#which means that their must’ve been some kind of event in the fandom that made a lot of people become fans??

[lancermylove]

Oh No, He Didn’t! (Oneshot)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leona x fem!Reader x Malleus

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can I request a oneshot where Leona has a crush on the reader and the reader has a crush on Leona and they are in a kind of weird situation because it is starting to get obvious, then bam! Malleus confesses to the reader and who sees? Of course the lazy lion. Happy ending with Leona please. I had to request this after you said love triangles were okay as long as the reader ends up with one. Feel free to ignore this if this is so specific and sorry. I am the one that requested malleus Leona love triangle, I forgot to specify the gender of the reader, so it could be female or gn I don’t mind. Sorry for saying it separately.

A/N: Anon, I love specific requests! Don’t worry about sending the messages separately. As long as I’m not finished with the request, I don’t mind anyone sending in any changes or additions. Also, I had fun writing this request! Thank you for sending it in. 😊

Word Count: 2,368

———————————————

When you first met him, you thought he was too aloof for his own good. Every meeting after that usually resulted in the two of you arguing to the point where even Ruggie got used to it. So, how did you end up developing a crush on him? You couldn't deny he was attractive, but his lazy, callous, and straightforward personality? You never once saw him as a potential candidate to add to your “I wouldn’t mind dating him” list. So, how? 

One day while sitting in the NRC courtyard, you were talking to Lilia about movie clichés. "Oh, and let's not forget the romantic movie clichés. The moment where the female lead can't decide which guy she likes and one of her friends asks which man she likes, and supposedly, she sees the image of the guy she loves once she closes her eyes. That man is the one her heart truly desires." 

"Hey, (y/n), if you close your eyes, do you see the image of any man?" Lilia asked curiously, turning his head to glance at you. 

"What? Lilia, why would you even ask me that?" You blinked rapidly and giggled, "I don't believe in such cliché things." 

"Try it. Who knows, maybe your heart likes someone without your mind realizing it," the Fae let out a laugh and beckoned you to try. 

"Fine," you sighed and closed your eyes as you laughed internally at the thought of your heart liking someone. Suddenly, you opened your eyes and stared at the ground, paralyzed. 

Lilia quietly watched you with a smirk and pressed the side of his index finger to his lips. "So, who did you see?" 

"W-What? I didn't see a-anyone," you quickly averted your eyes and stuttered, not wanting the Fae to know the truth. 

"Are you certain?" He teased.

"Of course!" You nearly yelled, causing Lilia to laugh. 

That night your eyes refused to shut as your mind kept wondering how in the world did Leona's face flash behind your closed eyelids? You weren't sure if your heart desired to be with him, or if your mind was playing tricks on you. 

"I am going crazy..."

----

Oddly enough, after that incident, you started to notice the changes in Leona's behavior. Was it just your imagination or was he being nicer to you? He didn't make rude remarks or laugh at unfortunate events that happened throughout your day. Leona even listened to your long speeches and stayed awake to talk to you. Not to mention, he invited you to take a nap with him whenever you looked upset. You weren't sure if he was always like this and you didn't notice, or if your mind was messing with you again.

Leona also took note of the changes in your behavior towards him. For some reason, you blushed a lot and acted more girly than usual. Did you just giggle at his words? Why does your giggle sound so sweet to him? Why is your smile making his heart race? Did you always look this beautiful? What is going on? Leona felt like he was losing his mind.

Even Ruggie picked up on your unusual interactions, but unlike the two of you, the hyena figured out the reason behind the sudden change. He even made a bet with Jack, saying the two of you are going to end up dating. Jack, on the other hand, thought his senpai was being delusional or must've eaten something odd. Though both the Savanaclaw members could agree that when you and Leona were together, the atmosphere around you two was very awkward.  

----

Not wanting to spend time with Leona, you decided to spend a few hours with Silver and his animal friends in the nearby forest. You watched Silver interacting with a grey-furred squirrel with a wide smile. Out of nowhere, you noticed firefly-like specks floating in the air, and a few seconds after, Malleus appeared without Lilia or Sebek by his side. 

"Hello, Silver. Hello, (y/n)." The tall dragon politely greeted with a kind smile.

"Hi, Malleus, what brings you here?" You rose to your feet and fixed your dress as you waited for his reply. 

The leader of Diasomnia turned to his dormmate and said, "I would like to speak to her alone." 

Silver nodded and took a few steps away before turning his back to the two of you. Malleus chuckled and shook his head, "No, Silver, return to the dorm. Also, be sure to keep my location a secret from Sebek." 

Reluctantly, the silver-haired man excused himself and followed the prince's order, taking his animal friends with him. After he left, you turned your attention to the dragon and asked, "How do you manage to sneak away from Sebek?" 

"With Lilia's help," he replied, "Would you join me for a stroll?"

"Sure." 

The two of you quietly walked around the forest, enjoying the occasional chirping of the birds and humming of the insects. The sun shone high in the sky, but the dense vegetation provided sufficient shade. The gentle breeze caused the leaves to rustle every so often. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Malleus looking straight ahead with a serene smile. As if he noticed you staring at him, his smile grew wider. 

"(Y/N), I would like to tell you a secret, but could you make a promise to me?" He asked, breaking the silence, "No matter your answer, promise me that we will continue to be as we are now." 

You found his request strange but nodded, "S-Sure...what would you like to tell me?" 

Malleus stopped under a large tree decorated with tiny blue flowers and turned to face you. "When I first met you, I found you to be intriguing. I always wished to spend time with a human, but most feared and still fear my presence. You, though, are different..." 

He studied your expression for a moment before continuing, "I would like to thank you for accepting me as a friend, but if you would consider accepting me as more than a friend, I would be even more grateful." 

"A-As...more than...a friend?" You tilted your head and stared at him with your lips parted. Not sure what he meant by those words, you waited for him to explain. 

"I feel a strange attraction to you, and I, myself, did not understand what it meant. When I told Lilia of this, he said the strange attraction is called love. Seems like I have developed feeling for you, child of man," Malleus chuckled. 

For a moment, you gaped at him with your mouth ajar, repeating his words in your mind over and over. Once you realized that he was confessing to you, you averted your eyes and covered your burning cheeks with your hands. Never once did you expect the Malleus Draconia to confess his love to you, and here he was, in front of you admitting his feelings for you. As you reveled in his confession, a face suddenly flashed before your eyes - the face of the same lazy lion you were trying to avoid. 

"I...," you lowered your gaze in utter confusion. You couldn't deny that you liked Malleus, but was he really the man you wanted to be with? 

Sensing your hesitation and uncertainty, Malleus rested his hand on the top of your head. "You needn't reply to me at this moment. Take your time." 

"Please don't get me wrong, Malleus, I like you a lot," you looked at him through your lashes and whispered, "but thank you for giving me time to think over it." 

Unbeknownst to you, Leona was napping under a tree nearby when he thought he heard your voice. His eyes shot open when he heard Malleus, and he immediately sat up as soon as he heard the dragon confess his feelings to you. Leona growled under his breath as he rose to his feet. He was going to give that pestering dragon a piece of his mind, or so he thought until he heard you say you like him a lot. The lion squeezed his eyes shut, bared his fangs, and tightly curled his hands into fists. He turned on his heels and stormed away not wanting to hear anything more. 

----

"What is his problem?" You sighed and sunk into the bench. For the past few days, you couldn't find Leona anywhere, not his usual spots, not new spots, not even in his dorm. He didn't even reply to your messages or calls. 

"Is he trying to avoid me?" You mumbled, getting up and heading towards the cafeteria. Your heart felt heavy, but you couldn't understand why. "Someone take this twisted feeling away..."

Right then you noticed the familiar golden-yellow uniforms and hurried towards the group of three. Sensing your presence, Leona began to walk away from Ruggie and Jack. 

"Hey!" You latched onto his arm and jumped in front of him, "Why are you avoiding my calls and messages? Where have you been?" 

He looked at you with an icy stare and spoke in a flat voice, "Why do you care?" 

"W-What? Leona, what do you mean?" You asked, taken aback by his crude reply. " What...what is your problem?"

"You are," he answered bluntly. 

You winced at his words and lowered your gaze, blinking away the saline liquid filling your eyes. 

"What are you doing here with me? Go to your dear dragon." He growled and stomped away, not waiting for your reaction. 

"Dear...dragon?" You mumbled under your breath while slowly lifting your head to look at Leona's back. Then, it hit you. He started to avoid you since the day Malleus confessed to you. Leona heard what Malleus said to you? Is he upset because of that?

Feeling your head spinning, you found a quiet place away from everyone. No matter how many times you tried, you couldn't calm your racing heart and restless mind. 

"What...do I do?" 

Tears clouded your vision and landed on your lap, leaving stains on your blue dress. Out of your peripheral vision, you noticed Lilia appearing out of thin air and taking a seat next to you. 

"Are you confused?" He asked knowingly while gently stroking your head. 

"I don't know what to do..."

"Then why not ask your heart?" He chuckled slightly. 

"My...heart?" You gazed at him baffled. 

"You know, like in the cliché movies," the Fae laughed and wiped your tears with his back of his fingers. 

"But Lilia-"

He shook his head and interrupted before you could finish your sentence, "Don't worry, my dear. Regardless of your decision, neither Malleus nor I will stop talking to you." 

"P-Promise?" You asked, innocently holding out your pinky finger for him. 

"Promise," Lilia chortled, linking his slim pinky finger with yours, "Now...(y/n), who do you like - Leona or Malleus?" 

You took in a deep breath and hesitantly closed your eyes. Much to your shock, Leona's face instantly glowed in the darkness. You began to recall certain moments with him. The time the two of you argued over who gets the last sandwich, the lazy day you spent with him in the botanical garden, the time where you napped with him, using his muscular arm as a pillow, and the time where you opened your eyes after a nap to find his face only a few inches away from yours. 

As you slowly opened your eyes and blinked a few times to adjust your vision to the sunlight, Lilia studied your face intensely. 

"So, who did you see?" 

Without thinking once, you replied, "Leona..." 

The Fae let out a hearty laugh and patted your back, "Well, what are you waiting for? Go tell him." 

"Will...Malleus be okay?" 

"Yeah, he will sulk a bit and lock himself in his room, but then he will realize he doesn't want to lose you a friend, and in no time, he will be back to his old self." 

You giggled as you watched him mimicking Malleus's expressions. "Thanks, Lilia. You're the best!"

After hugging him, you ran from one place to another in an attempt to locate Leona. You finally found him in the forest, standing in front of a pond. Running up to him, you threw your arms around him and buried your face in his back. 

"O-Oi, Herbivore, what do you think you're doing?" He asked, startled. Even though you could tell he didn't want to talk to you, even though he tried to wiggle out of your grip, even though he may reject you, you decided to tell him how you feel. 

"I choose you." 

"What?" Leona asked as he turned his head back to glance at you.

"I choose you. I love you, and only you, Leona." 

Feeling his body stiffen, you tightened your grip around him. The lion stared at a lotus floating in the pond, his eyebrows raised, and eyes widened as if he was a deer caught in the headlights. 

"You w-what?" He asked in a breathless voice, wanting to make sure he heard you correctly. 

"I choose you! You. You. You!" 

Leona parted your arms and turned towards you, still in shock. Seeing his expression, you giggled for a bit, but quickly avert your eyes from him. "Actually, Lilia helped me realize that I like you..." 

"Lilia? How exactly did he help you?" Leona asked in a voice much softer than his usual stern tone. 

"He asked me who I liked and told me to close my eyes. The man whose face I see is the one I love...you know, like in the romance movies...," you bit the corner of your bottom lip and blushed, "I saw your face." 

Within seconds, Leona's laughter echoed throughout the forest, "That's how you decided who you like? Seriously, Herbivore?" 

"Hey!" You pouted and crossed your arms, "My heart showed me the path, okay? If you don't want me to choose you, then I can always go to Malle-"

Before you could finish the sentence, Leona grabbed your jaw, tilted it up, and smashed his lips against yours. 

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. You are mine and only mine, Herbivore," he whispered against your lips and deepened his kiss. 

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

#twisted wonderland #twst leona #twst #twst malleus #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia

[renegadewangs]

Enigmatic Gnomance

Last night was movie night in my Discord server and we watched Sherlock Gnomes. Needless to say, things escalated very fast and I wrote a 2000+ words one-shot regarding the ending. Everyone liked it for some reason??? So here it is! (I’m not an expert on the gnome cinematic universe, please forgive me if I got a little detail wrong.)

Characters: Sherlock Gnomes, Watson Fandom: Sherlock Gnomes Pairings: (Lord help me,) Gnomes/Watson Warnings/rating: None. Summary: With the movie’s events behind them, Sherlock Gnomes ruminates on difficult matters.

Enigmatic Gnomance

The sun had set on the backyard when at last, Gnomes and Watson returned to their little home. Mrs. Udderson was nowhere to be seen, for which Watson found himself quite grateful. After all that'd occurred tonight, he wasn't in the mood for her invasive mooing. Gnomes hobbled over to the nearby armchair and settled himself down there. The deep crack in his leg instantly caught Watson's eye. He wasn't really a doctor- such a title was no more than an accessory in the world of gnomes. Even so, he found himself yearning to fix the injury somehow. He was responsible in a way, he felt. He'd been weak and he'd gotten cocky, which had made him a blind and unwilling pawn in Moriarty's little scheme.

But there was nothing to be done about it now; porcelain would never heal. Even with glue, Gnomes ran the risk of losing his leg forever if he were ever reckless.

Watson hesitated for a moment, then approached the armchair. His gaze wasn't being met. Gnomes had folded his hands together and was now peering towards his own feet. "Gnomes, ah... Are you alright? Can I get you anything?" he asked awkwardly.

Even with their reunion atop the bridge and their agreement to continue being partners, Gnomes still hadn't quite acknowledged the betrayal. It was maddening. Why wasn't he scolded? For Gnomes to come to terms with his rude dismissal of others had been the entire point, that much was true. However, to not see the gargoyles' true nature and be used by their master... That had been worthy of a good scoff, surely. Or at the very least an indignant sniff. Gnomes could have died, all due to Watson's own naivety. Sure enough, Gnomes didn't reply. The silence was worse than anything else he could have said.

"Gnomes..." Watson trailed off for a moment. Then he decided there was nothing to be gained by keeping his feelings bottled up. That was what'd caused this whole mess in the first place. "It's only us, now. Please, just talk to me."

"... I was ruminating, Watson," said Gnomes, still staring at his feet.

"Oh?"

"Yes, indeed. Ruminating. Quite deeply, I might say. My mind palace lost an entire dimension, attempting to process these hectic thoughts of mine. However, I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank. Perhaps, if you would be so kind, you might refresh my memory?"

The sober, forward nature of Gnomes's words caught Watson off guard. He hadn't known his friend to be so earnest, nor so willing to ask for help, for a very long time. Perhaps the day's events had made a difference after all. But then... Had it been Watson to make Gnomes see sense, or had it been Moriarty's doing? It was best not to think too hard on that, so he attempted to force the notion out of his mind.

"Of course, old friend." Watson placed a hand on the back of the armchair, smiling meekly. "If you need my help, you need only ask for it. Though perhaps... A bit more politely than you used to."

Gnomes uttered a chuckle, bitter as lime(stone). "Hah, quite right," he admitted. "I was wondering... Whether I actually took the time to say how sorry I am."

Watson felt his eyes widen and his body stiffen. Had he heard that correctly? Surely not. "Sorry" was a word not uttered aloud by Gnomes in a long time, short of demanding it from others.

"... What?"

"Quite a bit happened tonight. Moriarty is nothing if not a distraction. I'm certain I said quite a few things- to him and to you. However, it's all a bit of a blur, you see. Did I? Apologize?"

Watson shook his head fiercely. This was all wrong. This was what he'd wanted, and yet... No, he didn't deserve it, did he? "Gnomes- You aren't the one who needs to apologize. I put innocent gnomes in danger- I put you in danger. Moriarty could've won, all because I-I... I thought you'd..."

A hand on Watson's wrist caused any other words to vanish. He looked down to meet Gnomes's eyes. Even more out of place than the gnome's apology was the expression on his face, which Watson couldn't recall ever having seen once in all their years of partnership. What was it? Some sort of turmoil, certainly.

"My dear man, you were right to confront me with my attitude. To treat others in such dreadful a manner is already mortifying to me, in hindsight, but you... You deserved so much more and I fear I took your companionship for granted for the longest time. I'd forgotten just how brilliant you are, and so, you played the game quite well."

"Gnomes... Truly, you don't need to-"

"I am sorry, Watson. More sorry than even my own brilliant mind could ever begin to formulate."

Watson sighed and placed his own hand atop Gnomes's own. "I know. And I'm sorry as well."

For a long moment, nothing was said. Gnomes's eyes merely flitted towards Watson's hand and lingered there. Then, at last, he found his voice again. It had cracked almost as badly as his leg. "... I don't deserve a partner like you. Should you follow Irene's example and find your luck elsewhere, I would not blame you."

"Don't be a fool," Watson replied straight off the bat. "I did not go through so much trouble to teach you a lesson, only to toss away the benefits before I could reap them."

"You were perfectly content to abandon our partnership earlier."

"Well... It wasn't quite a partnership earlier, now was it?"

Gnomes appeared dumbstruck, though only for a moment. Then his lips carved themselves into a grin. "... Fair enough."

Watson took another shuffling step closer to the armchair, leaning forward and eyes narrowing into a bit of a squint. "Are you alright? Your leg... It looks quite damaged."

"It's only a few surface cracks," Gnomes replied, sticking his nose up in the air. "Nothing to worry about. The great Sherlock Gnomes is nothing if not resilient. It is a shame, though. That was my favorite leg."

Watson chuckled dryly. "I don't believe there's anything in this world you love more than yourself."

But Gnomes didn't reply. He merely stared ahead blankly at the wall. Had he gotten lost in his own thoughts again? Watson hadn't thought he'd said anything worth contemplating, nor blocking out.

"... Are you certain you're alright, Gnomes?" he asked.

"I... Yes." Gnomes blinked fiercely and rapped the fingers of his other hand against the armrest of the chair. "It's curious. You are quite clever, Watson, but then... Perhaps, unable to decipher the very same enigma which plagues me."

"An enigma, Gnomes?" Watson repeated. What was there still left to solve, at this point? It must've been significant, if Gnomes himself still struggled to put a finger on it. How tragic, then, that he would assume Watson would be unable to decipher it also. Were the learned lessons being foregone already? He hoped not.

"The time I spent with Irene... Well, surely you recall. It was a jolly good romp for a while, but I always knew she would come second place to the mysteries and the chases. And she came to know this as well. So in the end, a jolly good romp was all it was. I did not think I could ever love someone the way she expected me to."

Indeed, Watson did recall those 'jolly good romps'. He remembered the pain on Irene's face, which grew more severe with every instance where she'd been snubbed. He also remembered her resolution on the day she decided she would get over him. It was so very easy to rope her into his plans because the two of them related to one another. They both knew just how painful it was to be dismissed by Gnomes. They both agreed that the lesson had needed to come sooner and there was nothing left to salvage, but then... Watson hadn't given up quite as much hope as Irene, it turned out. It was a good thing that he hadn't.

"Indeed. But what's that got to do with another puzzle?" he asked.

"When I saw you fall and I heard that dreadful smashing sound... Well, I didn't want to think about it, really. I pushed it from my mind before it could ever take root there, because if I'd allowed that... Well, I'm sure I would've been quite useless for the remainder of the investigation."

"Oh, Gnomes, I didn't mean for you to-"

"It was a clever ploy, of course. I fell for it. Didn't even stop to consider you might catch yourself. That warrants another apology, I believe."

"No, really, it's fine. Perhaps I'd gone too far with that."

Gnomes's hand curled around Watson's wrist more fiercely. He turned his head upwards once again, brow furrowed, features pleading. "Watson," he began softly. "If I'd lost you... If you were truly gone, what would I do with myself? That's what I was ruminating on, you see. It pains me simply to envision the hypothetical, which is to say nothing of what would happen if it were a reality. I've never felt anything of the sort for Irene. So will you tell me, please?"

The situation was surreal. To hear words like that coming from his old friend... Well, the plan truly had been far more effective than Watson had expected it to be, though the result was overwhelming. Perhaps even unnerving. To earn Gnomes's respect and partnership was one thing, but to hear that his presence would've been missed so very dearly... That was more than he'd ever bargained for, or even dared to wish for. He didn't know how to feel now. He didn't understand what was being asked of him.

"... Tell you what, Gnomes?"

"Isn't there someone I love more than myself, or the thrill of the hunt?"

Watson's mind went blank. He felt quite cold, all of a sudden. But then... Also hot at the same time, as if he were standing out in the blazing sun of a warm summer's day. Gnomes's eyes were still on his own, waiting, perhaps deducing. Watson didn't dare look away. He was cornered now- trapped in Gnomes's intense stare.

Before tonight, his response would have been clear. He would have laughed bitterly at the question, then turned away from it. But then... Before tonight, it never would have been asked. Gnomes had never taken such things into consideration until he'd been forced to. To have Gnomes reflect on how much he'd always relied on Watson, that had been the goal. An unexpected side-effect, then, was that Watson now had to reflect on how much he'd relied on Gnomes. He'd wanted be looked at, to be acknowledged, to be praised- to be close to Gnomes, the way he used to when they first began to solve cases.

"I think that... The only one who could ever answer that question is you, Gnomes," he ultimately said.

"I... I need a hint, I believe," Gnomes replied in a bit of a stammer. "Just a clue, a morsel. The tiniest bit of guidance when it comes to deciphering these feelings."

"I'm not much help there, I'm afraid. I may be just as lost as you are."

"Oh... Are you really?" Gnomes paused for a moment, lips pursing and nose crinkling as he mulled it over. "If we're both lost in the same manner, does that not imply we both experience these same feelings?"

"Ah..."

And still, Watson had no true answer to give. Just as Gnomes's brilliant mind failed to form an apology strong enough to do the sentiment justice, so too did Watson's own fail to translate his feelings into words.

-Feelings? Were there feelings after all?

After about ten seconds, Gnomes tore his attention away from Watson's eyes and returned to gazing at his own feet. "Perhaps... It would be presumptuous to expect an answer to this riddle this very night. We are both taken by exhaustion, I'm sure. Delirious with it, perhaps. So..."

Still, no cohesive sentences came to Watson. Even so, he did have a reply, he thought. It wasn't a very clever one, but it was a reply all the same. He leaned forward to press a kiss against Gnomes's cheek. The gesture clearly shocked his friend, for he made a rather funny noise and attempted to jump up out of the chair. His bad leg, however, had other plans. Gnomes slumped backwards before he could ever fully stand upright and Watson caught him by the shoulders with both hands on instinct, cushioning the fall.

"Whaa- Whaaaat... son....!" Gnomes tilted his head backwards to peer up at him. "What...?"

"That was the small clue you were searching for, which ought to help you decipher these feelings of yours," Watson explained with another wry smile.

Gnomes appeared stunned. However, he soon relaxed in Watson's hold and eased himself back into the chair properly. "Indeed, that was quite helpful," he said. "Whatever would I do without your assistance, dear fellow? You truly are indispensable."

"It's good of you to say such things out loud, Gnomes. I expect to hear much more praise in the future."

"Of course!"

Indeed, they were both exhausted and had more than enough time to continue 'ruminating' on their feelings. For now, Watson was quite content to leave it that. Immense progress had already been made, and aside from that... Mrs. Udderson was still lurking high above them.

#sherlock gnomes #this started as a shitpost #but then I just kept GOING #people were howling in chat #what is my life

[ramblingguy54]

So, you see that season 3 trailer that was revealed on Braly's Lightbox Expo panel? How much does that make you excited for season 3 of Amphibia like with Sasha's redemption (especially when she is reading Anne's journal), those scenes of Olivia and Yunnan (that's gonna fuel Olivia/Yunan being Marcy's lesbian moms idea) rescuing Marcy, the Plantars having to blend in and wear human clothing, and Anne, her parents, and Plantars on Earth stuff?

     I didn't actually see it on Matt Braly's Lightbox Expo panel, but checked it out today as I've been busy with stuff on my end. 

     Anyways, I'm just as pumped as anyone else in the fandom currently is to get more footage of Season 3 before it airs in early October! It's very cool and interesting to see Olivia & Yunan switching sides, which people had been speculating about whether or not they'd stick with Andrias after he revealed what a cold blooded tyrant he truly is by Season 2's finale. I noticed we get a shot of Olivia showing Marcy Newtopia's environment when she first presumably arrives there in a flashback from her reflecting on feeling bad for the kid after all that has transpired currently.

     It does make sense why Olivia would turn on Andrias after she devoted herself to serving for Newtopia's greatness for awhile. To see it all be risked of getting wiped out because of Andrias' lust for universal conquest was a grim reality check, no doubt. Olivia may be stuck up to a degree in how she carries herself, but this lady isn't heartless for sure. Olivia made it evident in Marcy At The Gates how much respect she has to Marcy as a person for the accomplishments and help she's lent their society as a whole. It'd be pretty strange for her to willingly go along with seeing Andrias torment a poor kid through God knows what kind of experimenting.

     You can easily make the same argument for General Yunan, too. The Newt Warrior poured a lot of her passion into what she did for Andrias. Yunan was doing it to be acknowledged, hence the whole repeating her name running gag deal, where seeing Andrias' cruel nature must've been hard to accept after how kind he's been previously. I wouldn't be surprised if Olivia probably helped convince Yunan to stand up against Andrias and save Marcy, so it'll be cool to see how this all plays out.

     God, I’m so looking forward to seeing what kind of dramatic stuff we’ll get for Sasha’s redemption arc in Season 3′s run time, overall. Seeing her come across Anne’s forgotten journal in the Plantar’s basement is gonna lead into some very good stuff for Sasha’s newfound remorseful nature. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she comes across an entry from Anne’s journal detailing the events of their big falling out in Season 1′s finale, Reunion. Looking at these two pics get me so emotional right now because I love we don’t get to see Sasha’s reaction to stumbling upon this item, but you can damn well bet she’s feeling so regretful after backstabbing Anne.

     After seeing the level of care Anne & Marcy’s characters had in the first two seasons, I’m stoked to find out how they’ll do Sasha Waybright journey of moral improvement justice. She’s arguably the most interesting of these three girls for that serious amount of insecurity Sasha tries to cover up with strength and control. Knowing we’re gonna see Anne’s parents has me wondering about what we’re gonna see outta Sasha’s family background, considering the focus will be a lot more upon her learning to grow past whatever deep seeded issues she has.

     I’m sure there will be plenty of funny scenarios the Plantars will get themselves into, although more than anything I’d say what I’m most looking forward to is seeing how they’ll further deepen their bond with Anne as a whole. Anne slowly became accustomed to their reality learning to live off the land, fend for herself, and most importantly fit into their town of Wartwood. Now it’s the Plantars turn to be thrown into the very same seat of understanding how Anne’s world exactly operates. 

     This reversal allows for more stuff to occur like Anne & Sprig getting more sister/brother bonding, Polly & Anne material, and Hop Pop getting some quality time with her as well after their dramatic tension in Season 2 with his lie about the Calamity Box coming out into the open. Who’s to say there couldn’t be a future episode addressing Anne & Hop Pop relationship coming into another situation requiring one another’s trust?

     Anne’s parents being thrown into the mix for a new change in dynamic for her emotionally is high upon my list of stuff I can’t wait to see play out. She doesn’t have just one family to protect anymore, but two. Her parents & the Plantars mean everything to Anne, so I totally see a bunch of drama happening where she’ll try to shoulder the responsibility of handling Andrias’ ominous threat over Earth. After everything Anne has gone through these past two season the kid has a ton of baggage on her plate whether it’s watching Marcy be stabbed, feeling betrayed by her two closest friends, making her parents worry about where she could’ve disappeared off to, and most importantly learning to harness the Calamity powers to protect everything dear to herself.

     Amphibia Season 3 has a ton of stuff I’m looking forward to seeing unfold throughout this final part of a great story about friendship and family. The drama has been so well written watching Matt Braly & crew top their efforts for crucial storytelling time and time again. So, yeah, I’m very happy to see it return. October is going to be a damn treat for the Amphibia community and just in time after Owl House ended it’s first part of Season 2 on a powerful cliffhanger.

#amphibia season 3 #anon asks #i'm so ecstatic to see this great show return #amphibia #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #hop pop plantar #polly plantar #sprig plantar #mrs boonchuy #mr boonchuy

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 31

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary: Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​

There was a certain calm in wandering through the crisp, winter air with snow drifting past you. It wasn't disturbed even by the familiar pounding of magic rushing through Loki's veins. He was glad to have it back, of course, but there were other things on his mind as well, and very pleasant things at that.

He liked the way your body fit against his, as if they were always meant to touch. He liked the way snow enveloped the two of you, brushing against your skin in a gentle, knowing caress. And loved the way your eyes lit up when the green mist formed underneath his feet and he soared through the night over the quiet city. There was wonder and awe in your eyes that Loki recognized easily, back when he was only starting to learn about the forces of the universe, and was enticed with the stories of old, powerful sorcerers that his mother seemed to never run out of. 

There was something enchanting in the way the particles drifted away, on a wind that blew into another dimension. It was a peaceful thing and by the time Loki finally reached the Tower, you were almost lulled to sleep from watching it. He smiled softly when you fought to keep your eyes open. 

The smile ghosted on his lips again some time later, when it was Loki's turn to shower and wash the inexplicable amount of dirt that had somehow stuck to both of you through the events of the night. It was a pleasure to get rid of it, but Loki could feel he was growing more weary with each minute spent under the warmth of the water. Any more and he might drift off too. 

Loki stepped out of the treacherous comfort of the shower and dried himself in the towel. He wiped away the steam that formed over the mirror and stared at it for a moment. 

His hair had seen better days, but he had no energy to untangle the mess. Brushing a suspicious amount of shattered glass out of it had to be enough for the night. You wouldn't mind anyway.

He suddenly became very aware of the person waiting on the other side of the door. Loki didn't think the night would progress the way it did, but he certainly wouldn't whine about it. To be fair, he… He was actually the happiest he'd been in a long time. Very long time. 

It almost felt too good to be true, and there was a part of Loki that expected to see the bed empty when he got back to the room. To see his dream vanished without a trace, gone before he managed to convince himself he deserved it. 

But there you laid, bundled under the blankets, melting the chill out of your bones. And you waited for him, in the calm glow warming through the window from the city below. 

"Pleasant shower?" you asked. 

"I found glitter in places I'd have never expected it to be," he admitted, slipping under the covers on his side of the bed.

The shadows were deep, but he could still see the outline of your figure, laying on one side to face him. The snow kept falling through the sky behind your back, and there was a certain quiet to the world that calmed heartbeats and made thoughts wander. 

You were barely visible from beneath the covers as you tried to preserve every ounce of warmth that seeped out of you on the journey home through the skies. It was a pleasant memory, despite the chill that snuck under your skin and didn't want to leave just yet. 

It was alright though, because it just so happened that you were lying close together, just enough to be aware of each other's presence without looking. 

"It was fun," you whispered. Loki felt your breath on his face. 

"I saw a few horrendous buildings we can take care of next." 

"The city should be grateful to us for getting rid of that one." 

"I'm not sure that's how it works, but it would be nice," he admitted, watching the shadows play over your features. 

"Do you remember that time I said I must've grown on you, and you said I was more like a tumor?" 

Loki winced. 

"Kind of…" 

"That hurt all three of my feelings." 

"You've got THREE? I've only ever seen you use two." 

"That's because the third one is new and still developing."

Oh. Oh.

"...may I help with that?" 

"I’d hoped you would ask," you smiled. "I worked on that line for the past ten minutes." 

"It was very smooth. I'm impressed." 

"Thank you." 

The night was kind to the two people slowly drifting away under its protective shadows and the thick covers. It calmed their thoughts and left no room for doubts, leaving the struggles of consciousness for different hours. And as a parting gift, it pulled their minds into a peaceful slumber and their hands into the warm presence of one another. 

Night was a protective watcher, and it stayed with them until the first rays of sun reminded it of the natural order. Even then, nothing dared to disturb the two figures, resting with their heads inches apart and fingers intertwined. 

Such was the natural order of things, but as all things natural, humans had a tendency to step in its way. 

The phone buzzed with an intensity only an inanimate object could possess. 

A throaty growl escaped the beast as it dragged its claws across the screen. 

"What the fuck, Peter?" you answered the call after frantically trying to unlock the screen for a good few seconds. "It's too early…" 

Peter's face frowned on the other side of the call. "I just… finished my classes, you know, it's kind of afternoon already… Are you okay, though?" 

You blinked, slowly. One of your eyelids didn't want to open properly. "...duh."

"I just wanted to say that I read the news, and I'm so happy that the police got some suspects and some proof of criminal activity, but I just wanted to ask if… uh, are you sure that almost destroying the building was necessary?"

Loki finally stirred, his head sticking out of the covers right next to you. He put his cheek on your shoulder, trying to comprehend what was going on. 

Peter stuttered and his eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry, I should call you later, forget I called, I just wanted to say the festival is tomorrow and I'd love for you to come, both of you. VISIT, I mean visit, and see, so bye!" 

The phone went dark. Whatever was behind Peter's sudden change, it was too early for you to care. 

You slipped further down the heavenly warm covers and checked your phone. It actually  was afternoon, as Peter said, which was surprising, but not as interesting as the news you quickly googled. You nudged Loki, already halfway back asleep. 

"Look, the building collapsed even more after we left." 

"My bad," he mumbled with absolutely no remorse. 

Well, it wasn’t like you had intended for it to fall to pieces, so you couldn't really be blamed for that. Technically, you didn't even touch the construction. 

You tossed the phone away and closed your eyes. 

#Please Hate Me #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki imagine #loki #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki laufeyson imagine #i love loki

[gunnerpalace]

▲ ICHIRUKI (also that edit!!!! my heart!!!!!)

Unpopular Opinion #1: I really dislike the notion that’s been built up in the fandom that Ichigo and Rukia understand each other perfectly just through eye contact and that they don’t need to talk (and certainly not about their feelings!) because they’re soulmates and uwu just so perfect for each other. Because that’s bullshit, and it’s just not borne out by how they act in the text.

They’re incredibly damaged people who heal each other and develop a very deep and intuitive understanding of each other, but they clearly didn’t always have that understanding and even once they do, they remain somewhat codependent on each other. The clearest evidence of that understanding taking time to develop is the prelude to the Grand Fisher fight, when Rukia is chastising herself after Ichigo says he killed his mother. Then she comes back and gives her speech:

Ichigo famously parrots this back at Isshin later. Like, my dudes, it is unambiguously right there in black and white: they still need to communicate complex shit verbally. They’re good at reading one another’s emotional states and knowing when things are wrong with each other… but they aren’t psychic. They still need to talk. And that is why whenever Ichigo is in a funk, Rukia gives a speech to snap him out of it: she talks to him.

And I feel like this perception is fueled by the fact Kubo went out of his fucking way to separate them as much as possible within the pages of his manga and to ignore most of the time they did have together to talk because it got in the way of shounen-y things or whatever other bullshit explanation he might’ve had.

A whole month of Rukia’s two months in Ichigo’s closet, including his 16th birthday? Not shown.

Ichigo staying in Soul Society for a week, presumably around Rukia rather than his friends? Not shown.

Ichigo and Rukia’s day together after her return from Soul Society before the fight with Grimmjow? Not shown.

Ichigo and Rukia in the aftermath of Ichigo regaining his Shinigami powers in the Xcution arc? Not shown.

Ichigo and Rukia training in the Soul King’s Palace together? Not shown.

Ichigo and Rukia in the immediate aftermath of the war? Not shown.

They had an awful lot of time to just talk. And they presumably did talk, given for example that Ichigo knew Rukia would be at Kuukaku’s house if she wasn’t in Soul Society—he had to have some idea about Kaien, and that means she must’ve told him about him. But we didn’t see it.

Because Kubo is a wuss and refused to let anyone interact for any reason, but especially not people who’d talk for hours and hours due to having a natural and easy interpersonal connection. (The live-action movie is canonical as to how Ichigo and Rukia’s downtime would’ve gone down, fight me.)

Unpopular Opinion #2: In a related fashion, a lot of people in fandom say they’re not the kind of people to outright say “I love you” to one another. And while that is admittedly a very Japanese position to take (as saying “aishiteru” is considered really dramatic) I would counter by saying that Ichigo and Rukia very much are the  D R A M A T I Q U E  sorts who would do exactly that.

Like, come on, they met with Ichigo kicking Rukia in the ass, Rukia drawing a mustache on Ichigo’s face, and Rukia stabbing Ichigo through the heart to transfer her soul powers to him after he cracked some sexual innuendo like “Let’s do it.” Then there’s Ichigo’s various arrivals in the Soul Society arc, and Rukia’s arrivals at the start of the Arrancar, Hueco Mundo, and Xcution arcs to pay him back, which are all dramatic as fuck. It’s always spectacle with them around each other, and they can’t seem to help it.

Oh, but it’d be too dramatic for them to say “I love you”? As if. They’re precisely the kind of people to spring “I love you,” on each other in a society where that doesn’t happen often, just like they almost instantly skip to being on a first-name basis and start up that rumor mill. They would just need some time to come around to it.

I originally wrote here that: “(The Leia/Han thing from The Empire Strikes Back of “I love you,” and “I know,” would fit perfectly at the end of chapter 423, in either configuration, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)” I instead went and made it and gave it its own post, but you can have it again:

Tell me this does not work. Tell me it does not feel canonical. Tell me it doesn’t feel like them. And I’ll call you a bloody liar for your troubles!

Unpopular Opinion #3: They’re both switches. Neither is a defined top or bottom, sub or dom. (And to be honest, I pretty much hate the whole concept/trope in fandom for all ships that each party must be one defined thing.)

This is more of a Rukia-specific note but she tries to be so put-together and in-control all of the time that the idea that her thing is being in charge strikes me as weird; she’d seem just as if not more likely to have a kink of losing or giving up control (and being coaxed/made to forget her responsibilities/past as part of the act) simply because it was novel.

Meanwhile, on a more Ichigo specific note... Shirosaki/Hichigo/Zangetsu is basically Ichigo’s id and has a real thing for being The King and riding “a horse,” and you’re gonna tell me Ichigo’s an innocent bottom? Nah. I think Ichigo’s a little shy and seems fairly close to demisexual if anything, but he is also still clearly interested in women (as Yoruichi, Rangiku, and Tenjirou of all people could attest) and I think given what we see of Zangetsu, he would be pretty eager to learn.

(I would probably call them both demisexual overall. But they’re switches.)

Unpopular Opinion #4: This is IchiRuki-tangential, but I cringe when people write Byakuya as disapproving of Ichigo in particular or IchiRuki in general for the sake of petty drama. Post-Soul Society, Byakuya is absolutely Ichigo’s biggest booster other than Rukia (ahead of Isshin, Karin, Yuzu, Orihime, Chad, Uryuu, Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro, Kisuke, Yoruichi, Juushirou, Shunsui, et alia). 

Dude did his best to kill Tsukishima, who he thought was a mentor-figure at the time, because he wanted to hurt Ichigo. He would be fucking thrilled, in his severely understated and conservative Byakuya way. The omake material with Byakuya getting Ichigo a lifetime meal pass in Soul Society is another example of this. 

Other than Rukia there is no one more likely to start singing “Number One,” and you can’t tell me he wouldn’t support them given that. I feel this should also broadly be reflected in most AU settings because it’s pretty fundamental to Byakuya’s development as a character.

Unpopular Opinion #5: This one is for the Bleach community at large, and I’ll say it real simply: there isn’t a single plot point or sequence of events in the rest of the pile of shit that is Bleach that works one bit without Ichigo and Rukia’s relationship as the lynchpin holding it all up. There is no manga without them and their interactions.

It is, as I have said before, functionally more of a supernatural romance than an urban fantasy because of this. IR is like, the goddamn Higgs field of Bleach: it gives everything else mass.

#Asks #Ask Games #zenzenzence #IchiRuki

[connan-l]

Skeletal Doll

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationship: Michel Bollinger & Morgana, slight Michel/Giselle in the background

Summary: Michel had met her as a soulless skeleton, hated her as a witch, saved her as a girl — so of course he would do his possible to keep helping her even a thousand years later.

Content Warnings: Death mention and depiction of a corpse, slight trauma, vague allusions to child abuse and Michel and Morgana’s pasts.

______________________________________________________________

Link on Archive of Our Own

______________________________________________________________

Notes: Michel and Morgana’s friendship means the world to me.

Takes place post-canon/Reincarnation, so spoilers for all the games.

______________________________________________________________

That place always smelled like death.

Whenever he would cross over the chapel, climb up those long, interminable stairs and open the door leading to the room on top of the tower, a suffocating odor of dust and mold and dried blood would flare up his nostrils.

To be honest, he didn’t really know what “death” smelt like, but if it had a smell it certainly would be this one.

This should be repelling — something that would make anyone run away with a grimace, but for some reason, it had the exact opposite on him. It drew him in.

The skeleton — the corpse — that rested there, immobile, at the bottom of the room had an unusual alluring attraction to it. An attraction that couldn’t help but makes him comes here regularly, once every few days.

He knew there was something deeply unhealthy about this routine he had created. Climbing a tower to spend time with a skeleton was deranged, creepy. Mad. In his darkest hours, he thought with irony that maybe his family had been right about his lack of sanity, after all.

Whenever he would go down the stairs and stir away from the tower, his stomach would turn and an urge to threw up would overwhelm him. He felt disgusting and unsightly. Taking comfort in the corpse of an abandoned mansion, how depraved was that?

And it was not a positive kind of comfort, either.

Even so, he still stepped forward towards the dead body. He stared at it in silence for a long time, then after some hesitation slowly sat next to it.

When he was a child, his mother would often gift him dolls. Pretty, girly little things, that were certainly made by skilled artisans and must’ve been quite expansive. He had played a bit with them when he was really young, but once he started growing up he began to actively hate them and to hid them away in their house, to his mother’s chagrin. He couldn’t help but think she seemed to love these dolls a lot more than he ever did.

At some point, he started to wonder what girls even found alluring to these — if he were to be honest, they looked more creepy than pretty to him. Those were miniature little girls who stared at you with glassy, vacant eyes without moving, without flinching no matter what happened to them. They were just like dead bodies.

He had came to hate dolls over the years, and yet, now almost an adult, he found himself playing with one, except the difference was that this one was a real dead body.

The skeleton wasn’t really all that different from a doll to him, he thought cynically. It wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, wouldn’t flinch no matter what he would do to it. He played make believe with it, talking to it as if it could answer, embracing it as if it could understand his pain and loneliness.

He could pretend pitying the poor thing, look down on it for being more pitiful than him, and found some kind of sick comfort in it.

It was both his plaything and his companion, and the only thing in this manor that could bring him some sort of peace and solace.

Slowly, he extended his arm and brushed the dirty bones with his fingertips. They looked so frail, so feeble, that he thought he could break them just by doing so. Yet, when he reached out to the fleshless hand and hold it in his tightly, the bone stayed solid and firm.

It was cold, and lifeless, and rough. The doll didn’t flinch at his contact, like always.

He knew this was miserable and pitiful and creepy and insane.

But at this point he was just as broken and dead as this skeleton, and in the end it did not matter.

So he kept holding the bony hand in silence.

______________________________________________________________

Michel woke up with a start. Beads of sweat ran down his face, his messy hair clung to his skin disagreeably, and his chest struggled to get back a normal breathing.

In his upset, half-asleep state, his first reflex was to look around him, his eyes searching for Giselle — but she was just next to him, sound asleep, just like she had been when he first went to bed.

In the past year they had been together, he had noticed Giselle was a pretty heavy sleeper, unlike him. She never seemed to wake up in the middle of the night, or to have nightmares, for that matter. A part of him wondered if she slept so much to get back at all those centuries she had spent without experiencing tiredness.

Either way, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now. He looked at the clock on his bedside, which indicated ‘02:17’ of a faint red light, and sighed. He gently kissed his fiancée on the forehead, then got out of the bed as silently as he could so as to not wake her up.

His legs were still trembling when he stumbled into the kitchen, the emotions of his nightmare fresh in his mind. Now that he was awake, he couldn’t really remember what the dream had been about — his past life, definitely, but which part of it precisely was unclear… Usually it was those miserable months he spent suffering Aimée’s abuse, or his brothers’ betrayal, or the way his corpse had been crucified. Sometimes all of those blended in together and he couldn’t make any difference between the events anymore.

Having memories of his past life was odd — sometimes they felt like fibers of his imagination, something so far away he made it up himself and could almost forget it at any moment, and at other times it felt so vivid that it was almost like he was back there again. Dreams were when he had the most palpable experiences, almost as if he revived those moments in real time, but nowadays they weren’t all that frequent and happened rarely. He wondered if Giselle or Morgana felt the same too, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

His mind still a fuzzy mess, he grabbed a mug and turned on the machine coffee, which purred softly as it started to work. The sound felt reassuring somehow, grounding him in reality and reminding him he was in the 21 th century and not lost in a cursed mansion in the middle ages. When his coffee was finally ready, he felt the need to get some fresh air, so he snatched a vest and his mug and headed towards the door.

Michel stepped into the building’s courtyard and breathed the cold air of the night. The sky was still dark outside, but he couldn’t distinguish any stars, as per usual in Paris. That was something he missed from the mansion — being able to see a beautiful, black starry sky, which was impossible here in such a big, polluted city. He hadn’t cared at all about the sky or the stars during the ten years he’d been locked inside the cursed house, but when Giselle arrived this changed, and from times to times she would drag him outside in the middle of the night so they could watch the stars together. Michel had found this annoying at first, but little by little he’d started to secretly enjoy it, though he never admitted as such to her. So he was sad this was a habit they couldn’t reproduce here in their new home.

As a sad smile rose up on his lips, he was about to take a sip of his hot coffee when suddenly he caught sight of something moving. His first thought was that it must be a stray cat or a dog, but quickly his imagination began working and he got worried. What if it was a thief? Or worse, what if the building was actually haunted and it was a ghost? Honestly, among the worst parts of having his past memories returned to him was that now he knew that stuff like ghosts and curses were real, and so sometimes he couldn’t help but be a little paranoid. He certainly had his fair share of bad spirits for the next hundreds of centuries.

Michel quickly surveyed the area, then tried to look for something to defend himself with — unfortunately the only tool he could find was an old broom Giselle must’ve forgotten here the day before. It certainly wouldn’t be very effective against an actual threat, but it was better than nothing, so he grabbed it tightly, slowly advanced towards where he heard the noise while brandishing his made-up weapon… and then a scream resounded.

There, he didn’t see a criminal or some supernatural creature… but just a young girl who looked at him with two wide golden eyes.

“M-Morgana?”

“Oh my God! Were you going to hit me with this thing?”

The girl stared at him with disbelieved eyes which quickly morphed into a glare, as Michel stood there with the broom still up in the air.

“I-I thought you were a thief!” Or a ghost — but that, he wasn’t going to tell her. He shook his head and quickly put down the broom. “A-Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” the girl replied dryly.

“Morgana. You’re pacing in the courtyard at two A.M.”

“So what? Is that illegal now or something?”

“No, but most people don’t do that. Most people sleep at two A.M.”

“Well, clearly, you’re not sleeping either.”

Well, she had a point, he supposed. But he wasn’t that much of an obtuse fool to not notice this was a way to try to deflect the conversation and put the matter on him.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Why is that the conclusion you’re jumping to?” Morgana replied defensively, but somehow, Michel instantly knew he was right.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently.

“I did not have a bad dream. Good grief, do you even listen to people when they talk?”

She sighed in an annoyed way, then began to play with one of her long red lock with her finger. Her hair was let down and she was still in her nightgown — a strange sight to Michel, as he wasn’t used to see her without her braids like that. It made her seems a bit more vulnerable than usual somehow, an understanding he had caught her at a bad time he chooses to be considerate enough to not press the topic any further — he knew well enough that trying to make her talk would only close her off even more, anyway.

“Well, I had a bad dream.”

Morgana arched an eyebrow. “I’d guessed as much. And?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at Morgana’s cold indifference. “Usually when people tell you they had a nightmare, you ask if they’re all right and what the bad dream was about, you know.”

The girl eyed him from head to toe, then crossed her arms. “You seems fine. And I am not interested in knowing what your dream was about.”

Michel smiled wryly. “As expected of you.”

“I have always thought it was stupid to ask someone what their bad dream is about. They said ‘talking about it make you feel better,’ but it’s a lie, I have never felt better after talking about a nightmare. It is not going to erase it not matter what, so why bother?”

“Is that why you don’t want to talk about yours?”

Morgana narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to though, Michel already knew what she was thinking.

“It’s not the first time you wake up in the middle of the night because of one either, right?”

“And how would you know that? Are you stalking me?”

“No, I have ears, and I do notice you seem to make quite some noise while the sun isn’t up yet.”

Morgana seemed a little surprised at that. She probably didn’t know Michel was aware of her nocturnal walks — and to be fair, it did took him a lot of time before noticing them, given she was as discreet as a cat. It was only when he himself had sleep troubles he would remark that his neighbor wasn’t as asleep as she should be.

“Well,” the girl said after regaining her composure. “Again, I’m not the only one, am I?”

“That’s true, but I am not trying to hide it.”

“Me neither. That’s just none of your business to start with. Also, are you really not trying to hide it? I wonder if Giselle knows about these, hmm?”

Michel frowned, as the provocative voice tone of the teenager in front of him started to get under his skin. “She does know, actually.”

“Oh really? Then you don’t mind me asking her tomorrow?”

His frown deepened and he had to muster all he could to not glare at her. Most of the time, the three of them were getting along perfectly fine, but if Michel were to push Morgana a little too much about a topic she didn’t like, she would resort to some of her manipulative tactics from when she was a witch. Michel wondered sometimes if she did it in purpose or if it was just a habit hard to kill for her. Either way, he still didn’t appreciate her doing this, at all.

“In case you weren’t aware, after everything that happened I swore to not keep any secrets to Giselle anymore. You can ask her if you want, but I already told her all about my nightmares, so I’d rather you’d stop threatening this kind of underhanded blackmail, would you?”

“Then stop putting your nose in my business, and when I told you I have no bad dreams then that mean I have no bad dreams.”

She glared at him coldly, then turned around and disappeared inside the building, before almost slapping the door behind her.

Michel winced and let himself fall on the bench in front of the house, before staring at the sky with exhaustion. Morgana could be so annoying, but still he hadn’t meant to anger her — he genuinely was worried about her, and had thought that there was maybe a way he could soothe her nightmares. That certainly wasn’t healthy to wake up in the middle of the night so often.

He took a sip of his coffee — which was now lukewarm — and kept gazing at the pure black sky, trying to find any glimpses of some stars or of the moon.

But he couldn’t find any.

______________________________________________________________

“—and then she told me I didn’t need it! Can you believe that? How on earth does that makes any sense?”

“Hmm.”

Giselle was spacing around in the living room agitatedly while Michel stared outside the window and nodded vaguely to every sentences she uttered without actually understanding their meanings. He wasn’t sure what his fiancée was upset about — and he knew that he should listen to her, but somehow her words couldn’t manage to pierce through his thick skull that was currently engulfed by other worries.

“I mean, I like to think I’m a rather patient person, but there are still some limits, you know? What am I supposed to do now?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, Michel. Are you listening to me?”

“Mmhmm…”

“Michel, this morning I went out and killed your father so that we could eat him for dinner. Does that sounds good enough to you?”

“Hmm, perfect.”

Giselle suddenly placarded her hands on the table brusquely, almost knocking over the water pitcher and glasses that were on it. Michel jumped and practically fell off from his chair, before blinking with incredulity at the frustrated woman in front of him.

“I’ve been talking to you for at least half an hour!” She exclaimed, offended. “Did you even realize I was here at all?”

“Y-Yeah, of course… Sorry, I was… lost in thoughts.”

“Well, obviously,” Giselle said dryly before crossing her arms. “May I ask what’s worrying you so much that you’d dare to ignore your beautiful, lovely future wife?”

Michel smiled a little in an apologetic way, but thankfully Giselle didn’t seem all that angry. Maybe screaming in the void about what had frustrated her had been enough to soothe her mind, even with her partner not paying attention to her at all.

“Really, I’m sorry,” he added. “I was just… well, I didn’t sleep well last night, you know, so…”

Giselle hummed pensively, then took a seat at the table and sat in front of Michel, her face now serious.

“Another bad dream?”

Michel sighed and nodded vaguely, his gaze falling once again outside the window next to him.

“What was it about?” Giselle continued gently.

“I don’t really remember it… It felt too blurry and far away… I just know it wasn’t a good one. But that’s not actually the thing that’s bothering me right now, not really.”

Giselle arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It’s Morgana.”

She narrowed her eyes at this, and her expression became unreadable. Michel wondered if that meant she had been expecting it, or if that was something else entirely.

For all the time they’d known each other, Giselle still felt like a mystery to him sometimes.

What he had told Morgana yesterday had been the truth — in the past year they’d been together, he had always tried his best to be as open with her as possible, even with things he’d rather keep to himself.

He just didn’t feel like Giselle tried her best to do the same in return. In fact, it felt like she would often actively shut him down and tried to hide things from him.

But that wasn’t an issue that mattered right now.

“I came across her last night after I woke up from my nightmare. You know how I told you I noticed she often wandered around in the middle of the night?”

“Yes. Well, her having nightmares wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I tried to talk to her then, but she just ended up getting angry at me.”

“Not surprising here either. Is that what’s bothering you?”

Michel sighed. “It might not be surprising, but that’s still worrying me. I wish she could be… more open about her problems, at least with me.”

“She might have said she wanted to move on with her life, but you can’t expect her to suddenly act like a whole new person. It’s only natural for her to want to keep some things to herself.”

Giselle’s jade eyes shined of an odd glow as she said this, and her mouth formed a tight line. Michel couldn’t help but vaguely wonder if she was talking about herself more than Morgana, but quickly chased the thought away.

“I’m aware, but still…”

“Well, if it bothers you that much, just go apologize to her the next time you see her and try asking her more subtly. Just don’t pressure her, or she’ll shut down completely again. She trusts you more than anyone, Michel, so I’m sure she’ll talk to you when she feels like it.”

Giselle smiled at him — the same kind smile that always managed to make his heart beat a little faster — and he slowly felt the knot in his stomach untangle itself. It was amazing how just a simple chat with her managed to instantly make him feel better.

“You’re right, I’ll do that,” he said while returning her smile. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe next time do the same thing with me when I’m angrily complaining about clients.”

Michel grimaced. “Uh, right… Sorry about that.”

Giselle giggled and winked at him. “I forgive you. I still feel better now that I got to yell in to the void, even if you didn’t listen to a single word!”

Michel smiled again as he watched her head towards the kitchen, then heaved a sigh. He might also feel a bit better now, but Morgana still preoccupied his thoughts. He felt that he’d be unable to accomplish anything until he was able to see her again, so he decided to go talk to her as soon as possible.

Morgana was still at school at this hour, but her classes should end in two or three few hours. Michel didn’t know her exact schedule, but she generally came back around four or five in the afternoon. He could just wait for her here, but somehow he felt unable to stay put while doing nothing, so he had the strange impulse to go get her to her high school directly.

He didn’t realize how bad of an idea it was until he reached the building and saw the groups of teens hanging out all around. Michel had pretty much only bad memories of his high school years. He had been an awkward, introverted and solitary kid uncomfortable in his own skin — and this added to his growing body and newfound gender identity had created a lot of issues both at home and at school. His parents were thankfully decent people in this era, so there was no abuse, disownment or forced confinement involved, but it didn’t mean it had been easy for them to understand and adapt themselves to the situation. And that was without even including the weird dreams and flashback that sometimes plagued him from his past life, which at the time, without his full memories, he had no idea what this had been all about and was quite disturbing. Yeah, it had not been a fun period at all for him.

So somehow, setting foot once again near a high school and hearing some teenagers’ laughters and teasing revived some dreadful recollections and anxieties he hadn’t felt in about a decade, and it instantly made him feel like wanting to turn around and run away.

Don’t be ridiculous, he started to tell himself. You’re a twenty-eight year old grown ass man, why would you feel anxious approaching a bunch of high school kids?

He took a big inspiration, then got closer to the school’s gate with firm steps. He felt some the kids’ eyes fell on him questioningly, probably wondering what this weird, tall white-haired dude they’d never seen before was doing at a high school, and Michel couldn’t really blame them. Still, he tried his best to ignore them and his gaze darted left and right, desperately looking for some familiar red braids that would pop up at a corner. He kind of had the sensation of being like a father waiting to pick up his kid at the school’s gates, except Morgana wasn’t his kid and she wasn’t an elementary school child so it just felt doubly ridiculous and embarrassing.

He waited patiently for five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes. After twenty and still seeing no trace of the girl he was looking for, he started to question whether Morgana was actually finishing much later today. Or worst, maybe she had finished earlier and had already left. Michel bit his lip, and looked around at the group of high schoolers. At this point, he really couldn’t feel dumber than he already was, so he decided he might as well try to ask.

Trying to bury his nervousness about having to talk to some teenagers — except for Morgana, he hadn’t talked to one in years — he slowly approached the nearest group, constituted of two girls and three boys. The kids stopped chatting as soon as they realized the weird white-haired man wanted to talk to them, and they exchanged a confused glance with each others.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” Michel started, and he hated how awkward he sounded. “Would you happen to know a girl named Morgana? She’s short, with long red braided hair, and she kind of always have a glare that make her seems like she wants to kill you.”

At first, the kids’ faces scrunched up in bafflement, but one of the girls’ face lit up in understanding.

“Oh yeah. She’s in my class.”

Michel sighed in relief, then continued: “So are your classes finished already? Do you know where she is?”

The girl, Morgana’s classmate, tugged at one of her blonde locks while staring at Michel suspiciously. “We finished an hour ago, yeah… but, uh, who are you?”

“I’m—”

Michel opened his mouth, then realized suddenly he wasn’t sure what to answer. Her friend? He certainly was, but it sounded off to answer this somehow. Her landlord? True, but here again it didn’t sound like a good answer. The poor guy who found himself dragged into her thousand years revenge scheme against his will? Yeah, right.

“—her uncle,” he finally concluded. Right, that’ll do it for now. “I was supposed to meet her after she was finished, but…”

“Uncle?” One of the boys repeated in a joking tone. “Wow, so that weirdo isn’t some kind of cursed ghost and has an actual family? Ow!”

“Shut up, you’re not funny,” the blonde girl curtly replied while elbowing him in the ribs.

Michel looked at them and arched an eyebrow. “Are you friends with her?”

The boy chuckled. “Friends? No, we just see her from time to time.”

“She’s alone most of the time,” Morgana’s classmate added, shrugging. “I’ve never seen her hang out with anyone here. It’s not like we didn’t try to include her when she first came here, but… she either refused or ignored us. So, well, we left her alone.”

She added this in an annoyed tone, which meant Morgana’s cold behavior had slightly peeved her. Michel smiled wryly at this. It wasn’t really a surprise, as this was something he had kind of suspected already. Morgana never told them anything about her school life, but knowing her it wasn’t hard to guess she wasn’t especially looking for friends at her school. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but be a bit sad about this. As someone who had also been pretty much friendless during high school, he hoped Morgana would’ve been able to get at least a normal teenage life this time around.

“Either way, if you’re looking for her you won’t find her here. She left a while ago already,” the blonde girl continued.

“I see… Would you know where she went?”

The classmate winced. “Well, I’m not really sure, but… if I have to give it a guess, she’s probably at the graveyard again."

Michel kind of felt his brain shut down. "G-Graveyard...?"

He heard some of the boys snickering again, but they didn’t add anything when their friend shot them a glare.

“Yeah. There’s a small cemetery not far from here. From what I’ve seen, she goes there regularly, at least once a week.” She shrugged. “Gotta admit, it’s not a very common hobby. I think she gets along well with the graveyard caretaker too.”

Michel felt too stunned to say anything. Why on earth would Morgana go to the cemetery? And regularly, on top of that?

The only reason for that would be if someone she used to know was buried there… but Michel knew that both her mother and stepfather were still alive, and that she knew nothing about her birth father. So, her grandparents, maybe? She never talked about them. It was possible, but even so, it seemed a bit off for her to go visit them so frequently given how… distant she had seemed to be with her family.

“Well, uh… I see,” he finally added once more. “Thank you.”

He asked the teens where said graveyard was, and after they gave him directions he waved them good bye and finally left the high school. The place was indeed quite close from here, only about fifteen minutes of walk, right after a little church. Most of Paris’ cemeteries were quite big and carefully taken care of, but this one seemed to be the opposite of this; it was small, appeared badly maintained and almost abandoned, really. Michel stepped inside, and while looking for any trace of red he couldn’t help a shudder to spread through his body. It was desert and quiet, and almost felt like penetrating into some kind of eerie parallel world.

When he walked through the forest of large, gloomy tombs, a wind of nostalgia submerged him. He had only been to a graveyard a rare few times in his life, and the last was probably at least five or so years ago, when he went there with his mother to take care of his grandparents’ tombs. He had already lost all four of them — the last one was when he was three years old, and he had only brief, vague memories of the funerals. Even in his previous life, he had never known any of them either, as they all died long before he was even born — even before Georges was born, actually. Only Didier had known them, but even then he had been so young he had no recollections of them, according to what he had told him.

Lost in his own thoughts, it took him some time before realizing there was something off in his field of view. The place was completely empty, not a soul seemed to breath around, but then a few meters away from there he spotted what looked like a silhouette squatting on the ground. It was shaking and breathing heavily, as if hyperventilating, and curled up very tightly as if they tried to disappear. It would’ve been worrying and Michel would’ve intervened regardless of who this person was, but once he noticed the long burgundy braids falling behind the trembling shoulders his concern went up a notch and he ran towards the curled up girl.

“Morgana!” He exclaimed, his voice filled with panic as he kneeled down next to her and grabbed her shoulder. “Morgana, are you okay?”

However, the girl didn’t react at all to his questions, didn’t even glance at him. It was as if he wasn’t even here. Michel hesitated a moment, then tried to shake her gently and call her name once again — but nothing managed to get a response out of her. Her golden eyes were vacantly staring into the void, as if her soul itself had left her body, and an unpleasant feeling ran down Michel’s spine as the horrifying memory of that instant he had found the young girl dying on top of the tower flashed back into his mind. The sensation of her livid body in his arms felt as vivid as it had back then, and it unconsciously made him tighten his grip on her shoulder.

“Morgana!”

Finally, the girl tensed, and then she turned her head towards him. Her eyes very slowly regained some life and shine.

“You…” She uttered. “Ah…”

Michel wanted to feel relieved he’d managed to get her back, but… something felt off. The way she stared at him — it was like she was seeing a ghost or something. She didn’t seem to be here, even now.

“Morgana? Can you— Are you okay?”

“Um… I— Yes. Yes.”

All while talking, she eyed Michel from head to toe, then drifted her gaze on his hand on her shoulder, as if trying to analyze the situation bit by bit. Then she slowly started to get up, but her legs were trembling and she was clearly struggling to gather her strength, so he grabbed her arm firmly and helped her stand up. He didn’t let go until he was sure she stood steadily on her own two feet. She turned her head towards him, and then Michel thought he was the one hallucinating this time. Because she offered him a small smile, and gently uttered “Thank you,” as if it was the most natural thing in the world and not the most abnormal reaction he had ever seen. Since when Morgana could smile so sweetly and thanked people in such a genuine way?

“Morgana…? Are you okay?” He repeated once again, really doubting his eyes and mental health.

The girl tiled her eyes and looked up curiously at him.

“Yes? I am fine now. Thank you for asking.”

Once again, Michel felt a deep sensation of wrongness overwhelm him, but before he could open his mouth Morgana squinted her eyes and brought her hands to her head, as if her skull was suddenly aching. She stayed that way for a few long seconds, then rubbed her temples and shook her head. Finally she narrowed her eyes at him, and frowned.

“Michel…? What… What are you doing here?”

“What?” He replied, dumbfounded, because he really didn’t see what he could say much more.

“Since when are you here?”

“Since when…? Are you serious?”

Her frown deepened, and she stared at him as he was the one being unreasonable here.

“Of course I am. Have I never been anything but serious?” She asked coldly, and at least Michel was relieved to get back the normal Morgana he was used to. “So what are you doing here? Are you really stalking me after all?”

“Ah… no, um, I was… I wanted to talk to you, and some classmates of yours told me I could find you here… M-More importantly, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” she said annoyingly, in a tone of voice that clearly showed that she wasn’t, in fact, fine at all.

But Michel felt he couldn’t press any further the topic without her snapping at him, and angering her was the last thing he wanted to do. She turned around and started to walk slowly among the tombstones, her feet steady despite the fact she was still trembling a little.

“You wanted to talk to me?” She brutally cut off the silence.

“Yes… I wanted to apologize for yesterday. Um… you were right, it was none of my business, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t. No need to apologize.”

Silence fell back between them again as Michel just kept on following her silently. Morgana didn’t seem to have a destination in mind, she just crossed the graveyards while her eyes wandered aimlessly among the silent, motionless tombs, and he wondered why she might be thinking about.

“Can I ask you a question?” Michel finally asked.

“Since when do you need permission?”

“What… What are you doing here? Did you come to… visit someone?”

“No. I don’t know anyone buried here,” she answered. “In fact, I’ve come to this cemetery for the first time when I moved in at your building.”

“What…? Then… why are you coming here regularly then…?”

Morgana heaved a long sigh, then finally came to a stop. They were in front of a particularly tall, elegant tombstone, which Michel guessed must belong to an old and wealthy family. But it also seemed to not have been maintained for quite some years, which made it seems lonely.

“Maybe that’s going to sound odd,” she finally said after some time. “But I… love graveyards.”

Michel blinked and looked curiously at the young girl next to him. She was staring at the old tombstone in front of them, but no expression crossed her face and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“I’ve loved them ever since I was a child. There was one not far away from my old home, and for as long as I can remember, I would sneak out of the house and go there, take care of the tombs and stuff.” She snorted. “Of course Mother hated it when I was doing that. She thought it was creepy and scolded me about it a lot of times, but I never listened when it came to this.”

Her eyes fell on the ground, and she mindlessly put one of her red locks behind her ear.

“That’s also where I went whenever things got too tough at home. Guess it’s a bit like my secret base. I always feel at peace and safe when I’m here. Dead people are easier to deal with than the living. At least I felt like I was doing something useful for once, by taking care of them. It felt… comfortable.”

She marked a pause, and then added, in a much smaller voice, almost a whisper:

“To be honest… I’ve always felt more at home in cemeteries than in my actual house.”

Michel stayed quiet. It was a very rare moment for Morgana to talk so freely about herself, and he felt that if he were to say something back to her, it would break the instant and make her shut down all over again. Furthermore, it wasn’t like he really know what to answer to what she was confessing to him right now.

“Of course, back then I wasn’t sure why, but now that I remember my past life it makes sense. You know it, don’t you? That when I was still living at the brothel as a child, I made that… makeshift graveyard for all the nameless corpses we found in the slums.”

He didn’t answer, but yes, he was aware of that. He hadn’t witnessed a lot of Morgana’s past, admittedly, but he could still remember that moment when he saw Jacopo’s memories — of that disfigured little girl crouched down in front of those rough graves, taking care of them meticulously.

“Back then, I started doing that because… well, I felt it was my duty, as a saint. These people had no one else, so I couldn’t bear the idea of their souls not being able to reach purgatory. I couldn’t use my blood anymore, so I felt like I had to do something, at least. But, when I think back on it now… this wasn’t really out of selflessness. It’s just it made me feel… better about myself — it made me feel not so useless. In a way, maybe it was really pretty egoistical of me.” She smiled bitterly. “I was pretty pathetic, wasn’t I?”

“You were just a little girl, Morgana,” Michel replied gently. “A severely traumatized little girl, at that. And even if you doing that wasn’t absolutely out of selflessness, I don’t think it is something pathetic at all. In the end you still gave those people a proper burial and took care of them every day, right? I think it is more than worthy of respect.”

Morgana sighed. Michel knew his words probably wouldn’t do much to change her mind, but he still felt the need to say it.

“In any case, doing this became a comforting routine to me,” she said. “I guess it just stayed with me even all those centuries later. And I like doing that.”

Michel took a deep breath, and nodded. “Somehow, that does sound like you,” he simply added with a slight smile. “If you feel comfortable doing so, then that’s good.”

Morgana didn’t reply. Her eyes fell back once again on the tombstone erected in front of them, standing solemnly.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? A lot of things changed in a millennium, but cemeteries are always the same. They’re constant.”

This was certainly true. No matter the time period or culture, humans were always faced with death and grief, and had the need to honor their lost loved ones and gather around a place to think about them.

That was, unless they were bestowed with a particularly cruel fate where no one would bother to give them a proper burial, like it had happened with Morgana a thousand years ago.

Her body and soul had been left abandoned, and that entire cursed mansion had become her graveyard and prison.

None of them uttered a single word, but Michel instinctively got closer to Morgana and gently wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to him.

For a long time, the girl didn’t react, before finally slowly let her head fall on his shoulder.

And for what seemed like an eternity, none of them moved, lulled by the sound of the wind and the company of the dead.

______________________________________________________________

Things went relatively back to normal after this. In the following days, Michel got really busy at work and came back home pretty late, so he didn’t get the time to see Morgana much or have any more conversation with her. He also didn’t get any nightmares, which meant there was no secret night meeting with her either. In fact, the only time he got to really see her was the tomorrow of their graveyard encounter, when she burst out into their apartment angrily and wanted to know why on earth her classmates were now questioning her about her “weird, tall, white-haired uncle.” He tried to justify himself that this was the less odd explanation he could come up with, but then she retorted he should not have come to her high school to begin with — and, well, she actually had a point here. Giselle watched their argument from afar while giggling quietly, and then she teased him about being “Morgana’s weird uncle” for the next few days.

In any case, despite the heartfelt conversation they managed to have at the cemetery the other day, Michel’s worries about her still hadn’t decreased at all, at the contrary. From time to time, he thought about maybe visiting Morgana to her graveyard, but in the end could never bring himself to do so. After all, she had told him herself that this place was like a ‘secret base’ to her, so it felt wrong, somehow, to trespass this place without her consent.

However, these peaceful days came to an end about two weeks later when the phone suddenly rang one afternoon.

Michel was completely focused on writing an important email about an upcoming project to his superior, so it took him some time to realize the ringing, and when he did he caught sight of Giselle heading towards the phone before he could even get up. As her hands were already occupied with what seemed to be a big cardboard — maybe something from the café? — she hurriedly put on the loudspeaker and wedged the receiver between her ear and her shoulder in an elegant movement. Michel had always been in awe by the way she was able to take care of multiple things like that as if it was the most natural thing in the world, whereas in her place he would’ve just let the box fall on the ground.

“Hello?” Giselle asked, her voice politely playful.

“Hello, sorry to bother you,” a courteous, feminine voice resounded faintly from the phone. “Um, I would like to speak to Mr. Michel Bollinger… Are you Mrs. Bollinger?”

Michel frowned slightly upon hearing his name — the person’s informal and serious tone made him wonder if it was something work-related — but Giselle seemed unconcerned and only giggled.

“Um, well, not yet! Why?”

“You are the guardian of a seventeen-year-old girl named Morgana, aren’t you?”

Giselle blinked curiously, a little confused this time.

“Um, well, we do live with a girl like that but we’re not… Wait, what is this about?”

For a short moment, there seemed to be a bit of hesitation, before the person finally answered by saying something that made Giselle’s smile fell from her face.

“This is the police. We got her in custody. Could you please come pick her up at the station?”

______________________________________________________________

Michel had only went to a police station maybe two or three times in his life, always for trivial, unimportant things like retrieve lost objects, so that was why, when he stepped inside the big building and was greeted by a bunch of solemn-looking officers in uniforms, that he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

The woman on the phone hadn’t told them much about what had happened, just that apparently Morgana had gotten into trouble and that she had told them he was her legal guardian, so he was the one who had to come to get her. To be honest, Michel felt a bit annoyed by this and didn’t understand why Morgana had claimed such a thing given he was far from being her guardian, but he certainly couldn’t refuse to help his friend if she had problems.

So he headed towards the reception, trying to make himself as discreet as possible but as usual it wasn’t very effective, as his appearance always attracted looks wherever he went. When he presented himself, the woman at the desk sighed, and with tired eyes she lead him to a nearby room. The moment he opened the door, he heard angry yells fly out at him, and distinguished three persons: a police officer, a middle-aged man, and Morgana.

“Do you realize that this is all your fault to begin with, right?” The man shouted exasperatedly. “You’re the one who assaulted me! Stop playing the victim here!”

“I’m not playing the victim,” Morgana replied coldly with annoyance, before rolling her eyes. “And ‘assaulted’… No need to use such words. You’re oversensitive.”

“Oversensitive?” The man screamed in disbelief. “Are you saying that this—” He showed up his hand that was wrapped up in bandages. “—is me being oversensitive?”

Morgana eyed him, then shrugged. “Well, you still have your hand and it still moves, right? Not sure why you’re making such a big deal about it.”

The man’s face became completely red, and Michel honestly thought he was going to strangle the girl here and there if the cop hadn’t instantly stepped in, putting a strong hand on the guy’s shoulder and separating the two of them.

“All right, please keep your calm, sir… I see that her guardian has finally arrived, so let’s settle this peacefully.”

While saying this, the officer looked up at Michel, and suddenly all the attention was reported on him. A look of relief spread on Morgana’s face upon seeing him, while the middle-aged man’s face hardened and glared at him.

“You certainly took your sweet time! I swear, what kind of father are you, raising such a brat and letting her hang out in a police station for hours?”

“Um… that’s—”

“Well he’s not my father,” Morgana cut in annoyingly, and when she saw the questioning gazes of the two other men she quickly added: “He is my guardian, but we’re not blood related.”

“Well, fine, in any case could you all please sit down?” The cop asked, his voice straining and Michel could tell he had been taking care of this issue for a while now and was starting to get quite frustrated at it.

“Uh, I’m sorry but, we still didn’t explain to me what had happened? What did Morgana do?”

“Why would you instantly assume I’m the one who did something?” Morgana retorted while glaring at Michel.

“Because you are!” The man shouted yet again. “That kid, I swear…! Here’s what happened: your girl stabbed me in the hand!”

Michel had to admit, he was expecting a lot of things when he heard Morgana was at a police station, but this he still wasn’t prepared for that. He frowned in confusion, and threw a questioning glance at the concerned girl, who just sighed as if this was none of her business.

“So, wait,” Michel started, massaging his temples. “She… stabbed you? With a knife? Do you just walk around transporting a knife, Morgana?”

“Okay, first of all, it wasn’t a knife, it was a cutter,” she argued, as if this was a very important detail.

It doesn’t make it any better! Michel almost burst out, but did his best to control his temperament.

“It doesn’t matter what it was!” The man resumed. “I was just walking in the street when I saw she dropped her wallet, so I tried to tell her, but then when I grabbed her arm she suddenly pulled out that thing and stabbed me with it!”

“I thought it was a thief or something, so I panicked.”

“And when you panic you stab people?” Michel interfered.

“Well, that was just a reflex. Seriously, you should not accost young girls like that without warning. It’s your fault this ended up like this, really.”

The man seemed so taken aback by Morgana’s flippancy that he couldn’t even seem to be able to yell at her anymore. He just stared at the girl, eyes and mouth wide open, until Michel let out a sigh.

“Okay, I think I got the situation. I am genuinely sorry for what Morgana did to you. It wasn’t her intention, she’s just a very cautious person—”

“It was absolutely my intention,” Morgana cut him off. “And you don’t need to apologize to that man. I certainly won’t. He’s the one overreacting over nothing.”

“You’re not helping me here!”

The man stared at the both of them, then shook his head as if giving up protesting. “I don’t care about apologies at this point. “But I certainly won’t stand for that. She stabbed me. I want to file a claim and you owes me at the very least the treatment fees.”

“File a claim? Treatment fees? As if I would—”

“That’s understandable,” Michel interrupted in a serious voice. “I’ll make sure to see through that.”

“What? Michel—”

“Just let me take care of this and try not to make matters worse, please.”

Michel’s voice was not severe, but still firm enough to make the girl understand it was best to let him handle the situation from now on. Morgana sighed, then finally after a few moments of hesitation, she nodded, although she clearly wasn’t satisfied with this.

What followed was a very egregious, long hour of trying to salvage the situation somewhat despite Morgana’s icy jabs and the man’s punctual anger. Michel felt much more exhausted at the end of this than at the end of a heavy week full of work. When they finally managed to get out of the police station, his head was still full about the future appointment with his lawyer he’ll have to make and the treatment fees he’ll have to pay.

“You really didn’t need to do that,” Morgana said, and Michel really hoped this was her way of saying ‘thank you’ because he didn’t feel like dealing with any more jaded cynical retorts.

“You’re the one who told them to call me to start with. Actually, why did you say I was your guardian?”

“Well, I didn’t want to at first… but I’m not yet eighteen, and I didn’t want them to call my parents. If my stepfather had showed up, it would have gotten ugly.”

Michel suddenly felt a bit stupid for not having realized this by himself, and softening a little, he sighed. Morgana was pretty secretive about her family situation, but he knew she had a bad relationship with them — so it wasn’t hard to imagine that if her stepfather had been called because she was at a police station it would’ve indeed not ended well.

It truly was a cursed fate that this girl had ended up again with bad, uncaring parents in this era. She deserved to have an actual loving family… In a way, although he still felt a bit annoyed with her for this, he also was kind of happy she had not hesitated to rely on him when she was in trouble.

“All right, fine… Still, what a mess… Now I’ll have to talk to Giselle about all of this and organize our finances, huh…”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do this. I’ll take care of it.”

“And how, exactly? If you don’t want to contact your parents, then I fail to see how you’ll be able to deal with this… Is the association you’re in contact would really take care of something like this?”

“Oh, no, I would never ask them that even if they could help me. I’ll just call Jacopo.”

Michel stopped walking.

“Uh, what?”

“I’ll ask Jacopo to pay and handle this for me.”

“But, you… I thought you hadn’t talked to him since you came back from your trip in Italy?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“And you’re going to call him now just to ask him for money?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… Did you keep in contact with him just to extort him?”

“Is that a problem? He has to be useful for something, at least. Furthermore, he’s pretty rich, you know.”

Michel sighed deeply and put his face in his hands. “You’re impossible… Are you really serious?”

Morgana stopped in her trail brusquely. She turned around to face him, and her eyes suddenly turned cold.

“In case you forgot, I shall remind you it is the man who killed me we are talking about. So no, I have no problem at all in taking some of his money. I believe it is actually a pretty low price to pay for ruining my life. He owes me at least that much, don’t you think? Plus, he’s also the man who indirectly ruined your life too, so I’d say he really do not deserve your pity.”

“I wasn’t pitying him…”

And you had more of a hand in ruining my life than he did, is what he restrained himself from adding. Certainly, Jacopo was basically the cause of the whole mess that had happened in the cursed mansion, but Morgana had still been the one who spent all those years tormenting Michel. She’d been the one who had enslaved Giselle in the mansion until she broke her and destroy her very identity. Even if Morgana had been a victim and that some of her actions were rooted in rightful pain and anger, no one had forced her to do those things.

Michel had forgiven her and had a lot of deep affection for her now, but he still didn’t like the way she sometimes glossed over the very real harm she had done to instead push all the blame on her killers — and specifically on Jacopo.

Still, he didn’t want to have that peculiar argument with her right now, and on top of that… Even if Morgana had never been at the mansion, even if the place had never been cursed, unfortunately Michel’s life would have still likely ended in tragedy… This thought made him pause, though.

He wondered… what would have happened if he had never met Morgana?

If there had been no cursed witch at the mansion? No skeleton to hug and makes him feel better about himself — about his pain and loneliness? No mean spirit to abuse and drain him? How would he have spent those ten years completely alone? How would he have reacted to Iméon and to Giselle without a witch to whispers in his ears?

Things would have been… a bit different, maybe, but in the end it would still have ended up with him being pierced by his brother’s spears.

The biggest difference would have been… that Giselle wouldn’t have become the Maid. They never would have reunited centuries later as lost ghosts in this dark haunted mansion, and maybe they wouldn’t even have reincarnated together in this era at all… But that also meant Giselle wouldn’t have had to suffer during all of those centuries, so wouldn’t have been better…?

Or maybe there would have been no mansion at all, and he would have been sent in exile elsewhere. Maybe he wouldn’t even have met Giselle at all. He had no idea.

What he did know was that if none of that had happened, he wouldn’t be walking next to this young girl right now.

______________________________________________________________

The wind was raspy and the sky gray when he finally reached the cemetery, which made it looks even more gloomy and eerie than last time.

It looked the exact same as it did before, as if he was back a few weeks prior in time. The place was just as abandoned as ever, and it made Michel wonder if anyone even ever bothered to come here. Except for Morgana, that is.

He wouldn’t have bothered to come either, usually, but as strange as it may sound, it was actually Morgana herself who had asked him. He had tried to talk to her yesterday, but she evaded him before slipping “I’ll be at the graveyard again tomorrow after class,” and promptly disappeared. Implying, “You can come to me there to talk to me.” Well, that was how Michel had interpreted it at least, but with Morgana he was never sure of the exact meaning of her words.

“Oh, you’re here.”

He brusquely turned around, and Morgana was there, holding a pretty big watering can in her arms.

“Right in time,” she said. “See this tombstone? I’d need you to water the flowers next to it. I still have to clean those two others in the meantime.”

Michel arched an eyebrow, but didn’t have the time to ask anything that Morgana pushed the heavy can in his hands and headed towards another grave.

“What— Wait, what do you mean?”

“I don’t think I’ve said anything all that complicated?”

“No, what I mean is— why are you doing this?”

The girl narrowed her eyes at him.

“What? Did you think I just spent all my afternoon looking melancholically at those gravestones? Sorry to disappoint, but generally I actually take care of the place.”

“You… take care of the place?”

“Yes. You know, I clean up, arrange the plants, all that. That’s a small graveyard, but it still actually takes a lot of time.”

Michel felt more and more confused. Indeed, now that he thought about it, it seemed a bit weird that Morgana would spent hours hanging out in a cemetery just walking around the tombstones despite knowing no one buried here. But the idea of her cleaning up the place was even weirder.

“What are you, the graveyard caretaker?”

“No, though I talk to him from time to time.”

“He’s okay with you doing that?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Well, Michel supposed it did remove some work for him, so of course he wouldn’t complain. “But why would you do this?”

She shrugged. “It relaxes me.”

“Taking care of a graveyard relaxes you?”

Morgana turned around without answering and kneeled down in front of a tomb a little further away. Michel sighed, looked at the water can in his hands — which was starting to feel pretty heavy — and decided to do as she said for now. While watering the daffodils and begonias that littered the ground, he threw slight glances at the girl behind him, who was very meticulously concentrated on her task, and that’s when their talk from a few weeks ago came back to him.

Right, Morgana had spend a good chunk of her time as a child taking care of a graveyard in her past life. With this in mind, then her behavior did makes sense. Maybe it’d seems odd from any other person, but Morgana loving to take care of such place wasn’t weird at all.

“You’re holding the can badly. You’re not used to gardening, are you?”

Michel got startled as the girl appeared by his side and grabbed the can, carefully bending it with expert hands.

“I don’t have much occasions to do this,” he admitted.

“Don’t Giselle loves gardening? At least she did back then.”

“She does, but… we’ve never done it together. Plus her family lives in an apartment…”

“Is that so…”

“I didn’t know you loved gardening, though?”

“I don’t really like it. But it’s necessary when taking care of a graveyard.”

Morgana kept arranging the flowers, and Michel’s mind wandered back to the roses Giselle had grown in the mansion, centuries ago. They didn’t have a garden in their current house, only a courtyard, but maybe he could arrange himself to make one… It would surely make her happy.

“Ugh, stop that.”

“S-Stop what?”

“Thinking about doing something ridiculously cheesy for Giselle. I hate when you do that.”

“How do you even know what I was thinking about?”

“Because you always make that stupid, disgusting face whenever you think about her.”

Michel sighed. “Well, do forgive me for being happy while thinking about the woman I love. I’ll try to do it discretely from now on.”

“Thank you.”

He rolled his eyes, and almost retorted another jaded reply before he just remembered that he had a reason, actually, for coming all the way here today, and it wasn’t just to bicker with Morgana.

“Did you call Jacopo?”

“Yes. He was kinda annoyed, but he’ll pay. I don’t have any worries about it.”

Michel grimaced, guessing she probably did her best to remind him all the horrible things he had done to her to make him feel as guilty as possible. Then again, a part of him couldn’t entirely reprehend her for that, because, like she had said before, it wasn’t much compared to what he had actually did to her. He couldn’t reproach her anger, but at the same time he didn’t like at all this unhealthy relationship she had started in this era with Jacopo. Maybe he’ll have to talk about it with her. Later.

“So, um…” Michel started, then hesitated.

He did come all the way here to talk to her, but now that he was actually there he couldn’t bring himself to find the right words. He was afraid of setting her off if he brought this in the wrong way. As if reading his thoughts, Morgana brusquely stood away from the flowers and turned towards him, brow burrowed.

“Yes?” She pressed on. “Stop beating around the bush and tell me already.”

Michel took a deep breath in, and nodded.

“All right. All right, um… So, I talked with Giselle about this for a bit, and I was wondering…” He paused, and eyed Morgana cautiously. “What would you think about going to see a therapist?”

Ar first, it seemed as if she didn’t understand the question. Then, as it sunk, her shoulders slumped, her mouth formed a tight line and she uttered the following with so much disdain it almost made Michel choke:

“What?”

“I, er… To tell you the truth, that’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while… but the recent events decided me it was, probably, really necessary.”

“What recent events?”

“Do you I really need to remind you your visit at the police station?”

“That has nothing to do with this, and it’s already solved.”

“That’s not the issue. And it’s not the first time something like this happen, either.”

There was the episode that happened the first time he came at this graveyard, and the frequent nightmares, but those weren’t just isolated incidents either. There were moments where Morgana would just stare off into the distance and didn’t seem to… respond to anything. As if she was just cut off from reality. And even without all of this, Michel thought it’d do her a lot of good to see a specialist, even just to talk. However, Morgana visibly thought very differently.

“I’m not crazy,” she dryly cut out, her eyes shooting daggers.

“It’s not about being ‘crazy’,” Michel replied patiently. “It’s about talking to someone about your problems, which you obviously really, really need.”

Her reaction was pretty ironic, Michel thought, given how many times she had tempted him to “just go insane” or to “join her in her madness” during their time at the mansion. But maybe she just didn’t remember that.

“No way,” she continued, her tone sharp. “I’m not going to see a shrink.”

She spat out the last word with so much vitriol Michel actually wondered if a ‘shrink’ had done something to her in the past or something.

“I’m not saying this to piss you off, Morgana,” Michel resumed in a more concerned, serious tone. “It’s because I’m worried about you. A therapist could actually help you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like hell they could. What would I even tell them, anyway? ‘Oh yeah I remember by entire past life where my life was a miserable hell and where I was killed horribly which turned me into a witch and made me curse my killers for centuries.’ How good they’d take that, you think?”

“Obviously, I’m not saying you need to tell every single details… You could start with your modern life, I believe there’s already enough things to work with here.”

“And with what money would I pay that? I certainly can’t ask my parents, and the association already do enough for me.”

“I could take care of that if you want. That’s not a problem.” Or you could extort Jacopo again, he almost said, but he thought it wasn’t a good idea to encourage her in this kind of behavior, even for a joke.

“Oh please, stop acting like you’re my father or something, it’s extremely annoying.”

Michel groaned. Of course he had expected her to react this way, but it didn’t mean it was any less annoying that she just completely refused to listen to him.

“Morgana. You are not okay. You realize that, right?”

“How am I not okay?”

“Oh, I don’t know, to me stabbing some guy’s hand in the street because you ‘freaked out’ is not something a person who’s perfectly okay would do.”

“It was just an accident. It never happened before, and it won’t happen again.”

“But how can you know? Do you really realize how serious what you did is? You’re lucky you ended getting away with it this time, but maybe the next you’ll get in trouble with a much more dangerous person. What would you do then?”

Morgana lifted her head and grinned at him. “I’ll kill them and dispose of their body, obviously. See? That way, no problem.”

Michel stared at her blankly. Morgana stared back.

“I’m joking! Oh my God, you didn’t actually think I’d do that, right?”

“I mean… With you, I can never tell for sure.”

Morgana snorted. “Then what about you? Are you seeing a shrink?”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

Manifestly, Morgana wasn’t expecting this answer at all, because she just stared at him with her eyes wide and her mouth open.

“W-Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been in therapy since I was around fourteen, I think.” As Morgana was still staring at him with a confused look, Michel added, “Ever since I came out as a boy to my parents. They insisted because they… weren’t sure how to deal with this.”

“Oh.”

“And you know what? I thought like you at first, but I think it really helped me in the end. It still does.”

“Well, I’m not you. And again, you’re not my father, you can’t force me to do anything, so the conversation stop there.”

And as if giving more weight to her words, she turned around and started walking towards the back of the graveyard with steady steps. Michel sighed for what was probably the tenth times since he entered this place.

Dealing with Morgana was always a real headache, but he wouldn’t give up on her just yet. He hadn’t given up on her back when she was a cruel witch who had tormented him and Giselle, and he wouldn’t do it now that she was just a stubborn teenage girl.

“Morgana.”

He didn’t even had to grab her hand or to hold her back — the tone of his voice seemed to be enough to make her understand it was important, and she stopped.

“I am not going to force you if you really don’t want to,” he continued, then smiled wryly. “Like you said, I am not your father, and even if I was I still wouldn’t force you.”

This time, it was Morgana who sighed, and he could see her shoulders drop, in what seemed to be more tiredness than annoyance.

“When we met again in this era, you said… that you wanted to take your life back into your hands. Were you lying?”

The girl turned around and glared at him, her gaze shining determinedly.

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you so afraid of living and trying to be happy?” Michel took a step forward, ruby eyes not letting go of the golden ones for a second. “You have a life full of opportunities in front of you, but somehow you prefer to stay stuck in your suffering. Like you did back then.”

Morgana opened her mouth as if wanting to say something, but her lips trembled and no words could get out.

“You’re not locked up in that cursed mansion anymore. You can go wherever you want. Taking care of a graveyard is nice if that makes you happy, but… it’s not by staying with the dead that you’ll take back your life. It’s by being with the living.”

It hurts, sometimes, to look at the girl in front of him. It was a similar sensation as to stare in a mirror and seeing the reflection of a painful past self he had managed to overcome.

A child playing pretend with dead dolls when they were too old for that.

Morgana had done this since she was a little girl, but unlike him she had never let it go. He had left this behind in the past, but she was still desperately clinging to it.

Michel advanced once again, and stopped only a few centimeters away from her. Morgana was small and only barely reaching his chest, and the way she seemed to intensely stare at the ground in this moment made her seem even smaller.

He put both of his hands on her shoulders, making her look up at him, and when her eyes finally crossed his, he smiled softly.

“I love you and want you to be happy, because you deserves it. You don’t have to treat the entire world like it’s your enemy, so let people help you and love you. That’s all I really wanted to tell you.”

Morgana’s eyes widened as if not believing he had actually said this, and Michel had to admit he kind of felt the same. The words were like ashes in his mouth, and he had never been good at being open with people, not even after all those centuries. It was hard and uncomfortable and awkward, but he meant every single one of them, and he hoped Morgana could sense that, too.

Before the girl had the time to recover, he leaned in and gently kissed her forehead affectionately. He didn’t hear her gasp, but he could feel her shock and her body tense through his hands. He pulled away slowly, smiled one last time at her, before turning around.

He didn’t need to face her to know she was completely motionless and inert, but this was in a good kind of way this time.

______________________________________________________________

The odor of death was the thing that remained the most vivid in his dreams.

It wrapped and clung to his sense of smell and made him want to wince and gag. Even after he’d wake up, it would still linger with him, stuck to his skin. He had to really struggle to get it off and to fight the blurry images of the dark tower and of the soulless, dusty skeleton sitting next to him.

The unmoving, unbreathing dead doll.

But the doll wasn’t here when he came back to him, only the warm body of the black-haired woman he was going to marry in a few months. Her chest was slowly moving up and down, her lips ajar and eyelids closed. She was smiling and breathing and living, a far cry from the corpse that had been his only companion for years and years a long, lost time ago, and that was enough to bring him back in the present.

As he had often the habit by now, he stood up and headed in the kitchen, preparing his mug of coffee almost mechanically before getting outside. He noticed with regret as he sat on the courtyard’s bench that still no stars sprinkled the dark sky.

“Seems like meeting down there is starting to become a routine for us.”

There she stood in front of him, the skeletal doll.

But she wasn’t skeletal or unmoving or unbreathing anymore — with her golden eyes and long red hair slightly illuminated by the moon, she looked more like some sort of unworldly nymph.

“Seems like it,” Michel said quietly.

Morgana grimaced slightly in disappointment. “And here I thought I’d manage to pay you back and startle you like you did with me last time. Were you expecting me or something?”

“Something like that, I suppose. Maybe a part of me can always sort of tell your presence, like when we were in the mansion.”

“That’s not possible. You’re joking, right?”

“What do you think?”

Michel smiled mischievously at her, and the girl rolled her eyes, before simply sitting next to him. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

If he closed his eyes, maybe he could feel like he was still that barely adult young man in the tower seeking comfort from a corpse.

“That was kind of unfair, what you did at the cemetery,” Morgana finally said in a soft, quiet voice. “Leaving me all alone behind after saying something ridiculous like that.”

“It wasn’t ridiculous. I meant it.”

“I know. That’s what makes it ridiculous.”

She was staring at her feet now, and while there wasn’t any expression on her face, her voice was barely a murmur. Michel felt that Morgana wanted to talk for once, and it was a rare enough occasion that he kept his mouth shut as much as possible.

“You shouldn’t love me. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?”

“Not after… I don’t know. Everything.”

“Hmm… Could it be some backward way trying to apologize for what you did to me and Giselle? That’s quite something, coming from you. Did you hit your head or something?”

“It’s not. I just don’t get it. I don’t get you. You don’t make sense, that’s all.”

Michel sighed. It didn’t really surprise him. Forgiving Morgana and becoming her friend made sense to him, but it certainly was understandable that it wouldn’t really from her perspective. The sad thought of how a part of her probably would not believe anyone who’d say ‘I love you’ to her regardless of who it was crossed his mind…

“I did felt a lot of ways towards you during these years,” he finally said. “I hated you, and resented you, and pitied you. You did a lot of heinous things to me. But I think I myself did a lot of bad things to you. Though, well… you already know that, don’t you?”

No response came, but he didn’t need any, so he just let his eyes wander at the starless sky.

“My point is, that when I really started to see you as a person, when I really started to emphasize with you and wanted to save you, I’ve stopped resenting you and started loving you. I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, but that’s how it is. I hope you’ll be able to understand it one day.”

Morgana sighed, and also raised up her head. “I… will not make any promise,” she finally said. “But…”

She bit her lips. Looked away.

“But I’ll… I’ll think about it. The shrink.”

And then Michel couldn’t help but chuckle, because in this moment she sounded so much like the stubborn teen girl she was supposed to be and not like the centuries years old cruel, vengeful witch, and it was how things was supposed to be.

“You know, Morgana… some time earlier, I got myself wondering what would have happened if I had never met you.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

“How would that work…?”

“Well, I don’t know… Maybe if you never had died the way you did, and never put a curse on the three men. Maybe if Jacopo had never locked you up in that tower.”

Morgana snorted. “That indeed would have prevented a lot of annoying events, yes. But that would mean counting on the fact that this idiot can possess anything resembling human common sense.”

“Well, regardless… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Hmm… Well, if I had indeed never been killed that way… for starter, the mansion itself would have never been cursed. So maybe you would not even have been sent at that mansion at all. Or maybe you would have, but either way I do not think it would have changed much about what happened there, or changed anything about your death.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

“However, Giselle… would have never become the Maid.”

“Indeed…”

Morgana’s gaze seemed unfocused as she looked into the horizon, and Michel wondered what was going through her head. Maybe she reminisced all those centuries she spent in company of the Maid.

“Maybe… it would have been better for her,” she finally blurted out.

“That’s… also what I thought. But then… that might sound selfish of me, but… if she had never become the Maid and stayed in the mansion, then we likely… would have never been reunited. The both of us getting reincarnated here was principally thanks to your wish.”

“Heh, I’m not so sure about that. That’s going to sound cheesy, but I think your bond was strong enough for you to meet again.”

“Maybe… It’d be nice if it is the case…”

Michel put his gaze inside his cup of coffee, that was probably cold by now.

“But you know… while I do wish Giselle hadn’t gone through so much suffering during her time as the Maid, and that I would do anything to take it back… I still… do not regret meeting you.”

He turned his head towards the young girl sat next to him, and stared straight into her eyes.

“Despite everything, I am still glad to be your friend now.”

Michel smiled gently at her, and put a hand on the top of her head, gently ruffling her red hair. Morgana sighed and rolled her eyes. “I am not a child,” she grumbled, but even so she did nothing to put off his hand. So Michel chuckled, and despite her reluctance, Morgana joined in his laugh soon enough.

Years, decades, centuries ago, she was just a lifeless doll he’d shared an abandoned mansion with — a convenient plaything to make a desperate, broken boy feel less lonely.

And then when she started talking as a witch, she became an annoyance and he wanted nothing but to get rid of her.

But he was glad to not have given up on her in the end, so that he could now see into what kind of woman she would grow into.

And just like he had done an eternity before, he extended his arm and grabbed her hand, holding it gently but firmly.

This time, those were not cold, dusty bones that met his fingers, but warm, smooth skin.

This was not a skeleton sat next to him that he could play pretend with like a doll, but a dear friend he had pitied, hated, resented sympathized with and loved all at once.

#The House in Fata Morgana #FataMoru #Michel Bollinger #Morgana Fatamoru #Morgana (FataMoru) #Michel and Morgana #Novectacle #Fata Morgana #Fata Morgana no Yakata #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fic #The House in Fata Morgana Fanfiction #FataMoru Fanfiction #FataMoru Fanfic #Connan's Fanfics #Connan's Posts #Morgana (The House in Fata Morgana) #Morgana The House in Fata Morgana #Morgana (Fata Morgana) #Text #Archive Of Our Own #AO3 #TheHouseinFataMorgana #Fata

[2ndstar-ontheright]

“I’m Sorry..”

Fandom: Ginny & Georgia

Characters: Ginny, Georgia, Ellen, Clint, Marcus and Max. 

Words: 1513

Summary: Ginny and Marcus apologize and discovers that there’s more to him then meets the eye. 

Warning: Swearing, implied masturbation (it’s very slight though. More of a blink and you’ll miss it sort of thing.), dead character reference, parental caregiver terms (Ex: “Mama”). 

Author’s note: I know you're probably thinking, "WTH did I just read?" But hear me out! I wrote this because I wanted to give more depth to Marcus' character, and of course I had to do that with age regression. Hah! And to have him apologize since we didn't see that yet in the show. (Plus while watching the show I got some kind of vibe. Not really sure how or why, but I did for some reason.) Anyways, I'm planning on turning this into it's own fully fleshed-out story. And I would love to hear y'all's feedback and opinions in the comments. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! 

    Ginny was lying in bed, unable to sleep. Her mind was racing as she recalled the events of the past week. Breaking it off with Hunter, Marcus and his bullshit, Georgia (as always), and how she managed to push all her friends away over 2 dumb guys. She sighed, trying to take her mind off things, she picked up her toothbrush from her nightstand and slumped under the covers. “Great. Your life's falling apart and all you can think to do is masturbate? Lovely, Ginny. Just lovely”. As the brush slowly made its way down, she then had to go to the bathroom. Sighing even harder this time, she put the toothbrush back on her nightstand and left the room.

“Mom! It’s Marcus! Your idiot, stoner, “Kyle Scheible” wannabe son! Of course I’m pissed and betrayed as hell that my so-called “best friend” was cheating on her boyfriend with my brother! God! Everything is the worst!” Max equally signed and exclaimed to her parents, angry like a wakened bear. “Well I’m sorry! I’m sorry I don’t know anything because my kids don’t tell me shit anymore!” Ellen replied. “Well I’m telling you now mother dearest!” Max said, stomping up to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she flopped on her bed and scrolled through her pictures. She stopped when she saw a picture of the 4 of them together at the Sophomore Sleepover.“Ginny, why couldn’t you have just talked to me?” Her voice broke as she started to cry.

Downstairs, her parents discussed the situation and what they could do to help. “I just don’t get it Clint. Ginny is a good kid, much better than our own. If we're being honest. How are we gonna fix this?” Ellen asked her husband. “I don’t know dear. But, it’s probably best if we stay out of it. I think we can trust the kids to work it out themselves. Besides, all we can do is watch and intervene when it gets too serious, right?” Clint replied. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. I love you.” “Anytime, Ellie. I love you too”.

Marcus crossed the street towards Ginny’s house in hopes of doing one thing, apologizing. If there was any time to do this, it was now. Hopefully. That day, after hearing what Ginny said he realized what he was doing. He finally broke things off with Padma, stating how he had been a dick to her and that she deserved better, to which she agreed. He took time to look at himself and think “Why? What’s wrong with you? Climbing up to the window he reached for the latch and lowered his hand. He instead climbed back down, knowing how inappropriate and weird his entrances are. “You’re not J.D, idiot.” He joked to himself, while inside he was terrified.

Hearing the door knock, Ginny went downstairs. She looked through the window and jumped. “Jesus fucking Christ. Why is he here?! And at the door of all places? Well, at least it’s not my window, ``she whispered. Her mind began racing again. She wished she could go back to her room, but now she could not. “Peach, who’s at the door?” Georgia called from the other room. She halted for a moment,”No one mom!” “Okay! I must’ve just been hearing things then. Aw shit! That means I’m gettin’ old!” “Georgia Miller’s one adversity, aging!” Ginny said. “Oh hush!” Georgia said, fake offended. Ginny sighed, opening the door. She leaned on the door frame, ready to face whatever was gonna come out of the teen’s mouth.

”What do you want, Marcus? Because frankly, I don’t want to hear it”. “Hey can we talk outside? Please? I just don’t want your mom to hear, if that’s ok?” “Yeah cuz she hasn’t heard everything already about us! But, whatever. I guess we can talk”, Ginny glared at him. “Look, I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. You deserve so much better and should’ve just stayed out of everything..” “Yeah you should’ve. That would’ve helped. My life would have been a lot less shitty, y’know.” “I-I know..and I told Padma about everything a-and broke things off. I mean, it was the least I could do. And I’ve also started to evaluate myself and realize, I am an awful person. Like, what the hell dude? What’s your problem?” Marcus said.

Ginny looked at him surprised, “He actually went and acknowledged his mistakes? Huh, things are certainly changing for both him and I”, “I.. that’s.. I’m really proud of you Marcus. And yeah, you are an asshole, but I’m glad you took the time to realize that. Especially after all the things you went through.``''And I know that doesn't excuse what I did. Someone’s past or whatever they're going through doesn’t excuse them for doing something wrong, but thanks Ginny. I’m not asking for you to forgive me for what I did, I just want you to know that I am truly sorry. Also I’m seeing someone! I forgot their name, but they work with Abby’s Dad, I think. And after this, I’ll stay out of your way so I don’t hurt you or anyone else.” Marcus said, turning to leave.

Ginny gasped, “He’s truly pouring his heart out! He is sorry! Do I want to lose him? Cus I really don’t think I do” Her thoughts swirled in her head. “Marcus, I-I don’t know what to say. You’re right. But, I think that since you’ve taken the time to talk to someone and help you evaluate yourself, you know better than to play with people’s hearts. A-and I don’t want to lose you because you’re more than just hot. Y-you’re nice, introspective, and caring. I don't think I’m ever going to find someone who’s impacted my life like you. I-think I forgive you,” Ginny choked out, crying. “Wow..Seriously! Well, thanks Ginny! Is it okay if I hug you?” Marcus said, surprised. “Seriously. And yes! !”Ginny laughed. “Okay!” He said, wrapping his arms around her. After a minute had passed, Marcus took that as his cue to leave. “Well, I should go,” He said walking to her door. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, creep”. He smiled and left. And Ginny, for the first time in a while, felt relieved.

The next day, Ginny walked to the cafeteria hoping that her friends wouldn’t loathe her entirely. She planned on apologizing to them today for all that happened, especially to Hunter. She was about 5 feet away from the door and saw Marcus on the floor with his head buried in his arms. “Marcus? Are you okay?” She asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Marcus had not had a good day so far. For one thing, Max was still mad at him, his head was screaming, he couldn’t stop thinking about his best friend, and he failed an english test. And his secret almost got revealed when he dropped all of his stuff on the floor trying to get into his locker. So yeah, you could say today was a shit day. So, when he went into the lunchroom and noticed all the people, he turned around back into the hall. For the second time in 12 hours he started to cry. And when Ginny asked him what was up, his head felt fuzzy and couldn’t say anything.

Ginny looked at him in concern waiting for him to answer. He looked up and she noticed his eyes were all red and puffy from crying, “I-I’m sow-sorry. I’m not supposed to... “Supposed to what?” “Be small!” He sobbed, hiding his face. “Aw buddy, it’s okay! But, can you explain? I don’t understand?”

He took a deep breath and began to explain, “So, ever since my y’know accident, my brain goes to this space where it’s kind of like I’m a little kid? Y’know? I know it’s-it’s weird. And ever since my best friend died, I feel a lot younger than I am. So, basically I’m a little kid when I have bad days or get really upset. Which explains what “being small” means, I guess”.

Ginny looked back at him processing this, and if she was being honest, it made a lot of sense. It was his way of dealing, and who was she to judge? “Well, that makes a lot of sense. And I’m guessing it helps, but why were you so upset to tell me?” “Because I was worried you were going to think I’m gross or more weird than I already am.” She chuckled, “You’re already one of the weirdest people I know Marcus. SO, there’s nothing you can do that can make you more weird to me. Now, quit crying! I’m not really in the mood for you to crash into a ditch again, y’know? Lol.” “Heh, yeah. Thanks Ginny.” “Anytime, Marcus. Now come on, the floor’s pretty gross.” She said, standing up and pulling him off the floor. “Okay, mama,” He said, feeling better than before. Ginny gushed and the 2 of them walked back into the cafeteria ready to face their friends.

#age regression #Ginny and Georgia #agere writing #ginny and georgia agere #my stories

[farmhandler]

for your sake

Fandom: Demon Slayer

Pairing: Rengoku/Tanjiro

Rating: T

Chapter: 1/6

Word count: 2.4 K

Summary: Rengoku is dying, but Zenitsu has an unorthodox idea that might be just what they need.

Warnings: Omegaverse, alpha!Tanjiro, omega!Rengoku

A/N: I watched the Demon Slayer movie and I fell even more in love with all these characters than I already was. Rengoku my beloved!!!! Please enjoy this unorthodox omegaverse!

Read on AO3

---

Rengoku. Rengoku. Rengoku. Rengoku.

Tanjiro couldn’t see through his tears. Every time he brushed them away, they overflowed and spilled past his fingers, unerring and constant. Tears were smeared messily across his cheeks and under his eyes, too, but none of that really mattered.

Rengoku was dying.

He was dying, and nothing any of them could do could change that.

Tanjiro was familiar with death. He had seen so much death already that the sight of dead bodies didn’t fill him with the horror and dread it used to. He still prayed for the dead, and it saddened him to see so much suffering, but it had become a familiar sight.

Sometimes the guilt from the mere fact he was getting used to people dying clawed at him, digging into his chest until he thought he might never recover.

But he could never, ever get used to something like this.

“Rengoku,” he rasped, shaking his head. He kept shaking it, as if denying his death might keep it from happening. “Rengoku!”

He heard Rengoku chuckle quietly to himself, and then cough wetly. He tried to speak, but it came out garbled, which made Tanjiro’s tears fall faster.

I’m so useless. I can’t do anything, he thought. Why can’t I do something?

The tears kept flowing. Inosuke and Zenitsu didn’t fare any better. As they waited for Rengoku to pass peacefully—as peacefully as his painful death would allow—they all wept.

If Tanjiro was a different person, he would congratulate Rengoku for holding his composure despite the intense and agonizing pain he must have been in. But he wasn’t that kind of person. His throat felt like he had been lodged with large rock, and all he could manage were whispered mentions of Rengoku’s name.

“Hey, Tanjiro,” Zenitsu said. He waited a beat, and then moved around Rengoku to sit at Tanjiro’s side. When Tanjiro didn’t respond, he repeated the phrase. “Tanjiro, hey.”

“What?” Tanjiro lifted his head, tears still flowing free. “What else could be the matter?”

He didn’t mean it unkindly. Tanjiro was begging. Begging him not to say anything else was wrong, or that anyone else would die just then.

Zenitsu glanced down, squeezed his hands into fists in his lap, and then lifted his head again. His eyes were bright. Tanjiro noticed that he had Nezuko on his back. He wanted to thank him, but couldn’t find the words.

“You’re an alpha, aren’t you?”

Tanjiro sniffled. What…?

“Yes, that’s right.” He tried wiping at his eyes again in vain. “What about it?”

“If…if you’re an alpha…” Zenitsu’s mouth hung open, uncertain. He took a deep breath. “If you’re an alpha, isn’t there another way we can save Rengoku?”

Tanjiro blinked at Zenitsu. “Zenitsu, what are you talking about?”

“Well—Rengoku is an omega. There are—at some point you must’ve heard the stories!” Zenitsu said, his voice rising in pitch. “About alphas and omegas.”

“Zenitsu…” Tanjiro gentled his voice and laid his hand on Zenitsu’s knee. “This isn’t the time for stories. Rengoku is—he’s dying.”

“I know!” Zenitsu snapped. “I know that! You really haven’t heard?”

“Heard what? What are you saying?”

Zenitsu shrugged Nezuko’s box off his shoulders and then pointed at Rengoku.

“He’s an omega! You’re an alpha. I’ve heard that when alphas mate omega, it can sometimes do something to their body. They become stronger and they heal faster. I’ve heard of alphas recovering from fatal wounds after bonding! If you bond with Rengoku, there’s a chance it can heal him!”

Tanjiro could hardly believe what he was hearing. Bonding—no, forcing a bond on Rengoku? Tanjiro had thought he was going to suggest they try and patch up his wound in some way, and he was prepared to explain how futile their efforts would be, but this was so much worse.

“Zenitsu, those are just stories.” Tanjiro’s voice broke, trembling while he spoke. “There’s nothing we can do. He was stronger than all of us, and we couldn’t do anything.”

He looked over at Rengoku, who was listing forward. His eyes had slipped closed, and that small smile that had been playing on his face for a while now was still there. Tanjiro’s heart ached just looking at him, and there was a tiny part of himself that wanted to consider what Zenitsu was saying. Rengoku was attractive, and he had a wonderful scent, but forcing a bond was out of the question.

“Can’t we try?!” Zenitsu exclaimed. He rose onto his feet and gestured to Rengoku. “You’re right: he’s dying. And that’s exactly why we should try to do everything we can to save him! He saved us from a demon; it’s the least we can do to repay him for being so useless!”

By the end of it, Zenitsu was shouting. He had even caught the attention of Inosuke, who’d wandered back over after walking away to cry alone.

“What is all this talk about alphas and omegas? Why are you talking nonsense?!”

“I don’t care if it’s nonsense!” Zenitsu spat. It was the most passionately animated Tanjiro had seen him in a long while, and he was almost transfixed by it. Zenitsu turned to him, eyes shining with tears and rare determination. “Tanjiro, if there’s even a small chance that you could help Rengoku, then let’s try it! What do you have to lose? Your pride?! Well don’t worry, because we don’t have any of that left! In fact, I have so little pride I’ll negatively balance yours!”

Zenitsu grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards Rengoku.

“So come on!”

Tanjiro let himself be pulled. He was so surprised by the turn of events that he hadn’t even realized his tears had dried up. He could see Rengoku a little clearer, and framed by the morning sunlight, he looked beautiful.

Tanjiro’s lips pressed into a thin line. He pulled himself free of Zenitsu’s grasp, and then hurried to Rengoku’s side on his own. With Zenitsu’s help, they steadied him on both sides, pulling aside his haori and cutting through his gakuran to reveal the base of his throat.

Can I really do this? he wondered, eyeing the patch of skin. I’ve never seen anything like what Zenitsu mentioned.

“What are you doing?” Inosuke shouted, sounding both angry and confused. “What are you two idiots doing? Are you trying to kill him faster?!”

“We’re trying to help!” Zenitsu yelled back.

“Zenitsu…” Tanjiro squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “This may not work. And even if it does, he might be too far gone! He’s already unconscious, which is a bad sign.”

“He has a hole in his stomach!” Inosuke yelled, even angrier. Tanjiro wanted to comfort him, to let him know that it was okay to be angry and afraid when they were riding on what could very well be false hope, but he had to focus.

“Both of you shut up! Don’t you think I know that? I don’t care about our chances, I just want to try!” Zenitsu met Tanjiro’s eyes. Rengoku slumped forward in their hands, so Tanjiro hurried into position. “It’s life or death!”

Life or death. Tanjiro hated himself in part for attempting this. It was stupid and not guaranteed to work.

But he had to try.

He pressed his mouth to the still warm crook of Rengoku’s neck. Almost immediately, nausea began to claw at his insides, rising up inside him. It took immense effort to work the disgust. He felt like he was seriously going to vomit.

Calm down, he told himself. Focus!

If this didn’t work, it would look like Tanjiro done something truly, horrifyingly awful to someone who had just saved all their lives and the lives of hundreds of others. Explanations wouldn’t matter; they rarely did, for alphas.

Fighting against every impulse that screamed at him, Tanjiro sank his teeth into Rengoku’s skin. Even though he’d never done it before, instinct urged him to bite down until he felt blood rise up onto his tongue. It mingled with his saliva, and then he pulled back and began licking at the wound to cement the process further.

For a while, Tanjiro continued what he was doing. He felt sick and he was openly crying again, but he kept going, lapping at the wound and inhaling his scent to detect any changes. His hand slipped to the front of Rengoku’s chest and over his heart. It was barely beating, thrumming weakly against his fingertips.

Please. Please. Please!

More time passed, and that was when the reality of their situation began to sink in. Rengoku hadn’t miraculously healed, and the heartbeat fluttering against Tanjiro’s hand was getting weaker by the second. He met Zenitsu’s eyes and saw a desperation there he knew must have been mirrored in his own.

Bile rose up hot in his throat. Tanjiro let go of Rengoku and turned around to retch into the dirt.

“What have I done?” he croaked. His chest heaved with each new, desperate sob. He dry-heaved, then vomited a second time. He was so disgusted with himself. What had he done? What had he done?

“Tanjiro?” Zenitsu said, his voice small.

“What have I done?” Tanjiro whispered. “Rokuta, Takeo, Hanako.” He cried out in anguish. “Shigeru, Mom. Everyone…! Please forgive me!”

“Hey, Tanjiro.”

This time Zenitsu sounded more frantic, but Tanjiro couldn’t make himself look.

“Tanjiro!”

He had desecrated the dead, acting under his own selfish desires.

“Oi, Tanjiro, for real!”

It was no one’s fault but his own. He was trash—no, worse than trash. He was—

“Tanjiro!”

Inosuke’s use of his actual given name jolted him out of it. Hands ripped him away from the ground and forced him to look at what he’d been avoiding.

Rengoku was… he was trembling. Shaking. No longer was he slumped in a heap, close to death. His face, which seconds ago had been deathly pale, was flushed red. He shook, seized, and gasped—all the while something was happening to his abdomen that Tanjiro couldn’t believe.

It was healing.

“Oh my god.”

Right before their eyes, Rengoku’s fatal wound was beginning to close. It didn’t close all the way, but as they watched, it went from an impossibly wide wound to something that he could come back from, with the right care.

In a matter of minutes, an impossible situation had changed completely.

“Oh my god,” Tanjiro repeated. He brought his shaking hands to his mouth and didn’t even care that they were covered in blood. He curled forward, a fresh wave of tears flowing down his cheeks. “My god! Rengoku!”

“Wh-what the is happening,” Inosuke said. “He’s really…? How did you—?”

“It worked,” Zenitsu breathed. “It actually worked. You and him are—” He shook his head. “Never mind that. Tanjiro, we have to get him help, fast!”

“You’re right. He’s lost too much blood,” Tanjiro agreed. He wiped his tears away and spat in the dirt to get rid of the taste of bile. “If we don’t get him help, he’ll actually die!”

Tanjiro stood on unsteady legs. At this point, with what he'd been through, and the whiplash this was giving him, the determination to make sure Rengoku lived was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Zenitsu! Inosuke! There are probably emergency supplies on the train behind us. We need to find a stretcher, or we’ll have to make one. I’m going to stay here with Rengoku while you two find those supplies. Inosuke—you get the stretcher. Zenitsu, bring all the bandages you can find!”

The two of them went off like a shot. They didn’t wait to discuss their options or talk about risks and chances of survival anymore. All that mattered was finding necessary supplies that would help Rengoku heal.

“Nezuko, it goes without saying, but you stay in your box.” Tanjiro slipped his arms out of his haori and began tearing it into strips. “I need to try to stop the blood. If it was still nighttime, I’d ask you to cauterize the wound, but this will have to do.”

Tanjiro made quick work of tearing into Rengoku’s gakuran. Fully exposed, his abdominal wound looked even worse. And with a fresh, new bond thrown into play, the sight elicited an even stronger reaction than before. He had to turn away, so angry at Akaza for a moment that he thought he might puke.

Focus, Tanjiro. Focus.

At first, Tanjiro didn’t know what to make of Rengoku. In particular since he had viciously opposed Nezuko’s existence and then later acknowledged it. But after fighting alongside him, being saved by him, he understood.

He’s a good person. And now he’s my…

Tanjiro licked his lips. He could still taste the blood.

Pushing the thought aside, Tanjiro did his best to stop the bleeding with what clothing he had. He used the cleanest parts of his haori as a makeshift bandages until Zenitsu returned with better ones.

“I wish I had you with me right now, Nezuko,” Tanjiro mused, as a means to distract himself. “You were always better at dealing with our siblings’ aches and pains. I’m trying to treat the wound, but I'm no doctor. When Inosuke and Zenitsu come back, we’ll also need to move Rengoku onto the stretcher.”

As if on cue, Rengoku gasped. He started coughing. It was the most alive he had seemed since the initial spasms, and Tanjiro tried not to weep openly at the sight. He was focused on the task at hand, but so many new emotions were swirling inside him that it was getting harder and harder to do so. He’d never bonded, and romance had been the last thing on his mind for most of his life, so this was completely unfamiliar territory.

That doesn’t matter. Stop thinking about it.

Warmth hit his back. The ground beneath them sparkled with morning dew. Tanjiro turned towards the rising sun, and for the briefest moment he closed his eyes and basked in the heat blooming across his face.

It felt so warm. It felt like hope.

He was about to turn his head back towards Rengoku when he saw figures in the distance coming their way. As they drew close, Tanjiro realized it was the Kakushi: the cleanup crew.

“Hey!” Tanjiro bellowed, rising to a stand. Relief slammed into him like a tsunami. He waved his arms to get their attention. “Over here!! Rengoku is still alive and he needs medical attention now! Please! Please!!”

Tanjiro was tired of crying, but just then, he couldn’t help it. Everything that had just happened caught up with him, and he fell to his knees, exhausted and relieved in a single breath.

“Please! Please save him! He’s my—”

He couldn’t force the words past his lips. But he knew; he could feel it forming inside him like a heavy weight.

He’s my mate.

#mugen train spoilers #kny mugen train #kny spoilers #rentan #kyotan #rengoku kyoujurou #tanjiro #all characters are around 18 which is what i thought they were until i looked it up lol #omegaverse #trope subversion #yes that was handwavey magic healing just accept it

[idea-garden]

oneshot #10 - unguarded moments

IVAR/OC

Written by @idea-garden

SMUT / 18+ / public sex / cheating / wedding / rough sex / love confessions

1,376 words

A newly-married Ivar confesses his feelings to a former lover, present coworker--at his own wedding reception.

A/N: I’m new to writing for the Vikings fandom! I hope to write more!

If you like this like it, reblog it, and follow me!

This is trash.

“This is really nice,” Aethelred whispered in Sinead’s ear.

His lips pressed against her earlobe, involuntarily making her blush. Together, they scanned the venue of Sinead’s ex-boyfriend’s wedding reception.

It was a beautiful event--the wedding--seeing Ivar gaze into the eyes of his lover with a sort of purity she hadn’t seen in a while. Freydis was a lucky girl, she supposed.

As they looked around the grand ballroom of one of the Lothbrok Group’s many hotels, Sinead’s eyes met with the groom.

He looked damn good in his tux. A glass of champagne in his hand, he took a swig as Aethelred’s arms snaked around her waist. She could see his telltale jaw clench and eye twitch from across the room. He was always so easy to read. Sitting next to his brand new wife, as the center of attention, he was still pissed he couldn’t play with Sinead like a toy.

A light chuckle passed her lips before she looked away, ready to engage other guests. Hands interlocked, Sinead and Aethelred walked around looking for their seats.

“I still can’t believe he invited you,” Aethelred offered as they weaved through tables with no success.

“It’s just a courtesy since we work together. I don’t think he expected I’d come though.”

Stopping along the way, Sinead greeted Ivar’s brothers, Bjorn, Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd. Handsome did run in the family, after all.

Quickly, however, she was intercepted by Ivar’s parents, Aslaug and Ragnar, sitting uncomfortably under Lagertha, Harald, and Astrid.

Aslaug’s eyes brightened, falling on Sinead, “I’m so happy you were able to make it!”

“Athelred, is it?”

He nodded with a big, innocent grin.

“Would you be a dear and get us some champagne?”

“Of course!”

She waited for him to get out of earshot, before gripping Sinead’s shoulders. 

“He’s throwing his life away.” Ragnar rolled his eyes. This was the sixth person to whom she’d said that in the last hour.

“He’s just getting us drinks?”

“Not him, Ivar. My brilliant son is throwing his life away.”

Aslaug looked exasperated by the fact that Sinead seemed mostly unfazed.

“Do you know he doesn’t even have a prenup?”

“He’s a grown man, Aslaug.”

“At least I saw him having a future when he was with you. I don’t know her background.”

She found herself quite surprised, as Aslaug was never openly pro-Sinead. 

“That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong there. Besides, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that Ivar will never let anyone get the best of him.”

Sinead must’ve been wearing pheromones mixed with her perfume, because Athelred and Ivar flanked her on both sides. Her date distributed the drinks and closed the space between himself and Sinead.

“There’s my favorite woman!” Ivar pecked his mother on the cheek, who looked like she needed something much stronger than champagne to get through this event. 

“Oh Sinead, I didn’t see you there! You look lovely. Thank you for coming.”

God, he was so fake sometimes.

“Thank you for having me on such a special occasion.”

His eyes roamed over her rose gold dress, showing a healthy amount of her thigh and accenting her brown skin.

“While it’s on my mind, could I speak with you about the resort groundbreaking in Amman?”

“It’s your wedding day! Don’t be like your father and leave your wife alone for business!” Aslaug swatted his shoulder, giving him the first genuine smile he’d seen that day.

“It’ll only take a second, I promise. The papers are just in the conference room.”

Sinead nodded, whispering to Athelred she’d be back soon.

“Bring her back to me quickly,” baring his teeth in a goofy, sweet smile, which only made Ivar want to knock his teeth out.

--

Ivar led Sinead out of the ballroom, but not without his bride noticing.

They rounded a corner, opposite the conference room, entering a private suite.

“Ivar, what is this? What could you possibly have to say about Amman? We’re set to--”

“Why did you bring that gangly fucker to my wedding?”

“I’m not doing this with you.” Sinead walked towards the door, only to have him block her way.

“He had his hands all over you. You’re lucky I didn’t kick his ass in front of everyone.”

“At your wedding reception? In front of your new wife? You’re crazy.”

“You make me that way.” His hands slid over her bare shoulders, turning her body away from him.

He peppered her mocha skin with gentle kisses, trailing down her neck and over her clavicle. Barely audible whimpers escaped her, making her lover gloat internally.

Ivar captured Sinead lips in a deep kiss, fingers busy with undressing her. 

Dress halfway down her body, Sinead broke away from him. “I can’t go down this road with you again, Ivar. Shit!”

“Yes, you can, Sinead.”

She shook her head in the negative.

“Tell me who fucks you better.” Ivar was dead serious, eyes darkening and narrowing in her direction.

“Better yet, since I know you’ll lie, tell me if you miss the way I dick you deep?” Her mouth dried, while the moisture in other areas increased.

Ivar brought her in front of the full-length mirror, swatting Sinead’s hands away from her open dress. She watched it fall to the floor. She felt helpless. She wanted him. Badly. Fuck.

His fingers gently massaged her clit through her underwear, Ivar still rattling off in her ear while they watched her weak resolve disintegrate.

“Do you miss the way I used to make you scream, until you couldn’t take it anymore?”

Sinead nodded breathlessly.

“That’s why you want me to keep fucking you, not him. After I make you cum, I want you to break up with him.”

She shook her head, expression filled with shame.

“Don’t you miss squirting and calling me Daddy, baby girl?”

“You’re such a dick. I hate you.”

“Well, hate me on your hands and knees, baby.”

Sinead glanced at her reflection, then his, before she descended. She lifted her ass higher than her head, eager to offer herself up to him.

He slapped her butt, watching that jiggle he missed so much. It didn’t take long for him to wriggle his length out of his pants and pull her panties to the side. He tapped his heavy member on her butt, before sliding inside her. 

They both sighed in satisfaction as they settled into each other. Gradually picking up the pace, Ivar developed a good rhythm for her to synchronize her own movements.

Her arms were close to getting burns from the power of Ivar’s thrusts, while she laid against the hotel carpet. Sinead’s voice felt like it was stuck in her throat as he dug into her with no abandon.

She left her body to his complete mercy, feeling a wave of relief she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Ivar pulled her up by her long, dark strands, long enough to get his hand around her throat. She had avoided it while holding herself up on her hands and arms, but now she had to look at herself. See herself being little more than a sentient fleshlight for Ivar. The worst part was, she didn’t mind it. It felt too good. He felt too good.

“See? I remember how much you like a pair of hands around your throat.”

Sinead felt herself tightening around Ivar, the sensations growing to be too much. She didn’t realize how the entire wedding party couldn’t hear them howling and grinding.

Letting her neck go, Ivar pinched and toyed with her engorged nipples. She squealed as his rough hands pawed over her breasts.

Trapped in his embrace, Sinead bucked wildly as her orgasm began. Her hips met his thrust as he continued to impale her. She escaped into a hazy, dream-like headspace. She felt warm and fuzzy, blissfully ensnared in Ivar’s grip. Within seconds, he grunted out his release, allowing himself to fill her with his appreciation.

“Damn, I’ve missed you, Sinead.”

“I think I… I think I love you, Sinead.” 

He hadn’t even pulled out of her, let alone given her the appropriate amount of time to spring that kind of information on her.

--

Before she could respond, they both heard the door to the room slam shut.

#my writing #vikings #vikings tv #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagines #ivar smut #ubbe #bjorn #hvitserk #sigurd #lagertha #vikings headcanons #vikings smut #vikings fanfiction

[pxrxmoore]

ohhhh anna’s lil tag game is very cute i love these questions! thank u @ashtcnirwin 🥰

feel free to answer all of them or just some of them or just ignore this all together, whatever you’re comfortable with, and then tag however many people you want!

1. what was your first encounter with fanfiction? asjdfk god it was atl fic on livejournal and mibba in like 2010 maybe?? idek but it was all slash fic like had literally not heard of reader insert until i joined the sos fam properly in 2018. also don’t remember what my reaction to it was?? reading slash fic has been so normal for me for like 10 yrs i dont know how the fcuk it started 😂 this was before i got tumblr but i used to keep up to date with some of the bigger atl blogs like it was the morning news or sumat and like 90% of them wrote amazing fic so 🤷‍♀️

2. your favourite creation of your own of all time if you create stuff (feel free to link it)?

3. what vibe are you going for with your home decor (or what vibe do you wanna go for one day, if you don’t have your own place atm)? oh man, unfortunately i dont have my own place right now, but my room is full of plants and i also just spent half an hour looking at witchy occult cat figurines on amazon sooooo ig those are my vibes rn 😌 but i feel like it changes all the time tbh

4. first fandom you ever joined? what was it like? on what platform did it happen? paramore was the first band i was a massive fan of but i didnt rly get into the fandom ig i just was my own lil bubble of pmore. i had a massive kpop phase when i was like 13 and my fave band was UKiss - i joined a forum (cannot remember what it’s called rn) and met a few people thru that! i met this rly sweet girl and we used to message every day and we like designed our own merch ackskrkr so ig that must’ve been my first fandom! i also taught myself basic korean and this is gonna sound Very Weird but instead of like knowing celebs zodiac signs it was rly common to know blood types like it was kind of the same deal apparently ur blood type says a lot about ur personality ajxjkskf so i knew like kpop idols blood types ajsjjfjjcjfjjf ahhhhhh so wild

5. what are your sun, moon and rising signs, and do you think they make sense in relation to how you know yourself? aries sun, leo moon, cancer rising - i am an absolute disgrace of an aries LMAO i do not fit my sun sign in the slightest its the complete opposite of me, leo is kinda similar tbh i feel like its kinda close to aries? so yeah i dont fit those at all. ig i kind of am more cancer bc im emotional as all hell LOL but yeah i never put a lot of thought into my signs for a rly long time bc i always felt they were a completely wrong description of me

6. if you write and/or read fiction (original or fanfiction), do the tropes/plots/character types you typically seek out to read and/or write about reflect something about you as a being or how you see the world? i don’t write but uhhh i usually go for like hurt/comfort which??? ig i could relate to me LMAO how emo 😌 i’m not sure tbh, i deff don’t feel the characters i read reflect anything about me?? tbh i have never rly thought about this thats super interesting.... i feel like i love a good angsty fic but it has to have a happy ending asdksnidfg and im a pretty emo person but like ig im tryna be hopeful in the end?? so maybe?? yeah ig its how i would see the world!

7. what is the hardest obstacle you’ve had to overcome so far in life? holy shit uhhhhhhh man thts a tough one but idk if i wanna think about it in too much detail tbh 😌 ig recently i spoke to a dr about my mental health after years of pretending i wasnt depressed so 🤷‍♀️

8. what is your all time favourite song(s)? brighter by paramore - first song i fell in love with by them and ive been hooked ever since. before i listened to them i only listened to chart music lmfao literally had never listened to anything else and then after listening to paramore i started listening to rock/pop punk music and discovered all the bands that i listen to now!

9. what do you look for in a person you wanna keep in your life, be it a friend or a romantic partner or anything in between? hm ig recently ive realised its gotta be someone who has the same kinds views and values as me (i mean not down to a t but like generally the same kinda views and like respect for others u know) uhh someone i feel comfortable around to act my true chaotic self 😌✌️and also comfortable to know we can both talk about anything with no judgement no matter what it is. but also someone that respects like having seperate lives from each other? like not needing to be in each others pockets and knowing even if it’s been a lil while u can still message and it’s like no time has passed

10. this is a bit of a difficult one, but have you ever had a moment of clarity, a conversation with someone that made you go “oh!”, or anything along those lines? ooh i mean in 2018 i was working an office job in engineering and had a moment of like wow ive always wanted to work in events and especially live music and ive wanted to since i was like 13 and here i am 10 years later still considering that as a potential career path so ig it means something pretty significant and i decided to leave my perm job last year and go temp but then. yeah. this year happened so 🥴🤷‍♀️

i tag: @superbloomirwin @kindahoping4forever @spookydaddycal @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @reveriesofawriter @mastasof-ravenkroft @rebelwith0utacause @karajaynetoday 💛

#i started this last night but it was a lot to think about and i was super tired lmfaooooo #but this was rly interesting i loved it!! #🥰 #tagged

[xxxvioletskyxxx]

Rating: T

Fandom: Harry Potter, J.K Rowling

Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter

Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black, Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Peter Pettigrew, Alice Longbottom, Amelia Bones, Mary Macdonald, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10  Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

...

It took her a moment to remember the events of the night before, and she smiled quietly at the firmness to which James held her, even in sleep. They were pressed closely together, and as he breathed she became aware of the way his form moulded to her own, the warmth of his body, the faint puff of air into her hair as he breathed deep and slow. Gently, she twisted about so they faced one another. His eyelashes were so long, she thought, relaxed and soft. He looked so small in sleep. Not like a war hero, or a freedom fighter. Still so much the boy, but the man James Potter was there as well. In his words and actions, in the way he held her, in the respect he held for his friends. She raised a finger, quietly as to not disturb him, and softer than soft she mapped his features with her finger in the way she had always wanted to, wishing she was brave enough to touch him this way when he was awake.

His eyebrows were thick, scrunched up at some quiet emotion, and she smiled at the sight of touching him the way she was. How far they had come, even in two months. How far they’d come to not speaking to sleeping together, touching, snogging in their own Common Room. His hair was so endearing, she thought with a sleepy smile. Wavy and wild, with a part in the back that didn’t lie quite flat, despite the faint smell of his father’s hair tonic. She ran her fingers through his fringe and traced a freckle on his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. Beneath the sheets, she could feel his legs stretching, sliding deliciously against her own. He woke slowly, and with a sloppy smile pulled Lily close to him and tucked his face into her neck.

“Morning, Evans,” he murmured into her hair, his breath hot, every part of him pressed up against her. She kissed the top of his head, and he hummed happily into her neck. His arm slid over her breasts in his effort to get closer to her, but he didn’t quite seem to notice to effect it had on her, the quiet gasp of surprise and happiness from such a small touch, even an unintended one. He kissed her neck with clumsiness and devotion, sliding his hand down her waist towards her hip and froze when he came into contact with bare skin.

Lily started and James pulled his hand away in a flash, and the two of them stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Hearts beating fast, staccato, not synchronized but complimentary, a tenor to a bass. One after the other, eyes blown, covers exposed, a hand where it was not meant to be. Not yet, not so soon, not without express permission.

“I’m sorry,” James began, shaking his hand as if it was on fire. “I shouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to—,”

Lily swallowed, trying to steady her heart. She hadn’t meant to embarrass, for him to realize what they were working towards. Exposure where it was not meant to be, she never meant to fluster him, and who was she for doing so? If it was love they were reaching towards, fighting towards where was the exposure in the moment of perpetual ease? What was a fork doing in the middle of the road to happiness?

She had meant for this to be a secret, but her nightgown must’ve ridden up in the night. She didn’t want to embarrass him, to make a big thing of it, but wasn’t it a big thing? Hadn’t she worn what she was wearing for his benefit, for his enjoyment?

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said, feeling quite contrary to her tone despite the steadiness of her voice. “Look at me, James,”

He pulled his gaze towards her, and fear looked back at her. Not a virgin fear, nor a veteran stance but a myriad of confusion and lust and joy and shame. He had done nothing worthy of dishonour, and she needed him to know that.

“Do you remember what I said earlier?” Lily said, not making any moves to pull down her nightgown, taking his hand in both of her own. They were shaking, and Lily steadied them in hers.

“Uh, what?” James said, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Earlier, when you tried to watch me change,” Lily said. “I didn’t let you, because—,”

“You’re joking,” James said, rubbing his forehead in embarrassment. “That’s it, you’ve had me for a laugh,”

She shook her head, very aware of how high the hem of her nightgown was and how exposed she must be to him. He still looked afraid, and that just wouldn’t do. She made a sudden move, pushing him onto his back and settling herself above him, her knees bracketing his thighs. Her hair was intoxicating, and when she leant down to kiss him, his brain nearly exploded in pleasure.

She tangled her fingers in his curls, and he wrapped his hands around her waist instinctually, pulling her closer. They were shaking, but growing stronger every moment, chasing her with his intentions, with determination, with his blatant love for her. She responded in kind, pulling at his shirt with an intensity that left little room for misinterpretation. He straightened his legs, and she fell to her elbows, shaking the headboard against the posts, and she grinned as she chased after him, with the feeling of his hands on her waist, dipping back towards her hips. Hesitant, but more sure than he had been moments ago.

“Did I frighten you?” James said, his eyes intense and so close to her own. “When I touch you like this, do I scare you?”

“I’m not afraid,” Lily said, her eyes lowered but a smile played at her lips. “Mm excited,”

“Excited,” James breathed, his eyes boring holes into her own. “I make you excited.”

Lily forced herself to meet his eyes, and he took her hand gently in his. “Did you mean it?” James said quickly, his words feeling thick in his mouth. His lips were swollen, eyes wide and intense and alert. “Yesterday, when you— when you got out of bed, and I was watching you change, did you mean it?”

Lily played with the hem of her nightie, sitting back on her heels, a blush reddening her cheeks.

“Did you dress… did you dress that way for me?”

Lily mustered up all the courage she had and kissed him with intention, with purpose, with no room for misunderstanding. He responded in kind, flipping them suddenly so she was beneath him. “Well, Evans,” he said with a saucy smile. “Now that I know that I can touch you, there’s all sorts of mischief we can get up to,”

“Yeah?” Lily said, her heart beating nearly out of her ribcage. Her voice was breathy and thick, and she tried to belay her excitement with a steadiness of mind. But it wasn’t working, because his hand was on her hip, on her thigh, inches and centimetres higher than he had ever explored before. Her heart beat madly in her chest, and when he rested his hand on the crease of her hip, she reached for him instead.

Her fingers were on the buttons of his pyjama shirt before she truly knew what she was doing. She undid one after another and kept her eyes trained on his shirt and the new inches of skin she was uncovering, hearing his breath quicken and thicken as she felt his eyes on her. When she pulled away the last button, he helped her pull it off, not particularly worried about where it landed.

Now that he was bare, she took a moment to admire him, to slow down, to savour the moment. In the times she had seen him like this, it was accidental, circumstantial, not intentioned or prepared for. After a shower, that time he had slid in mud after Quidditch and pulled his jersey off in the Gryffindor Common Room. That time in the Hospital Wing in fourth year, the day after exams in sixth year when they went swimming in the loch. But this was different, this was for real, and they were finally both on the same page. They were seeing one another with intention.

His breast heaved with breath, and his hands shook as they reached for her, and his gaze was raw, full of emotion.

“Evans, I—,”

Continued... 

#Lily Evans #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #jily fluff #jily #marauders era #marauders era fanfiction #marauders seventh year #head dormitory #first kiss

[jeongyunhoed]

Two Mutants are Better than One

Chapter: 1 / ?

Member: San - Mutant/Metahuman!San, Hitman!San Genre: Mystery / Fantasy 

T/W: Mentions of murder, possible mentions blood and gore. Possible mentions of graphic violence. Possible. Still, just keep that in mind! Content: EXTREMELY Multi-fandom, but it mostly centers on San and the main character. Replace the OC with y/n if you wish! 

A/N: I’m trying this again after not posting any of my works online for a while (out of frustration). So, here I go again. This is under my very very wide superpowers au (you can find the entire AU on my Ao3: yeojasamho). Please keep in mind that this chapter is quite lengthy because I wanted to give readers an idea of who the characters are and some events that have occurred even without going into the rest of the stories in the au. I hope you all like it! 

Summary: Mirae is forced to revisit her past when her half-brother San shows up at Bermuda Investigations. As the two of them try to establish a relationship that they never got to have, a case pushes them to work together while realizing that they have a lot more in common than they expected.

Lee Mirae was sitting in her office at her record store that she now owned with her adoptive brother Park Jihoon. It was just another day at the store, and another day in the mostly-quiet offices of Bermuda Investigations. It had been quite some time since she was last on a case, since she was last on a mission. Her colleagues and friends Jaehwan, Chanyeol, and Hyuk decided to go on a trip together with Jaehyun, Changmin, and her boyfriend Younghoon, partly a way for them to bond and take a break and act like normal guys for once. 

Normal. That word took on a different meaning around here. 

They were mutants, all of them. People that had abilities beyond what was once humanly possible. To a few people she knew, they were the next stage in an evolved humanity. To one person she remembered, they were oddities of nature that should’ve never existed. But nevertheless, they did, and they lived quietly among the rest in South Korea, trying to make a living, act like normal, upstanding citizens. 

But Bermuda Investigations also gave that word a different meaning as the cases they took as private investigators were at spy-levels, or even, dare she think it, cases only mercenaries were equipped to do. Then again, Mirae practically was one given her abilities and capabilities. She had the ability to manipulate energy, specifically turning potential energy into kinetic light energy, that often came across as explosive. Anything she touched could turn into a projectile that could cause an explosion. She also channeled this ability of hers through her card-throwing, and her staff that Junhong made for her. The amount of energy she could charge her staff with was enough to destroy a building, something that was proven during the Seoul attack. 

She also spoke several languages, after unknowingly being able to understand people in whichever country she went. This capability was part of the assassin program she went through when she was interned in the sanitarium by her parents. She was brainwashed and transformed into a killing machine by people who would later make themselves out to be her adoptive parents, cult leaders Lee Miran and Go Changseok. But after an extensive reframing by the powerful psychic Lee Sangyeon, the trigger no longer worked on her, but it left her with a strengthened psychic block, making her mind impenetrable to telepaths. 

As she was turned into an assassin, she was a master fighter, knowing all the fighting forms even as far back as the days of the Hwarang, much to her memory. Anything she touched potentially turned into a weapon, and everyone around her who knew about it were convinced that no one could surpass her. This motivated Jihoon to learn how to fight as he wasn’t a mutant, but he wanted to protect her just as much as she fiercely did for him. Should she be wounded, her healing abilities would take hold, and it was her healing abilities that made her almost immortal, aging very slowly compared to the rest of the people her actual age. 

Unusually, the Bermuda mission also showed a newfound ability within her, and it was that of taking a person’s soul and trapping them in the cards should it touch them. It manifested whenever her eyes would turn black. It also resulted in a white streak in her hair that she never bothered coloring to have covered up. 

She heard a knock on the back door that was the entrance of Bermuda Investigations. Mirae got up, closing her laptop to pass through the store and towards the offices. “It’s open, come in” She announced, closing the other door behind her. As the door opened, her expression fell, and her eyes widened at who was standing behind it. 

It was a man, his face incredibly familiar to her, with small, upturned eyes, a prominent jaw, and he had a few purple streaks in his jet black hair that was slicked back. “Mirae? Noona?” He said. She said nothing, and instead tried to study his face. “It’s me, San.” 

“San? San...Choi San?” She said, and he nodded. Mirae was still quite taken aback at the sight of him, and instead stepped aside. “...Come in.” San went inside and she closed the door behind him. “So, what are you doing here?” She asked, leaning against a desk. 

“I just came to see you, and now I finally found you, it’s been a very long time since we last saw each other-well, I was just about to stop by here to ask for help to find you” He said quietly. 

“Almost two decades later,” Mirae said. “How did you know I was here?” She asked. 

“I asked around where I was, and they said if I needed to find someone, I had to come here because the private investigators are good. I just never thought you’d be one of those investigators” San replied. 

“Judging by what looks like the end of a harpoon gun on your back, are you planning to kill me?” Mirae asked. 

He shook his head frantically. “No, no, that’s unrelated, completely unrelated, I kind of do the same thing you do now, I guess. Only I get my jobs in another way” San explained, almost a little hesitant to reveal much. 

“...You’re a hitman, aren’t you? A harpoon gun being your signature weapon, then?” Mirae asked, figuring it out. 

“Yeah, after I ran away from home when my powers first came, I wanted to find you, and I asked the sanitarium where you were and they said you were discharged, and I was looking for you in between jobs,” San said, making Mirae look even more taken aback. “Yes, I’m a mutant too. See?” 

His eyes and fingertips began to glow yellow, and he picked up the pencil from the nearby desk and threw it towards the curtain, the pencil glowing and disintegrating with a boom just before it hit. Mirae stared at him. The door leading back to the store opened and Jihoon rushed inside, looking alarmed. “What happened? Did something hit?” He asked, but stopped when he saw San. 

“Nothing happened, I just found out that my own half-brother is a mutant too and he showed me his powers,” Mirae explained quietly. “Jihoon, this is Choi San, my half-brother, we have the same father. San, this is Jihoon, my best friend and little brother” She said, introducing the two. Jihoon looked a little taken aback, and so did San. “Jihoon and I go way back, at the sanitarium, and I take care of him now” She explained. 

“Yeah, which says a lot compared to someone who is actually related to her” Jihoon glanced at him. 

“It’s not his fault, he was a kid at the time, and if I have a problem, it would be with my birth parents, not him” Mirae patted Jihoon’s shoulder. She turned back to San. “...So now that you’re a mutant too, you’ve come to find me, now what?” She said, a little unsure. “...Do we celebrate?” 

“I was thinking more of getting dinner somewhere. I know we’ve never been close and I’ve never been able to do anything for you, but seeing as we’re both on the same page in our lives, I was thinking maybe that could change now,” He replied. “Make up for the time we lost, I suppose.” 

Just when Mirae was about to speak, there was another knock on the door. “Yes?” She called out, and the door opened. She turned to Jihoon. “Go back inside, I’ll see you later” She said quietly, and the younger boy nodded, leaving the room to go back into the store. 

In came a postman, who brought in several boxes. Mirae signed for the boxes and San helped place the packages on the breakroom table. “Where are the other people you work with?” He asked curiously, looking around. 

“Oh, uh, Chanyeol, Hyuk, and Jaehwan went on this trip together. They’ll be back in a few days. Juyeon’s busy with his shifts at the restaurant, though but I’d rather not disturb him for now” Mirae replied. 

San nodded in understanding. “I see. Well, at least now that I’m here and we’ve finally met after all these years, let’s get lunch” He said. 

“Okay, where do you suggest we eat?” Mirae nodded. 

“What’s good to eat around here?” San asked. 

Mirae shrugged. “We can go to Viva Polo, Chanyeol’s mom’s Italian restaurant. It’s right next to his dad’s live cafe” She said. 

He smiled. “That sounds good. My treat.” 

~ 

They got themselves a table at Viva Polo, with Chanyeol’s parents immediately greeting them and Mirae introducing San to them. They were seated at their usual table she would be whenever the four of them gathered for an after hours dinner every week. “So, I guess there’s no other way else how to start...How did you get your powers?” Mirae asked curiously in between ordering their food. 

“My powers came in high school, or just before I got into high school. Dad always kept going on and on about how I needed to be top of the class so I can make it into med school. He wanted me to become a doctor like him, can you believe it? But when it happened, I realized I didn’t care for that anymore, so after my first year, I decided to pack my bags and run away.” 

“You really dropped out? Dad must’ve taken you to a private school anyway” She raised a brow. 

“Yeah, and I had good grades and all, but I was still trying to figure out my powers, you know?” He said with a chuckle. “I never want to go back to that time in my life when it first came.” 

The server came in moments later and brought in their food, setting it down in front of the two of them and walking off. “So, I doubt dad did not take you running away very well when it happened,” Mirae said as they tucked in. 

“Definitely, you of all people know how he can be,” San replied, twirling his pasta noodles around his fork. “But it is nice to see that you’re here, and out of that place he put you in.” 

“It’s been years since I was discharged, and a lot has happened since then, from the Seoul attack, the Utopian cult, the Bermuda mission, the Kang mob, the Sharks…” She recalled. 

Her brother’s eyes widened. “You were in all of those?” He asked. San remembered seeing the news of those events on television and even on the internet. “Really?” He asked. “That really changed everything, you know.” 

Mirae nodded. “The Utopian cult hits home most of all, I guess. When I was discharged, I was adopted by this couple, who turned out to be the leaders of that cult, and put me through the assassin program while I was in the sanitarium,” She explained. “Imagine, turning you into an assassin while under drugs, and they kept subjecting me to electroshock therapy that wiped out a lot of my memories in doing that… at one point I couldn’t remember a lot of people, except Jihoon, of course.”

San’s expression fell. “...What happened to the cult leaders?” 

“I...I killed them. It turns out that those instincts of mine came out when they used one word on me. I nearly killed my friends, you know, but eventually, after some help and two weeks of falling unconscious, that trigger was removed. But it kind of made my mind even more unreadable” She shrugged. 

He looked down at his food then up at her. “...Knowing what happened to you, makes me wish I did something to keep you from getting taken away. I’m sorry.” 

“Now you’re feeling guilty?” Mirae raised a brow at him. “What could you have done? You didn’t understand much of what was going on. If I was going to resent you for suddenly showing up, I would’ve told you to leave the moment I remembered who you are.” 

“That’s true. But even then, I wanted to see you, make up for lost time, be actual siblings than strangers to each other” San looked down at his half-finished plate. “

“I appreciate you wanting to find me, though. But I doubt both our parents would never want to know that you came to see me,” Mirae said. 

“How would you know I still contact them?” San raised a brow. 

“You’re especially close with them, the favorite boy, even with my mom” She pointed out. “You could never lie to them, I know that. At least I think I know that. I bet they even know that killing people under orders is what you do for a living.” 

“That’s what you think,” He said. “They have no idea, I haven’t spoken to them after I joined this group of people who do what I do.” 

“What do you call yourselves? I’m guessing you guys have a name.” 

“Sleepers. Corny, I know, but there’s no other way to describe putting someone to sleep...permanently,” San replied, a slight smirk crept up on his face. 

Mirae shrugged. “I guess you’ve made billions of won by now, haven’t you?” She asked. 

“Oh yeah, totally, but I’d rather keep that part on the down low. Harpoons don’t come cheap and I think I even need a permit for each one” San pointed out, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. 

“Seeing as you’re here, I’m guessing you’re taking a break from jobs, aren’t you?” Mirae said, taking a sip of water. 

“You could call it that. Things have been quiet, a little too quiet, around here.” 

“That’s never a good thing” She shook her head. “At least in my experience, it isn’t. It just means the bad things know how to hide.” 

San stared at her. “To me, people are just becoming more aware that people like us exist. Sooner or later, more people will come for us, just as the people you dealt with did” He finished his food. 

“I know, and if it happens, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it. If my powers were taken away by the Sharks, I would’ve been dead by now, and you wouldn’t see me like this, if you got to see me anyway” She muttered. 

A silence ensued between them, and they turned to each other. “...Well, that got dark” San tried to lighten the mood, and Mirae just smiled. “Do you still have work to do?” 

“I have to stay until closing time at the store and at the office,” Mirae replied. “Are you heading back to wherever you came from?” 

“No, I figured I could stick around, and…” San looked a little hesitant to say what came after. “Well, you see, I had to move out of my apartment-” 

“You need a place to stay?” Mirae raised a brow, and he nodded. “Well, I don’t think there’s an extra unit on my floor, but I’ll have to see if there are vacancies upstairs or downstairs.” 

San looked surprised. “You own a building too?” 

“The landlord passed ownership to me. He passed away.” Mirae replied. “Heart attack.” 

“Heart attack?” 

“Yeah, just a heart attack. I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re implying” Mirae pointed out. 

“Of course, of course, I didn’t mean to-” 

“I may have been turned into an assassin, and whatever probably happened during the time I was one, I can’t remember anymore,” Mirae cut him off. “The trigger is out of my head, San. I don’t do that, anymore at least if I did anything.” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry if I made it seem like you did-” 

“The difference between us is that I’ve made a life for myself doing what a normal person does. You do what you do and you’re aware of what you do,” Mirae snapped. 

“I do what I do because it’s the only thing I am damn good at,” San argued back. “But please, don’t get off your high horse.” 

“You say that like you don’t know the things I had to do to atone for my mistakes when I just told you a few minutes ago what I’ve been up to,” Mirae countered. A brief silence ensued between them. “...Maybe this was a bad idea,” She looked up at the clock. “I need to go back, San.”

San stared at her, and fished out a wad of bills from the pocket of his bag to pay for the meal.

~ 

Mirae and Jihoon were in the separate office going over the money made for the day. “So, what happened with San?” Jihoon asked, watching her write down everything on a thick wad of paper. She didn’t answer. “...Did you two fight?” 

She didn’t answer again and instead kept writing. Jihoon’s brows furrowed and he covered the paper with his hand. “Well? Did you?” 

“We got snippy with each other, well, me more than him. He implied that I killed the landlord” Mirae said softly. 

“That’s impossible, the maintenance guy was the one who found him,” Jihoon recalled. “He even went up to us and we had to call the police about it.” 

“Exactly. I think he’s got this impression that I’m still what our adoptive parents turned me into, trigger or no trigger,” She said with a sigh. “But honestly even just seeing him reminds me of what my dad did, what my parents did. I can’t even remember what they look like anymore, I just remember what they did.” 

Jihoon patted her shoulder. “It’s kind of unavoidable isn’t it? No matter how much you try to convince yourself that you don’t resent him, you still kind of do because of what your father did to you” He said softly, and she nodded. “What are you going to do now that he’s suddenly back into your life?” 

“Find him a place to sleep. He moved out of his apartment” Mirae replied. 

“He can sleep on the couch” He suggested. “Or even in the breakroom or something. There’s a bathroom by the big computer upstairs anyway” Jihoon shrugged at the thought. 

“Yeah, he’ll have to stay on the couch for a while. At least until he finds a new place or something, or until we find ourselves a new place” Mirae said. She frowned. “I guess I’m going to have to do the whole making up for lost time bit with him. We’re practically strangers to each other because he was so young when I left…” 

“Well, there’s nothing much you can do. It’ll be nice to have another brother, who also fights just as well as you do...He does know how to fight, right?” Jihoon raised a brow. 

“Yeah. He’s a hitman, he’s still one” Mirae said. 

“Oh, but at least you two will be able to really bond this time. Both of you hate your father, so there’s something you can build on” Jihoon said wisely. 

She ruffled his hair. “Smart guy” She teased. Jihoon laughed. “Come on, we’ve done enough work for today and San is waiting in the other office” She said, and led the younger boy out and into the back door that led back into the offices. San was already lying down on the couch, his bags and harpoon gun already next to him. Mirae sighed, making him sit up. 

“Hey, you’ll stay with us,” Jihoon said right away. “You don’t mind sleeping on the couch, right?” 

“No, not at all, I was sleeping on a sofa bed in my apartment,” San shook his head. “There was a guy that came by and asked that you call them, it’s about a murder or something, I couldn’t understand much, he was talking fast like he was in a hurry,” He pointed to the slip of paper on Hyuk’s desk. 

Mirae reached over and looked at the paper. It had the person’s name and number. “Park Cheondung?” She read it aloud and reached over for the phone, dialing the number that was written on it. “Hello, may I speak to Park...Cheondung? This is Lee Mirae from Bermuda Investigations- Oh,” Mirae paused when she learned it was the guy. 

“I need you to come by and investigate. My father, he was found in his study...dead… come to this address” Cheondung told her. 

Mirae frantically wrote down the address on the piece of paper and her eyes widened at the location. “Yes, yes, I got it.” She repeated the address again. San and Jihoon looked puzzled until she showed them the address. They gaped at her. 

“Come quickly!” Cheondung said, and hung up. 

She put the phone down. “Whoa, high-profile case,” she said, staring at the address Cheondung gave her. “He wants me to come down there right now,” she added. 

“Then what are you waiting for? We have to go now!” Jihoon said, and Mirae and San quickly picked up their bags, hurrying out of the building as well.

“Do we have time for a stopover?” San asked as they were outside. 

“We? This is my case,” Mirae raised a brow at him.

“You’ll still need help, no matter what that is,” San pointed out. “If there’s anything I’ve learned about my stakeouts is that-” 

“I know, but as you can see, my friends aren’t here, they’re on vacation, which means I’m doing this alone” Mirae argued. 

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Just let San go with you, you said yourself you two need to do the whole making up for lost time thing, this is where you start,” He said, giving Mirae a look. “San, just put the rest of your bags in the lobby, but bring your harpoon, you’ll probably need it,” He said, and rushed into the parking lot. 

San followed suit and Mirae sighed as she followed the two boys back, moving ahead to the parking lot where they parked the car. “A murder in a place like the one we’re going to, must be a prominent family” She read the address again and got into the driver’s seat. 

“It has to be otherwise they would’ve called the police” San suddenly spoke, having heard them as he got in the car. 

“Yeah, let’s hope this is nothing like the Kang mob, or else I’ll have to kill some people,” Mirae drove them out of the parking lot. 

“Wait, that was you too?!” San was surprised. “I mean, yeah you did say Kang mob earlier but I didn’t think it was that same mob?!” 

“Yeah” Mirae glanced at the address again. 

San looked amazed. “You’re like a superhero then” 

“Doubt it, no one knows it was us,” Mirae shook her head as she drove. “I’d rather it stay that way, for everyone’s sake like you told me earlier” She added. “Jihoon nearly died because we tried to stop them, and so did many other people we love.” 

“Hey, don’t forget how I fought a few,” Jihoon pointed out, beaming at the memory. “It’s still one of the times I’m so proud I got to fight back!” 

San chuckled as he fastened his seatbelt. “I heard they had their own private army.” 

“Yeah, and now most of that family’s in maximum security under solitary confinement” Mirae pointed out. 

“The only girl and the only other son testified against her brothers and her father. What happened to the mother?” San asked curiously. 

“She’s under witness protection, or something like it. I’m not sure, but she’s never shown her face again, hopefully,” Mirae explained. “I’d ask Jaehwan about it but he might not want to say anything, after what happened to Jinyi…” 

“I’m sure Jaehwan hyung’s okay enough to say something now, it’s been two years” Jihoon assured her leaning over to hers and San’s seats. 

“Jinyi?” San looked puzzled. 

“The daughter who testified,” Mirae pointed out, and her half-brother nodded in understanding. “Jaehwan dated her. Months later, she went missing and then she died… that’s pretty much it,” She muttered while she drove. “He came back from that worn out.” 

“She was his case. He had to find her also for her brother’s sake, but when he came back, Hyuk hyung found out and they knew something did happen to her,” Jihoon explained quietly, frowning as he recalled what happened. 

It was the night after Hyuk went on his case, and the four of them met up again at Viva Polo after being away from each other after some time. Mirae came back from her vacation with Younghoon, and Chanyeol was busy with the restaurant as they found out. They later told it to the rest. 

Kwon Hyuk was a powerful telekinetic that also had telepathic abilities. He ran his own entertainment agency, TRBL Music with his best friend Woo Jiho, and was producing for the groups they had; AB6IX and Silver. He was also Mirae’s longtime best friend as he previously worked in Mirae’s store before leaving to pursue his music. He released his albums, but decided to work behind the scenes instead. 

Park Chanyeol was a pyrokinetic, but created fire as well. He could turn himself into a fire being if he needed to, and if he was one, he could fly and was even invulnerable as any projectile thrown at him would melt from the temperatures. With his ability, he was also able to withstand extreme heat. He worked with Mirae back in their days at the Center of Paranormal Research and was one of the few who made themselves known to be alive following the Seoul attack. He helped in his family’s restaurant and live cafe as a server and occasional chef. 

Kim Jaehwan, had extremely enhanced senses. He could see and hear things far away which made him extremely good at tracking down people. He was also gifted with super strength, which made him invulnerable in hand to hand combat. He signed onto TRBL Music after his graduation, which was when he met them and helped in stopping the Utopian cult. His best friend in college, Kim Dongyoung or Doyoung, was also an artist in TRBL Music, where he returned after quitting to try and become an investigator full-time. Like Hyuk, Jaehwan was once an artist that released some albums, but chose to work behind the scenes as well. 

Mirae pulled up in front of a large, white gate that had the name of the community on it in gold letters. Whisper Heights. The guard stepped out of his post and went up to the window that rolled down. “Yes?” 

“I’m called for by,” Mirae reached for the slip of paper. “Park Cheondung, I’m Lee Mirae of Bermuda Investigations” She showed the guard her official ID. 

“One second please,” The guard took her ID and went back inside his post. A few moments later, the guard returned and gave her back the ID. “Thank you, you are expected,” They said, and pressed the button to open the gates. 

She thanked the guard and drove on. There seemed to be an eerie silence within the suburban village. All the houses were separated by huge vacant lots, and some were built on top of hills. To them, it looked like no one made under a million won a month in the district from how lavish the homes were. Even the smaller houses had luxury cars parked in front of them. Jihoon and San gaped when they saw one particular house. It was so big it was almost like a resort. “You think they’re old money or new money?” San asked. 

“Probably new money. People who come from old money live in older and probably smaller houses that aren’t in here,” Mirae replied, pulling up to a cul-de-sac road that was lined with cars from small limousines to sleek, black vehicles. They stopped at the house and got down and noticed that the small gate was open. 

“They really are expecting us” Jihoon said as they approached the gates. San slung his harpoon on his back, while Mirae’s fingers were poised over the silver object that was in her bag. 

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #san #choi san #i hope people like this #i'm just trying this again #this time as a baby atiny

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝watch your blood levels!❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「Bakugou and his S/O were matched up against each other for the Sports Festival. Even if you were someone special to him, he would never hold back on his powers. But at the same time, it didn’t stop him from fretting over you when you were injured.」

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

It was a match of endurance and the audience were on the edge of their seats as flashes of light and red dance in their vision. The heavy scent of smoke and iron had cause some of the audience to put a hand over their mouths and nose. They were unable to tear their gaze away, fixated the way you had defended yourself from Bakugou's onslaught of explosions. As you stepped back to create some distance, you let out a breath that you didn't realize you had been holding. Bakugou was indeed a formidable opponent. With a versatile quirk and the fact that he had mastered it, you knew that he had to be one of the toughest competitors in the Sports Festival.

There was no way you could let your guard down for one second, not when Bakugou will use that opportunity to strike. You coughed a few times, feeling a weird sensation in your throat. It was like there was something stuck and you had the need to cough it all out. The horrid stench of blood caused you to look down at the blood of pool on the ground. Slowly standing up, you manipulated the liquid to form a sword. Bakugou was having difficulties since you were always dispersing and manipulating your blood to get a few hits in.

“Tch. You’re pretty damn persistent, aren’t you?” Bakugou wiped off the sweat from his forehead, smiling deviously. You knew that look on his face, it was one that you would see when you were training together.

The last explosion blinded you and you were far too tired to even defend yourself. You had gone a little bit overboard and used too much blood. The world spun and you could barely focus on Bakugou who was standing in front of you. The male himself was on his knees, hands shaking after bracing the impact for all the large explosions he let out. 

The blood slowly flowing down your arm was something you could use. But as you slowly stepped forward, you felt your energy draining. You didn't even notice that your whole body was swaying and that you were dragging your feet. The blood running down your forehead had caused you to shut one eye. Your vision was already blurry and you felt your entire weight falling forward. Sound disappeared and the darkness welcomed you. The last thing you saw was Bakugou moving towards you, the gasps from the crowd fell deaf on your ears.

Just before you could fall on the cold, hard concrete, Bakugou caught you in his arms. Even though his arms ached and begged for rest, he couldn't afford you to fall on the ground which will lead to a forming bruise that you would complain about to him later. But that was not the case, he was genuinely worried for you. A part of him regretted trying to wear you down by making you overuse your quirk. 

“Hey, fucking wake up.” Bakugou shook you lightly. You laid limp in his arms, head resting on his shoulder as he supported your weight.

“Stop fucking with me, [First Name]. It’s not time to be sleeping, I know you always complain about being sleepy all the time but this is not the fucking time to be messing around!” Bakugou yelled at you.

His mind stopped working for a moment, seeing all the blood that was starting to pool around the floor beneath the two of you. Dark purple bruises and burn marks littered your skin and they only made him feel much sicker that he was before. Bakugou could barely register when the medic tore you from his hold and began carrying you to Recovery Girl’s infirmary. As the crowd began muttering thing, he stared at his hands. He didn’t realize that he had been trembling this entire time.

No matter how many times he told himself that the two of you had agreed to not hold yourselves back during the match, a voice at the back of his head was telling him that he was the one who did this. There were a few people in the crowd muttering about how merciless and heartless Bakugou was.

As the Sports Festival slowly came to an end, your friends began to crowd around the infirmary, worried about your well-being.

"How is she?" your classmates had came in after the event ended, concerned with your health. 

"She lost a lot of blood and probably overworked herself before the Sports Festival so she needs a lot of rest. 

"Ah.....I must've lost, right? I guess I am weak after all." you managed to laugh lightly despite having a breathing mask over your mouth.

"That's not true! You did your best and even managed to corner Bakugou! That was pretty badass!" Ashido pumped her fist, looking a little worried to see you putting yourself down like that.

"I agree on that as well. Your improvement is something to look out for. I'm sure the other student think that you might pose a threat." Yaoyorozu said whole heartedly. You could only smile and thank them for the compliments, feeling a little bashful.

“The good news is that she can rest at the dorms instead of being in here. She needs lots of rest so maybe 2 days of bed rest. So that means no going to school while you’re resting, young lady.” Recovery Girl reprimanded you as if she knew that you were going to do something like that.

It was the day after that Bakugou decided to visit you alone. He was holding onto a wrapped bento box and standing in front of your dorm room. He knocked three times before opening the door.

Your skin was pale and every single bruise and scratch on your body stood out much more than it should’ve. It had been the result of your battle with him and with how weak you were, it was nearly impossible for Recovery Girl to heal you. All you could do was hope that your injuries will heal eventually. But after the Sports Festival, you still found yourself lightheaded and tired. Sometimes it was so bad up to the point you passed out before you could step out the dorm. The girls were kind enough to assist you in your daily activities and even brought some of your favorite food. 

"Oh, Bakugou? Is that you?" you propped yourself up and watched as the ash blonde stepped into the dark room. You were ecstatic to see your boyfriend there

"Lay down dumbass. Aren't you supposed to be resting?" he grumbled as he closed the door before striding over to your bed.

"I was. That aside, why are you here?" you asked as you got yourself comfortable on the confines of your bed. 

"Sorry." 

"What was that Bakugou?" you looked up from your tray to see that Bakugou had tore his gaze away from you, looking elsewhere as long as it wasn't your face. If the room were brighter, you wouldn't miss the shade of red dusting his cheeks. The ash blonde couldn't be more grateful for the darkness of the room. 

"I said I was sorry dumbass!" he raised his voice.

"Y-You don't have to apologize. It was a match to see whoever dropped out first so you shouldn't be sorry about it." you smiled at him. 

Bakugou didn't understand. Were you just stupidly kind or stupid? He hid his expression from you. The male knew that you never blamed people and often waved things off by saying it was your mistake.

"You could've fucking died because of me!” Bakugou snapped.

"No! Don't blame yourself! I was the one who wanted to prove something so I overused my quirk. My selfish desires was what led me here." you clenched the bed sheets, your gaze falling down to your slightly pale hands. 

“Don’t be fucking stubborn! You lost so much blood that I fucking thought.....I thought I was going to lose you dammit.....if I fucking lost you because of myself, then I will never forgive myself.” his voice was reduced to a whisper. If you hadn’t been sitting next to where he was standing, you wouldn’t have heard what he was saying. You grabbed him by the wrist and let him sit on your bed in front of you.

He was never expressive and often expresses his feelings in a different way which was often indirectly. You grabbed his hands and rubbed his palms with your thumb.

“My quirk is always disadvantageous and it relied so much on the amount of blood I have.....I was happy that you saw me as an equal even though I have such a weak quirk.” you mumbled.

“Tch, you’re not fucking weak. You should know that. Those stupid onlookers didn’t know how strong you were and underestimated you.” the male grumbled, lacing his hand with yours. You giggled gently, smiling at him. When he caught your gaze, Bakugou looked away quickly.

“So! What did you bring me today?”you changed the topic, getting a little bit excited at the sight of the three-tiered bento box that Bakugou had dropped on your lap. You began to unstack them, looking through the contents

“Beef, spinach, fish, tamagoyaki, teriyaki chicken, tomatoes and broccoli.

“Er....thank you Bakugou. It’s a little bit too much though.....want to eat with me?” you asked with a small smile, reaching for the chopsticks that sat on the table. The ash blonde clicked his tongue.

“I made it all for you so you better finish it. You don’t have enough blood cells and this will be helpful. And if you’re not gonna eat it, I’ll fucking make sure you finish everything.” he grumbled, grabbing the chopsticks from your hands and snatching the bento from your lap.

Before you could complain about anything, Bakugou began to feed you with whatever he had prepared for you. The male didn’t seem that pleased when you were complaining about having too much food to eat. He didn’t give you enough time to properly chew on your food. After a few bites, you would swallow your food.

“As delicious as it is, I can’t finish them all on my own.....” you mumbled.

“Shut up, you better finish all this. Or I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t I get a reward for eating all this~?” you hummed playfully.

“Tch, fine. I’ll take you to that damn bakery you want.”

Total: 1735 words Published: 24.05.2019

Thank you for requesting! (ㅅ•᎑•) Very cute and interesting request! Sorry to keep you waiting for so long anon! A little bit rushed so please message us if there are any incomplete parts! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting! We’re trying to finish up all the requests we have in our inbox. We’e been very busy with our studies So sorry to make you wait, anon. But hope you all liked this! ― author Natsuki

Reminder that ask box is closed for a while until we finish all the requests!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos

#stellar-imagines #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha:bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #scenario #mha #mha imagines #mha scenarios #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero academia x reader

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 26

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary:  Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by

@thefandomimagine​

The air coming through the cracks in the windows was chilly and bore the inevitability of an upcoming evening. The sun was quick to disappear during winter, which, in Loki's unhumble opinion, was a blessing. It was the velvety darkness that allowed the snow to truly stand out. 

Loki and you gazed at it for some time, having found an empty apartment on the other side of the street from the place Peter had led you. It must've been recently abandoned, for the dirt on the floor was rather thin, and the humidity from the cracks hadn’t molded the walls yet.

The lights were out though, and so was the heating, which didn't affect Loki much, but made it harder for you to move your gloved fingers with every passing hour. You claimed to be fine, and could stay for a little bit longer, but Loki kept a keen eye on you, and especially on the shivering parts. After all, sensing a lie was not so far away from sensing an avoidance of truth. 

Unbothered, as usual, by any of his moral dilemmas, you were focused on a thick pile of photos capturing every one of the victories that filled your bellies today. 

"I think that one is the cutest." You raised one of them for Loki to see. 

He snorted, remembering the drama involved in you dropping to one knee and his perfectly controlled act of staging a surprise. The photo had a perfect shot of both your faces, and a waitress's in the background. She gave you bonus cookies after the cake. You liked her. 

"How little you need for happiness…" 

"It's not like you weren't there too. I've got evidence." You flashed the photos. 

"I can recall it just as well without those," he muttered, rubbing his overfilled stomach. 

He had to sit on a rather uncomfortable chair, the only one left in the apartment. It was bare for the most part, with only a few boxes of trash left. Whoever vacated it, wasn't keen on returning. The huge poster plastered to one of the windows suggested so too, unless the phrase "FOR SALE" held a different meaning in this world. 

You looked at the street several floors down, and at the people disappearing at one end of it. 

"Peter found a really nice place for a lookout," you said. 

Loki looked around, unsure if you were having the same thing in mind. "I'm afraid I'd prefer literally anywhere else. I'm not suited for ratholes." 

You were greatly disturbed by his misfortune. So much that your heart almost ached. Almost. 

A soft knock echoed from the door. A sigh escaped your lips. 

"I guess we can't ignore her…" you whined. 

"Be quiet, maybe she'll think we're not there anymore." 

"She’s monitoring this whole area. We can't fool her…" 

Loki's stomach made it very clear that it was not happy with the turn of events. Loki agreed. "Then be quick about it." 

"Me? I did it last time, it’s your turn." 

Loki grumbled in a language you'd never heard, but the meaning was quite clear. He moved to the door and straightened his clothes. 

The little Romanian lady had huge glasses constantly sliding down her nose. In her hands, the plate with two sandwiches looked huge and heavy and ready to fall on the floor. 

She broke into a smile that cracked already deep wrinkles on her face. The glasses slid a little bit further. Loki, involuntarily deciding what to catch first, smiled politely. He was not sure what precisely the lady was capable of seeing through the thick glasses, but it must've pleased her. 

"What a handsome young man," she cooed, slipping the plate into his hands. Her head reached only to his chest, but she managed to pinch his cheek affectionately. "But look at how pale you are! You must eat more, dove, it's important to remember about eating!" 

"Thank you so much for your kindness," Loki's words were muffled through the hand still wandering around his face. "But I can assure you, there is no need to worry about my—" 

"Oh, but someone has to!" The little lady stroked his hair in a manner suspiciously reminding him of cat owner's. "There is so little good in this world." 

Only once Loki came back to the room, properly patted and improperly pinched, you allowed yourself a laugh. "What a handsome young man…"

"Shut it." 

He massaged his bright red cheek, wondering if it would ever get back to its normal color. With lack of any furniture, he was left with no choice but to place the plate on his knees. An identical, only empty, plate was already put on the floor. 

"I hoped it'd end on fruit," he admitted. 

"Me too. I guess she's used to Peter consuming in seconds whatever she brings him, since you know, he's a handsome young man too, and always starving…" 

"Shut it." 

Loki focused on appearing busy, which wasn't easy. After all, it was an empty apartment. 

People on the other side of the street were walking in and out from the suspicious place, but not much seemed to happen. Loki was not sure what exactly Peter had in mind when requesting their help, but at this point it was a little too late to ask. 

You—which shocked Loki greatly—seemed to be of the same opinion. 

"I'm pretty sure it's just a nightclub," you muttered with your chin resting on your hands. "I mean, what's the worst that can be happening there? Some drugs?" 

"You sound like it's a common thing." 

"I wouldn't say it's common, but it wouldn't surprise me. I just hoped there would be… something worse." 

As unbelievable as it was, Loki was forced to admit, "So did I." 

You pulled a dramatic face. "Who would've thought our handsome young man wished to fight organized crime on this lovely day!" 

"What else is there to do?" He shrugged with all the dignified grace that'd been beaten into him in one of his most hated classes. "Steal some more cake? Earth is so boring when no one's invading it." 

"If you're so bored, we could pay this lovely place a visit after all." 

Loki blinked. "As touched as I am by your concern, I can assure you that if I ever feel the need to wander through such an establishment, I'd feel much more comfortable on my own." 

"You're no fun. I meant we could infiltrate it from the inside, see what's actually brewing there. Maybe we could make someone's day harder, see where it takes us." 

"I am by no means a fortune teller, but I can already say it won't be anywhere pleasant." 

You shrugged in the precise manner that always got on his nerves. "That's kinda the point, right?" 

It was, in fact, the point. 

"I'm not sure we could just go there from the street and be allowed in," he had to notice, though. 

"That's why we use my magic hands, and get some invitations." You nodded toward the people coming out of what you suspected to be a back entrance. 

"Since when is magic your domain?" 

"Unless your sparkles get us inside, I'm afraid it'll have to be." 

You sounded as if the plan was already formed, approved, and ready to use. It would be a lovely thing to believe, but Loki found his faith lacking. 

"My face might be concealed," he noted, trying his hardest not to focus on the disgustingly wet feeling of unfamiliar magic sticking to his features thanks to a certain new target on his vengeance list. "But I'm pretty sure yours might be a little too recognizable because of all your meddling with the so-called heroes." 

It earned him a pained grimace. He'd seen his fair share of your grimaces already, but not that one. 

"I don't really go on the frontlines," you forced out the words. "At least, not officially. If I have to, I wear a mask to protect my identity. There are some… former acquaintances that I'd rather not inform of my existence." 

"So that's why you were able to pull off so many proposals," Loki nodded, a puzzle finally finding its place inside his head. 

"For you, my handsome young man, I'd double the number," you assured him. "But I suggest we focus on what's at hand right now. If we can snatch invitations today, we have tomorrow to prepare for the show." 

That sounded way too reasonable to come out of your mouth, but there was not much choice left for Loki. He looked out again, noting that the amount of people 'accidentally' wandering around the dead end of the street had risen as the evening neared. 

"I'm sure I can snatch one first." Loki recalled his childhood and the many attempts to fill his pockets with a multitude of shiny objects that were surely underappreciated by their previous owners. 

"Is that a bet?" 

"Against my better judgment, I'm going to say yes." 

"Deal. Try not to get caught, though, or your handsome young face might lose some of its charm." 

#Please Hate Me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki/reader #loki/you #loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #Loki Laufeyson/Reader #loki laufeyson/you

[twilightvolt]

And so, another year has come to pass.....almost. ^  ^

Remember when i said i was branching away from Digimon back when i drew up Venom fanart? y’know, “I wanted to be more than what i used to be.” that being “a Digimon artist.”

2019 was basically just that. lots and lots and LOTS of fandom hopping.

If last year was me recovering from the pain and crippling anxiety of 2017, then this year was me finally getting up again, learning to stand up and live for myself rather than in fear of those i shouldn’t care about anymore. life still hasn’t been too kind to me even though, compared to last year, we’re in a better space. but i’ll get into more detail about that while i go through everything month by month on the clock.

Before we begin, if you’d like to see the previous years, here’s the links!

2018:https://twilightvolt.tumblr.com/post/181732950569/i-kinda-was-saving-this-for-when-i-had-the-time-to

2017:https://twilightvolt.tumblr.com/post/171806337539/a-3-month-late-art-summary-featuring-art-that-i

Might wanna grab your popcorn, my dudes. this is a long one.

January: On the Web

Coming out of 2018, things were pretty ok if i remember. i don’t remember much from this month aside from a few doodles i did like this one from when Spiderverse was the hottest thing. this was one of the last things i drew in my old style. before i decided to officially change things up in the next month.

February: Gotta Kick it Up

Pokemon Sword & Shield were announced and things were hype! oh, how things soured as the months went by. lol

But yeah, this was me taking that experimental sketchy pencil style from that Smash Bros. drawing and rolling with it all the way! it’s become my new go-to style and even though it’s still hella sketchy at times, i feel like it looks better in comparison to my old ink outlined drawings.

March: The Overdrive Dweebanoids

Oh right. my old Ben 10 phase that lasted for a millisecond in 2016 returned with a vengeance. and it was glorious. lmao

It spawned an AU that i didn’t delve into much, but if i ever get that spark for my favorite alien watch bearer, i’ll get back to it.

April: True Blue Lizard Bois

My Ben 10 streak continues and i was crankin’ out art left and right for it. i luved all the “doodle dumps” i made, but this drawing was wholesome and i picked it because of that.

To some extent, this could be a comparison between my past and my present. that being Overdrive!Ben being what, at the time, was my current obsession while Digimon!Vivi was a representation of where i used to be, back when i was starting out and entering Digimon OCTs on Deviantart.

May: Return to the Realm of Sleep ~HD ReMIX

Now THIS i feel was one of the grandest drawings i’ve done this year. hell, i even made a wallpaper out of it.

like, it was just a redraw of an old drawing from 2017. but to me, it was a way to tell me just how far i’ve come since then. and i couldn’t be happier.

This was also the month i rebooted my DA after a long time of inactivity!

....Iiiit didn’t really work much, but i’m still working on it. though i highly doubt it’s worth it considering most of the ones i used to hang with there are either people i don’t wanna associate with or people who left while i was gone. seriously, it’s a ghost town there.

June: Art Fight 2019 ~Dreams Vs. Nightmares~

Ahh, my second year of Art Fight. for this year’s event, i wanted to be a tad more grandiose. like drawing up this banner. i like being extra and stuff even if it kills my drawing hand, so yeah. lmao

...

Florida thunderstorms are friggin’ terrifying. idk HOW anyone can get used to that.

July: - BREAK DOWN -

Oookay, it was hard picking my favorite attack this year cuz i pretty much was satisfied with all of them. but i had to go with this attack because the artist i drew it for was someone i really admired for years and i’m just happy i could finally have an opportunity to draw them something. like, i luv how it came out, so yeah.

This was also the month i forced myself to finally do the thing and let go of the constant fear i felt towards certain people i used to hang with. while remembering 2017 will never NOT hurt, i can’t let that fear rule over me forever. i have to take control and not let it stop me from doing what i want. and that’s exactly what i did.

August: Ricky ~Sapphire, Emerald and AlphaSapphire

Oh yeah! after Art Fight ended, i returned to Pokemon randomly cuz i wanted to go back to my roots for a moment. revamping Ricky, formerly Ragna, and Yagami was something i’ve been meaning to do for awhile and it reignited a waning love for a series i started growing distant towards since Gen VII.

I used to really like Ricky’s old design even though i barely ever used him. but i guess this just shows how much more original i’ve gotten in terms of character design. ^  ^

September: Heartbeat Inferno

Now, i haven’t really talked much about what’s been going on life wise for most of this post, but trust me when i say irl, things weren’t really.....happening. like, it’s hard when you live (or rather, lived now) in a place with little job opportunity and you have NO experience whatsoever. the lack of progression must’ve hit something in me, so the week i drew this was me just....shifting moods, feeling everything at once. one day i’d be agitated as hell, the next i’d be so depressed i took a some odd hour nap and didn’t wanna get out of bed. like, for most of this year, i haven’t felt this stressed out and frustrated with myself. so this sudden crash was kind of....unwelcome.

But this drawing was a fresh change though, if i’m being honest. i’m not usually this uncaring about how clean the coloring job is, but i like it! i’d choose that other drawing i did for my friends’ birthdays, Skirmish at the Cable Club, but this one had a more personal drive behind it.

October: - PAPERMOON -

beastarsbeastarsbeASTARSBEASTARS--*COUGH COUGH AHEM* I MEAN....hai. :D

Continuing with my Pokemon shenanigans, i drew this big piece which was something i had in my head for years now, but never actually acted upon it cuz i always felt it was too big of an idea to work on. i’m happy i’ve managed to capture what i envisioned originally.

As for interests, i’m sure most of my current followers can deduce that i quickly shifted gears to Beastars as soon as the anime was released and so far, i regret nothing. it’s spawned a metric butt ton of new art from me and the way i see it, this phase ain’t stopping as long as this series continues. brace yourselves fam, i believe i’ve finally found the successor to my Digimon phase. lmao

Like, damn, i had a tough time choosing art for this month. i was stuck between this, - SMILE/WILD SIDE - and Slip Into Madness. so many good drawings i was satisfied with, y’know?

November: The Future is Now

I was SO planning on putting something else here, but then suddenly i just kinda had this urge to redraw that uggo gouache painting of Miyagi from highschool. and it turned out so good that i had to. like, really. lmao

As with the redraw of Dream Drop Digital’s key art, it was a reminder of how far i’ve come since then art wise. and i feel like i’ve accomplished so much this year because of it. ;w;

December: Winter Lights

And now we’re back to the present time. after over a year or so of living in Florida, we’ve moved once again back up north a bit. yet another clean slate, but things seem to be looking up despite the rather large bumps in the road the past week or so. lately i’ve been feeling that seasonal depression starting to set in, but i think i’ll be fine as long as i stay positive. cuz y’know, it’s not being happy all the time. it’s just knowing that things will get better someday.

One of the other reasons i drew this drawing was cuz i REALLY wanted to have something Beastars related on this clock. this series (and Legoshi in particular) really inspired me, so i had to leave a wedge open for my boi.

Looking back at the beginning of this decade (as 2020 would mark the next one), i realized that the 2010′s were basically me becoming more artsy. finding enjoyment for a new hobby that quickly became something i’m now more passionate about than video games which i didn’t think would EVER be the case.

Funny enough, it all started in the RP section of a little forum for an MMO called Wizard101. i was only in middle school at the time and, to tell you the truth, i had no idea i’d be going at it for this long. thought i’d just do it on the side but not really delve into the art world more.

But despite all the trips and falls, fandom drama or otherwise, i wouldn’t change anything if it meant i wouldn’t have the friends who’ve stuck by me in the aftermath of those times.

I may not be really succeeding in much, but it’s the small steps in life that matter most in the end. these past few months in particular was me getting fed up with feeling sorry for myself for not doing the things i was interested in in the past, getting over my regret and making plans for starting something new even though i know i’ll suck at first and not worrying so much about how others might perceive me.

And just like how life was changing for our resident grey wolf this first season, mine seems to be doing the same. and i believe this decade ended on a better note than i thought it would during the past couple years leading up to this.

Here’s to a new decade! ^  ^

~ For a future I want to believe in. ~

#art meme #summary of art #2019 summary of art #year end reflections #2010's reflections #rambles

[criscura]

Here we are. This is it.

I don’t like talking that much about...y’know, stuff like this before, but I think it’s worth it for this guy. After three years, almost 500,000 words, and stacks and stacks and stacks of paper, we’re at the end of Tumbling Down.

I’ve learned an incredible amount writing it. I’ve grown as a person and a writer. So much of me and my loved ones and everyone I talk to has gone into making this, and I can’t really explain how much it’s done for me.

Thank you so, so, so, so, SO MUCH to all the artists, writers, fans, and readers that stuck with me. Thank you so much.

.........Okay that’s all ////// I get flustered with stuff like that....

A shout-out to @oil-tears and this incredible prompt, which started this entire fucking thing and got me writing again. And a shout-out to the whole fandom, too.

If you do not listen to “Book of Love” as you’re reading this, or at LEAST right after you finish it, I will be very sad because I’ve lost count of how many times I bust out ugly crying thinking about this fic and that song.

Here’s the last chapter, and the whole thing on AO3. ((You might want to read the first chapter too. Just...a suggestion))

....Thank you so much guys <3<3<3<3<3<3

Pillow Talk

    Takeout, again. It was killing Saitama to order out this much, but there weren’t any stores running good sales and all they had left in the fridge were odds and ends. They probably should’ve gone out to get fresh stuff, but…man, Saitama had been starving and that would’ve taken a couple hours.

    “Sensei, Good BuyZ is running a ‘Summer Savings’ sale on Friday.”

    “Oh yeah?” They must have posted the promo today, Saitama hadn’t seen it before. He fiddled with his bowl of noodles, thinking through the week. Today was Wednesday, so…if they used up the leftovers tomorrow, they’d be covered until Friday… “Sounds good! We’ll check it out.”

    Genos nodded and went back to studying a notebook laid out next to his curry chicken. He’d drawn a little diagram of the two of them in there. The dumb faces he put on his sketches always made Saitama laugh—he got oval eyes and a circle for a mouth (if he was lucky), and all Genos scratched in for himself were two angry black boxes. The way he kept on stopping before he wrote, though, made Saitama wonder if he wasn’t looking through his recordings…

    Ah, well. He could ask what videos he was using later. For now he poked his cyborg’s arm. “Aren’t you hungry?” He had an event with HAATO today and then immediately called up Kuseno when he got home. He must’ve been running on empty by this point. “I know how you get when you’re busy. C’mon, dig in.”

    Genos pouted back at Saitama, the same way he always did when his sensei called him out. “I will be fine, Sensei. My reserves are more than enough to sustain me for long after my primary power runs out, but that isn’t a risk because I have plenty to last me for several more hours—”

    Saitama raised an eyebrow, and his husband pouted harder.

    “…But I suppose I should eat something, just in case.”

    “Mm,” he answered, “Don’t want to fall asleep for movie night, right? Besides, you gotta take care of yourself, kid.”

    “I do…although Sensei already takes quite good care of me.”

    God was he corny. Saitama shook his head and looked back to his notebook, wondering what he was plotting out in there. He started sketching when he was on the phone with Kuseno, so… “Is that what were you talking about earlier? With the doc, I mean. Is it for new parts?”

    A tiny hiss came from Genos’ shoulders as he nodded, biting into a hunk of chicken. He dabbed away some of the sauce with a napkin and scribbled in another note.

    Saitama tried to imagine what kind of upgrade it could be. He didn’t see anything different the last time he was in the lab…but then again, it was hard to tell one pile of wires, gears, and chips apart from another pile of wires, gears, and chips. It must’ve had to do with the list of pros and cons Genos was writing, and the arrows pointing at his face, his neck, his palms, his feet… What did any of those have in common? They were all pretty different…except… “Is it for your skin? Is Kuseno working on a new kind?”

    The boy glanced up and bit his lip. Sensei liked hearing about his upgrades, and normally Genos was more than happy to explain it to him, but…discussing this one, when they hadn’t even begun the process yet… “Y-yes, Sensei. It would be, ah…slip-on covers, ideally, a bit like gloves and stockings, that would make my armor safer for more…more vulnerable bodies…”

    Saitama straightened up right away. “O-oh? Really?”

    The low din of fans kicked in, filling the room with a familiar hum. He hadn’t thought about it before, but…guess it was pretty easy for things to get pinched at Genos’ shoulder and elbow, huh? Especially if he was…holding them there… Saitama swallowed back the butterflies that image gave him and touched Genos’ hand. “Do you need help? Thinking it over, I mean. …If I can.”

    Genos sat quiet for a moment. His vents sure did get louder though. “Saitama-sensei,” he trailed, “If…you could tell me which you think would be best, of these…”

    Saitama craned his neck to see the whole page. “Uh… Which would be softest?”

    There was a creak as Genos pushed away from the edge and skootched over to Saitama’s side of the table, notebook in tow. He plopped himself cross-legged next to his hero and opened it in front of him. “More, Sensei, which would be most comfortable for an—an i-infant. Should we end up…um… Do you think the warmth of my skin is most important, or the padding from my palms and feet…”

    “Okay,” Saitama breathed, taking it in his hands. Genos was so fucking cute when he got nervous (not that Saitama didn’t get why). He cooled his head enough to scan the diagrams and immediately realized how bad he was at visualizing things. “Can I, uh…” He lifted his arm, waiting for Genos to look over at him.

    The boy nodded and Saitama slid his hand across his cheek, smiling when Genos leaned into it. He was such a dork… Saitama was too though, ‘cause it still gave him flutters when Genos did stuff like that. They were married for frick’s sake, he needed to get his act together.

    He moved his hand without thinking and tried to compare what the rest of Genos’ body felt like. It’s not like all his other squishy parts weren’t soft too, they were just soft in a different way. The skin on his face was velvety, and firm, and warm… Not quite as warm as the rest of him, but enough to feel nice…

    Saitama glanced up at his disciple’s eyes and saw the telltale flicker of numbers in his iris. He gave a soft laugh. “Are you recording me…?”

    “Perhaps, Sensei,” he admitted. “…My husband is very handsome when he’s focused.”

    The man shook his head and ignored the ticking counter, trying not to get self-conscious. He wrapped a hand around Genos’ and compared it to his face. The fleshy skin was softer, that wasn’t a question, but his palms were like tiny pillows… He ran his fingers down Genos’ cheek and chin and nose, weighing, deciding. He might’ve been getting a little distracted too, if he was being honest. The kid’s skin was really soft, and his eyelashes were so long, and he could land a permanent gig at any modeling agency he interviewed at because he was so damned jaw-dropping…

    Saitama snapped to and felt along Genos’ hand, going from wrist to fingertip and back down to the knuckle. He couldn’t help but linger over the itty-bitty words over his ring finger though. Genos didn’t say anything, the same way he didn’t say anything as Saitama pressed his thumb over his lips. He must’ve had the nicest lips in the whole world, what with them being all plush like that. No one could come close. Saitama’d kissed them more than a billion times by now and he’d never get over how pouty and smooth and—

    He jumped, caught off-guard by those same lips pressed up against his own. Only then did he notice how far he’d leaned in, and the sly little smirk painted across his disciple’s face. Had Genos just been watching him come close…?

    …Saitama’s cheeks blazed, and he didn’t know why. It’s not like he wasn’t used to Genos being a total brat when it came to stuff like that. He knew every one of Saitama’s buttons and he played them like a PS2 controller. But nevermind! Forget all that, Saitama had to focus, he needed to figure out what would be best for a b…baby…and stop thinking about Genos’ perfect skin and his pillowy lips and his pretty, gold hair…

    Saitama hung his head. “They’re all really good,” he said, mumbling over the buzz of Genos’ core. “I think Kuseno could make something out of any of it.”

    “He could, I do not doubt that, but…I’m unsure which to suggest first. They all have their benefits and drawbacks.”

    “…What about,” Saitama drawled, desperate to offer something worthwhile, “Some padding?” Genos sat there, tipping his head, waiting for him to continue. God did Saitama wish he was smarter. “Y’know…cushioning, or fluff, so…their head has something nice to lay on.” He took a slow breath. “I’m sure he could blend them fine. I mean, your throat and tongue and all that is just fixed up skin, isn’t it? So it would work.”

    Genos batted his eyelashes in a way that meant danger. “I hadn’t thought of it that way…though I suppose Sensei would know far better than me how both of those feel.”

    Saitama muttered a bashful “brat” and they sat, daring the other to go on, knowing they were both feeling that same giddiness, that same heat…

    “Genos,” Saitama mumbled, fiddling with the edge of his chestplate.

    It took a second for Genos to respond. “We will look at it with fresher minds in the morning, Sensei,” was all he said. Then he stood up, walked out onto the balcony, and closed the door behind him so the warm air didn’t rush in as he fished their bedding off the drying line.

    Saitama watched him through the glass, fixed on his silhouette moving against the dark sky. Saitama probably should’ve been laying out their futon right now, but…he couldn’t. There was something hypnotic about seeing Genos there, and he couldn’t pull away.

    He tried to figure out what it was. It had to do with the shimmer of the moonlight, and how gently his fingers moved, and the way his armor caught the stars… It was like he was casting a spell out there, almost.

    …Geeze, all the kid was doing was unpinning laundry and Saitama felt like he was watching Cinderella transform into a princess. It was ridiculous. It happened every time he ogled Genos for too long and it was ridiculous. He could be folding clothes, typing emails, paying a cashier…it didn’t matter. The feeling hit Saitama all the time and he could never explain himself when he was caught staring.

    …Just like when Genos came back inside. Saitama didn’t have a chance to whip his face away before Genos made eye contact, and he knew immediately. All he did was smile back at him though, and look at the blankets on his arm, and pat out their wrinkles.

    “Sensei, do you want me to save the leftovers?”

    Sensei fumbled with his drawstrings, hiding the red in his cheeks.

    “I can use them to make a stir-fry tomorrow.”

    “Uh… Sure, Genos. Go ahead.”

    Trailing smugness and a gentle buzz, Genos laid the sheets down and gathered up all the dishes. Saitama moved to help but he was waved off. In no time flat their lunches were made and packed away, perfect little bentos appearing on the counter like…well, like magic.

    Saitama kept on watching as he washed the dishes. He must’ve been a little bit magic, to do all the things he did. To be as amazing as he was. Saitama thought so, at least.

    Genos glanced up at the picture of them hanging in the kitchen and picked up the “I do” mug. He started humming to himself as he rinsed it.

    …Yeah. That was undeniably, positively it. Magic. That was all it could be. There were all sorts of magic, after all—hypnotizing someone, making things disappear…true love’s first kiss…

    Genos peeked at his husband and back to the sink, scrubbing motions slowing.

    There were a lot of magical things out there.

    “Sensei,” blondie called, “Do you want to begin loading Chobits while I dry the dishes?”

    ...And now that he thought about it, “happily ever after” was pretty magical too.

    “Yeah… Yeah, sure Genos. Sounds good.”

    He reached over and pulled the DVD off the tower. A stack of papers came tumbling down after it, one of them a packet from the HA about their adoption program. Bang had given it to them a week ago, saying they might be interested, but they never figured out how he knew. It’s not like they talked about it with anyone other than Kuseno…

    Saitama put down the DVD for a second and flipped to the page where he left off reading. It was tough for him to concentrate with how hard his heart was thumping inside his chest.

#one punch man #one punch #opm #genos #saitama #genosai #saigenos #precious robot baby #egg on legs #egg on all fours #fic #fan fiction #opm fic #tumbling down #oil-tears #i don't believe it #wow #fuck