort of romantic interludes. She did not care that the rest of Dornish nobility embraced paramours and bastard children. 

Y/N and her seven siblings were raised with Northern sensibilities in that regard. No men were left near her unsupervised. She was given little education on the art of romance other than the books she had to smuggle away from her mother’s prying eyes and, because she cared little for most people, it did not bother her in the slightest.

Marriage was not something she thought about often. Her house was secure with her sister and her marriage to Prince Doran’s son, Trystane. Her sister was pregnant with her second child already, much to the happiness of her family and the Martells. Her elder brothers were prosperous knights and her younger siblings were contemplating becoming maesters or a septa. The family coffers were plentiful. She needn’t marry for advantage in any regard.

Or so she had been led to believe.

When Prince Doran reached for her hand with a soft smile, she gave it to him readily, even as his heir, Princess Arianne could not offer a comforting expression. “The King has asked for a bride. You shall be our envoy.”

There was no argument. No brokering. No tears.

It was a strange sort of fog that clouded her mind as her father thanked Prince Doran and Princess Arianne for “the honor” and then tried to ready her for the trip to King’s Landing and the long days spent in the wheelhouse on the journey north. She hardly remembered any of it. The ladies maids were frantic about her, as they helped her dress in a pretty golden gown and pressed sweet-smelling perfume to her neck and wrists. All of it felt like it was happening to someone else. Not to her. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She would read and race horses and get scolded by her mother for smelling of hay or stealing berries from the kitchens.

It was a cattle show, if she had to give it a name. The potential brides were scattered about the throne room, their fathers at their sides, all primped and ready for inspection.

“Stand up straight, girl,” her father chided, a soft tone betraying his love for his second daughter.

“Yes, father,” Y/N murmured in return and did as he bid. “But, truly, you cannot believe he will even look at me.” She had always thought herself plain. It was no bother, really. Her sister was the heir and beauty and it took all the pressure of being a lady away. Her sister was kind to her, too. Perfect in every way. If she were standing here, Y/N was sure she would have been proposed to by now. And her younger sister was so enthralled with religion she hardly spoke of anything else.

“Prince Doran knows the King very well. He chose you for a reason.”

“Fine. But when we get sent home, I-”

“Your Grace.” Her father bowed and she quickly followed with a curtsey, grimacing at not noticing when the young King had stepped in their direction. “May I present to you my daughter, Lady Y/N.”

The King was handsome, obviously. His russet hair curled over the tops of his ears and even with the growing beard, he still had a young man’s roguish charm. Her heart suddenly constricted as he held out a hand toward her and her fingers shook as she placed her hand in his. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.” His words were murmured, beard scratching against her fingers. 

“L-likewise, Your Grace.”

Robb stood straight with a smirk and there was a gleam in his eye that made her stomach twist. He nodded to her father and walked away to greet the next lady as she deflated, breath rushing.

“Well, I hope are happy, Father. I did my part on behalf of Dorne.” She was ready to go home. Now. The look the King gave her left her unsettled. There was a darkness behind his pretty eyes, one she had only seen when faced with feral animals that would howl in the night outside her family’s castle walls.

But then some man in a grey and black surcoat, embroidered with a snarling direwolf, stepped to her father’s side and whispered in his ear before his unfamiliar eyes flickered to her. The exchange lasted barely a few seconds and soon the man was walking away, following his king through the shadows.

“What is it?”

Her father frowned and dropped his voice to a low whisper she had to strain to hear even as he bent to her level. “You’ve been requested to meet His Grace in the gardens tonight.”

“Tonight?” She parroted. “Will you be there?”

“No. This is to see if you would be compatible.” Even as the words left his mouth, she knew he did not understand them.

“Must I go?”

Her father nodded. Sealing her fate.

                                                           **

The gardens were quiet except for the chirping of an incessant bird hidden somewhere in the greenery. The only other person she had seen while following the map she’d been handed just after dinner, was a guard at the entrance who looked at her with hard eyes from beneath his helmet before letting her venture in to the twisting, turning paths of green.

She squinted at the crudely drawn map in the dim moonlight and hoped she had found the right place. There had been a statue, a few turns ago, of the King’s sister, Sansa, holding the head of Cersei Lannister on a platter. Before that, a statue of the slain Stark boys, Rickon and Bran, astride their direwolves—a dead lion was crumpled under their paws. Arya had to be somewhere, too. Y/N was sure of it. She wondered what her statue depicted her doing—Arya was known throughout the Realm for her vicious nature and love for her family. She had set sail to the West not long ago with her new husband, Lord Gendry Baratheon.

She sat down on the stone bench and folded the map, putting it away before chewing at the side of her thumb. Whether it was boredom or trepidation, she wasn’t sure. The entire situation seemed…off kilter. There was something bubbling beneath the surface she didn’t understand.

“My Lady.”

She quickly stood and curtseyed as the king walked around the corner and into the small clearing. “Your Grace.”

He reached for her hand and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve been told you are the fifth of eight children.”

She frowned at the strange start of the conversation but did nothing to deter it. “Yes, Your Grace. Two sisters and five brothers.”

Robb hummed and nodded, eyes raking down her form. “And your sister? She’s pregnant with her second child. After only two years of marriage.”

She nodded. “Yes. They are hoping for another boy.”

Robb’s eyes closed and another smile touched his lips, this one much more relaxed, as he settled on the bench behind him. “Good. That’s good.” She moved to sit beside him when he pressed a hand against her stomach and pushed her back. Her feet stumbled and he caught her at the waist, pressing his fingers into her skin with a grip that stung. “No. I want to look at you.”

Standing tall, she tried to even out her breath as she felt his eyes start to roam. His hands moved to her hips and his thumbs dug into bottom of her stomach, pulling a gasp from her lips. “Y-your Grace?”

“These…” He squeezed her hips. “These could do nicely.”

She looked down at her hips he seemed to be so attentive to, wondering what he could possibly mean. “Princess Arianne said I had my mother’s hips, perfect for children.” The compliment had always been a strange one, but the Princess assured her it was good.

Robb dragged her close, feet once again tangling and almost careening her forward as the young king kept her mostly steady. “Your father and Prince Doran have assured me that you are pure. I will ask you this only once. If you lie, I will know and the consequences will be severe. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, Your Grace.” Her heart was hammering a painful beat against her ribs as he looked up at her. “I understand.”

“Have you ever been with another man?” His eyes pinned her, cold and knowing.

“No. I have never even…” her words trailed off as heat washed down her spine.

“Finish what you were saying.” Another squeeze to her hips.

“I have never been kissed, Your Grace, let alone laid with a man. I am afraid my inexperience will only disappoint you.”

Robb’s answering smile reminded her of his family’s sigil; sharp, snarling teeth. As he stood, his hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts, and dragged her close. “You are mistaken, my lady. You have made me very happy.” And he kissed her then, stealing her breath as he pried her lips apart and shoved his tongue into her mouth. Shaking hands found purchase in his dark-colored tunic as she tried to keep up with his mouth that seemed determined to devour her whole.

                                                             **

The examination by the maester had left her shaking. “She is untouched, Your Grace,” the maester said to Robb as he waited outside her chambers. “As promised.”

The door hadn’t even closed and he was basically shouting her purity to the halls of the Keep. She curled into a ball on her featherbed and drew a pillow to her chest as if that would help take away the embarrassment and the discomfort from the Maester’s previously prodding instruments and fingers. She barely heard them speaking of fertility, her mother’s, her sister’s. Hers. Her bed dipped with the weight of someone sitting but she didn’t turn to see who it was, expecting her father.

“Could I have some tea, please, papa?” The old nickname for her father slipped out. “I feel like…I feel like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore.”

“It doesn’t.”

She sat straight at the sound of the king’s voice, fright grasping at her heart. “Your Grace, I-I-I-”

Robb suddenly loomed over her, legs bracketing her thighs and pressing her against her pillows. His hand slithered its way under her chemise to press against her bare stomach and she felt her heart try to lodge itself up in her throat. The scent of him, of leather and spice and ale, flooded her senses as he leaned closer to breathe his words against her mouth. “This belongs to me. All of it. All of you. I will make you round with my children as many times as your body can take if it pleases me.”

“Y-your Grace-” Her scared eyes looked over his shoulder to see the door to her chambers had been shut, sealing her away from the world.

“You will give me an heir that is mine without question and then you will give me more. More children to fill these cursed halls with something other than the whispers of politics and subterfuge.” He sat back on his heels watched her heaving chest with a smile that looked too soft for him now. “You have made me a very happy man, Y/N.”

Her name sounded strange on his tongue.

And she hated how much she liked it.

                                                           **

The ceremony had been ornate and befitting of the young king and his new queen. She traded her father’s colors for black and grey and silver and felt the snarling direwolf pressing against her back with the new bridal cloak even as his pretty lips pressed against hers and the crowd cheered.

She was Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

His third queen.

The festivities came and went and soon she was alone with him in his chambers and he hardly kissed her again before her dress was discarded and her chemise torn to near shreds. And it hurt. Every slap of his hips as he rutted against her brought her closer to some strange precipice she couldn’t name, cresting between pleasure and pain. Coiling tighter and tighter in her stomach like a terrible snake.

“You’ll give me a boy,” he said, breath hot against her ear as he dragged her ever closer. “You’ll give me children.”

“I will,” she whimpered in return, fingers trying to find a grip on his slick back. A scream nearly wrenched its way from her throat as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “I will!”

His thrusts turned animalistic and her head nearly hit the carved headboard as he pushed her further and further up the overstuffed featherbed and then, with a final thrust, he sunk his deepest yet into her and stayed there as warmth shot through her.

And her coil snapped, legs shaking and eyes rolling with convulsions she couldn’t stop.

He stayed inside her for a while, prick softening. And it was the gentlest he’d been with her since the ceremony, letting his hands roam her torso, sponging kisses to her face and breasts, murmuring how she’d give him an heir.

“I will,” she said again, words not her own, body still reeling with aftershocks. “I will.”

Robb held her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, almost repentantly. “You will. Or you will see The Stranger just as Roslin and Margaery did. Do you understand?”

It was only after she had ‘accepted’ his proposal had she learned that Roslin had birthed a boy that could never have been Robb’s son, born too early to have been conceived by him, and Margaery had been barren. She nodded and gently pushed the hair away from his eyes, now uncaring that they held very little warmth when they looked at her. Maybe they would when she gave him a son. Maybe he could love her then.

When he finally pulled out of her, he canted her hips up and shoved a pillow beneath them to keep her aloft. “Stay like that until morning.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

A/N: Well, there you go. Please tell me what you think. 

Part two

#Robb Stark x Reader #roosoldhollywood #darkfic #dub-con #Robb Stark #game of thrones #dubious consent #dub con #trigger warning #tw: dub con #tw: dub-con #tw: dubious consent

[the-fifth-marauder03]

PAPERWORK

Bucky x reader

Notes: Please go easy on me this is my first ever smut. I'm v v sorry if it's bad but please comment and tell me what you thought. Seriously please please please comment

Word: almost 4,000

Summary: After a long mission comes lots of paperwork. Y/n had doesn't want to do paperwork, she wants to go to her room and deal with the frustration Bucky caused. She almost makes it too, if it wasn't for Bucky insisting they do the paperwork right then. What happens when he notices her acting strange?

WARNINGS: its smut so 18+ obviously. Dirty talk, rough sex, fingering. and some other stuff so if you're uncomfortable leave.

The mission was long.

 

What was originally only supposed to be a week-long mission to collect intel went sour and turned into two weeks then three. The first days of the mission had gone smoothly, the pair had gathered what they needed and were looking forward to sleeping in their beds. But as luck would normally treat the avengers, someone had tipped off the arms dealer that Bucky and y/n were watching him and on the last day, he sent to of his goons to kidnap the two. For two weeks they tried to coax at least one of the guards into their cell but that proved impossible, until the arms dealer's son, who was much like Phil Coulson, came to aid them. Once they were supplied with weapons and a way to the exit it took y/n and Bucky a meagre hour to take down the entire operation.

When they finally reached the quinjet y/n took the time to calm down, Bucky had been killing her for three weeks. In the beginning, it was fine she could easily ignore her mounting frustrations but every time she would calm herself down he was there to build her back up. It started small. While they were doing the surveillance part of the mission he would drum his fingers on his thigh and bite his lip and if that wasn't enough to drive y/n mad, it was his constant joking. Y/n was 100% certain that if his mouth was that dirty in a causal setting then it was just plain filthy in bed. Even while they were locked in a cell he would do things that drove y/n crazy. For the first week, he would plant his feet and pull at the door with all his might giving y/n a perfect view of his physic. When his attempts would fail he would grunt and curse up a storm. The thing that was killing her the most though was being pressed against him each night. Their captor failed to provide a bed or even a blanket and Bucky being the gentleman he is, offered to share his warmth. Y/n knew she shouldn't accept the offer, she might have done something she couldn't take back. She froze her ass off for the first half of the first night while staring longingly at Bucky's back, he looked so warm and inviting. He woke up at the beginning of her chattering teeth.

 

"Y/n/n, get over. You're gonna freeze doll." He'd rolled over and opened his arms for her to lay with him.

 

"I'm ok-k-kay James. Just a little cold that's all." Her teeth chattered, proving her a liar.

 

Bucky sent her a dark glare that made her relent. She could imagine him looking at her like that in a different setting. It took every ounce of the little willpower she did have left not to whimper as his arm slid around her when she settled next to him and pulled her that much closer. She was gonna go fucking feral.

 

Needless to say, once they reached the tower and got through debriefing, y/n wanted to go to her room, take a hot shower, and have some quality time with her toys. The debriefing took hours, Steve wanted to know every detail of what went down before he finally dismissed them. Now was y/n's chance to escape before she was questioned anymore and she was going to take it. As she rocketed out of the meeting room y/n felt a cool hand grab at her wrist and turned to see Bucky shifting slightly. "We have paperwork to finish y/n/n." He said matter-of-factly.

 

"James, I'm tired, I stink, can't we just do it tomorrow?" She whined.

It was too late though, the super-soldier was already dragging her down the hallway to one of the many offices. "We should do it while the memories are still fresh." He stated firmly. His tone said not to question him so y/n didn't, she let him drag her down the hallway and into an office with papers stacked neatly on a desk with two seats. That's where they sat for the next several hours.

 

Y/n was getting more and more frustrated the longer she had to sit in that room. Due to her abilities, she also had enhanced sense, she was able to notice everything, and right now all she could focus on was Bucky. The faint smell of the cologne he had put on during the quinjet ride as well as gun powder and a smell that was distinctly Bucky was washing over her in waves. She could see the way the muscles on his flesh hand contracted as he wrote and could hear the soft whirl of the metallic one on his left. Y/n hear the rustle of his uniform-clad legs every time he shifted. She was going to die and it would be Bucky Barnes' fault. Y/n was aware that she was flushed and she was also aware that she was so wet that she could smell herself, but her senses were much better than his. After ages of y/n fidgeting around, he looked up.

 

"Y/n, are you okay?" He sounded concerned.

 

She was startled by his voice so it took her a minute to reply with a choked out, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, licking his lips. Y/n shut her eyes tight and took a sharp inhale, "Really James, I'm fine."

Thankfully Bucky dropped it for the time being and they continued to work in silence. This went on for another hour and a half. She would shuffle her thighs against each other to get some friction and Bucky would glance at her and she would stop, flushing even deeper.

Ultimately, Bucky had enough. "Okay y/n/n, what the fuck is wrong?"

He was standing, looking down at her with those eyes. The very eyes she had dreams about looking up at her from in between her thighs.

 "Nothing James, just hot and tired." She waved him off looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

 

She heard him take a step towards her, she heard him take a breath, and she heard his breath catch. She heard it all very clearly. Y/n shut her eyes hoping he would sit back down so they could just be down with this already, but he didn't. He took a deep breath through his nose and growled lowly, swaying on the spot he stood.

"Y/n/n." She wouldn't look at him.

 

"Y/n" He rarely used her first name. She still wouldn't look at him.

 

He was quiet for entirely too long, and when he spoke again he was far closer than she had anticipated, "Pretty girl."

 

Y/n whimpered before she could stop herself. That sounded so nice coming from his lips. Bucky wanted that sweet noise coming out of her mouth again, as many time as he could make it happen.

 

"Oh, babydoll if I had known," He was speaking in a low measured voice, " Is this what's been bothering you this whole time?"

 

Y/n was practically panting, Bucky had been getting closer to her while he was talking and now she could feel his breath fanning over where her catsuit opened. She stayed quiet, she wasn't sure if he was serious or not. Her lack an answer irritated Bucky, but he wouldn't touch her until he had her consent.

 

"Pretty girl if you wanted me to make you feel good all you had to do was ask me. I would love to get my hands on you. So go ahead babydoll, just say the word."

 

He waited, hovering just by her ear. "James." She just barely gasped out the word.

 

"I'm right here baby. Just say the word." He lowered his voice even more. "Just say the word, and I'll fucking ruin you."

 

"Yes." And he was on her.

 

He turned her chair around quicker than she could blink and his mouth was on her faster than she would take a breath. Y/n shoved on hand into his hair and one went to his back. Bucky's flesh hand went to the side of her throat and he paused slightly when she moaned. As he pulled back to look at her she pouted but he had something he wanted to test. He slipped his hand from the side of her neck to the front, grinning when her eyes fluttered and she craned to give him more access. "Oh, pretty girl do you like the way my hand feels wrapped around your throat?" She didn't answer, just hummed low in her throat. Having been given consent to touch her as he pleased Bucky let his irritation shine through. He applied just slightly more pressure.

"Pretty girl I asked you a question, but if you don't want to answer I guess I can go back the paperwork."

 Y/n's eyes fluttered open to reveal blown pupils. She all but moaned "Yes James, your hand feels good on my throat."

 

He growled and smirked darkly, "Okay baby tell you what, I want you to go to your room and wait for me. I'm gonna finish this paperwork. While you wait I want you to get yourself nice and ready for me, okay?" Y/n nodded and stood as he released her. He stared down at her for a moment before running his thumb across her bottom lip. She parted her lips and sucked it into her mouth nipping it slightly. He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "And don't you dare cum." Bucky felt her whine against his thumb before he released her. He watched her with a heated stare as she made her way across the room.

When she had her hand on the handle Bucky spoke again. "Oh, and pretty girl," she turned to acknowledge him, "Use the toy that you use when you think of me." Y/n flushed even more if that was possible. The toy he was referring to was her favourite one. She'd bought it directly after her first mission with Bucky after he'd kissed her with everything in him to make sure their cover wasn't blown. That kiss had left her on edge until the end of the mission when she could go to her room and handle herself. When all her other toys failed her, she figured it was time for a new one. While searching through her favourite store's online selection she came across something intriguing, Avengers-themed toys. Being an avenger herself, she was curious to what they would look like so of course y/n clicked on the folder. Some of them made her laugh. Vision's was a small bullet with a stone on the back of it that looked like the one in his head. Tony's was a vibrator that was the same colour as his suit and its power button glowed. The farther she got the more she noticed how accurately all the toys represent them all. Natasha's was a red cock ring with a small button that looked like a black widow that vibrated when it was pushed. Y/n liked hers so she ordered one of those as well. It was a nice sized red vibrator with a design that looked like dark smoke wrapping around it. The description said that it had four settings and the highest one makes anyone see stars. Bucky's made her mouth dry up. It was a vibrator and a g-spot stimulator wrapped up in one. The button to turn it on was a red star, the body was made out of a black and metallic pattern. The metallic looked strikingly similar to the metal on Bucky's arm. So she bought it and used it often, and know Bucky wanted her to use specifically that one.

After swaying in the elevator while it rose she quickly gathered herself enough to make it to and into her room without collapsing. Once inside she pulled out a small box from under her bed and opened it to reveal what she'd affectionately nicknamed winter. Before doing anything though, y/n knew she needed a shower. She stripped out of her catsuit and turned on the shower that heated to a preset temperature, thanks to Tony's constant instalment of new tech.  As y/n scrubbed herself clean her thoughts drifted Bucky, she was obviously attracted to him, but what if he didn't want more. She pushed these disconcerting thoughts aside and finished her shower, she needed relief. She quickly towelled herself off and headed back into her bedroom. As she settled into a comfortable position she grabbed winter and turned it on. Y/n started at her neck and worked her way down, she was painful turned on so it wouldn't take long for her to get herself ready. Once she reached her cunt she slowly ran the toy up and down to collect some of her wetness. The vibrations made her hum, it already felt so good and she'd barely started. Y/n brought the toy up to her clit and ran slow circles on the nub. Once she felt wet enough, y/n slowly worked the toy into herself, it felt good but she was sure Bucky would feel better. She started slow again, working herself up before getting progressively faster. Little whimpers and small moans were flowing from her now as she got closer to the edge.

 "James"  She could her how breathless she sounded but she didn't care. She'd been a live wire for three weeks every one of her nerves was on fire. As she felt herself on the very line on falling, y/n pulled the toy away out and away. She had her head thrown back so she didn't see Bucky leaning against a wall across from her. Y/n gave herself a minute to come down, but she was much more sensitive now. Her moans were falling much more freely now and it didn't take her long to get close again. Bucky noticed the closer she got the more she said his name. By the time she pulled the toy away from herself again y/n was practically chanting "James"

He watched calm down again before she moved the toy back to her clit. He smiled, y/m had listened to him. He silently observed her for another minute before stepping up to her bed and taking the toy from her hands. Y/n's eyes shot open and she looked up to she Bucky examining the vibrator. Bucky slowly smirked as he looked over its design.

" Pretty girl, is this themed after me?" His eyes were twinkling dangerously.

Y/n nodded, lust was so thick in her throat she was having trouble speaking.

Bucky looked like a cat who caught a canary while he lowered the toy to her clit. She withered on the bed as he applied pressure. "How long babydoll?" He quirked his brow.

"How long w-what, James?" she sounded breathless.

"How long have you wanted me to take that sweet little pussy and make it mine?" He growled as he slipped the toy inside of her, moving at an unrushed pace. Her brain was rapidly trying to keep up, between his motions and his words it was hard to place any exact time.

When she didn't answer he pushed the vibrator deeper, "Answer me, pretty girl."

She scrambled for purchase, "S-s-since our first mission together. When we had to save our cover by making out and that night you gave me some hickeys for good measure." Y/n words were jumbled and rushed.

Bucky smiled precariously and when he started talking y/n's eyes rolled back in her head. "Oh baby, I didn't give you those hickeys for good measure. I wanted to mark you up. You sounded so pretty while I did it too, trying to suppress those little sounds. God, I just wanted to lift your dress and have you sit on my cock while I did. Wanted to have you stuffed full of me as I marked you as mine." His Brooklyn accent was shining through. "Thought about it some many times baby, on so many missions, sparring too. That day when you wrapped your thighs around my head you smelled so good, wondered what you would do if I had just pulled you down on my face and devoured you through those tight fucking pants." His hand was moving the toy mercilessly now, and y/n was so close she could taste it. " All I wanted to do when you had to go on that date undercover was show him who you belong to. Wanted to fuck right on the table. Make you scream my name as you came. Sometimes when I got off I would think about fucking your face, I bet you would take me so well too. You'd look so pretty with my cock down your throat."

Y/n had been right his mouth was filthy in bed. With one last flick of his wrist, y/n came, hard. She was still shaking when he pulled the toy away and leaned down to kiss her. It didn't start sweet or innocent, as soon as Bucky's lips pressed against hers he took control, and she let him. He nips at her bottom lip then smoothed his tongue over it to ease the sting. He did this twice more before pulling back and laying on the bed beside her. Before she had the chance to question hin he spoke, "I want you to sit on my face and let me fuck you with my tongue until you cum."

Y/n didn't have to be told twice. Once she had both legs on either side of his head she tried to slowly lower herself but Bucky wasn't having it. He grabbed her thighs pulled her hard against his mouth. He shattered any expectations she had. He was relentless, his licks were even and broad as he worked her juices into his mouth. It seemed the more he tasted the rough he became, which was fine by Y/n, that's the way she liked it. She felt him growl against her when he finally pushed his tongue into her, truly tasting her. The sound reverberated through her and she couldn't the near scream that tumbled from her bruised lips. When she clenched around his tongue he knew she was close so he doubled his effort. Bucky sealed his entire mouth on y/n's cunt and sucked harshly. She came with a moan of his name.

He let her pull back and sit back on his chest as she calmed down. When she felt the material of his tactical shirt under her she frowned. "James."

He hummed and dragged his eyes from where she was still glistening to her eyes, "Yes, doll?"

"You are wearing far too many fucking clothes." Y/n stated as she rolled off of him.

"Well, I can certainly fix that." He rose from the bed and shucked off his clothes in a matter of seconds. Y/n's eyes were everywhere at once: his arms, his chest, his thighs that she'd like to ride into the sunset. When they landed on his large member resting on his stomach, looking an angry shade of red,  her mouth watered.

"Pretty girl, as much as I'd love to have those pretty lips wrapped around me I need to be inside that pretty pink pussy immediately."

"How do you want me, James?" She was asking what his preference was.

He chuckled darkly then growled "Hands and fucking knees babydoll."

She whimpered then snapped into action. Y/n flipped over and raised with her back to him. "See pretty girl, I knew you'd look good like this." He praised her as he climbed onto the bed behind her. He ran the tip of his cock through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"Please." It was short and desperate. Exactly what Bucky wanted.

 "Please what, pretty girl?" He was teasing and she knew it.

"Please James, fuck me." She whined.

Bucky deemed it acceptable and slowly slid in, setting a shallow pace. He was still teasing.

"Faster." She was trying to rock her hips back into him but he had a steady hold on her hips holding her still.

"beg for it." It was clear what he wanted. Bucky wanted her desperate for him and ONLY him, not that it was much work.

And y/n begged, "Please James, fuck me faster. Please please, please. I'll do anything. Just make me yours, please." It was starting to get incoherent. Bucky was satisfied so he picked up the pace, slowly working his way up to slam into her. Skin slapping, his grunts, and her moans were the only noises filling the room. bucky twisted a hand into y/n's hair and pulled her up to his chest. He started whispering absolute filth in her ear as he fucked her deeply.

"That's right baby moan for me. You like me fucking your cunt don't you babydoll? You like the way I feel taking what I want from you? You gonna let me fuck you like this from now on aren't you baby?" His had moved from her hair to her throat. "You're gonna let me fuck you like this cause you're mine now right pretty girl? This cunt is mine now, only mine no one else's."

She could only let out incoherent "Yesses" as she got closer and closer but Bucky knew she liked it, he could feel her clenching around him. His other hand slipped down to her clit as he kept talking.  "You gonna give me what I want pretty girl? Is my girl gonna cum all over my cock? I can feel ya squeezin me, baby. Go ahead baby, cum for me."

That was the final push that landed y/n right in the middle of the strongest orgasm she had ever had. When he felt her clamp down on him he followed suit, shouting her name ad he pushes in as far as he can go. After they ride out their aftershocks they collapse beside each other. Y/n closed her eyes and floated between conscientious and sleep until she felt Bucky leave the bed. She was sure he had left so she rolled over to sleep until she is startled by and cool hand and calm voice.

"Pretty girl, you have to roll over and open your legs so I can clean you up then we can sleep, okay baby?" She rolled just enough for Bucky to slip a warm washcloth in between her legs and stroke gently, cleaning her.  When he was down he threw the cloth into her hamper before slowly working her under the covers. After she was under them he slid in next her and pulled her to him.

"James?" she sounded sleepy.

"Yes, doll?"

"What does this make us?" She was timid now, holding her breath for his response.

"Well, I was hoping we could be a couple." He smiled against her hair.

Y/n lets out a relieved breath, "That sounds nice James."

"Shh, we'll talk in the morning, go to sleep pretty girl."  He was grinning now.

"I love you." It slipped so easily from her lips as she drifted to sleep. Bucky wasn't even sure she had meant to say but he said it back none the less and he meant it

#steve rogers #steve #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #captain america #steve x reader x bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanart #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastianstanedit #sebstanedit #sebby #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut

[bangtanmythology]

In The Name Of Song. Two Halves.

Part Seven: Two Halves:

Y/N discovers the reason behind these nightmares and he isn’t what she thought he was at all.

A/N: ahh guys I’m so happy so many people are enjoying this series! Have some sweet Yoongi for once and finally some more of the story is making sense and not quite a Y/Nkook meeting but we’re almost there guys! Enjoy! ❤️

“Why didn’t you mention the nightmares to me?” Yoongi was staring into the young girls eyes, she shrugged her shoulders, a saddened look on her face, her legs crossed as she sat inside the dark living room of Yoongi’s apartment. His hand reached out and spread across her forehead, a shocking sensation tingling though her body as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She could see a boy, the same boy from her dreams, he was laying in bed, a pained look visible across his sweaty face, a crimson hue set upon his cheeks, his torso lay bare, glistening and heaving with the efforts of his laboured breath. She could see herself in his bedroom, stood in the doorway, her feet moved before her mouth moved.

“Are you Okay?”

It was a slight whisper, in fact she doubted he’d hear her but when his red eyes shifted to her with a movement quicker than she anticipated, her whole body backed into the wall.

“Y/N? I won’t hurt you. Please!” His voice was cracking at the end of the sentence, tears falling from his eyes and Y/N quickly took a couple steps towards his bed, stopping just before reaching the edge.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” Her voice was louder but still held a fear to it.

“I’m the wolf that’s been watching you, I’m-“

His voice became a growl as his eyes glowed from red to brown and back again. Her whole body felt tense, the feral growl piercing her every muscle, injecting it with fear. He was gripping the bed sheets and then, his hand was on hers and she could really feel him. Despite his demeanour his touch was calm, gentle, searing hot and burning into her skin.

“I’m your mate, I need your help, I can’t control myself anymore, ple-“

Another shock ran straight through her, her eyes fluttering open as she took in the concentrated expression that belonged to Yoongi. There were tears in her eyes and he was looking straight at her.

“I’m sorry I can’t hold it for very long, it uses too much power,” he was mumbling and he seemed genuinely sorry, the sorriest she’d seen him since she moved here. There was a bright flash outside the grey dusty windows, followed by a large rumble of thunder. Storms happened at least once a week here, it was something Y/N had grown used to.

“What does he mean he’s my mate?” Y/N’s voice was quiet, a glum look on her beautiful face as her tears dried and left a slight stain.

“I think you need to have this discussion with your grandma, she can help you,” Yoongi was smiling, a genuine, kind smile that warmed Y/N’s heart.

“Yoongi can you promise me something?”

“Anything,”

“Can you promise that when my time is up here you’ll stay in my life, I think I need you to stay forever,”

“Of course Kiddo, i’d be happy to,”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Who were you talking to?” Namjoon was staring around the plain room, Taehyung close behind him, Hobi sitting next to Jungkook, a hand pressed to his forehead.

“Y/N, she was here, with me, she came to me,” Jungkook was smiling, it was the first time in almost a week that any of the boys had seen him smile. It had been almost two days since Yoongi had spoken to him.

“What do you mean she was here?” Taehyung asked, pacing through the fluffy carpet, his cold toes raking through the satisfying strands as he shuffled his feet extra hard.

“She was right here, she spoke to me, she’s scared of me, she must be dreaming of me, I don’t know, I felt her touch, I held her hand!” He was smiling widely now, happy, his fever long forgotten despite his soaring body temperature. Each of the boys stared at each other.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Grandma, tell me about Jungkook,” Y/N was on the island. When she had come to this reality she had discovered that her grandma lived on her own separate island, a small cottage in the center, the rest greenery and a large jungle stretching behind the house, a small beach on the front side of the cottage.

“It’s about time you asked me,” her grandma was laughing, cute eyes full of wisdom and a life well lived lighting up and then hiding away behind her wrinkled eyelids. Her hands enveloped Y/N’s smoother ones, clasping them tightly.

“He’s your soulmate my dear, I had a witch hex the two of you so that you’d be destined to be together,” her grandma stated it so calmly that it made Y/N’s breathing fall short. Her Grandmas face had turned serious, a distant look overtaking her.

“Your mother gave me so much grief, her world was hatred and emptiness for so long, your father was the first and only time I ever saw her somewhat content and I didn’t want the same for you, I wanted to make sure that you were happy and never had problems. My best friend growing up was a witch, from a powerful coven, they were bad witches, nasty, horrible people that came directly from the same witch that created your families curse to begin with. My friend was trying to overthrow them, to create a spell so powerful that it would lock them all away for eternity however before she could finish her spell I asked a favour of her. I knew you were going to be born 7 years before you arrived, I asked her to put a curse on your mother and the mother of a supernatural being from a kind family. I knew that in the reality you’d be sent to you’d have unlimited access to the supernatural and I wanted to make sure you met with a good fish in a sea of bad ones. I had her seek out families with a good fortune and ensured that she found families that gave her a good feeling. In the end we discovered a small pack made up of just two werewolf families that stuck very closely together, one of the families was already expecting a son and the other had just married. We wanted someone who would be younger than the son on the way so I had my friend hex the mum, the hex meant that her first born son would be destined to be together with your mothers first born daughter, you. You see what we didn’t anticipate is that this young werewolf would be a true alpha, he holds a tremendous power, as do you, when she was killed you and him took half of her power equally. If the two of you come together you can accomplish amazing things, however, he is struggling to contain this power inside of his body, he does not have the training and guidance that you do. Nobody knows about him except for you, me, Yoongi and my witch friend who is unfortunately no longer with us.”

The information should have scared Y/N, God, she knew anyone would be scared but to know all of what she now knew comforted her, it gave her a sense of relief. She knew that Jungkook was not there to hurt her and she knew that she would no longer be able to kill her true love because even if it was forced she had knew he was a good choice for her.

#bts au fic #bts fic #jhope #jimin #jungkook x reader #taehyung #bts werewolf au #jimin x reader #jungkook #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook werewolf #bts reactions #bts scenarios #yoongi angel #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios

[feather-dancer]

Trollhunters Fanfic Recommendations - Part 3

Somehow there is now a third one of these because I read far far too much fanfic and have no regrets about it. It’s with great pleasure I can also announce I’ve been digging around for Trans Jim fics and found some gems while I was at it that have been included below.

You can find Part 1 of my fanfic recommendations here!

And Part 2 here!

Plus one shameless plug for my own current fics.

General Trollhunters

(And you're my Arcadia.) - All you need to know is it’s Jilaire post Season 3 and one line in particular made me burst out laughing.

Bitter[sweet] - Sometimes the thing you need most is just a really good friend when your body plain sucks. Contains Trans Jim and is delightful.

the red book - Far beyond the humble days of Season 3 and after living beyond his human family and friends, Jim has started to forget who he was and that he was ever just a human kid.

The Halls of Arcadia High - When Strickler disappeared in Season 1, his absence was felt in many ways even in the form of a humble piano left un-played.

Not - Not!Enrique isn’t his name yet it’s what they call him anyway. An albatross reminding him of what was taken before he even had a chance to start.

On the Radio  - The final telling of the Janus Order.

Gay stories for Tales of Arcadia - Yeah I’m pretty sure you can guess where this is going, LGBTQ+ rep!

Through the Fires - There was a before time, one where Gunmar still roamed free and Deya had yet to be chosen let alone felled. These are the words of the humble witnesses of that war, from the changelings to the trolls who would oppose them.

Trollhunters: A Series of Disjointed Drabbles - This is so cute and fluffy I might just spontaneously combust.

Insomnolence - It is after the final battle and Jim has a lot of thoughts.

another tragedy - Anxiety is a bastard, it gives a lot of bad thoughts but sometimes there is a little bit of truth buried beneath it all and it whispers all about how you can keeping doing the wrong things for the right reasons. Season 2.

i will always hold you close (but i will learn to let you go) - Sometimes the hardest thing you can do is learning when to let go. Sometimes however, even when you want to they hold back even tighter. Season 2.

your eyes look like coming home - Toby has been the witness from the start of just how close Jim has been to death multiple times over and how Jim he is about the whole thing. It scares him how this time might be it, again and again. Season 2.

The Collected Tellings of Shigir and Other Changeling Folktales - I don’t actually know which category to put this under so I’m going the to heck with it route instead. Does exactly what it says on the tin for your Changeling lore needs, some of which will be off-hand mentioned or outright appear during the fantastic Terpsichore - The Comedy of the Danse Macabre - ACT I.

Please note: The main fic is Stricklake if that’s not your cup of tea, the folktales however can be enjoyed regardless.

~~~

Stricklake

all that dazzling dawn has put asunder - The sequel to in my sleep i dreamed of waking, this is filled with delightful fluff, internal panicking and the joys of trying to explain how you’re a not and how that does not change the fact Strickler is still a was. Being a changeling in these strange after times are difficult even before the other baggage involved but at least you're still here to start.

Two Pisces in Alto Mare - When in Rome as part of a study trip abroad, you meet the most curious people sometimes and  by fluke or nature you may even do so more than once.

Filling The Gaps - Possibly a bit of an unusual mention but! These are little pieces of Fallout that were going on while our eyes were following elsewhere and boy it can hurt.

Rehearsals and DvD Bonus Features - Another from the home of Terpsichore - The Comedy of the Danse Macabre - ACT I which is being listed here because it does have Stricklake in it. Some things don’t make the cut with writing fanfic, either because the plot wandered off, it doesn’t fit right or it’s some backstory you haven’t quite figured out where it can be naturally brought up yet and in this case they’ve found themselves a home. Be warned, one particular chapter is explicit and has been marked as such in warnings in the chapter summary.

~~~

Alternate Universes

(Un)Becoming - Not technically an AU in the conventional sense but I’m putting it under here anyway. It’s Unbecoming, as ever the road to hell is paved with good intentions but as Jim threw in the towel the storm that’s coming will not be stopped. However, what if others caught glimpses of a world that still had a human Trollhunter to defend it?

Steve the Kind - Steve became the Trollhunter but how the adventure unfolds differently than when Jim was at the helm might just surprise you. Very slow burn Steve and Jim that in a rather refreshing change doesn’t throw Claire under the bus for it to happen. Praise be.

31 Days in the Darklands - Strickmar that somehow kinda works?? It helps with Gunmar having the space to breathe outside of getting Morgana out and be more of his own character. Storywise, in order to rescue Jim from the Darklands Strickler broke a deal that would cost his own freedom and now has to somehow maintain a treaty between three very different factions all the while keeping his own neck intact. The intense distrust in changelings continues on to boot but hey, nobody said politics was easy.

Building Bridges - So Gunmar is distinctly of the more Eldritch variety with dream powers, the ability to easily see through lies for the true emotions and thoughts, Bular has the Insight as well to a lesser extent and everyone has somehow managed to hop onto Stricklander’s bandwagon of we must protect Jim Lake Jr. at all costs. Now the race is on as both sides try to sway the young Trollhunter to their way of thinking and the Trollmarket has no idea how dangerously badly they’re doing so far.

Lost Souls - A fic written in variable snapshots. Jim was kidnapped and changed by Merlin far earlier to be his Champion to ensure he did the “right thing” while Barbara in desperation to find her son falls into the hands of Morgana thus mother and son become enemies without even realising it.

Faithfully - Barbara died overseas and yet somehow Jim still managed to make his way back to Arcadia to become the next Trollhunter. This road is far harder for it as a seemingly homeless orphan though on the flipside he keeps on acquiring dads. Contains Trans Jim, timeline variable snapshots and I love it very much.

The Burning - There was a fire, it killed Barbara and Jim was thought dead as well. Nobody could have guessed the feral half changeling that is running around like a cryptid is the very much alive Jim.

Finding Daylight - Jim is a very low ranking changeling, terrified of Bular and his home amounts to little more than a spot in the woods. Things started to go pear shaped for him when he accidentally stumbled over Blinky and only more so when the amulet picks him after Kanjigar is felled. Tis not a kind world for a changeling child out there and he has nobody really to help watch his back until he stumbles on a potential maybe.

~~~

The bonus shoutout for an excellent MSA fic   

A Sleep Like Death - Who wouldn’t want to go visit a tower you’ve inherited apparently and has haunted as all hell all over it? Not Vivi that’s for sure. Poor Arthur is just along for the ride and then things start to get really weird when they find it’s still occupied and thinks Arthur is his jailor.

#Trollhunters

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains / Misc x Reader || Drabbles

Plot: You accidentally summon Beetlejuice because he convinced you that he could help you with your Slasher problem, but he becomes an even worse problem. So, you need your Slasher to help you exterminate him, instead.

Includes: Chucky / Charles Lee Ray and Freddy Krueger

Warnings: It’s got nasty gremlin man in it (Meaning, gross language, dirty jokes and such), and also Slashers (Meaning, gore, swearing, course and suggestive language). Groping (Himself) 

Notes:

Okay, those of you who were with me at MainstreamBaddies; You remember that post I wrote about some rando killer trying to get the reader, so reader goes to the Slasher that’s also trying to kill them for help?

Well this is basically that but with (Movie) Beetlejuice as the rando.

THERE WAS MEANT TO BE MORE CHARACTERS!! But its late and I wanna slep ^^ Hopefully I’ll do Ghostface and Jason tomorrow! 

~~~

THE START / ‘Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice’

“So… “Worrying my bottom lip, I look from the wall where I can think properly to the small, ‘fun size’ version of ‘Beetlejuice’ who’s looking expectantly at me. Excited even. 

Although I guess that’s a given. If I was that small and had the possibility sitting right in front of me, of growing back to full size, and full power again, I’d be jazzed too. But, still, there’s something very off about this guy, and it isn’t just the fact that he’s the size of maybe 2 thumbs snapped off at the knuckle and taped one on top of the other. He’s very enthusiastic.

In a Gollum-Swamp Monster-Chick Hicks kind of way.

“’So’, what? I don’t have all day baaaaaay – well, I do have all day. I got nowhere to be – not many fun joints for a guy to go to at this size, amiright? Yeah, but, that’s not the point! Do you wanna get rida’ your lil’ problem or not? Eh?” Beetlejuice is practically vibrating, like an alarm clock and I have the most impulsive urge to call his name three times just to stop it.

Luckily, I have impulse control.

“Of course, I do. I… “Eyeing him pointedly, I start wringing my hands. “I just don’t want to create a new problem, in its place.”

He rolls his dark, feral racoon-panda eyes, muttering something lightning quick to himself before throwing out his arms and yelling. “BABE! I promise ya, really, sweetheart. Baby-lemon pie-dumpling-doll-dollar-sugar-tea, I’m just gonna fix your problem! All I want in the world right now is t’ cum-plete our deal! Get rida’ your Slasher, and be on my way! Unless theirs somethin’ else you ask of me, eh? When I’m back to my normal size? You know, I’m big in all the right places sugar tit- “

I took a deep, necessary breath in when he started on the ‘something else’ and now have the required breath to drown out the last words. “Oooookay!! I wont need that.” I say quickly, as a statement. He licks his lips. “But, um… Are you sure you can get rid of them?” ‘Them’. The bane of my existence right now. The co-star in the horror movie of my life. That them.

“Trust me, babe-sickle. It’ll be sinch.” For a moment, he looks absolutely calm. No vibrating, no yelling, no talking really fast. And it hits its intended mark – my assurances. Okay.

“Alright.” I wring my hands one last time, then clap them and step back from the town diorama that Beetlejuice is roaming in. I cross my arms, then drop them to my sides and look around, then finally back at the impatient ghost… who’s doing squats. Good grief, how much energy is in this guy? “Beetlejuice.”

He gasps, jumps up to his feet, nearly falling over because his weight landed wrong and then rubs his hands together. “Here we go!”

“Beetlejuice.”

“Oh. You do it right, babe.”

Oh my god, here we go. Hopefully this can’t make my situation any worse- I mean, I am being targeted by a killer. What are the odds that this goofball of a ghost could ruin my life anymore? “Beetlejuice.”

“PRESTO!”

Human! Chucky / Charles Lee Ray – Chucky’s POV:

I figure this is going to be a pain, when a screech tears from the ugly old house before I even get in. Confused, and more then frustrated because this spells out nothing but problems for me for when I get in, instead of the nice peaceful kill I was intending to enjoy, I open the screen door -bitch didn’t even lock the front door, it’s like she wants me to kill her,- and rush up the stairs to where the sound came from. “Hold on, I’m not there yet!!”

What the hell is going on?!

“Look, in my professional experience, the screamin’ doesn’t start til the killer takes out a knife, sometimes even before but not before I even get into the house, lady. The audacity of you, here- “

What am I looking at here?

In front of my eyes, my fucking eyes, stands of course Y/N, my victim. And some kind of zebra - one that’s been dead and left out in the swamp for a fuck-long time. He’s got crazy eyes if I’ve ever seen them, and have you seen mine? That’s saying something. Who is this joker? In my coat, I grip the gun I keep just in case strangulation goes awry, but don’t bring it out just yet. Not until this guy reveals his cards, first.

The guy’s eyes flicker in smug amusement from my face, to my gun pocket -evidently, he realises something’s up. Can’t blame the guy, damnit, -, then whips right around, leaving his back wide open for me and my weapon, to my facepalming victim. I smirk at her. “I take it that’s the guy you want rid of, toots?”

“Uh… yeah… “She looks adorable and awkward. The guy lets go of her waist, which he was holding close to his body as she leaned away before, when I walked in and he literally, and I’ve never seen any person do this before, halted in his tracks. Stopped breathing, stopped shifting, it even seemed like the history around him stopped for that ‘caught’ moment. And I swear I heard the sound of record music abruptly being turned off come from his mouth.

And for some odd reason, I get the feeling he’s not human. Can’t conjure a reason why, though.

I should be saying this shit out loud, I’m wasted on myself.

Figuring this guy’s been hired to get rid of me, I take out my gun. “Okay, you’re gonna have to catch me up on what’s happening... Oh, no? Well, okay.”

BAM!

A bullet flies across the room and sticks into the freak’s chest, and that is the end of things going my way.

Because the force of the bullet somehow sends him slamming across the room and through a wall in the back. His body goes ‘poot’ down two stories outside and theirs a silence that doesn’t last long enough for either Y/N or I to digest what just fucking happened before the bastard’s grotty fucking hand spiders up my spine from behind. I wriggle out of his reach immediately on impact, because it’s like a real fucking spider, and whip around, waiving my gun- which is useless now, of course.

Games are over.

The guy looks over at Y/N and grins, throwing his arms out in a ‘ta da!’ way. She winces and just narrows her eyes in a glare. “What’d you think of that, sweet cheeks? I got a flare for the dramatic, you know? Ssssexy! Eh?” When she sticks her tongue out at him, for lack of any words to respond to that with I guess -I mean, I, can think of some choice words for the guy, but she’s clearly not as creatively gifted in the art of insult as I have been told I am. But, a tongue out works, - he grins the most fucking horny grin I’ve ever seen and clutches his sack. Her jaw drops.

“Where the ever-loving fuck did you pick crazy pants up from??” I ask, looking accusingly at Y/N. She chews on the inside of her cheeks and looks even more awkward then before.

“Truce?” She asks, instead of answering my question. I’m genuinely curious.

I roll my eyes. “Ughh, fine.”

“Oh well that won’t do,” The guy speaks up again, looking between us and letting his Johnson go, thank god. The boys have to breath! “Baby girl, blossom, light of my FUCKING DEATH! You wound me. riGHT IN THE HEART! Let me show you, sweetgums, why that was a bad idea.”

Her eyes widen, and I suddenly feel real unsafe. “How about you don’t- “

“Watch this!”

He turns to me, makes some overdramatic hand gestures, throwing his back out in the process and momentarily acting like he’s out of order.

Then he whips back into action and shoots me with finger guns,

And then suddenly everything around me looks 4 times bigger then before. Oh, well, its that or… I’m closer to the ground.

Because I’m a fucking doll again.

I slowly look up from the little black baby shoes and the edges of the godamn jean jumpsuit, to the infected condom in black and white grease paint. “… You son-of-a-bitch.”

He chuckles and turns to Y/N, and gives her finger guns too, but the only other thing that happens this time is he winks at her. “Now, baby! Time to get hitched!”

“What?!” She shrieks.

Freddy Krueger – Freddy’s POV:

“I’m going to die of boredom before this bitch catches winks. I’m gonna pummel her with the counting sheep she clearly needs when she gets here.” The corners of my mouth lift up from the deep scowl I was wearing before, at the idea. It has merit.  

Behind me the fine folks of Pompeii run for their lives and a red and green striped Vesuvius explodes molten lava over their little town when I remember it’s been 2 days since she’s fallen asleep. Or found some fucking Hypnocil. Or killed herself. Who knows, really. I have a… deadly effect on women.

But damn, it would be a bummer if she killed herself. I was having fun with her. I had plans.

Have, have. I have plans. I won’t give up hope yet.

An hour, or who knows how long later -time is a human construct and doesn’t exist in the dream plain, - , I’m lying on the ground watching Psycho play in the sky when that familiar tingle rushes through me, telling me someone’s entered my world.

I’m just getting up and brushing myself off, taking my damn time like she left me to wait -besides, I can turn back time and make it seem like I appeared instantaneously if I want to. Time’s a construct, remember? And this is my world. I’m just doing this for me, to make me feel better, - when she comes out of fucking nowhere and nearly knocks me over. Im-ee-diate-ly I open my mouth to ask her why she’s so eager, but she beats me to the punch, causing me sadness.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

Hold on, I definitely think there’s something off here. Don’t I make the fucking demands?! “Bitch- ”

“Wake!”

“-I haven’t done anything to you yet.” 

“Up!”

“Goddamn!”

What is going on here!?

“I’ll do anything you want, just please. Wake me up!” Her eyes are deadly serious, and I can’t help the greedy smile I get at her submissive idea. What could have made her this way? I laugh.

“Ohhh, I’ll think it over. Tempting offer, though~” She lets out a growl and let’s go of me in pure frustration, looks around quickly for something and then lays eyes on my glove. She picks it up, and my eyes widen in surprise at what she does next.

The blade slices through the skin in her upper arm before I can take any control of the situation, and a nauseous feeling suddenly rolls me and she whimpers from the pain of slicing herself open, as the world goes blurry around us and she wakes up- of course, still holding my glove, which is attached to me, so I go with her.

“Fucking he- “

Much quicker than you think it will be, we both turn up back in the fucking reality. She hops up immediately and flies across the room to a first aid box.

I’m just assuming, I mean. Because I don’t make any move to leave the bed at all and just close my eyes and groan, and resist the urge to cry.

I hate this placceeeeeeeeee.

“BABES, YOU’RE BACK!”

Now I resist the urge to scream and phase out of existence, because a man just appeared on the bed with me and called me his babes. Instead, I slowly turn my head to him and sinisterly narrow my eyes- and hope he doesn’t notice my distress from a second ago.

I’m starting to understand why Y/N was so intent on getting back here. If this guy, a dung beetle with… oh, god. Clearly, some kind of terrible illness if that smell indicates anything, was hanging around me while I slept, I’d be… slightly bothered too. If only for the stink!

He squints, and while he does, his hair flickers through the various colours in the rainbow, confused. “Sweetbottom, theirs something different about you. Did you get contacts?”

As a knee jerk reaction, I stab him in the gut with my blades. “Stranger danger, bitch!”

My panic dissolves into glee as I jerk the knives upwards… just to turn back into panic when he starts tearing all the way in half from my stab wound up to the top of his head with minimal effort from me. I gulp, and retreat from him to where Y/N is, taping her bandages securely around her arm. I gesture to the freak who’s padded onto the floor and is zipping himself back together in front of my eyeballs. “… the fuck is that?”

“That’s Beetlejuice, he’s a ghost=

“With the most, baby.” ‘Beetlejuice’ stands up straight and rests his hands on his hips, chest puffed out and winks at Y/N. 

“-What do we do?”  She asks, looking with wide eyes at me. 

What does she think I am? The Fairy Godmother of the dead?? I’m no godmoth-

… I could use this. A slow grin spreads across my mouth. “First, you go over there and distract him.” 

For a split second she looks like she’s actually going to go with it, then looks with furrowed, unimpressed eyebrows at me. ‘Beetlejuice’ makes grabby hands at us, and she starts to look more panicked by the second. “And what will you do??”

I yank the bedroom door open. “Run!!”

#Keatlejuice #Beetlejuice #Chucky #Charles Lee Ray #Freddy Krueger #Drabbles #Scenarios #Part 1 #Horror / Misc Drabbles || Part 1 #Beetlejuice x Reader #Keatlejuice x Reader #Chucky x Reader #Charles Lee Ray x Reader #Freddy Krueger x Reader

[keeperofhounds]

Never Know Who’s Watching

You know who's watching, you need to all ways watch your back especially when you know you’re doing something wrong.

This is a fan work I make no profit off it. My Hero Academia belongs to its original content creators.

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

The teachers looked uncomfortably at the rat, dog, bear creature at the head of the table. Nezu didn’t seem all that put off by the pair of eyes staring at him, he was after all used to it. Why wouldn’t he be? He was an animal with a quirk, after all, this was bound to cause stares. This, however, wasn’t the cause of the stares.

Instead, it was a screen with what some might consider disturbing footage of a student threatening another student with their quirk. Not to mention all the comments, who appeared to be students from the same school, classmates of both students. Only the comments seemed to be focusing on all the wrong things, in fact, it seemed to be egging on the behavior.

One comment said, ‘Looks like he’s at it again.’

‘What did that loser do this time? Can’t he just keep his head down.’

‘Some people just don’t know how the world works.’

‘Who wants to bet that he said something dumb again. LOL.’

‘OMG, that kid is still around, I swore that he killed himself.’

Normally it wouldn’t be any of the teacher's business, this wasn’t any of their students. The problem was that the tags on social media clearly stated that the abuser was going to be a student at their school. UA takes its reputation very seriously, their students and potential students represent the school with their behavior reflecting on the school. To see such awful behavior in plain view being witnessed by their own possible student just goes to show the oversight on the school's part.

 Which is why the teachers were here. To make a decision on the boy in the video's future, ironically the other student being assaulted was also an incoming student. What should they do? Changing his homeroom teacher, it looked like they would be in the same class. Place him in general studies, that way he can get his act together. This wasn’t only the principles decision to make, it is the teachers as well.

Nezu linked his paws together, “So, what should we do about this incident?”

Thirteen raised their hand, “We can place him in another department, it’s too late in the year for him to apply for another school, at least even if it’s not Heroics he can still get an education.”  

“Wouldn’t that send the wrong message though?” Present Mic said, crossing his arms over his chest, “General Education isn’t a punishment, and a lot of the time students who didn’t make the cut to Heroics go through General.”

“That’s right,” Vlad King said, “I saw his exam scores, General would be a waste for him, why not keep an eye on him, if it’s a first offense then, I don’t see why we should ruin this kid's chances at becoming a hero.”

All Might was strangely silent to the entire discussion.

Nezu listened as the teacher's debate or argue over a course of action. In a perfect world Nezu could imagine helping this child on the right path, with them being able to achieve their true potential. It’s what any teacher would want for any child. In reality, though, some people can’t be helped by others. They had to help themselves before others could help them.

“Aizawa, this young man is supposed to be your student, it ultimately falls on you to have the final if any actions should be taken.

The shaggy-haired man glared at him tiredly, to him the solution was obvious to him. He had seen many punk kids before, growing up he even dealt with them. “ We revoke his acceptance.”

The teachers stared, that was too harsh.

“What a minute Aizawa, I get the kids a little rough around the edges,” Vlad said in the kid's defense, “but there’s no need to go that far.” 

Nezu raised a paw, silencing the homeroom teacher, “Can you explain why this course of action would be best?”

“It’s because he should know better. I don’t know about his home life or what he’s thinking, but I do know one thing, his behavior is unacceptable.” Aizawa looked at the principal in the eye, “The way he acts, shows that he’s done this before and to the same kid no less. This is a grudge that should have no place in a school environment, this behavior should have been stomped out ages ago.”

Nezu took the heroes' words into consideration. He’s right, like many times. This child was another one in thousands, they are a school for heroes and frankly, despite his impressive performance, he still has a lot to learn. He just hopes that the child could use this as a wake-up call, if he still aspires to be a hero then there is no reason why he can’t apply again next year.

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

Bakugo Katsuki couldn’t believe what he was reading, what the hell, right? Why was the greatest hero school in the world rejecting someone like him? The stupid letter was making bullshit claims about him being out of line or some shit like that. He read the letter:

Dear, Mr. Bakugo Katsuki

    Thank you for your response to our letter of acceptance. The Admissions Committee has discussed at length about your prospects for the upcoming academic year. It is with a heavy heart that we send you this letter.

     As you know, the Committee takes seriously the qualities of maturity and moral character. After careful consideration, the Committee voted to rescind your admission to UA High School.  

    We are sorry about the circumstances that have led us to withdraw your admission, and we wish you success in your future academic endeavors and beyond.

Yours sincerely,

Nedzu

Principle of UA High School

Bakugo exploded the stupid letter with his quirk, the fuck did they mean about rescinding his acceptance, this was complete and utter bullshit. He was leagues above everyone else with his kickass quirk and smarts. They were making a mistake if they couldn’t see the mistake they were making by rejecting him. This was shitty Deku all over again.

“Deku…” Katsuki growled, letting out a string of explosives from his hands, “it was him, it’s always him. THAT BASTARD!”

Katsuki stormed out of the house, but not before causing his mom to yell at him and him to yell back at the crazy bitch. Every time something wrong happened in his life Deku always had something to do with it. Getting accepted into UA. The sludge villain incident. Mumbling about heroes. That day in the stream. WHO THE HELL DID THAT BASTARD THINK HE IS!?

“DEKU!” Bakugo called from outside Izuku’s apartment, banging on the door, “GET OUT HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

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

Unknown to the explosive teen, Izuku wasn’t home that day. It was the weekend and he was off with All Might who wanted to spend time with him for some reason. Izuku had told his mother Inko that he was meeting with a friend, who helped him train for UA which technically wasn’t a lie, but not the entire truth either. It was just luck that he missed Bakugo’s rampage.

Inko, however, was home alone and scared out of her mind. There was someone at her front door banging on it, calling out a name. Inko didn’t see much point in trying to calm down the clearly feral individual at her doorstep, so she called the police.

Inko kept her tears at bay, glad that her son was out right now, who knows what he would have done. He was a sweet boy, so he would have tried to defend her. “Hello, this is the police speaking, what is your emergency?”

“There’s someone trying to break down my door,” Inko whispered trying to keep her voice steady, flinching at every bang at the door. “He keeps calling for someone, and he won’t leave, I’m too scared to tell him he’s got the wrong house, I think he might turn violent.”

“Don’t worry, help is on the way.”

Inko dropped the call. All she could do now is wait and hope the intruder doesn’t have any quirk that might be able to break down the door.

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

Back outside Bakugo could feel his anger and frustration rising, the bastard was ignoring him. Who the hell did that Quirkless reject think he was, ignoring him? Not that of it mattered anymore, all his hard work went down the drain when that letter came in. So Bakugo let loose all his power onto the poor door.

A scream was heard, from the inside of the apartment. Glaring through the hole, all the middle schooler saw an empty house, but someone was there, just not Deku.

It was probably just his bitch of a mom. Deku should have been out by now, it didn’t look like he was home. Bakugo kicked the door, he had come here for nothing.

Police sirens echoed from the entrance, along with the sound of rushing footsteps. Bakugo was met with hero rejects of police officers pointing guns at him. “Freeze, don’t move, and drop on your knees kid.”

Bakugo wasn’t stupid, he knew he was in trouble, he lost his cool and stomped to a nerds house. Bakugo went on his knees, there was no way he was going to be some villain in his story. He’ll get out of this and do what he is meant to do, he’ll win this and then everyone will be sorry.

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

Tsukauchi couldn’t believe the utter garbage coming out of this kid's mouth. Who the heck did this kid think he is? In what world did causing a public disturbance and threatening a single mother would be grounds for a slap on the wrist? The kid was taking it all cooly or as cooly as he could with his poor attitude. 

This kid was angry, but this was an entire level of anger. Thank goodness the person he was looking for wasn’t home, because, from the look in that kid's eyes, Tsukauchi would have been sure that the call would have been more serious. He fears that someone could have been dead in his altercation.

The police were able to take a statement from one Midoriya Inko, who couldn’t for the life of her understand what the boy’s problem was. Inko, however, cared very little, gave her statement and left hoping to put the entire ordeal behind her. Not that the man could blame her, it looked cut and dry to him. Not to mention that the mother had filed a restraining order for Bakugo to stay away from her and her family.

There will be consequences for this, he would make sure of it, not to mention he’s glad that her son had missed the entire encounter. The detective had heard a lot about him from Toshinori and it seemed like a stroke of bad luck that the kid would have had an encounter weeks before the end of the year. The least he could do was tell Toshinori that the kid's mom was alright.

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

Bakugo could only stare angrily at the entire thing. He was being treated as a common villain by people who couldn’t even cut it as heroes. He looked to the side at his “counsel”, some lawyer bitch who came in talking about how she would get the charges dropped against him. Before he could even run, her off his mom punched him over the head to shut him up and to accept her damn counsel.

Which is how Bakugo found himself staring face to face with her. A woman with a face so fake that he knew this was an act, she wanted something from him. “So, what do you want bitch?”

She smiled, “My my, what poor manners you have, how are you going to get out of this if you can’t even play the part of a troubled teen?”

“THE HELL YOU SAY!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you a plea deal and then this episode will be behind you.”

“LIKE HELL!”

The lawyer gave him a dead-eyed stare causing him to freeze, he didn’t know what it was all about, but something about her told him to shut up and listen, “I know you were just showing off your power, nothing wrong with that sweeter, but you gotta play the system, if you don’t then you end up here. Let me do all the talking and everything will be okay.”

Bakugo couldn’t help but believe her.

“Now look I’m friends with the judge, he’s going to send you to a special place where you can use your quirk all you want, as long as you don’t get cause everything will be fine, for now though,” the lawyer rummaged through her purse and placed a book in from on the restrained teen, “why don’t you catch up on some light reading.”

When the woman left Bakugo stared at the book reading the title, Meta Liberation War. 

#midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #my fanfiction #fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #villain! bakugo #aizawa shouta #aizawa sensei #deku midoriya #deku #inko #All Might

[ask-show-into-movie-ninja-au]

Oh snap you have a movie Morro?? Tell me about him please? Is he part of the Ninja? Does he talk to Wu at all? How does his backstory look in the movie verse? Sorry that's a lot of questions you don't have to answer them all unless you want~

((*Slams fist on table* I have been waiting for this type of ask no need to apologize

much like canon his beginning is the same, he was found by Wu and was trained by him (but not in the hopes of him being the green ninja as that’s really just a title/position of leader in the movie verse) but Morro still had the desire to prove himself, Wu realized that it definitely wasn’t healthy for Morro to act like that so he got Morro some therapy to help with his need to prove himself so much, along with some anger management cause he had an explosive temper when young, Morro also had.....rehabilitation therapy as he was raised by dogs well on the street, he wasn’t completely feral but definitely needed some medical help,

Wu is his dad plain and simple, he loves the man and is glad to be his son, since Wu had trained him before the ninja force was a thing it was just him and Wu fending off Garmadon (mostly just Wu though) he’s the fuchsia ninja, master of surprise, now that the ninja force is a thing he doesn’t help out as much but he’ll jump in if the help is needed

He ADORES Lloyd to no end (as again, the green ninja is just a title, it holds no real power in the movie realm) he adores the rest of the ninja force as well and is basically everyone’s big brother, unfortunately though he doesn’t get to see his cousin or the rest of the ninja force often as he’s in college and that keeps him quite busy, he’s also the master of wind but no one knows that yet, as well....Wu did find him on the streets so he has no idea if Morro is an elemental master

He enjoys music he even plays the piano and guitar! He loves chickens their his favourite animal he’s also a big fan of the supernatural especially ghosts, when he’s not studying or hanging out with the ninja force he’s off exploring haunted/abandoned places, Morro is also currently tasked with the mission of redeeming some ghost warriors who somehow got free from the movie!cursed realm…it’s going....fairly well all things considered....

He’s got a calm head and is often layer back but when push comes to shove he’s an amazing fighter, he’s also quite smart (and I haven’t really shown it yet bc 1.I’m just not the best writer and 2.I just haven’t really gotten asks for Morro or “Mark” but Movie!Morro is definitely catching on that there’s something up with “Mark”.....)

So yeah that’s my version of movie!Morro a sweet, mostly layed back, somewhat feral boy~Ducy))

#ducy talking #not an ask #ask box is open #ask blog #lego ninjago masters of spinjitzu #the lego ninjago movie #ninjago #ninjago movie

[queerchoicesblog]

An Unexpected Turn of Events

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that  premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous chapter: The Understudy

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

____________________

A couple of days later I go back to Melchiorri for another session as planned. He is inflexible that I allow my voice to rest at least one day before practising again not to damage it. As I observe the streets of Vienna passing by from my carriage, I wonder if the little fugitive will visit us today too and a tiny smile crosses my lips. I should be bothered by such unprofessionalism but surprisingly I enjoyed the interruption. A private comedic enteract. It also reminded me the maestro is human: I stole a glance of the domestic, family life people like me is generally unfamiliar with. I don't plan to marry anytime soon honestly if I can avoid it, despite what my Aunt claims. I owe her and my uncle, the wealthy side of my family, everything. She brought me away from the small town by the Alps I lived with Mom, Dad and Hans, my little brother in a wooden cottage by a stream. We weren't indigents, we owned a small typography in town that mainly served the local journal of the valley and well, the church crafting the prayer books you would find on the bench every day at mass. We weren't rich with either: you don't exactly became high socialite with so little. Hans is now running the typography as my father's eyes are not the ones he used to have since he got sick. I don't envy my poor brother; I am glad I got my way out of that life. I am eternally grateful to Auntie Helga for insisting to drag me to Graz and deciding to turn me into a star of the opera after hearing me perform a solo in the church choir during one of her - not so frequent, actually - visits.

Auntie built her fortune over a good marriage with a promising young lawyer who couldn't resist her charm and eventually allowed her to live in sober luxury and even be invited to court. But that seemed to be her sole aspiration in life: she left the small town and never looked back. I am an opera singer, I want more. My career comes first and I have yet to meet a worthy match honestly. And no, I don't want to be a puppet, a doll to a man who will eventually ask me to leave the stage and my beloved arias to look after a child or be a proper wife, whatever it means. So, no, thanks, I chuckle in my head while taking the hand the driver offer me to get off the carriage. When I knock at the door, I am considering that maybe Herr Giorgio is not that bad, even if I didn't like the way he addressed the maid and the poor naughty boy. Nor the lusty looks he throws me. The maid welcomes me with a smile and a little reverence. Good girl, probably she expects me to chastise her too. As if I had any intention to do so! She takes my fur and quickly disappear into the wardrobe room before walking back towardsme. I thank her for her zeal but I know the way to the music room, the maestro is surely waiting for me, I say. I start walking but what she says next makes me freeze, confused. "Actually, Miss...the master is not here today. I'm very sorry. His wife is waiting for you in the tea room". What? That...that must be a joke. The maestro hired to prepare me last minute disappears before the official rehearsals. I turn and throw a bad look at the poor maid, who doesn't deserve it in the least. She's just a messenger, her eyes beg before lowering them to her feet. She's right, my anger is all for Mister Melchiorri. What do I do now? "Whatever, lead the way then" I exclaim, following her. "I can't wait to hear what the fair lady has to say about this". My voice is cold, sardonic; the girl doesn't say a single word while we walk in the opposite direction than my usual route in the house. She's certainly too afraid to dare say a thing. When we finally arrive to the right room, she knocks politely at the door and steps in when a female voice comes from the inside. She bows her head and announces my presence before disappearing back down the corridor. She stops only to let the door open for me. I let out an annoyed sigh and enter. The room is significantly different from the maestro's studio. No instruments, only paintings at the walls and fresh flowers on the little tables around the room. The perfume is delicate and inebriating: are they orchids, I wonder? A neat wooden library holds the place of honour on the main wall, opposite the fireplace and framed by windows that fills the whole room by natural light, even if the sun doesn't shine today: it will probably rain soon. Letting my eyes wonder outside I spot green and a carousel: I didn't realise we were so close to a park! Unlike the music room, here even if the furniture, the velvet armchairs, the Persian rugs, every decor are certainly expensive, the atmosphere is surprisingly...cozy, an adjective I would have never thought of associated with Melchiorri's place. It's almost inviting, calming? "Miss Bauer, I am so incredibly sorry for the the latest developments and all the trouble they must bring on you...but please, take a seat! Franziska will be back soon with fresh tea". I turn to see a woman gesturing me to join her by the fireplace. Her German has a thick Italian accent which gives her "a bit of exotic" as they say at court. She doesn't wear a wig, her long raven hair are done up in an elaborate grateful chignon and two curly strands frame her visage. She reminds me one of those shepherdesses portrayed in bucolic frescos at the Emperor's Palace. Her dress is not in character though: a plain, cerulean dress which is not necessarily cheap but does nothing to enhance her figure. Poor taste probably: even money can do little about it sometimes. She must be in her early thirties or so I wager and thinner than most ladies I know in her standing...I wonder why Melchiorri chose her if he's so clearly fond of female curves. Maybe it's another arranged loveless marriage. I wouldn't be surprised. I oblige and thank her politely, forgetting my anger for a moment. It surprises me, it must be a reflex, a natural response the soothing silky voice of the lady. Like the feral beasts tamed by the gentle melody of Orpheus' song, I think trying to shake away such thought. I suddenly realise that I don't know her name. Melchiorri never talked about her. But I don't want to tell her: it's not a nice thing to say to a wife, right? As if reading my thoughts, she shakes her head slightly embarassed. "I forgot my manners, didn't I?" she sighs. "You must forgive me, Miss, I do not receive many visitors lately and I've never been introduced to famous opera singers...nor any of my husband's pupils. My name is Cecilia, Cecilia Melchiorri". I feel a pang of sadness for this lady excluded from the theatre world his husband works in. I don't get why she has to be cast out like that. I've met other illustrious wives at social gatherings around Vienna or at court. I offer her my hand, gesturing no apologies are needed, and repeat her name. "Cecilia...". Sadly, I completely butcher it: I studied Italian for the opera but my Austrian tongue is still incapable to recreate the sweet sounds that comes so natural to her. It must not be the first time because her lips curl in a quick understanding smile. "You can call me Lia, if it's easier for you. My family used to call me so". Lia...what a pretty little name. I smile, grateful. "I will then, if you don't mind...Lia. You can call me Constanze: it seems only fair". "As you wish, Miss Bauer!" she says before realising her mistake. We share an amused look, even if hers is a bit more bashful. In that moment, after another polite knock, Franziska returns with the tea and some butter biscuits. They're different from the ones Mister Melchiorri usually offers me in his studio. She's serving the tea when a familiar figure materialises on the threshold of the room at my peripheral. Lia is giving him the shoulders so she can't see him. I turn in his direction with a smirk. "I believe we've already met, right, Sir?" The two women turn at unison too and the kid childishly hides his face but doesn't move. After a moment he spies us through his fingers and retrieves his hands, smiling. Franziska puts the tray underneath her arm and tells Lia that she will bring him to his room, making the boy pout. He's quite the character. "Maybe he followed you because he just wants a biscuit" I say, my eyes wandering between them to check if I'm overstepping. "Maybe you're right...but only if he doesn't bother you" Melchiorri's wife concedes with a tired smile. I shake my head and take the decorated plate in my hands. "Would you like one?" I ask in Italian to her son, not sure if he speaks proper German. His face brightens up and he nods enthusiastically. We share a soft laugh, even the maid joins. He gets ready to speed across the room when he stops, considering. He searches his mother for approval. Lia nods, asking to behave like a good boy though. So he approaches slower than he wanted, with great effort to refrain himself, and grabs a biscuit from the plate. Before taking a generous bite, he mutters a quick thank you. "Mystery solved" I comment, placing the plate back on the table. "You must excuse him, Miss Ba- Constanze" Lia say, gently pulling him closer. "Nino is not a bad kid, just a bit of a rascal at times". "A rascal with a sweet tooth" Franziska adds and we share another laughter. "I'm so sorry he interrupted your private session the other day. Franziska had quite a fair share of work to do and I was indisposed in my room, I couldn't look after him as I usually do". I dismiss her apologies, taking a sip of tea. "But it was fun, wasn't it?" I wink at Nino who chuckles. "Yes and she sings very well, Ma" he says, turning to his mother. "Of course, I heard her too from my room" she smiles. "She's a promise of the opera, it's written on the newspapers". "Sing again?" the little boy begs, expectantly. His childish enthusiasm amuses me. "I cannot do those trills now, I need to warm up my voice first" I apologise, before winking. "Another time, I promise". Lia whispers something into his ear and he thanks me, concealing his disappointment. Crumbs are stuck on his lips and make the smile that follows a bit funnier than it was supposed to be. "Now, sweetheart, why don't you follow Franziska back to the kitchen?" She says, stroking his curls. "Take another biscuit and she will give you a glass of milk, just as you like it, huh?". She doesn't have to say it twice: while the maid gently places and arm around his shoulders, guiding him away, he takes not one but two biscuits in his hands. He throws me a conspiratorial look before chuckling. Then he turns towards Lia and stretches his neck to kiss her cheek. She caresses his face and tells him to be good with Franziska. When the two of them are out of the room, she meets my gaze again, shaking hear head. "Apologies, Miss...I sent Franziska to buy these for you this morning and he managed to put his eyes on them. He became obsessed". "Kids" I shrug, unbothered. I am pleasantly impressed that she had such a kind gesture towards me. I mean it could be a way to get on my good side because of the news she has to give me...but after all, this situation is not her fault. Her husband left her to deal with this and me all alone. She turns serious and sighs. "Anyway, have you heard of the flooding near Salzburg?". "What?". "Torrential rain lead to conspicuous floodings in the area surrounding Salzburg. I don't know if Giorgio mentioned it to you but he head there after your session for a family emergency....his brother lives there". "I'm afraid he didn't say a thing about his little journey" I say, trying my hardest not to look angered, even if I am: I would have rather be informed sooner of such details. By the look on her face I can tell she expected such an answer. "He surely thought he would be back in time today, he didn't mention staying for long. But during the night the weather deteriorated and the roads are pretty much impracticable, so to speak. We've just received a note saying he will be back as soon as travelling conditions are restored and the emergency solved. Probably a couple of days...maybe more? He must have sent you a similar one, you just missed it because you were on your way here already". "A couple of days? Maybe more?" I exclaim. That's not promising... "The rehearsals start in a week" I frown. "I still need to practise...". "You are free to do it here if you wish, Miss" she suggests, apologetic yet encouraging. "I am perfectly aware this is a hideous setback for you with such a tight schedule. You must believe me when I say I wish we never put you in this situation...if there's anything I can do, Miss, ask away. I'm not my husband but...". I consider her words for a moment. My mind runs wild to find a solution for this unexpected unfavourable circumstance. I could find another maestro maybe but how, within such a short notice and little time before official rehearsals begin? I could do it on my own but another sudden foolish idea crosses my mind. "Do you play the cello, Mrs. Lia?" I must have taken her by surprise by the look on her face. She tries to conceal it, refilling her cup. "Why, yes. My father was a musician, I took cello classes in my youth but I don't see how this-". "Excellent! Then you can take your husband's place until the he’s back" I exclaim, cutting her short. My words must come as a shock: she almost spits her tea. "Beg pardon, Miss?". "You will be my maestro, well understudy maestro for the time being" I smile, explaining. "You said yourself that you can play the cello, you can assist me as I practice". "But...but I don't have my husband expertise" she objects, at loss of words. "You heard me practicing with your husband, right? So you must know how it should sound. And that aside, you can even tell yourself if my performance is good or not: you have ears too, if I am not mistaken". She opens her mouth to say something, anything to make me change my mind and spare her such thing...but nothing comes. Her lips presses together for a moment before she places her cup back on the table. "Very well, then...if you think it would work" she smiles weakly. "Just be patient with me: I do not usually play opera arias".

#wlw writing #wlw writing project #wlw miniseries #original work #lgbtqa+ #vienna #opera

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Written for @k-itsmaywriting as her prize for winning the Trope Madness kitty last March! I’d make the usual groaning noises about how late I am, but honestly...this is about as good as I could do this year XD

“So let me get this straight.” Obi’s long fingers steeple over his character sheet. “Not only is homeslice the lord of this particular castle and its whole dealie--”

“Demense,” Kiki offers.

“--Right, demense. That sounds fancy enough. So he’s not only the big wig of this demense place, but also--” her stomach curls to match the trajectory of his smirk-- “my lady’s boyfriend.”

“Ah! It’s not like that!” Shirayuki waves her hands, attempting to scuttle this whole avenue of inquiry. “He’s not-- we’re not-- together.” She dares a glance at Izana. “I...think?”

His mouth twitches; no comment. This may be presumptuous of me, one of his first texts reads, burning a hole in her pocket, but would you be open to a potential failed betrothal in your backstory?

There was no way for her to know, not when her only image of Zen’s older brother was a blond man behind a backseat window, waiting in the school parking lot, but still, still--

I’m open to whatever you think would go best, should not have been her answer. Every poster on r/tabletop would have called her...well, nothing polite, that’s for one.

“I mean, maybe...technically?” She’s not entirely sure how fourth century betrothals work, especially fantasy ones. “Lynet is under the impression that this was all dissolved for, ah...” Izana offers her a beatific smile, like an angel before it sets fire to a city. “...reasons.”

“But officially,” Obi presses, “he has dibs.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I guess if you’re the sort of person who thinks you can call dibs on a sentient being with free will, yes.”

“Right,” Obi bulldozes on, oblivious to the pothole he’s hurtling toward, “and now he’s throwing you this banquet--”

“The banquet’s for all of us,” Zen snaps, arms cross and cheeks flushed. “As a reward for saving Laxdo.”

“Oh, is that right? As I remember it--” Obi taps his chin, so thoughtful-- “Lynet was the one who figured out the whole compulsion thing. And who was it that broke the curse? Oh, right: Lynet.”

“No!” Shirayuki claps her hands to her cheeks. It would be nice if she could take even a fictional compliment without blushing. “You all helped!”

“See?” Zen cuts a hand toward her, smug. “It’s for all of us.“

“Oh yes,” Kiki deadpans, teeth peeking out from her smirk. “Moral support is just as important as actually solving the puzzle. I’m sure his lordship agrees.”

Mitsuhide rubs at his chin, stubble scraping over his palm. Four hours ago, he arrived clean shaven; now he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. Shirayuki can only stare in wonder.

“I think...they might have a point.” He winces under Zen’s scowl. “Not that I think we weren’t important! But Lord Shuuka...”

He shrugs. It’s like watching mountains heave, but in a gentle, lovable way.

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “I have the distinct impression we were afterthoughts on that banquet invitation.”

“I’m the Prince of all the Britons and the Angles!” Zen shrills, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m not an afterthought.”

The room goes suddenly,awkwardly silent; the only noise the rattle of heating through the ducts. The exactly moment his words echo back to him is made painfully clear by the way he blushes, blotchy and red all up and down his neck, like he’s the one with a curse.

Kiki’s eyebrow nearly collides with her hairline. “You mean Arturius?”

“That’s what I said,” Zen grumbles, hunching down in his seat. “Or at least what I meant.”

“In any case,” Obi presses on, “what’s a king to a cute girl you’re gonna marry--?”

“We’re not engaged.” It’s pointless; Obi’s clearly concerned less about Lynet’s marital status and more about riling Zen up about it, but still. “I mean, not now.”

“Betrothed,” Izana interjects casually, tapping the end of his pen on his notebook. “It is different. Legally.”

Shirayuki nibbles on her lip, stomach wriggling in a concerned squirm. Nothing good comes of Izana getting pedantic.

“Sure, maybe you’re not now,” Obi allows with a shrug of his shoulder. “But come on, what better place is there to woo a medieval maiden than a banquet?”

“A ball,” Kiki offers, flat, at the same time Mitsuhide thoughtfully posits, “A stroll through the garden.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zen snips, lifting his chin. “Shirayuki already said Lynet wasn’t interested.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, boss.” Obi pitches toward Izana with a smile that can only be described as looking for trouble. “How tall is this guy?”

For once, Izana seems flustered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks down at his notes. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“This Shuuka dude. The lord here? The baron or whatever he is.” He rests his chin on his hand, smile sharpening into a feral grin. “How tall is he?”

“Ah...average, I suppose.” His brows knit, fingers shuffling through his papers. “There aren’t any good estimates of height for this era, but I suppose if you wanted a modern equivalent...five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Really? You don’t say.” Obi cuts his smile toward Zen. “And just how tall are you, Your Highness?”

Shirayuki winces at the flush climbing Zen’s neck; if they’d been outside, she’d have suggested some aloe vera before the burn blistered. As it is...

Zen’s fingers crumple the edge of his sheet. “Arturius is six-one.”

Obi hums. “How interesting.”

It is a fine day at Laxdo; this autumn may still have a bite, but it’s crisp, refreshing after so many days in the confines of the great hall. A great hall that is now transformed, tables and benches populating it instead of the sick. Most of the afflicted now hobble about the grounds, slow and unsteady, but healing; the few still confined to their sickbeds are only the elderly and previously infirm, and your attentions are a boon to them still.

The manifest is in your hand now, the last few names in your care curling across the page. It is those men on your mind now as you sweep through Laxdo’s bright corridors, striding through the tiger stripes the sun leaves across the rushes. Your burden is light now that the castle’s healer is back on his feet, able to help with potions and poultices and whatever else you are able to fashion to ease the weakness in your patients, but logistics are ever the enemy. Supplies were depleted before you arrived and have only been brought lower. Winter is just around the corner, and--

Steel rings through the stone. Metal on metal-- blades meeting. Out in the courtyard.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and your pace hurries to match it. Surely, surely it cannot be an attack; not now, when Laxdo is but a shade of its former glory.

The certainty of pragmatism grips you, your stomach roiling in its clutches. But of course it must be. What lord could suffer the sweet temptation of a neighbor brought low? It would be nothing to sweep in here and take the manor for a second son, something to placate him, to keep him complacent for another dozen years.

You steel yourself, wishing you had more than the bare pouch of herbs and water skein you carry on you, and step into the blinding light of the arcade--

Only to see a crowd of men gathered in the yard, conspicuously not fighting. Oh no, they are cheering instead.

Your mouth pulls thin, and ah, fortune favors you, for the crowd parts just so, and there are two of your recently healed patients, bare steel in hand, fighting each other in the yard.

Violence is not in your nature, but oh, you are contemplating a change of philosophy.

“Lady Lynet.”

You should startle; time and experience have taught you to shy when approached from behind, but strangely...you do not. Shuuka comes to stand beside you, a respectful distance as is due to your station, but closer than you have been used to these last few months, and it is-- easy. Familiar.

The lord of Laxdo has certainly seen better days; his shoulders stoop as if he expects to be smaller, and the circles beneath his eyes are quite deep still, but-- he smiles, and it is easy to see that time will heal his ills, even these.

“Shuuka,” you murmur in greeting, leaning against one of the arcade’s columns. “It is good to see you on your feet.”

“It is good to be on them,” he assures you with a laugh that brightens the day around you. “I see you are taking in this fine weather.”

“I am. And so are you men, it seems,” you add, wry. “Whether or not I told them to.”

“I know you told them to rest,” he says, lips struggling to rein in his smile, “but it has been a long season for my men. To be outside after such a long sickness, to be moving as one ought--” the longing on his face is plain to see and painful to witness-- “perhaps you might allow them this. Just this once.”

You watch the men dance around each other in the ring, laughing and shouting, breathless from both, and let your jaw ease. “Just this once.”

Shuuka smiles, a bright, earnest thing, and it is so hard to reconcile him to the boy you knew all those years ago. The small lord’s son who viewed the whole world through a veil of tears. He’s grown up better than you could have ever hoped.

He leans on the pillar across from yours, eyeing you with an eager sort of wariness. “I have set the night of the banquet.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His skitters away, back toward his men. “Tonight. If-- if you allow it.”

“Oh!” You had not-- this was not-- you are not even prepared--

“Hey, you!”

You both jump, heads swinging to where Arturius storms across the yard, looking as unrelenting as winter itself. “You and I must have words, Lord Shuuka!” He glances at you, mouth pulled thin. “Privately.”

Shirayuki considers herself well read.

An understatement, actually; a well-crafted cover for the amount of hours she’d spent curled up in the B&B’s window, devouring books Jaja bought by the box at a yard sale, or the amount she could carry in her arms from the library.

(The maximum was supposed to be five at any one time, but during on particularly slow summer in middle school, the librarian had made a special “all you can carry” policy, applied solely to Shirayuki. It had turned her daily trips into weekly ones, and saved her from slowing her pace to a crawl Saturday nights, so that she could have something to read on Sunday)

She doesn’t have a favorite book-- just thinking about culling the list to top ten makes her break out into a cold sweat, let alone one-- but she has formative ones. Ones that became annual re-reads or just stuck with her, claiming a stake in the back of her mind, ready to whisper the words she needs when she wants a laugh, or the rest of the world gets too hard to handle.

So it’s no surprise when she looks at Obi, his grin stretching impossibly, gleefully wide, and thinks Cheshire Cat. It only makes sense, since she’s fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Well now,” he drawls, far too pleased. “I think we all saw this coming.”

Kiki arches a brow. “What? Because you goaded him into it?”

“Princess,” he gasps, hand pressed against his chest. “Would I purposefully rile up the Prince of all the Briton and the Angles?”

“Absolutely.”

His retort is lost, cut off by the heavy tread of Zen clomping down the stairs. If Shirayuki thought some hallway time might help him cool off, well-- that notion is instantly disabused when he turns the corner on the landing. If anything, he’s more agitated, neck flushed and mouth flat, slouching over to his seat like he’s asking for someone to start a fight.

Izana is not much better, even if his annoyance is more subtle. He settles into his chair with lips pressed thin, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that does not suggest good humor.

“Now if no one else has any more business,” he says, voice a trembling thread of his patience, “I think we can skip right to the feast.”

Shirayuki shifts, biting her cheek. It’s not important, it really isn’t but still-- “Um...”

Izana peers up from his notes, brows raised with a shocking lack of sarcasm. “Did you want to do something, Shirayuki?”

“Oh, no, I just, um...” She rolls a corner of Lynet’s sheet, tight and neat under her stubby fingernail. “I just wanted a...clarification?”

He blinks, flipping a hand out in encouragement. “Go on...?”

“It’s only, ah....” It’s silly, she knows that, but she’s already started asking. “Is this an...informal feast?”

Izana’s mouth parts, just slightly. “I’m...sorry?”

“I thought I would ask since Lynet didn’t exactly pack her, um, fanciest gowns.” Her cheeks flare with heat, and ugh, she really just should have let the chips fall as they may on this one. At least if the stares she’s getting from the rest of the table are any indication. “She was traveling light.”

“I...” His mouth opens once, then shuts. Opens again, brows furrowed. “Lord Shuuka has seen fit to outfit you all accordingly if you did not have appropriate clothing for the evening.”

She means to thank him, maybe even ask what might qualify as proper dress for a celebration such as this, but--

“So what you’re saying,” Obi interjects, grin slanted and sly, “is that Beaumain’s got some sick new threads.”

Regret etches itself on every plane of Izana’s face. “...Yes. I suppose.”

“Ha.” Obi leans back, eyes tracing a searing trail up her from heels to hairline. “Then yeah, I got something I want to do before this shindig.”

Had the Lord Himself but asked you if there were women in Laxdo, you would have sworn upon the grave of your mother that you and Morgaine were the only two. Surely you had treated none when the castle was under its curse. But when you attempt to beg off the feast, explaining that you are not properly clad for such a celebration--

Well, Shuuka finds you a gown easily enough. Your fingers linger over the remarkable wool, woven thin and tight, dyed a rich indigo. Woad, you think, though your own forays with it never yielded a color so impressive. The linen kirtle is the same, so light it might as well be air, and oh, you may be born a lady, but never did the Castle Perilous have such luxury.

A knock lands lightly upon your door, a quick little ditty sketched on oak. You’ve heard it before, though you can’t remember the words, or even the tune, just the beat. Ba-ba-bum. Bum-bum. A song from a better time.

You shake yourself. Song it may be, but a summons it is still. And you are the one who must answer it.

The door is heavy beneath your hands, but you coax it open with little effort. Behind it is the evening’s shadows, thick in the growing dim, and the gold that shines from them.

“Ah Beaumains,” you murmur as his outline resolves into a man, one dressed as fine as you. His colors are more subdued, the black of the shadows and the deep blues of his skin, humbler than any words that have passed his lips. “I was not expecting that you would, um...?”

“I am your escort, my lady.” He bows over his arm, a gallant. His pose gives the distinct impression of mocking Bedwyr, though the man himself is not in evidence. “What sort of shield would I be if I let you walk into the fray alone?”

“Ah...” You stare at his sleeve as he holds it out to you, hesitant. “I suppose that would be...unseemly, yes.”

“And I, the height of propriety.” His teeth flash like a knife’s edge as you slip your hand around his elbow. “Lucky, too.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?”

“Of course.” He shrugs; every inch a siege. “I get to see how nice you look before everyone else.”

“Hey!” Zen directs the brunt of his scowl toward Izana, though the angle of his glare is easily wide enough to include Obi. “Why is Beaumains getting this scene?”

“This scene?” Izana drawls, utterly mild. “Do you mean the conversation he just had with Lynet in her chambers?”

“Yes!” Zen’s jaw sets into an ill-tempered jut. “If anyone, Arturius--”

“You mean the scene wherein Beaumains takes the opportunity afforded by his current occupation to further their flirtation,” Izana continues, “the flirtation in which both players have built upon from their character introductions?”

A flush licks flames up her jaw, threatening to blaze across her cheeks. It’s one thing for it to happen, it’s another thing for everyone to just talk about it.

“...Yes.”

Izana raises a brow. “Because he asked.”

And it’s a whole other thing to do it like she wasn’t even here.

“Well, I want one too!” Zen pushes, hands gripping at the table. “Arturius--”

“Is missing the point that the DM is making,” Kiki supplies, deadpan. “Which is that Lynet is also choosing to have this scene too.”

Zen sputters, red-faced. “I know that! Shirayuki wouldn’t have any problem if Arturius wanted to--”

“Arturius is having a very long, very pointed heart-to-heart with the lord of Laxdo,” Izana reminds him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, it’s not like that took all day!” he protests. “I have time to do both.”

Izana pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a long, noise breath out. “The next half hour is not going to be all and sundry complimenting Lynet on her sartorial choices.”

“It’s not everyone, just Artur--”

“Why not?” Kiki tilts back her chair, wedging her knees against the table. “Morgaine wants to tell her she’s beautiful too. How about Bedwyr?”

Mitsuhide stares at her, slack-jawed, before darting a worried look toward Iana. “W-well,” he says finally, with a hard swallow, “he certainly wouldn’t be able to disagree.”

Izana stares at Kiki, nonplussed. “Well then,” he drawls, mouth settling into a disconcerting smile. “What do you think, Shirayuki?”

She’s already pink, but with everyone’s eyes on her, her skin burns to a painful red. “M-me?”

“Shall we allow Arturius--” he darts a quelling glance at Kiki-- “et al to have their moment with Lynet, or shall we press on to the feast?”

Zen smiles at her, so kind and warm, just like he did that first day at school, and she-- she wishes that this wasn’t up to her. It’s not as if she minds the compliments-- fictional as they are-- but Beamains’ had been spontaneous, inspired by the moment, and this--

--Zen settles back, his smile curling smugly at the corners. His gaze is no longer on her, oh no, it’s on Obi, the challenge written clear in his eyes--

--has nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the people playing it.

“I think,” she begins without a tremor in her voice, “I’m fine with moving on.”

Zen’s jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard the lady.” Izana lips twitch behind his paper screen. “She is content with only Beaumains’ love making.”

Shirayuki jolts. “That’s not what I sa--”

“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring his brother’s glare and Obi’s grins in response, “it’s the feast now.”

This is no longer the great hall you remember.

Or perhaps it is if you search your earliest memories; if you allow yourself to remember being seated upon the dais, a cushion placed beneath you so that you might reach the table and impress the court with your grace. You did not-- you sister would have, were she allowed, but it was you who would be sent to marry at Laxdo, not her, practically an infant still. It was no disaster; it was not your beauty that had brought the lord of Laxdo to break bread with your father.

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka rises on the dais, holding up a hand. “Please, come here!”

It is perhaps a different tale now.

Still, this no longer resembles the hall in which you have been toiling in these long weeks. That was a dark, stifling place, the miasma of curse and compulsion lingering for days after you had dispelled them. But this--

This is a new country entirely. Candles twinkle in their holder overhead, the ceilings so high they seem as distant as the stars themselves. Bodies no longer line the hall but instead pack benches, the men dressed bright and boisterous, ale already flowing from their cups.

“Surveying your domain?”

You blink, eyes blurring as they settle on the shadow beside you. His teeth flash white against the indigo of his lips, too amused. “N-no! I was only thinking of how changed this place is. Only days ago man laid head to toe, and now...”

He tilts his heads, horns glimmering in the candlelight. “Now they are all hidden away, and we play at heroes.”

It is only the rough wool beneath your fingers, wrapped around the hard curve of his shoulder, that tells you once again you have acted without thinking. You cheeks burn as you pull away-- to think, you raised a hand to him as if he were one of the tenants’ children chasing you around the courtyard, as if you had known him all your life.

“Oh, my lady,” he clucks. “How rough you are with your servant--”

“You were unkind,” you murmur heatedly. “There are few enough that are still ailing, and they would be better served in their rooms. There is no harm in Laxdo’s lord wanting to celebrate their good fortune.”

“Mayhaps.” His nose wrinkles. “A little ridiculous, you must admit.”

You snorts, unladylike. “Says the one who polished his horns.”

Ah, now the shoe is on the other foot. His gaze is quick to drop from yours, expression rumpled with annoyance. Beaumains may be eager to ridicule the pageantry of the nobles, but he enjoys it as well.

“Come on then.” His arm tugs at yours, not gentle. “Let’s see what your skill has won you, my lady.”

You sputter, feet stumbling as you attempt to keep pace. “As I said, I am not--”

“Ah.” Beaumains mouth curves slyly, eyeing the tables he leads you past. “You may not be taking their measure, but it seems tonight they will take yours.”

It is only his words that make you notice; conversations quiet as you pass, the men’s eyes following you not with hunger, but with curiosity. For the first time, you prefer the former more than the latter.

“I cannot see why.” You take pains to place your feet more carefully, to strive for that ladylike bearing your sister achieves so easily. “They know me already.”

“But tonight is different.” He nods to the empty place beside Shuuka. You stomach drops when you see it is to his right. “Tonight they find out if you fit into the lady’s seat.”

You gut clenches. You did not come so far for this to dog your heels once again. “That-- that cannot be. I have been clear--”

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka waves again, though more subtly. No need for grand gestures when you are already so close. “Come, take your place by me.”

Beaumains’ brows raise. “Are you sure?”

You thought you were, but the smile the lord gives you as you approach gives you doubts. Beaumains pulls out your chair, chin tucked respectfully, but you do not miss his amused smirk or his knowing look. Fine. He may think what he likes but this is not-- not that. Your betrothal is long in the past for both you and Laxdo’s lord.

“My women did well,” Shuuka tells you, friendly and bright, no hint of romance. “You look radiant, my lady.”

Well...not much of one, at least. “They have my thanks,” you reply, “I truly had nothing for a feast such as this.”

His smile widens, and it does him credit that he keeps it as he turns to Beaumains. “Thank you as well, for escorting my lady.”

To his other side, Arturius scowls, glaring as your shadow performs a polite bow, no respect spared. The same he categorically refused to show the prince. “My pleasure, your lordship.”

“You honor us with your actions, Sir Beaumains.” Shuuka gestured past her, hand open in generosity. “Please, take the seat next to the Lady Lynet, I--”

A chair scrapes across the dais, and Arturius stands, as thunderous as any storm. “That man is no sir.”

The room is so quiet it practically has its own crickets. Or at least it would, if the atmosphere hadn’t suffocated them all. Shirayuki has admit, she’s feeling a little stifled herself

Mitsuhide shifts, chair creaking, mouth grim. “Zen...”

“No,” he snaps, still on his feet, red-faced and tense as he squares off with his brother. “It’s ridiculous! He’s a commoner.”

Izana peers up from his notes, raising a mild brow. “Is this really something you think is appropriate to pursue right now?”

Speaking fluent teacher like she does, Shirayuki hears the warning loud and clear: back down. But of course, Zen doesn’t.

“Beaumains doesn’t belong on the dais,” he reasons angrily. “He should be down at the tables with the vassals and retainers.”

Izana’s expression doesn’t betray a single thought, smooth as still water. “I must concede the point, technically, but as he is a member of your party, it would make sense if--”

Zen barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re such a stickler for accuracy, but now you’re going to break a simple rule of hospitality--”

“It’s for ease of play--”

“It’s meta gaming.”

If she’d thought the room was quiet before, she’s disabused of the notion now. All motion has ceased; even Kiki holds her breath, eyes fixed on Izana who-- who--

Stands. Or rather, unfurls; every inch is a journey as his long limbs draw straight. It’s hard to remember when Mitsuhide can hardly fit both his thighs on a dining chair, but Izana is tall, a good ten inches above her perfectly respectable 5′4. He uses every bit of that to his advantage as he looms over his brother, eyes cool and steady. “I think--”

“It’s fine.”

Obi lounges in his chair, ankle cross over knee without a care in the word. Big Dick Energy, Kihal would tell her, and wow, she really does not need to be thinking about that right now, in the middle of all this.

His lips slowly spread into a grin that does not help her brain stay on the straight and narrow, not one little bit. “Beaumains can sit among the masses.”

“Obi...” His head swivels to her, and oh, she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but-- it’s too late to turn back now. “You don’t need to--”

“Nah, nah, it’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving her off. “Let’s be real, given a choice between being in the box seats or getting trashed with the smallfolk, we all know which one he’d pick.”

Izana frowns, brow knitting. “As much as I appreciate your rationality in the face of the irrational, Obi, it isn’t necessary. It makes more narrative sense for Beaumains to be treated the same as the rest of the party--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, boss man. I can tank a hit for historical accuracy.” His gaze cuts to Zen. “In our fantasy roleplaying game where I play a demon and half the party does magic.”

Zen has the grace to look abashed, at least.

Izana lowers himself back into his chair, mouth set in faint disapproval. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no prob.” Obi grins, sending her stomach into a tailspin. “Don’t worry, my lady, Beaumains knows how to keep himself entertained.”

You may sit at the lord of Laxdo’s right hand, but it is Morgaine who sits at yours, as radiant as any song. By all rights, she should be in your place; base-born she may be, but king’s daughter outranks a count’s, even born on the wrong side of the sheets. Still, she makes no protest when she takes her seat, only curling her lips in one of her mysterious smiles.

Shuuka is an attentive host, selecting the choicest cuts from the trays and laying them upon your plate. He chooses well for you, each morsel a delightful burst of flavor upon your tongue, but still--

Beaumains’ teasing spoils your every bite. It does not escape you that your host is not paying Arturius the same diligent attention but-- one does not feed a king. Or, rather, a prince. And you, well-- you would be the first to say that the curse was ended by the efforts of your whole party, but you know the men of Laxdo hold a different opinion.

(And for that matter, so does Beaumains, which he shares loudly and without prompting whenever possible, much to Arturius’ ire. It is flattering, but oh, you would much rather not be a needle used to provoke, no matter who holds it)

It is kind of Shuuka to pay you such an honor, but still, it leaves you feeling awkward, as if you were born with two left hands. You cast helpless looks to your right, but Morgaine only replies with sly smiles, ones that make your skin itch with expectation.

With no safe place to look on the dais, your gaze fans out over the press below. Lady you may be, but it’s the benches you are used to; your father had never stood much on ceremony, preferring to eat and be merry among his men, rather than make himself a proper lord. Even now you long to be among them; the talk may be bawdy and the drink more sour, but you would not suffer so many eyes upon you, measuring the curve of you breast and speculating on the red of your hair.

You do not look long before your eye catches on midnight blue and glistening horns; even dressed as a shadow, Beaumains is hard to miss among the lord’s men. He laughs, tossing his head back, hand pressed to his belly-- a truer one on him than any you have seen. To think, you had pitied him when Shuuka did not tender an invitation to the dais, but now--

Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself more than you are.

A sharp prod to your ribs sets you upright, your mind snapping back to the present, reminding you sharply that you are being watched and weighed by the same men you long to join. Morgaine pulls back her elbow, sending a pointed look over your shoulder. To Shuuka.

Shuuka, who is staring at you expectantly. Shuuka, who has almost certainly asked you a question that you did not hear.

Morgaine reaches for the wine pitcher, bumping your shoulder. “He’s asking if all this is to you liking.”

“Oh!” You stitch a smile to you face. “Yes. The fest is, ah...lovely. You do me a great honor. Ah, us a great honor.”

His own smile widens, sore pleased. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Lynet. It was my greatest hope that you would find Laxdo pleasing.”

You nod, awkward, before turning back to your meal. It is hardly touched, only a single bite from each dish, and you suffer a pang of chagrin to think you have so obviously ignored his generosity-- save that you notice everyone else’s plate remains untouched as well.

Shuuka’s chair scrapes across the dais as he stands, holding his arms wide. “Before we partake of this feast--”

Oh, Lord in Heaven, the blessing. You had forgotten it entirely. Your gaze darts guiltily across the table, trying to see whether the lord’s chaplain has caught your petty sin, but the only man of the cloth at the table is Bedwyr.

“--We must all give thanks to Our Lord in heaven, from whom all our bounty flows.”

A murmur of agreement shuffles out from the men at the tables, heads bowed with lips mouthing an impassioned amen--

Ah, right. Bowed heads. What she should be doing now, in this place of honor.

“I would be remiss if I also did not offer our gratitude to the Lady Lynet.” Your head snaps up, gaze tangling helplessly with his. “If it was not for her cleverness and diligence, not a single man would be standing here today.”

This is-- this is not the toast you thought he would make, not when he spoke of the feast this morning. Not when he had told you it would be in honor of those who saved Laxdo.

“We are blessed that the angels guided her back to us after so many years away,” he continues, every word adding to the pit of dread growing in your belly. “It can only be the provenance of Our Heavenly Father that she has returned, and in returning, removed the blight from our land. I would be turning my back upon God Himself and all His angels if I did not receive what blessing he has given us.”

You heart pounds loudly in your chest, rattling the drums of war. You had been so clear. You had said--

Not enough. Nothing short of an explicit refusal ever stuck in a man’s ear. you know this all too well.

It galls you that Beaumains knew it better.

“My father has passed, but his will has always been my guide.” Shuuka showers praises down on you, oblivious to how you wither beneath it. “It had been his wish to seen our houses joined, along with your father’s, my lady. I am eager to tread the path they left for us.”

You want to protest, you mean to protest. But all of the eyes of Laxdo are upon you, and-- and your hands clench helplessly in your skirt. For a man to be refused after such a speech, after such feeling, in front of all his men--

It would be kinder to leave a blade in him. At least that he might recover from.

Your gaze swivels to your left, to your right, but Arturius sits, stunned, and his sister is much the same. The moment for an objection has passed for them, for all those who sit on this dais, but on the floor--

You cast your gaze out, searching, hoping, but--

Beaumains is not among the tables, not anymore.

The chair squeals across the floorboards as Izana stands, smoothing down his pants.

“Wha-- where are you going?” Zen stares at him, jaw slack. “We’re in the middle of a feast. This jerk just proposed!”

Izana flips his phone, screen out, and there is Obi’s name, right at the top of his messages. hey boss can b get himself some quality hallway time

It buzzes, followed up by a long string of hot lips emojis, double hearts, and what looks like an eggplant..

“Well,” Kiki drawls, “now I know too much.”

Izana glances at his screen before swinging to glare at Obi. “Really?”

He shrugs, gleefully pocketing his cellphone. “Hey, you set it up. I just took the shot.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue that.” Izana sighs, gathering up his dice. “Give us a moment.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Kiki hums, mouth twitching at a corner.

Izana groans, shaking his head. “At least pretend you’re going to behave.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #one more chapter to the end of this arc #thought now I'm also considering ending this fic after that #and then having the next arc being its own fic #i don't know #these are the funnicky things I have to consider while i'm writing these fics #because otherwise this will be like a 40 chapter 150k fic or something #WHO KNOWS #i got another chapter to decide

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (42) Speaking

Ao3 | FF.net

“So, it’s been two weeks since Dr. Boucher removed your vocal nodules. Have you spoken to anyone yet?” 

Adrien shook his head.

This was his first therapy session. Dr. Robin Zollar, a woman that exuded warmth and kindness. Her voice was sweet and a little silly, and she reminded him of the fairy godmother from Cinderella. That may have been why he was responding to her so well. 

Besides speaking, of course. 

“Does your throat still hurt?”

Shake.

“Have you actually tried speaking?”

Shake. 

“And I’m guessing you really have no desire to either, right?”

Nod.

“Okay. Talking with Marinette, it seems like she’s been speaking a lot on your behalf. That’s fine and all, but you will need to develop a voice of your own. Do you feel like you have no need to speak?” 

Nod.

“Because Marinette speaks for you?”

Shake.

“No? Well, that is a lot different than I expected. I would like to know a little bit more about that. Would you be willing to write down what it is that you’re feeling, if you won’t say it out loud?” She pushed a pen and pad of paper towards him.

He stared at it for a long while.

—

“You’re serious?” Marinette crossed her arms and frowned at him. 

Gabriel held a tennis ball in his hand. “I mean, it wasn’t my idea. But my therapist said it might be a good way to connect with Adrien.” 

“Catch. With his arm in a sling.”

“That’s why it’s a tennis ball.” 

Marinette sighed and looked at Adrien. “What do you think, kitty?”

He sat at the end of his bed and shrugged. 

“A little physical activity isn’t going to kill you.” Gabriel admonished. 

“Yeah, but it could pull his stitches if he’s not careful.” 

“Do I look stupid, Marinette? It’s not even catch, we’re just tossing it back and forth.” 

Marinette frowned at the man, while Adrien gave a weak grunt. 

Gabriel tossed him the ball, and Adrien caught it, throwing it back. 

“Sleep alright last night?” 

“The usual,” Said Marinette, on her phone while she sat on the couch. 

“I was talking to Adrien.” 

“Right.” 

Marinette listened as the ball was tossed back and forth a few times. Before Gabriel repeated again, “Did you sleep alright last night?” 

Adrien didn’t respond. 

“I said, did you sleep well?”

There was a grunt. 

“Shrugging and grunting mean nothing to me. The doctor gave the okay, you can use your voice now.” 

“He doesn’t want to talk,” Marinette pressed. “Don’t force him.” 

“Marinette, again, I’m talking to Adrien.” 

She chuckled darkly, knowing his efforts were fruitless.

“I have someone who’s coming to visit soon. And your Aunt Amilie and Felix want to come and visit too. That will be fun, won’t it?” 

Marinette closed her phone and sat up, looking over the back of the couch to watch this awkward one sided conversation. 

“Felix himself emailed me and asked me about you. He wanted continual updates, since they didn’t get the same news broadcast over in London. He really cares about you.” 

Adrien just pitifully watched the ball, but did little else. It was obvious Gabriel was not happy with his body language, so he steeled himself into a neutral, professional posture. 

Marinette hated it. 

“Nathalie was helping with the company while I was busy with the investigation with you. Now that you’re safe, she’ll be taking a little vacation. But she assures me that she’ll be back soon, and that she can’t wait to see you.” 

The ball was tossed, caught, tossed. 

“Isn’t that nice? Nathalie missed you.” 

Toss. Catch. Toss.

“I said, isn’t that nice?”

“He’s mute, not deaf.” Marinette drawled. 

Gabriel turned and looked at her. “Look, if you keep talking for him, and encouraging this behavior, he’s never going to speak. It’s learned helplessness at this point, and someone has to train it out of him. So shut up.” 

The tennis ball hit Gabriel in the head.

“Excuse me!?” Gabriel whirled at his son. 

Adrien hissed at him, like a feral cat. 

Gabriel scoffed in disgust. “You’re not an animal! If you are angry with me, I expect you to use your words in a level tone.”

“We were treated like animals for weeks.” Marinette bit. “Sorry, it’s hard to think otherwise.” 

“Out,” Gabriel nearly shouted at her. “You’re not helping. Go bother your parents for a while.” 

With tears in her eyes, Marinette stood and started from the room. 

Adrien whined and tried to follow. 

“No!” Gabriel ordered. “You stay here! We’re playing catch!” 

Outside the room, Marinette started down the stairs, but got weak and had to sit. 

“Yikes, cringe.” Said Plagg, coming up to her side. 

“You saw that huh?” 

“I’ve been trying to give you both space and privacy, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to watch over Adrien like the little fairy godfather I am.”

“Was Gabriel right? Am I talking for Adrien too much?”

“Ehhhh, I tend to believe that that man is never right. Even when he’s right he’s wrong. But in this case, he’s wrong wrong. You guys are only two weeks out of the hospital. A month out of torture. I’m still trying to catch up with all the footage, and he’s trying to rush the recovery process. But when you do that, it makes everything worse.”

Marinette exhaled, feeling at least vindicated. 

“Marinette, even if you do something ‘wrong’ right now, no one should blame you for it. Sure, we’ll reprimand you, but you’re dealing with a lot of shit, and your mind isn’t totally clear. Don’t feel guilty for trying to protect Adrien.” 

“Thanks Plagg. That helps.” She glanced up at Adrien’s bedroom door. “I better get back in there.” 

Marinette climbed the stairs again, coming up to the door. 

As she opened it, she stared in horror as Gabriel stood over Adrien, a finger in his face, nearly spitting in anger.

Adrien’s expression was completely zoned out. A defense mechanism that he had adopted in their hellhole. 

He was gone. And would probably continue to be so for a few hours. Did his mind go blank? Or did he retreat into a daydream? There was no way of knowing. 

She shouldn’t have left the room. 

“…not only is it disrespectful, it’s counterproductive. How are we supposed to help you if you won’t talk to us? You never had a problem speaking your mind before!” 

Marinette slid onto the bed next to Adrien, grabbing him around the waist and pulling his head to her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” 

Adrien didn’t respond.

Plagg got between them and Gabriel. “You’re done.” 

“I’m only trying to help.” 

“You put him into shock. How does that help him? You’ve removed him from this plain of reality. Great job. Dad of the year.” 

“Look, I just wanted to—“ 

“Are you still here?” Marinette snapped. “Get out. Now!” 

“I’m not going anywhere! This is my house, and Adrien is my son!” 

“He’s my husband!” 

Gabriel clenched his fist. “That wedding was a sham. You’re as much of his wife as you are a ball and chain around his ankle. He’ll never get better with you dragging him back!” 

The door swung open, banging against the wall. Marinette jumped at the noise and held onto Adrien. 

Tom and Sabine entered, having been sent for by Tikki. 

“Can you give us a moment?” Gabriel asked like he hadn’t just verbally punched Marinette in the gut. “We were having a discussion.”

Sabine said nothing, but slapped Gabriel across his face. “Be glad it was only a slap.” She bit. 

“That’s assault!” 

“And I bet the judge will be real sympathetic to you after what you said to our daughter and son-in-law.” 

Gabriel just scowled at them. “I feel like we’ve had this discussion before.”

“We did, and last time, Adrien started crying. We can continue this discussion out in the lobby.” 

“I’m not done talking to Adrien!” 

Tom cracked his knuckles. “Oh, yes you are.” With one swift scoop, Tom had Gabriel draped over his shoulder like a sack of flour. 

“Put me down! I can walk!” 

“This is what I used to do with Marinette when she was a child and threw tantrums in a store. You’re going to act like a child, we’re going to treat you like a child.” 

“I’m not a child!” Was the last thing Marinette heard before Sabine shut the door. 

“Are you alright honey?” Sabine asked, sitting beside Adrien. 

Marinette swallowed back tears. “I knew it…I want to help Adrien…but I’m making everything worse…” 

Sabine looked to heaven. “Lord, I’m going to kick that man’s ass.” She shook her head. “No, no Marinette, Adrien needs you right now.” She delicately pet Adrien’s hair. “He feels safe around you, and you understand him the best. Gabriel is lost and frustrated right now. He has no idea how to act. And believe me, it’s hard for us too. I worry every day about what the right thing to do is.” 

“But you don’t…you don’t yell at me.” 

“Because yelling at you never helped in the past. We’ve talked sternly to you when you were in trouble, and we did groundings, and the occasional spanking when you were very very bad. But yelling only made you afraid and distrusting. I suspect that’s the attitude from Adrien he’s used to.” 

Adrien didn’t respond in any way, just continued to bore a hole in the floor with his dull gaze. 

“The doctor said that you being together was good. And what does Gabriel know about this kind of stuff? He designs clothes.” 

Marinette cracked a smile. 

“Your father and I will sit him down and have a good stern talking to him. He’s the one making things worse.” 

Marinette breathed a calming breath. “Okay.” She let go of Adrien, only to take hold of his face and guide him to look at her. “Kitty?”

He blinked owlishly at her. 

“You with me?” 

Another slow blink. 

“Is he alright?” Sabine asked. 

“No, he’s—“ Marinette clenched her eyes shut. “He was like this back in…”

“That place.” 

“Yeah, he…when things would get bad, he sort of…shut down. Salo said it was a sign of death. I think he’s trying to protect himself.” She pet his hair, and kissed his cheeks. 

“What can I do to help?” 

“Can we move him to the couch?”

Sabine nodded and stood, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

Despite being mentally checked out, he was still respondent to movement. As they pulled him to his feet, he stood on his own, though still weakly. They guided him slowly over to the couch and had him sit down. 

“Here’s a nice warm blanket. Do you want some tea?” 

“Yes please, maman.”

Plagg spoke up from where he was silently watching. “I think Adrien would really enjoy a coke.” 

“Are you sure?”

“He might only have a few sips, but it’s his favorite drink.” Then he whispered conspiratorially, “but his dad never lets him have it.”

“Okay, I think I’m following.” 

“Marinette, you play video games, right?” Plagg asked. 

“Uh, yeah?” 

“Good. I’ll put in his favorite game, and you play it, and see if that rouses him.” 

“Good thinking!” 

Plagg floated over to the TV, and turned on the console while Sabine left to get them snacks.

Marinette leaned over and placed another kiss on his cheek. 

The drum beats started up as the main menu came up. 

Marinette groaned. “Skyrim...” 

“What? Don’t like it?” 

“I’ve never played it!” 

“You’ve never played Skyrim?!” Plagg nearly shouted in mock offense. He didn’t actually care, but old Adrien would have. 

“I know the memes, Sneak 100, ‘I took an arrow to the knee’ but I never actually sat down and played it. It’s so long!” 

“Well, you got a lot of time on your hands now. Might as well start!” 

“Yeah, might as well...” 

She modeled her character to look like Ladybug, with red paint over the eyes to replicate a mask. 

As she started playing, Sabine came back and left the snacks. 

Marinette paused the game to help Adrien take a few sips of his drink. She placed the can in his good hand and brought it to his lips. Then she tilted the can slightly, watching as he drank on his own. 

It didn’t rouse a response. 

“If this goes on much longer, I’m going to call the doctor.” Said Sabine. “I’m worried.” 

“Me too.” Said Marinette, sweeping the bangs from his forehead. 

Sabine stayed and watched the game, wincing when Marinette sliced someone’s head off with a sword. 

“This is pretty gory, are you doing okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s almost cartoonish. I...I did much worse.” 

Marinette continued to sneak glances at Adrien. He seemed to be watching the screen now, instead of looking through it. His eyes followed her character, and Sabine took it as a sign that he had mostly come back around. 

“Feeling a little better, Adrien?” She asked. 

He hummed.

So she left them alone. 

Tikki sat on Marinette’s lap, while Plagg nuzzled into Adrien’s hair. The room was quiet, the volume on the game turned down, and only soft ambient music was heard. 

“I love you.” 

Marinette blinked. The voice was so soft, so rough, and wavering, she didn’t think she heard it at first. But she turned to look at Adrien, seeing that he was looking at her. Her breathing picked up, as she waited, begging him to speak again. She bit her lip to keep her from speaking and interrupting if he did say something. 

“I didn’t know what else to say.” 

She shook her head at him, and turned her body to face him. “Say whatever you want. You know I won’t judge.” She leaned in, staring deep into his eyes to prove he had her full attention. 

Adrien rested a hand on hers, squeezing slightly. He met her gaze, holding it with his breath. 

“You…” He began, only to pause. 

“Yes?” She urged. 

“You…are really bad at this game.” 

Marinette nearly collapsed on him, she was laughing so hard.

—

Adrien recalled this very special moment with his lady after the therapist handed the notepad. So he had lied. He had spoken to someone. His other half, his partner, his soulmate. But it felt a lot less like ‘finally speaking’ then it did sharing a secret. He had confided as much in her then. He still didn’t want to talk, but with her it was different. 

With her, he felt safe, free, and wanted. He could talk for hours, or say nothing. Either way, he was comfortable. 

“Adrien?” The therapist asked delicately, as he hadn’t written anything. “If you prefer not to answer, that’s fine too. We have a half an hour left in this session.” 

He was inclined to write out his feelings just as much as he was to speak. It was hard to find the words. Much less ones that were worthy of being spoken.

Finally, he admitted what he didn’t want to.

Why bother speaking if no one will listen?

—

It was evening when she arrived. The sun was just about to set, sending La Grande Paris into glittering gold and orange light. 

Though it felt weird to be staying in a hotel when her home was just a block away. 

Disguised with sunglasses and a handkerchief, Emilie was escorted upstairs to the nicest suite available. 

And inside awaited her dearly beloved husband. 

“Gabriel?” She asked softly.

She heard his breath caught in his throat. “Emilie…” In a few quick strides, he was on her, embracing her, kissing her, weeping on her. “I’ve missed you so much…” 

“I’m here darling, I’m here…” She whispered, shedding tears of her own. 

They stayed that way a long while, just in each other’s arms. Occasionally sharing kisses and words of love. 

Finally, Gabriel pulled away to look her up and down. “You must be exhausted.” 

“I’m actually not. I slept on the plane, and then I’ve been nervous ever since landing.” 

“Nervous? About what?” 

“About being gone, seeing you again, what I’m going to see…” 

“Oh.” He huffed. “Well, did you want to shower? Are you hungry?” 

“Yes to both.” 

“I’ve packed some clothes for you. Why don’t we get you all settled in, and then I’ll tell you the whole sad story.” 

“And Adrien?” 

“He’s home.” 

“When will I get to see him?”

Gabriel gnawed on his bottom lip. “Well…soon, I hope. But, he’s changed a lot.” 

“So have you.” Emilie pet his hair. “You’ve gone gray.” 

“I think I look distinguished.”

“You look old.” 

“You haven’t aged a day, my love.” 

Emilie smiled softly, leaning in to give him a small kiss. “Flatterer.” 

“But about Adrien…you see, he’s not speaking to anyone. I’m hoping that seeing you again will give him that spark.” 

“Does he know what happened?”

“…not quite.”

“What does he think happened to me? Does he think I’m dead? Would seeing me shock him?”

“I think it might be a little shocking, but he just thinks you disappeared. Makes things a little easier to explain.” 

“Speaking of explaining…” 

“Shower, dinner, then I’ll get to it.” 

--

At 3 AM, Gabriel hustled out of La Grande Paris, having done far too much damage. Good thing it was dark, or half of Paris would have questioned why the Gabriel Agreste was leaving a hotel late at night while a mysterious woman screamed obscenities at him from a balcony. 

#miraculous ladybug #longest night #ml #ladybug #chat noir #gabriel agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette