#~Then my fragile flower turned into a ball of grey. So I took a breath and made a wish and blew them all away (Ygo Human Verse)~

[thricemarked]

I still loved those mellow yellow petals anyway What's that thing they say about a rose by any other name? Then my fragile flower turned into a ball of grey So, I took a breath and made a wish and blew them all away

commissioned piece by elisenelart [x]

#art by op - rapids ] #shipping - commitments ] #KSGP - reflection ] #music - unity ] #// you WILL perceive them......

[acciowests]

Complicated Addictions

WORD COUNT: 1756

SUMMARY: When Nesta stands Cassian up on a date, an angry and upset Cassian decides to head over to her apartment to find out exactly why she was so intent on making him suffer.

Cassian didn't know why he hadn't just gone home. Perhaps he should have phoned Rhysand and seen if he wanted to get a drink, or maybe he could have gone to the nearest club and fucked some girl who rubbed up against him as he sat alone at the bar. But no, he had come here.

The Illyrian tried to push down the anger that boiled inside him as he banged on the door of Nesta Archeron's apartment. His hands were balled in fists at his side's as he waited for the young fae to answer the door. He had made sure she was in when he had passed her building, the lights that were on in her room said that she was. The soft pitter-patter of her bare feet against the wooden floor filled his ears as she advanced, unlatching the lock and pulling the door open. She didn't bother to even meet his eyes as she turned back on her heels, heading toward her living room.

Nesta had gotten the apartment in Velaris a few years ago when she had decided that living with her sisters and the Illyrian boys whom her sisters were friends with wasn't something she was fond of. The apartment had not been cheap and every penny Nesta had spent to purchase it had belonged to her sister's mate. Yet, she came and left as if it had cost nothing at all. The kitchen was the first room, pale brown wooden floors with white cabinets with black countertops. The apartment had two bedrooms, each on opposite sides, both with ensuite bathrooms. Nesta's living room was nothing but generic. Two leather brown sofas and a matching armchair all centred around the large flat screen tv that mounted the back wall. A charcoal grey matt rested beneath a glass coffee table and the surrounding walls were painted cream, each displaying multiple framed photos. Some were basic pictures that had most likely came with the frame, flowers in a field, puppies with their tongues hanging from their mouths. Then there were the ones that actually meant something, a picture of her sister Elain while planting, a picture of her family before her mother had died. Even at the age of nine, Nesta still looked the same. Her lighter hair was tied in braids, her hand resting on Elain's shoulders as Feyre sat on their mother's lap, their father supposedly behind the camera. Nesta's young eyes were filled with the ice that Cassian knew now, that little mouth of hers curling into a smile that didn't meet her eyes, exactly the same as it didn't now. Somehow, at such a little age, she had still held the world on her shoulders.

Turning to the side so his wings could fit through the narrow doorway, Cassian entered the brightly lit apartment. He shut the door behind, slipping his boots off and heading toward the sofa. He was bound to be here all night knowing how much Nesta loved to avoid conversation. Settling her legs beneath her, Nesta curled against the arm of one of the leather sofas, picking up the book that rested on the seat beside her and flipping it open. Surely some smutty romance novel. A large black pyjama shirt hung from her slim frame, her long legs were bare beneath it and her golden-brown hair was tied up into a messy heap atop her angular makeup-less face. Cassian hated how he noticed the dusting of freckles on her nose that only ever appeared during summer. Running a hand through his rain-soaked locks, Cassian sat at the other end of the sofa, glaring at Nesta. She didn't move her eyes from her page.

"A text would have been nice," he growled, leaning back and hooking an ankle atop his knee.

He had been at that restaurant for an hour. A fucking hour until he had given up and come here. It wouldn't have hurt as much if it was some random girl Azriel had hooked him up with for a first date, but this was Nesta. Things with Nesta were always far more complicated.

Nesta just shrugged, turning a page of her book, "My phone died." The phone that sat upon the table before her made Cassian think differently, especially when it lit up seconds later with no noise to match it. Silent, she had put her phone on silent.

"Why say yes to me if you're not gonna show up?" He questioned, noting how she still hadn't bothered to look at him since he arrived. Cassian drummed his fingers against his thigh impatiently as Nesta continued reading.

"I'm tired of your shit, Nesta. I'm not leaving until you're honest with me." Cassian snapped, leaning forward toward Nesta who simply acted as if he was not there. This was not a rare occurrence, he was used to having to rile her up to get any sort of reply. He wondered how much longer he would try to break past her walls, how much longer he would care enough to try. Apparently, two years wasn't enough.

"I called you. You made me look like a fucking idiot. I waited for an hour, Nesta. And you fucking stood me up!" He cursed, watching as she yet again flipped a page and continued reading.

Before he even realised what his body was doing, Cassian had slid across the sofa, grabbed the book from her hands and smacked it down on the table. His wings were tucked in tightly behind him and he was right up beside her, their legs brushing. Nesta's face whipped to his, a fire burning within those cold eyes of hers. As her eyes met him for the first time that evening, they flicked over all of him. He was wearing a navy blue suit, had had it fitted specifically for their date. Of course, Cassian would have just worn jeans and a nice sweater, but Rhys knew someone who was willing to fit him a suit in time for his date in only a week's time. 

Nesta's eyes lifted from his shirt, looking at him directly, "What exactly do you want me to say?"

"I want you to fucking apologize. I want you to tell me why you didn't show up!" He told her, face only inches from her's. He wanted more than anything to cup her face and kiss her, he wanted the feel of her lips on him. On his lips, on his chest, wrapped around him wholly.

Nesta scoffed, "I felt sorry for you! You've asked me out so many times, it's pathetic!"

Cassian blinked, leaning away from Nesta as she looked down her nose at him. Realising what she had done, what she had said, Nesta bit down on her bottom lip, avoiding Cassian's eyes. She really knew how to hurt him.

"Cassian..." She breathed.

Cassian stood from the sofa, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room to the window. The city below was drenched in rain, thick black clouds washing over Velaris. His chest felt tight, a lump growing in his throat as his eyes glazed over. He wouldn't fucking cry.

"Cassian," Nesta repeated. He heard as she stood, walking up behind him. He could almost feel the warmth radiating from her. Her breath made his skin tingle as she spoke, "I'm sorry."

Cassian turned, he towered over Nesta. He had never noticed how small and fragile she was compared to him. Cassian slipped his callused palm into Nesta's soft gentle hand, intertwining their fingers. She did not pull away. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Nesta's and cupping her cheek with his spare hand. "Just be honest," he begged, stroking his thumb against her cheekbone, "I need to know, Nes. Please."

Nesta shifted, moving closer and slipping an arm around his waist as she leaned her face into his palm. Her bottom lip had begun to tremble as she squeezed his hand, "I can't, you know I can't."

Cassian slipped his hand around to the back of her head, holding her closer to him. Just in case she tried to slip away again. He would leave. If tonight didn't go the way he wanted it to, he would walk out of her life. He couldn't live like this anymore.

"Nessie," he breathed, his breath warm against her skin. He pulled the band from her hair, letting her hair fall messily around her face, he ran his fingers through it, taking in the coconut scent he adored. Nesta removed her hands from him, inching forward and gripping his collar, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his wings curling around the both of them.

"I'm not good for you," she told him, running her nose along the length of his neck, a low groan escaping Cassian's lips.

He hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face to meet his, "I decide that."

She shook her head, despite the hold he had on her. Retaking Cassian's hand, Nesta turned, pulling him and leading the both of them back to the sofa. She settled against the leather, the cold fabric like a harsh kiss upon her legs as she patted the seat beside her. Without a second thought, Cassian took the seat, resting a hand immediately on Nesta's thigh. She shuffled, leaning her head on his shoulder and letting out a long breath.

"I was a coward, that's why I didn't show up," she began, laying her palm atop of Cassian's and intertwining their fingers.

Cassian shifted to look down at her properly, a frown crinkled in his dark brows, "What do you mean?"

Nesta let out a chuckle, " I mean that I was a fucking coward. I was scared to admit that I like you, and showing up would just... make that feeling real."

A smile grew across Cassian's lips, "And it's real?"

Turning to him, Nesta gently brushed her lips against Cassian's. A soft kiss, allowing him to taste her before she pulled away and rested her head against Cassian's brow, turning to cup his cheeks in both hands. They sat like that for a while, holding one another in a way that they never had before. He wanted to kiss her again, the feel of her lips was like a drug and he had become addicted. But she was here, and he had his arms around her. She felt like home.

Nesta whispered, her voice warm against his face, "It's real."

* * *

if you want to be added to my acotar taglist just send me a dm or an ask!!

#fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #writing #sarah j maas #sjm #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nessian au #nessian fanfic #nessian angst #angst

[caxsthetic]

PHANTASM BLUES • Suna Rintarou x Reader x Kita Shinsuke

Episode 2: Old Flame

Type: TV Series (Multiple Chapters)

Cast: Suna Rintarou, Kita Shinsuke

Storyline: There was no good ending when your heart was bound to love more than one. And up until now, you still asked the universe why you have been given such curse.

Genre: Slice of Life, Drama

"I will be alright," He said it, chanting the sentence again and again inside his head to reassure himself that he indeed would be alright without you, "Promise me, (Y/n)." You looked up at him, staring into the lovely eyes, "Promise me you will be happy with him."

"I love you so much, Shin."

"Thank you for being a part of my life."

"I-I am so sorry, I didn't meant to-"

His reverie was stopped by the whistling kettle, making him almost drop the cup on his hand. He let out a long sigh, turned the stove off immediately as his mind still lingered to the one person that somehow owned his heart.

Even when that person was not his anymore.

Ever since he received the mail from you, he had been numb, heart aching for every single breath that he took. For two whole years, he lived without having you by his side, he was floating, didn't know when to land—and at the same time didn't care anymore where the wind brought him as he floated.

He should have known that by the time he let you go for another man, the man that from the start had your heart wrapped around his pretty little finger, he would never get another chance to hold you in his arms anymore.

It was cruel for the universe to do this. Either cruel for him, or cruel for you. Because there's no happy ending at both ends, as long as your heart beats for two men.

The wooden floor on his terrace creaked as he sat there, dangling his feet while the wind caressed his cheek — as if they were trying to soothe him. He closed his eyes, minds floating back to the time where you would sit beside him.

Four years. Four years was not a short period of time for a relationship. Especially if it was a pure one, no hatred, subtle lust, and full acceptance. You were someone that could open up their heart for everyone, loving every flaw that a person had. It was a rare gift, and he felt like his life had been blessed for being loved by someone like you.

"What are you thinking of, Shin?" You sat beside him with two cups of green tea on your hands, "Oh, here's your tea, angel eyes." The nickname rolled oh-so-easily from your tongue, the nickname that always made his heart flutter even after years you had called him like that.

"Thank you, dear." He grabbed the cup and kissed your forehead for seconds. Just for this moment, he would love to have this forever, together with you, bathed in the moonlight. He would go through anything just to have a never ending cycle with you, doing every single thing with someone that he loves, until the end of time.

"So, what's on your mind?" You sipped your tea carefully as a swirl of steam could be seen on top of it. His eyes immediately looked to the garden in front of him—one that the two of you took care of together, he didn't dare to set his gaze on you at this moment.

"It's nothing," He gulped and answered your question nonchalantly. And when he didn't receive any response from you, he decided to gazed on your face. With that, he knew in an instance it was a mistake to do so.

You had this little glare on your face, knowing that it must have been something big that he had to avert his gaze away from you.

"Shin..."

He let out a long sigh before placing his tea cup on the wooden floor. Your breath hitched as he turned his body, facing you completely. There was something inside his orbs, and you cursed yourself for not knowing what it was all about. His warm hands grabbed yours, pulling them to his lap.

"It was about us, (Y/n)." His voice was so soft, like a whisper, "We are graduating soon and I want-" I want you to be my wife. He gulped down, not knowing whether he should muster the courage to ask you now or later on.

Your eyes shone so bright as your gaze fell towards him. There was giddiness and excitement reflected there. It was like you knew what your answer would be even when you didn't know what the question was, "I want you to love me forever."

A tear slipped from your eyes as he confessed what was nagging on his mind. He panicked inside, but decided to stay calm and wipe your tears with his thumb, gently erasing the trace of sadness.

But it was not sadness that was trickling down your cheek.

"Forever is a long time, Shin." You answered between your sobs, and his heart almost stopped at your words. Right now, he was afraid that you wouldn't want that, afraid that forever was too much to ask from you. But one look at your gaze, he knew he shouldn't even have a doubt when it came to your love, "But even loving you forever would never be enough for me."

He snorted, Kita Shinsuke just snorted at the cheesy yet loving sentence that you just said, "W-Whaa! This is no joke, Shin. Why are you—"

But he cut you off as he slammed his lips on yours; swallowing all the retort that you were going to say, hands cupping both of your cheeks. You felt like someone just knocked the air out of your lungs at this moment, but filled it with something more refreshing to replace the common air.

It was what he would love to have, to be loved by you forever. And of course, to love you with all of his heart too, forever.

But fate was devious, it would lead you to the most tortuous road.

Suddenly, a cat jumped up on his lap, asking for some affection from him. The cat was grey coloured, a simple house cat that looked so lovely even when she didn't have long, fluffy fur.

"Hey, Ki." Kita smiled a little as he grazed his finger slowly to the cat before hoisting her up, making her face him. Both pairs of eyes looked straight into each other, not even the cat trying to avert her gaze, like they were connected somehow, "Do you miss mom?"

Ki was a ball of sunshine that you had found around the campus five years ago. He still remembered how you had come home with the injured cat in your arms, tears streaming down your face because you couldn't bear to see such a fragile creature in pain.

So when Kita could cure the kitten, both of you decided to adopt her instead. The little household grew at the same time as your love towards him grew, never once lessening as time went by.

The three of you had been like a little family, two parents and their little daughter. For years, no one knew that nothing could break the little family. Even back when you were still with him, there had not been a single day in your life that was filled with sad tears.

For four years, every day that he spent loving you, never once had he felt sad, anger, disgust, or any negative feelings. Somehow, the two of you could talk things out even if it was about something serious. The trust that you had had for each other was uncanny, you and him may have been jealous sometimes when people flirted with the other, but nothing at that point could make the two of you doubt each other.

But then a storm just had to hit, ravaging every daydream that he had about spending his life with you. No matter how many paths he had chosen, the storm would always come. And it would never leave, not until it was satisfied.

The storm had been something from your past, someone, about whom he knew so much since he was there to witness how inseparable the two of you were. The best friend, that he knew too well it was more than just a platonic feeling — even long before he asked you to be his.

It was strange. He should have screamed out to the world that it was not fair. He was just a transit in your life, and it was not fair to catch feelings for someone that wouldn't stay forever.

But when he had seen the look on your face, when your eyes had fallen towards the familiar dark brown locks. Him, that somehow after years never had a face to face conversation with you seemed to spark the wet charcoal inside your heart,

He realised that his relationship with you was bound to break.

He had been ready to get down on one knee that day, right after you received your Bachelor's degree. His best friend from high school was there, ready to record the whole thing, the proposal that Kita had prepared so much, with a ring that he had bought with his own sweat.

Everything had been perfect that day. You had looked so happy when you hugged him right after your speech, Kita predicted that you would want to meet up with your friends, so he had decided to wait, and he would get down on one knee when you were talking with your squad, proposed from behind as you know nothing, and you would turn your head when they were all giggled.

He was sure that you would say yes. Because he knew how much you love him, and he was confident that you wanted to spend a lifetime with him too—from how you give him some playful hint here and there.

But everything was falling apart that day as you were nowhere to be seen with your group of friends. His eyes had scanned the whole venue, looking for the woman that he wanted to have forever. He was panicking inside, wondering where you were when he didn't see you near your close friends.

It may didn't look like it from the outside as he used his usual facade for the show. But even his best friend knew that the blunt man was frantic.

Then he found you again when you walked back inside. He almost ran at you, ready to just get down on one knee right there at that moment as his eyes locked on your figure. That's exactly what was inside his mind as he walked confidently towards you, didn't want you to slip out of his grasp.

Your eyes lit up at the moment, orbs filled with love and a little tears as your gaze fell to the man. The man that's not him. The man that was suddenly barged into the venue with a familiar dark brown hair—trimmed nicely, a gentle and timid smile on his face, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other had a bouquet of your favourite flower.

But then he opened up one of his arms, as if he knew that, somehow, you would jump in his embrace without him asking you to.

And it's the truth. You didn't care anymore that you wore stilettos. When your eyes fell towards your best friend, it was like there was no one in this world but you and him. And Kita was just standing on the sidelines, staring blankly as he saw you there in someone else's embrace.

It was such a sight, one that he always found ever since his high school days. The dark brown haired man always had this giddy smile when you popped into his vision—even if it was just two seconds before it went back to his usual lazy face.

You were like a lover who waited years for their significant other to come back after a war.

"Shinsuke," His best friend stood beside him, his eyes still locked at the heartwarming reunion between the high school best friends. Or he could say, high school lovers.

He knew, he always knew that the middle blocker held a special place in your heart. From how your eyes lit up when you were on the phone with the said man, from how you smiled so lovingly when he asked about him, or even when the two of you were on the market and found some fruit jelly sticks — could even create a longing look in your eyes.

Then how did an intelligent man like Kita Shinsuke not realise that your heart didn't beat only for him?

The truth? He knew all along since the first time you brought up your best friend's name as the topic of your conversation. That time, he supposed that you were discreetly warning him that your heart fluttered for someone else. And he just absorbed the information, never once took one step backwards.

Because at the same time, he realised his own feelings already. He was in love with you. Truly, madly, deeply in love with you. It was from the fact that he knew, but yet, he still wanted to be with you anyway. That made him realise that his love for you was unconditional.

And he was not someone who would back down without a fight.

But to see you now, smile lovingly with the man that owned your heart years before he owned yours, it's like his heart immediately knew the next step that he should take.

"Aran," He called out to his best friend, the tall man gave him a low hum, "I am sorry to call you out here for nothing." His best friend was shocked, of course Kita didn't mean to cancel his plan just because of a little loving reunion, right?

"Shinsuke, what-"

"There will be no proposal today." Not today, not in forever, "You should head home."

And here he was right now, alone in a house that he thought would be filled with your footsteps. Alone in a house where he thought he could see your face first thing in the morning. Alone, in a house where he thought he would spend with you, loved forever.

Kita Shinsuke wasn't someone who could shed tears so easily. But when it comes to love, when it comes to you, his emotional stability would be unsteady. His eyes bore to the invitation that he got from the mailbox three weeks ago.

The invitation letter was wrapped with a paper that was created to look like a big leaf. And the gold inscription on the letter was lovely, adding a little glam on the simple wedding invitation.

"I love you now, and I will love you forever."

It was the first thing he read when he opened up the wrapper. Typed at the top of the invitation with capital letters. He broke down immediately on the day he received it, tears were streaming down his cheek, dripping down to the perfect wedding invitation as he saw the name that replaced his place.

Suna Rintarou.

He should have known from the start, that your love towards his underclassmen was something that ignited from the first glance, and grew by time. When he met you that day around the university, he thought that maybe you and the middle blocker were no longer close.

But that was a false alarm. Yet he continued to pursue you, in hope that maybe your feelings for the dark brown haired man was just a teenager's phase, a mere crush. Then again, everyone in Inarizaki could see that you and Suna were meant for each other, and he should have not taken the fact lightly.

Now as he took a look one more time at the invitation letter, he could feel the lump on his throat. He felt sick, sick at himself for he couldn't be happy for you and his underclassmen that he was always proud of. It was an unconditional love, and it was him who decided to let you go two years ago.

It's not his place to have any regrets, knowing for sure the dark brown haired man needed you more than he needed you.

At least that was what he always said to reassure himself that it was the right choice to set you free.

"What are you thinking of, Shin?" You sat beside him with two cups of chamomile tea on your hands, "And here's your tea, angel eyes~" The nickname still rolled so easily from your tongue, the nickname that always made his heart fluttered even after years being called with it.

But he couldn't shake the nagged feelings that he had about you. About how you seemed to focus yourself completely on him, like you breathe for him, like you lived only for him.

It's not like he hated how you were so engrossed by his mere existence, it was the opposite actually. He loves every affectionate gesture that he got from you, every sweet words and loving act that you gave to him, it added years to his lifespan.

Though, deep down, he knew already what caused you to act like that. He didn't need someone to point it out to recognise something about you. He knew you inside and out, and right now his ability felt like a curse since he could never put a blind eye over something you did.

There were no stars in the sky, clouds filled the dark horizon as the two of you sat on the terrace, the routine that you two made since you decided to move in with him after a year being in a relationship.

"You sure are quiet tonight." You spoke out once again, gave him room to gather his thoughts. Just like him, you knew how to treat him the right way. Sometimes he would need a space, sometimes he would need extra affection, some other times he just wanted your company without the need to talk at all.

"I am," He was stating the facts, making you raise one of your eyebrows, "You have been so clingy since graduation." His eyes never left your face, trying to find any kind of movement that indicates what was inside your mind.

"Well, I just love you that much, you know." You said it so easily, because that was exactly how you felt towards him. Your feelings towards your boyfriend were undeniable after all, you and him have been through a lot together for years, and you do, are in love with him.

"Mhm..." He hummed after he sipped his chamomile tea, decided to stand in the backyard to face you completely, "I want you to answer a couple of questions, my love. Would you do that for me?"

You blinked and straightened your posture before standing up too, trying to level your gaze with him. His eyes stared at you, radiated a serious semblance on his iris. You were nervous, afraid that he would ask something that might jeopardize the relationship that was built with a great foundation.

You were afraid he would ask for something that shouldn't be spoken out at all.

"Shoot me with any questions, Shin." You gave him a confident smile, it made him produce a faint smile too at your words, easing the fear inside his heart, "Ask me one, ten, twenty five questions! I will always answer your questions, I am here through and through anyways~"

That's it, that's what makes him afraid to throw the questions. It was just two simple sentences that he needed you to answer. The questions could bring doom, or maybe not. But he had to do it, he needed to do it.

"Do you love me, (Y/n)?" The first question was out, and you breathed a sigh of relief when the question came out from his lips.

"I do, I love you so much, Shin..." You decided to cup his cheek, caressing it with your thumb before leaning in to give a little peck on his lips, "My heart beats for you, and I promise it would never stop beating like this."

His hand touched yours as he leaned into your palm, enjoying the warmth that he could feel from your soothing touch. His mind wandered to the little velvet box on his pocket right now, ready to throw another question for you at this point.

He loves you with all of his heart, not even a piece of him belongs to anyone.

But one memory about how your eyes glimmered at the sight of the middle blocker woke him up from his fantasy.

"Do you love Suna?"

It was silence now, the only sound that could be heard was a rustling sound from the plants that the two of you tend together. Both of you just stared at each other's eyes, not even realizing how some droplets of rain started to wet the ground beneath you.

Right now, his orbs were focused on you. He didn't need to hear your answer, he didn't need you to say anything at this point. Just one look at your face, the contort and how your eyes seemed to widen, he knew already the answer to the question.

You were afraid by now. It was something that you tried to avoid, you didn't want anyone to know about how your heart was cheating by being in love with two men. The feelings were a curse that you want to hide, because you knew too well no one wanted to be loved like this.

But before you could say anything, he suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pulled your whole body to his embrace. It was soothing as his hands caressed your side, reassuring you that it was alright.

"It's alright, my angel." His voice sounded like a whisper by now, "I am not mad, it's alright, you can't control your own feelings." The sincerity that dripped from his words made you cry, Kita Shinsuke didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be loved like this, by someone who couldn't even choose.

The rain paled on both of your skin, erasing the tears that were now streaming down your face. His hands cupped your face as he put his forehead on yours, the gesture that made you feel safe.

"I-I am so sorry, I didn't mean-" You were sobbing, trying to control yourself, "I promise I told him that I am in a relationship with you, he would never ask for my love again, I pro-"

"Hush," He closed his eyes and gave you a short kiss on your lips, "You need to choose him, (Y/n)." You widen your eyes, didn't know why he said such things, "He needs you more than I do,"

Lies.

"W-What do you mean, Shin? I chose you for-"

"The society would ask you to choose," His voice was serious, "And deep down, I knew for sure he couldn't live without someone that would be there for him on every step that he took." He needed to do this, he knew his underclassmen too well, "Because he became the best version of himself when you are around, we both know that."

"But what about you?" Your voice sounded so desperate. It will be a huge change either in your life or his. There was not a day the two of you have separated since you were together, and now to let each other go, it would mean they need to make a new habit in their lives.

"I will be alright," He said it, chanting the sentence again and again inside his head to reassure himself that he indeed would be alright without you, "Promise me, (Y/n)." You looked up at him, staring into the lovely eyes, "Promise me you will be happy with him."

The two of you stood under the moonlight, a faint smile plastered on both of your faces, reassuring each other that everything would turn out alright. The rain tried to comfort you that someone would always wipe the tears away.

For four years, it was Kita Shinsuke, the one that was so patiently in love with you. The one who loved you and would do anything to make you happy, would do anything to make sure you were not going to be judged by society.

So now, he let you go with grace, to the man that he thought would need you more.

He wiped his tears away with his sleeve, setting down the invitation to his bedside table once again. You even said he didn't have to attend, but he wanted to be there.

He wanted to be there for his underclassmen, because he knew how much his existence mattered for the professional volleyball player. And he wanted to be there for you, he wanted to see you smile, knowing for sure you were really in love with someone that loved you too as much as he loved you.

And he needed to see, that it was the right choice to let you go.

He almost laid on his bed when suddenly, he felt like someone just ripped his heart. He stood up immediately, hands clenching on his shirt to calm down his pulse that had started beating so much faster.

It was strange, he was fine for minutes already after he grabbed the invitation. But then this foreign feeling nagged at his heart, like the universe tried to say something.

His mind lingered on you, like something just happened and he needed to make sure that you were alright. He tried so hard to shake any bad thought away. It was almost midnight, and you must be safe in the arms of the man that in a few days would give his last name to yours.

He tried to reassure himself, saying things that you must be asleep by now, and the uneasiness on his heart was just him being paranoid over you. You were alright, laying in the bed with his underclassmen who would cherish you through every daylight and nighttime.

But he couldn't shake the feelings as he searched for his car keys—feeling the need to see you. With his heart still clenched, he drove as fast as he could to the resident. He knew for sure he could never forgive himself if something happened to you and he was not there.

Cold sweat drops started to appear on his forehead while he was on the road. It's like for every second he took a breath, the heaviness on his heart got more intense. He was on guard immediately when he was just two houses away from your place.

The first thing that he noticed when he pulled up in the driveway was the fact that there's no familiar black sports car that usually parked nonchalantly in front of your house. The sports car that belonged to Suna, and somehow knowing this made his bad feelings intensify.

But nothing could prepare his heart when he saw the familiar figure that he loves so much, laid there on the staircase that led to the verandah.

His feet ran towards the figure by their own. And he felt like someone just knocked the air out of his lungs when he saw a pool of blood on the wooden floor.

He lifted your body gently to his embrace, like he could break you if he used too much force.

From all of the life choices that he took,

Panic struck him, when he could feel the wet substance on his own fingers, metallic scent filling his nostrils.

"Hang on, my angel. Please hang on."

He couldn't believe that he regretted this one,

Your body was limp, like you were long gone from this world. And it made him so angry to himself.

It was a mistake to let you go.

Previous ⤟ MAIN MENU ⤠ Next Up

Want to get tagged? Do reply on the main menu or send ask if you want to be added for every updates and fic! Thank you for all of your enthusiasm!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu #kita shinsuke #suna rintarou #kita shinsuke x reader #suna rintarou x reader #kita shinsuke imagine #suna rintarou imagine #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #shinsuke kita #rintarou suna

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: Still Alive

Summery- Curtis (hints of You) makes his way through the cars, and reaches the end to find a surprise waiting for him. Violence. 

If you want to read the story Curtis told Nam, read it here- Past Horrors

Word Count- 2967

Chapter 3 / Masterlist

“OPEN IT, OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!”

Curtis stood at the final gate, the final mother fucking gate, his palms slapping at it, his boots ramming into it, and his rage, all that rage from the past 17 years, and more recently the two days it took him to fight his way here, so many lives, gone. His revolution had become a blood bath, Gilliam executed, Grey stabbed, Tonya shot, You… well he couldnt even let himself go there, not yet. Edgar, well fuck Edgar he betrayed, having left him laying among the rest, setting out right after the battle of the tunnel, leaving the majority of people behind to care for the dead and wounded. There was no time to stall.  

Hours before in horror he watched the front enders slaughter his people in the television screen,among a car full of children singing praises to the almighty Wilford, the saviour. The armed men entered the gate and were lost from sight. Curtis just felt that all of you were gunned down without a care. No…. He almost broke right then and there, he could see them entering the last car, the one where he supposedly had you kept safe. His breathing picked up, his chest tightened and black stars swarmed in his vision. Then the tv crackled the noises of gunshots and flares of white could be seen coming out of the darkest gateway, all of it so grainy on the screen, but it was picture clear for him. No bodies could be seen, but the way his whole being just shattered into a million biting glass edges, slicing unseen wounds through his mind, he lost you, he couldnt keep you safe after all. Tonya smacked his face. “Curtis snap out of it, you have to lead us”

How can I? Shes gone, they shot her. His mind pieced together an image of your body crumbled in the middle of the aisle, bright red blossoming around you like a opening flower across your back, your hand outreaching for the darkness that might have hid you. Your eyes, the ones hes seen laughing, crying and loving, glassed over sightless, that part that was a persons soul, the spark that brought them life in there eyes, gone. Gone, could it really be? Curtis, she was doomed the day she chose you, and you kept her anyways. Monster. You killed her.

Suddenly Tonya came into his vision again, and beyond her, Minister Mason crumbled on her knees, her rat like face, with those beady eyes and oversized false teeth saying his name “Curtis, I can help you!” The heavy weight of the gun in his palm had a purpose, and it felt FUCKING GOOD just then. Without even a moment in between her words and him registering what the fuck she was pleading for, he marched over and right to her forehead the muzzle settled, her eyes rolling up to look at it in fear, the yellowish whites of her eyes brimming with tears, pupils focused on the muzzle indenting against her forehead. “Curtis pleeease, I beg you!”

His expression, was that of a man who no longer gave a shit what happened to him, his finger squeezed and that bullet, with a little satisfaction for him, drilled through her brain, a splatter of red grazing the entire area. A wipe of his hand across his face, he turned back towards the gate, Nam already working on it. Switching to a new cartridge, he told those still remaining. “We go forward” And just as he came to the gate, Nam got it to swing open, and now this man became the darkest part of himself he could possibly be, the compassion he would show his fellow kind was simply gone. There was no hestitation in his actions. If anyone crossed his path, they were met with cold killing rage.

Now at the final gate, that god damn signature W holding him back from Wilford. Nam tried to stall Curtis, refusing to open that final one for reasons Curtis couldnt understand. His daughter Yona, moaned on a pile of coats, drugged and drunk beyond rational thought, the child was a pitiful sight indeed. “Open the gate Nam, now. Is this what you want?” Curtis emptied his pockets of the kronoles, flinging them at the ex security intel “Take it! Open the fucking gate now!” 

In a moment of weariness, Curtis stumbled to the floor, leaning back against the frame work staring at the door. Nam took some pity on the man and tossed him a smoke “Fucker better enjoy it, its the last one.” What the hell, Curtis thought, and he lit it, taking a stale drag of nicotine he hadnt experienced since he was 16 at a party. Finally he started talking, telling Nam all about how the beginning of his life on the train went. Inside his mind though, was a totally different conversation, his way of saying goodbye he supposed although numb at this point to everything, he could still sense the pain it was causing, vibrating in waves from him. 

“Hey handsome” Your hands would slide up his chest and circle around his neck. “Almost at the end of the line”

“Appears so Baby” Another drag of smoke escaping from him. 

“I guess were lucky we got this far right? I knew you would Curtis” Plucking his smoke from his lips and taking an inhale, washing the two of you in a billowing nicotine haze. 

“Leave it to you babygirl to find the bright side here.” He chuckled, seeing you now rise to the balls of your feet to kiss him, hell even imaginary your kisses could score a fire to settle in him. How he wished it was real. That you were here, fuck he missed you it was an ache in his chest.”I dont think Im going to be returning… “ His voice drifted off softly. 

“Oh handsome, you know I will find you again, another lifetime. You dont think this is truly the end of us?” 

“No? it seems like it” 

“Handsome, this is just one of many. I love you and we will see each other again. Now go do what you came to do.” you winked and returned the camel between his lips. Stepping away and leaving him alone once more.

Curtis lifted his gaze, asking one last final time. “Open the gate, please” Nam again shook his head, going off in how they MIGHT survive outside of the train, that the snow was melting, there was no need to stay. 

“What are you fucking nuts? go out there and freeze. Leave all these people here, no. Open the GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING DOOR” 

Then like the gate just knew, it clicked open and a flash of yellow stepped out, Nam shot backwards and in Claudes hand was a pistol. Composed as ever, she looked at Curtis. “Wilford will see you now.” 

He simply spared a glance at Nam, whom Yona was wailing and shaking to bring back to her, and he pushed up, and into the room, all cold steel metal and blue glows, along one wall was a kitchen gallery, all dark masculine looking wood work and at the table in the car, sat an older man with intense blue eyes, staring at Curtis while frying his steak, smirking. “Curtis! Lets take a look at you.” Wilford almost sounded joyful, impressed? “You did a mans work coming all the way up here, did you know its been years since anyones walked the entire length of this train. How about you sit down, lets chat.” Claude nudged him towards the seat. With contempt he obliged, sitting down. “Would you believe Ive never been to the tail section?”

Curtis spat out “why the hell not, we to dirty for you in the tail section?”

“You think the engine isnt without its own complications Curtis?” Wilford turned from frying his steak for half a second, fixing Curtis with a look of disappointment. “It gets awful noisy up here, and not many to talk to.” 

Who the fuck does he think he is? Noisy? Trying living with a thousand people in a iron box. “Right, you got steaks, room, and that whore will bring you whatever you want.”

“Curtis, everyone has there preordained position. And everyone is in there place…” Pointing at him with the greasy spatula, the steak starting to smoke and sizzle on the stove top. “Except you.” Turning back he flipped the steaks on a plate. 

“Yea, thats what people with the best place say to those in the worst place. There is not one soul who wouldnt willingly trade places with you.” Damn straight Baby, your voice encouraged him. 

“Would you?” Wilford questioned, seasoning his steak, how in the hell do seasons still exist? Perhaps you werent always the best voice of reasoning. 

“Fuck you” Curtis spat at him with hatred and disgust. 

Wilford sighed, as if exasperated with him. “Curtis, were all stuck on this train, and its a enclosed ecosystem with a fragile balance. Med rare?” Breaking his line of thought, Curtis ignored the question entirely, which Wilford paid no heed to. “population must be kept in balance, everything rigidly maintained. Now there are times… we have to take more drastic measures.” Wilford brought the steaks over, setting one perfectly cooked one in front of Curtis. “we simply dont have time to let natural selection take over, we all would be overcrowded on this train, starving. Remember starving Curtis? It took us a while to get the protein blocks going. I am truly sorry about that.” Wilford cut a bite of his steak and chewed between the rest of his words. “So we occasionally stir the pot to speak. Get things moving… The cast out of the seven, The McGregor Riots, and this one… My new favorite. The Great Curtis Revolution. Nice ring to it, right? The kids will love it” He winked one icy blue eye at Curtis as if it was a big joke between them. “I mean who was to expect you to come through with torches through the  Yekaterina tunnel? Pure genius, nothing like Gilliam or I expected” 

Curtis snapped his head a bit and confusion clouded his face He didnt just say that. “What?”

“Now come on, dont tell me you didnt know, Gilliam and I?” Giving an amused chuckle at Curtis confusion. “Front end and Tail end, we work together Curtis, he was more then a partner, he was my friend.”

“Bullshit, I dont believe you” Curtis stated, there was no way Gilliam was friends with Wilford, the hours the two of them had spent together discussing how to get here. 

A grin crossed Wilfords face “well our plan was that the rebellion was to end at the tunnel. Kill off most of you, send the rest back. Curtis, why do you think Gilliam conditioned you to be the leader after McGregor? Sadly, it was supposed to be your hurrah. Your going out like in that old movie…. Braveheart? Going out in a fight. Your name was to give the remaining tail enders hope. So Gilliam gave you everything you could want back there. No one messed with you, got to keep the pretty girl, no one shamed you for keeping both your hands. Wasnt it nice, be able to hold her with both.” Dont you dare listen to him baby, we chose each other, Your voice echoed and stressed.  A sickness washed over Curtis as these words, Wilford seemed none the wiser over what his words were doing, or he simply didnt care. “Gilliam said you were smart, but he could control you. Sadly he didnt.” Wilford wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin down, not even eating half the steak. “And why he had to pay the price. Im going to miss my friend, our long nightly chats.”

Still in disbelief over the news, Gilliam had been a mentor to him, a father when he needed advice. All those years, and he just fueled Curtis rage for this moment. No one knew that the traitorous snake was the man they all pledged there allegiance to. 

“But your little stunt, well it took out more of the front end then I had hoped, but what fun, right? Its okay, you tail enders throw off brats pretty quickly, we will recover. Theres really just one last thing to do.” Picking up a phone, he pressed a button and waited for an answer. “How many you got left back there?” He listened and looked at Claude “We still at 75 percent?” she gave a nod and he returned to whomever was on the phone “Kill off 75 percent…. actually you know what? In celebration of our 18th year, keep 18 extra alive. Thank you” 

Before he hung up, the barely there sound of gunfire blasted from the phone, and Curtis sprang to his feet. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Claude gave off one warning shot, which ricochet the bullet around the room, causing them all to duck momentarily. “God damn it Claude! Mind the engine.” Turning to Curtis who was straightening himself out and at this point ready to get this fucken over with. “God damn high strung woman, cant do nothing with them when they get to that point.” Wilford muttered to himself, going up the steps to check on the cylinders circling. Curtis followed him up, preparing to end this now. Wilford pulling out his own pistol from his robes, he cocked it at Curtis.”Mind your next move son. I got a proposition for ya, you might want to consider.” 

Curtis merely paused cause of the gun pointing at his chest, basic human instinct still riding out his anger. Clenching his jaw, the twitch ticking in tandem, Wilford motioned him forward. “Listen, I like you, you got spunk, You get the job done. I already have a predecessor, but I need someone who can take over Minister Masons place since you disposed of her. About time someone did, I couldnt stand that woman. At the time, she was my finest choice though. You carry out what I need done, I know you have it in you.” Sliding the gun back into his robe when it seemed Curtis was no longer about to attack him. “Once in a while you dispose of some unnecessary lives we no longer have use for, do some intimidation to out of control groups. I will let you stay up front, even bring your girl up here.”

“Shes still alive?” Curtis croaked, the haze of your name clouding his senses, could it be true, was there actually hope?

“What? Of course shes still alive Curtis. First shes a woman, I wouldnt have my men kill off any women her age unless she was unfit to bear children. Even if you werent in the picture I would have her brought up here, resupply the front end. Shes a pretty thing, make someone a good wife. We need to continue the supply after all. Second, shes yours and Gilliam made it clear she was necessary to keep you compliant. Why do you think we allowed you two to play house with those orphans? Her little pet project. Why we never collected those kids, yes I knew all about them all along.” Wilford spoke as if he was doing You and Curtis a major favor. The fucken ass. Curtis could just see you now, the roll of your eyes and arms folding over your chest, Child Bearing Wife? Go Fuck Yourself Wilford.

All this information sunk in, Still alive, You were still alive. He could have you back, it was as simple as saying yes at this point. Sinking to his knees, his hands came to his face, relief watering his eyes and a soft sob broke. Wilford circled the man, whispering to him “Imagine it Curtis, life of luxury up here, have your girl back. You wouldnt ever have to live in a cage per say again. Just follow my orders like a good little soldier. Its really that easy. Minister Everett, sounds fitting right? The tail ender who actually made something of himself. Gilliam would want that for you.” Then he walked away, leaving Curtis all alone, choking on another sob, his hand came to his head and brushed his signature beanie off, rubbing his head.  No Curtis, you are here for a reason, echoes of your voice shouted at him.  “And if I say no?” Wilford snorted with disdain at Curtis, rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

“Im giving you the deal of a life time and you dont want to take it? Fine, I guess I will have her killed Curtis, marched right up here and you can watch her die, or bring her up here and give her away to someone else? You can watch another man have her. Is that a better option. Its either you do this or you die and shes mine.” He gave a shrug. “The choice of your fates is in your hands.” Wilford was no fool, he knew how to work Curtis, already he could see the mans shoulders sink in a sign of defeat. Claude was perched near the gate entrance when it opened, a glance over her shoulder widened her smile, and she stepped aside. “Ahhh, I was wondering where my predecessor had gone off to, its about time you arrived. I was just telling Curtis all about what we set up for him.”

Curtis looked over his shoulder and the familiarity of the man struck him hard, it was like looking at you, your features in this young man was so prominent, he croaked out in disbelief. 

“Matt?!” 

Yes, your brother was still alive, healthy and alive. Dressed in a fine suit, well groomed, the young man smirked at Curtis. “Long time Curtis, good to see you again.”

@what-is-your-plan-today​ @jtargaryen18​ @curtisbbq​ @p8tn0lish​

#curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #chris evans #curtis everett #fan fic

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Skin, Bone, and Scales

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

This is just 75% fire figurative language

Word count: 6098

TW: Blood and pus, minor body horror (as in: sunburns and peeling skin)

———————

“Oh my god, you’re like a tomato with hair!”

The peculiar call caught Anne’s attention as she was changing into better shoes for rehearsals. She furrowed her eyebrows in both complexity and amusement, recognizing the voice as her little cousin. A smile formed on her lips, shaking her head at what could have possibly elicited such a strange comment.

When she walked out to the room they rehearsed in, she quickly realized what the context was and that it made perfect sense.

—

Joan had never been so hot before.

Her skin was baking, studded with blisters and boils along her shoulders and forearms and back like scales, as if she were a reptile and not a fleshy mammal. Her limbs were sacks of hot stones and smoldering embers that she had to drag around with her, and her ears simply felt as if they were lit on fire. Her cheeks, however, were by far the worst. It was like someone was holding hot iron to the sides of her face and wouldn’t let go, no matter how loud she screamed.

To put it simply, Joan felt like a roasted lamb on a spit, rotating slowly above hungry flames. Sometimes, she had fallen into their orange-gold mouths. She could almost feel the flaming tongues licking at her skin.

So, yeah. Joan wasn’t all that comfortable at the moment. And Kitty’s loud, obnoxious comments about it certainly didn’t help at all.

“It’s, like—peeling,” Kitty felt the need to declare openly. She reaches for Joan’s shoulder, but her knuckles get swatted, and she pulls away. “Oh, gross!” She laughed. “Did you put anything on it?”

“That’s not your business,” Joan hissed. The fire that has lit in her stomach flashes higher, and she could almost feel whorls of smoke wreathing out of her nose and ears. “Stop trying to touch me!” She hit Kitty’s hand away again. “And stop looking at me like that!”

As much as she hated it, she didn’t blame Kitty or anyone else for staring- she would have, too, if it were one of them that came into work glowing neon red from head to toe.

“Sorry, I don’t speak lobster!” Kitty laughed loudly and then finally backed down. She spread her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “It's just funny!”

“It really isn’t.” Joan grumbled more to herself than to the girl in front of her.

“I told you to put on sunscreen,” Jane helpfully spoke up from where she was doing some warmup stretches. Joan dared to shoot her a distasteful look.

“I did!” Joan cried woefully.

“Not enough.” Kitty giggled. ”Make sure you do next time! We don't want you animorphing into a lobster!”

Joan scowled at her grinning face and imagined what it would be like to blow hot embers in her eyes. She erased the thought quickly- not because it made her feel bad for thinking something so morbid, but because she didn’t want to give the pink queen that much of her attention.

“Moving on,” She rumbled. Her throat and nose ached in a fierce, raw way as if they had been scraped out with a jagged branding tool. She lumbered sluggishly over to the piano in the far corner and delicately touched one of the cold, smooth keys, almost expecting it to melt beneath her fingertips. When it didn't, she sat down at the bench and considered it safe for her to play. “Let’s begin.”

—

The scaly blisters that are bristled across Joan’s back prickle painfully against her shirt. She wanted to scratch them so badly, but she knew her nails would sink in like a heated knife in butter the second she barely brushed the bumpy skin. It would be a mess of pus and blood that she wouldn’t be able to hide since she was wearing a simple white tank top (she couldn’t bear to have anything touching her shoulders, and white did reflect sunlight, so she thought it would be fine). So, she just had to grin and bear it.

But she couldn’t even fucking grin! Smiling pulled the dry skin around her mouth taut, to the point where it felt like it was cracking and flaking off. She was constantly licking her lips because of this, which set off tiny flames in them each time she did so (and didn’t help at all, mind you).

What’s worse- she felt something welling up within her. It was an uncomfortable sort of sensation like someone had released thousands of fire ants inside of her. It took her so long to realize that this was how she usually felt with a fever because of how hot she already was.

Joan blinked her eyes quickly, suddenly feeling very dizzy. She stared down at her hands resting on the piano keys and thought she saw light grey smoke hissing from underneath her fingertips. She gingerly raised her fingers and saw no damage- she must have just imagined it.

She sighed and scratched her itchy knuckles. A new stinging pain shivered through her tendons at this stupid decision, like thick, globby fire leeches were suckered on her skin and dissolving it into a soupy, gory mess. She squirmed awkwardly in her seat at its oppressive tingling and tried to keep her eyes open, but it felt as if a talon of fire was pressing into the socket, so she had no choice but to squeeze them shut. Sweat beads on her brow from the exertion of her simply trying to ward off the unwanted sensation and right as she thought she started to feel a little better...

Blinding pain.

“Hey, are we gonna get to my song or what?” Cleves had been saying loudly. “I’ve wanted to try out this new move-” And then she slapped Joan’s shoulder in a friendly way.

But it came off as a lot less friendly to Joan.

Flames burst through that shoulder, sprinting fast across her rash and setting the scales ablaze with fresh agony. It welled up in her throat like she was about to vomit molten lava and clouded her eyes with smoky hazes that usually came with near-unconsciousness. Her teeth dug into her chapped lips, cracking them with the pressure, but she wasn’t able to hold back a yelp.

“What the FUCK?!” She cried. She was half expecting fire to come out when she spoke, but no trace of flames appeared in her mouth. They remained deep inside the furnace that was her scorched body.

Cleves grimaced, although there was still amusement glinting in her eyes. She lifted her hand, and a comically pale print was momentarily left on Joan’s bright red shoulder before being devoured by the sunburn. It securely plated its blisters and scales back over the mark, spreading like a crimson wildfire until it was inflamed and itchy once again.

“Whoops- sorry!” Cleves said. She was genuinely apologetic, but it seemed worthless because she was still laughing about what she did.

“Are you- mmmmm.” Joan gave up on arguing, instead of turning to a much better option- grumbling like a teenage fire dragon that just got part of its hoard confiscated by its parent fire dragons for accidentally eating one of the sheep that was supposed to be saved for the fire dragon dinner.

(She didn’t like being a fire dragon. If she were ever to draw Killer Frost as a fire dragon, she knew it would throw a fit or come out of the sketchbook and strangle her with its bare claws.)

“It’s—fine. It’s fine!” Joan finally snapped. She glared down at the piano, not wanting to see everyone else’s expressions. She knew that would be finding this funny, and that made her want to shove hot coals up all of their noses until it turned their faces into a charred, tarry goop and they couldn’t smile or smirk or laugh anymore. “Let’s just move on!”

Her voice was coming out too loud. It was biting, but not in a cold way. It came out in a smooth, warm, sunny way that nobody could take seriously. They saw her as a baby sheep that was trying to bleat at a butterfly in its flower patch.

But she just saw herself as a sheep with its wool on fire.

Smothering, encompassing, suffocating, asphyxiating- the white-gold flames press in on her. She’s a ball of fire, fleece ablaze, hooves smoldered, horns like pillars of pyre. She opens her mouth to scream, and flames come pouring out. Her insides are bloated with smoke and ash, charred and singed, and she can taste their tarry remains on the sediments of her shriveled, black tongue. When she hooked her nails in her neck and tore open holes, thick streams of smog so grey they looked black come floating out.

Joan was screaming, clawing, burning two inches away from everyone’s faces, and yet they were blind to the golden inferno embracing her body.

( “They think it’s funny,” Killer Frost would probably say if it weren’t hidden beneath the hellfire consuming Joan’s entire being. “They think it’s just a little sunburn. Nothing more. But if it were Kitty that was as red as a fresh apple in spring...”)

Her subconscious’ distant words are drowned out by the overwhelming sound of the incendiary. Torches are sent flaring through her nerves like pinpricks of hot needles before extinguishing enough for her to realize she had been playing the piano throughout that entire conflagration.

Somehow.

Joan breathed out a soft, shaky breath. That feverish feeling reignited itself once again- or maybe it’s always been there, and she just hadn’t noticed. At this point, as her brain was melting inside of her skull, she didn’t know much anymore. She was working purely on muscle memory, but that would soon go, too, as her tendons and nerves and muscles would dry up from the heat and become stiff, fragile, prettified remnants of what they used to be.

She gulped dryly, as there was barely any saliva left in her mouth, and it felt as if she had just swallowed igneous rocks. They landed heavily in her stomach and set the bile into an uncomfortable simmer. She began to worry if the lining would catch fire and burn her from the inside out or melt open holes and douse all her other organs in the boiling acid.

Joan swallowed again, and whatever flaming creature had been trying to crawl its way up her esophagus and out through her mouth raked its claws down her throat on its way back down. Then, she coughed and was surprised to not see a plume of ash come out.

God, she needed water. She needed to get out of these clothes, too. Her legs were nowhere near as bad as her back and shoulders, but her pants were rubbing the scarred flesh uncomfortably raw and she would just prefer to have them off.

Joan bounced her knee, feeling miserable. Her skin was melting off of her bones, her stomach was boiling, she was running a fucking fever, she was somehow shivering, and, good lord, was the heater on or something?!

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Joan stood up, wincing as she felt crackles and flickers and pops go off in her legs. She walked on eggshells on the way to the bathroom after calling a break- if those eggshells were on fire and actually pointy lava rocks.

Right about now, Joan would really prefer actual eggshells because, what the fuck, were the soles of her feet sunburnt, too?!

She careened into the bathroom, clipping her shoulder on the corner wall in the process and sending that smoky haze from before momentarily hissing across her vision. She braced herself up against one of the sinks, pressing her palms down on the smooth, cold granite as hard as she could to soak up the coolness, and glared at her puffy, inflamed, red face in the mirror.

God, no wonder everyone was laughing at her.

She was like a poor immolation to the overpowering pyrolatry. A lamb to the slaughter, a ram to the flames, a ewe to the end of a burning knife-

A piece of charred meat in the mouth of hungry flames.

Joan slowly eased herself back, removing all the weight she had been putting on her hands. It felt as if she were rubbing bituminous coals against her palms, so she turned on the sink and let it run over her hands and fingers and wrists. She carefully dabs some of the cold water on her hot cheeks and sighed softly in content. For just a brief, fleeting moment, the stinging seized and was snuffed out by a torrent of coolness.

That lasted for only a few seconds, though. The water ran warm when it dribbled down the sides of her face, much to her dismay. It was stupid of her to think she could even get a moment of comfort.

As if to prove that, Joan’s back tingles again and, this time, she didn’t care about ignoring it. She reached her arm around and under her tank top and scratched fervently at one of her shoulder blades, hoping to relieve some discomfort.

Her efforts, of course, did the exact opposite.

Joan couldn’t help the startled cry that escaped her lips. She ripped her hand away, and it came back wet and sticky and absolutely dripping with pus and blood.

It was as if her touch was heated- the minute her nails came in contact with her shoulder blade, the flesh peeled back, blisters popped, and fluids came angrily billowing out of the abscess like hundreds of wasps from a destroyed hive.

Joan dissolved into pathetic whimpers as tears came streaming free. They were gasoline on her flaming cheeks- increasing the stinging until it felt like holes were being melted open in the sides of her face, and she frantically squabbled to wipe her eyes. The rough brush against her cheeks agitated the inflamed flesh, and it punishes her foolishness by breaking open and spilling its red tears down her face.

Joan would scream if she could, but the hellfire had her by the throat. So she just wheezed like the scorched furnace she had become and let the liquid fire drool out of gaping, fleshy ventilation systems.

What else could you do when in the mouth of an inferno?

———

Anne will admit that it had been her idea to go to the beach, but in her defense, Kitty made it happen. That’s exactly why she had consulted the girl about her idea because she knew nobody in their house could say no to her. Besides, it was going to be alarmingly hot for a spring day in England, so why stay in a house with no AC when you could go swimming? It was a brilliant plan! And it worked out perfectly! Except for the part where Joan fried like an egg in the sun, of course.

But still, in her defense, Anne had no idea the girl was so sensitive to sunlight! She had seen her put on at least ten layers of sunscreen every thirty minutes! How was she supposed to know she would shrivel up and die?!

Oh, who was she kidding? Not even her internal yelling debate could ease the guilt gnawing away at her.

Joan tagging along with them wasn’t her fault- that blame was shifted onto Kitty and Maggie, who were never a good duo when they got together, when they insisted that the “gang had to stick together”- but she still felt bad when she saw the girl’s awful sunburn. It was funny at first, but then she noticed the permanent grimace plastered on her face and the way she stiffly played the piano like she had lit matches dug into her skin, and the situation became a lot more worrying.

It was clear Joan was on edge and uncomfortable- they all noticed that. They just didn’t think of doing anything. A sunburn wasn’t exactly something you could just pop some pain pills for- it took time to go away and let the skin heal itself of the blemish. So, the others just didn’t pay it any mind (even if it was tough not to gawk at Joan’s firetruck red complexion).

Anne tried to do the same. She told herself there was nothing she could do and she should just laugh about it with everyone else, and she was so close to settling fully into that state of mind.

But then Joan called a sudden break and left the room without a word, and Anne was yanked right out of that belief.

Something was very, very wrong.

Now, believe it or not, despite her (slightly aggravating) stage persona, she knew what boundaries and personal space were. And she knew when to not bother a female. There’s several cases of when you shouldn’t bother a woman: when she’s breastfeeding, when she’s on their period, when she’s pregnant, when she’s being cheated on- but especially when she’s in pain and it was making her aggressive.

It’s, in a weird sort of way, like the time she found a stray cat on her family’s property when she was younger. She had cornered the frightened little thing and it arched its spine and hissed at her to stay back, but she was desperate for a pet, so she grabbed for it anyway. Naturally, she got scratched and that night, as her mother was cleaning the cuts, she was told to never approach a scared, cornered animal. It made them more likely to lash out, but if you wait and let them know you weren’t a threat, then they may calm down. And Anne has used this advice since then, and she still uses it with the queens and ladies in waiting when something is wrong with one of them.

Except right now, though. Because Joan has been in the bathroom for half an hour, now, and absolutely no one was batting an eye. Anne knew the girl was more likely to die and turn into a skeleton before anyone decided they wanted to check on her, so she excused herself from the game of Statues that Maria had started and walked out.

Now, Anne has seen a lot of shocking things in her life: the actual proof of Aragon’s divorce, her first miscarried baby’s withered corpse, Henry’s penis....but the musical’s bright red music director hunched in the bathroom with blood on her shirt and face and hands might take the cake.

In the bright bathroom lights, Joan looked a lot worse than she did in the rehearsal room. She wasn’t just red- she was raw.

The easiest way to explain it is to imagine a human being that just got all its skin peeled off and then was stung by at least two hundred bees in very specific areas. Scarlet stained almost every inch of her body, aside from underneath her jaw, amazingly. The burn was lighter in some places and darker in others, but her shoulders and upper back were by far the worst. There, scarlet faded into rings of dark crimson and blotches of maroon, both of which are spotted with tiny red dots, as if someone had crushed up rubies and sprinkled the shards over her to make the menagerie of sunburnt flesh look less like an eyesore. Paper-thin, translucent strips of varying sizes are frayed around the edges of the bigger blemishes, revealing raw pink hiding underneath.

To put it simply, Joan looked like a scorpion without its exoskeleton.

“Joan!” Anne cried in shock and worry. She leaped towards the girl and immediately picked up on the heat coming off of her. It was like standing too close to an active volcano. “Are you alright?”

Joan looked up in surprise. She had just been swaying there with her hands running under the sink when Anne came in. Anne guessed she was cleaning the angry red patch on her cheek, which was still crusted with blood around the edges.

“I’m— I’m, uhh—”

Anne couldn’t even tell if she was blushing in embarrassment or not, but it didn’t matter. Flustered or not, Joan needed some help.

“Honey, you don’t look so good,” Anne said gently. She reached out to grab Joan’s forearms so she could steady her, but the natural warmth from her hands seemed to set fire to Joan’s arms and she jerked away with a soft hiss. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine,” Joan whispered. She didn’t snap at Anne as she had done to Kitty and Cleves. Perhaps she liked Anne more than them, or perhaps she was just in too much pain to be angry- Anne couldn’t really tell. “I’m sorry— Everyone is waiting for me, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Anne said. “But forget that right now, alright? You look like you’re about to keel over from heatstroke.”

Joan actually managed to laugh weakly, but it quickly broke off into a keen-like noise as pain flitted across her burnt facial features.

“What’s wrong?” Anne asked. “Aside from, you know,” She gestured vaguely.

“I— I don’t know.” Joan whispered. “I-I think I have a fever...”

“Are you sure you’re not just hot from-” She gestured vaguely once more, but this time with a lot more enunciation in her movements.

“N-no, Anne, I’m—” She’s starting to shiver. Joan was fucking shivering. She reached out a hand to lean against the sink counter. “I— I just-” She pressed a hand to her forehead, breathing shallowly.

Anne frowned in worry at the girl’s inability to explain how she felt to her. Whether it was from embarrassment or deliriousness thanks to the pain, she didn’t know, but she had to do something, so she stepped forward and carefully placed her hand on the back of Joan’s forehead.

As expected, it was burning hot. She wished she could have said that it felt a little warmer than a normal sunburn, confirming that Joan did have a fever, but she honestly couldn’t tell. So, she convinced Joan to help her find the thermometer kept in the theater first aid kit so she could take her temperature.

38.8. That was the temperature displayed on the thermometer and Anne worriedly glanced over it to the weary-looking girl sitting in front of her. When she was caught staring, Joan looked up at her with grey eyes and red sockets.

“38.8.” Anne said, showing her. “I think you may have sun poisoning, love.” Joan tensed and Anne quickly went on, “No, no! It’s okay! That means we know how to treat it!”

“W-we do?” Joan stammered nervously.

“Well. I do.” Anne said. “The things I need aren’t here, but I know we have aloe gel at the house. So we’ll get you fixed up in no time!”

Joan didn’t look too happy to have to go over to the queen’s house in her current state, but Anne managed to convince her to ditch rehearsals early so they would at least be alone for the majority of the treatment.

When they arrived, Anne had to point out the elephant in the room- the stained mess on Joan’s back. She had been putting off calling it out, but now they had to do something about it. And she knew Joan was going to hate every second of it.

“Alright, how much do you like this tank top?” Anne asked Joan, who was sitting on the toilet seat in the master bathroom (Jane’s bathroom. It was technically Jane’s bathroom, but Joan didn’t need to know that. They needed space, and it was big, so Anne could take the fit Jane would surely throw when she found out later). “Because if you can’t move your arms, I can cut it off.”

“I think I can get it off myself...” Joan said although she didn’t exactly trust herself to do that.

Still, she grabbed the hem of the tank top, pulled it over her head, and Anne watched in concern as the skin upon her upper back cracked, contracted, and split open in a way that made it seem like the girl was about to sprout wings. It made her own shoulder blades tingle in discomfort.

“Ow.” Joan whispered. She shoulders shudder, flesh-scales bristling and flaking.

“Okay,” Anne started, looking at the gooey scratch fanned open on Joan’s left shoulder blade. It looked like a tiny pool of creamy pus, which was just barely managing to not spill over the edges. “Yeah... You’re not gonna like this part, sweetheart. In fact, you may hate me after it’s over.”

“Why?” Joan squeaked fearfully, but then she watched as Anne pulled a bottle of disinfectant out from under the sink cabinet. Her face went as pale as it possibly could with the sunburn coating it like a second skin. “O-oh.”

“Yeah,” Anne smiled pitifully. She wets a small rag that she hopes Jane doesn’t use to clean her body with (mainly for Joan’s sake). “Ready?”

Joan white knuckles a towel she had grabbed for grounding and nodded shakily. She couldn’t even be embarrassed over being shirtless in front of Anne, as she was too worried over the pain she was about to face.

The cry Joan makes is heartbreaking. It felt as if burning claws were stabbing and stabbing and stabbing Anne’s heart the longer she had to hear it and the longer she had to be the cause of it. But it had to be done and, after a few moments of flushing out the scratch with disinfectant, she pulled the rag back. It’s now covered in a thin film of yellow-white pus and brown blood.

“Now your cheek,” Anne said. She wets the clean side of the rag and gently lifts Joan’s chin. The claws return to her heart when she stares into the girl’s glossy grey eyes. “Take a deep breath, honey.”

She gave Joan a moment, then pressed the rag to the blemish on her cheek. Joan keened sharply and instinctively shook her head, but Anne managed to hold it still enough to clean her face. She could feel hot tears slip down against her fingers and she finished as quickly as she could.

“There,” Anne said. “All done, sweetheart. I’m all done.” She delicately brushed away Joan’s tears. “Shh, shh... You’re okay. You’re okay, Joan...”

“Fuck you,” Joan hissed weakly.

“I deserve that.” Anne laughed slightly. “I’m going to go grab the aloe vera, alright? And a change of clothes for you. I’m sure Kitty’s will fit you.”

She’s gone for maybe five minutes and by the time she returns, the little blonde fireball she left sitting obediently on the toilet seat seemed to look even more miserable: she was hunched slightly, sunburnt flesh-scales bristling in a painful way along her shoulder blades and upper back. Her eyes are slightly glazed over, reminding Anne of the fever she had, and she was starting to shiver again. Anne just hoped it was because she was shirtless in a cold house.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Anne’s hand hovered comically over Joan’s sunburnt knee, then her sunburnt shoulder, then her sunburnt back, and then she decides to just pat her head. It makes Joan look up at her with a weak smile. It reminds Anne of a picture Cathy once sent her of a lamb grinning. “I brought some water if you’re thirsty.” She frowned when Joan shook her head. She watches the girl lean over to the sink counter and bury her head against her folded arms resting there. “Joan? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” Joan whispered weakly. “Just a little nauseous.”

Oh dear.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Anne said, worry evident in her voice. “I also brought some ice. You gotta stay dehydrated, so do you think you could at least suck on a piece?”

Joan agrees and slips a chip of ice into her mouth. Before she can return her head to its burrow in her arms, Anne asks her to change into the shorts she brought in, so she sheds her itchy pants and gratefully swaps them for the airier bottoms.

“I’m going to put the gel on your back now, alright?” Anne said. “Then you can lay down in my room. How does that sound?”

Joan just nods weakly.

Anne gives her a warm smile, then dips her fingers into the bottle of aloe vera she had with her and gingerly smears it on Joan’s shoulders.

As gentle as she was, it seemed she just about poked Joan with a hot rod.

Joan yanked away with a yelp, nearly falling off of the toilet seat. Anne pulled back, meeting her eyes with a worried glance.

“Sorry. It hurts that much?”

“N-no, it—” It definitely hurt that much. Joan just didn’t want to admit it. “J-just warn me next time.”

“Okay.” Anne nodded. “Here goes.”

She put her hand to Joan’s shoulder again, much slower this time. Her fingers barely touch the girl before she’s curling in on herself like a distressed armadillo.

“Hey, sit still,” Anne said.

“I’m trying!” Joan takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, steeling herself best as she can. “Okay, okay. I’m- I’m ready.”

Still, she can’t help but flinch when the next stroke sears a prickling line across her back.

“I’m sorry,” Joan squeaked when Anne pulled back. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” She scrambled up to her feet. “I-I should just go. I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble-”

“Hey, hey,” Anne tried to grab her forearms, but stopped herself from making contact. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re in pain, Joan. You’re going to flinch.”

“B-but I’m annoying you,” Joan whispered. She lowered her gaze, but Anne slips a finger under her chin and lifts her chin.

“You’re not annoying me, honey.” Anne assured her. “I promise. I want to help you. So can you please sit back down?”

Joan nodded and sat back down. Anne didn’t miss the fresh glimmer in her eyes and she couldn’t help but feel so bad about how insecure and nervous the poor girl was.

“Ready, sweetheart? I’m going to start now.”

Joan’s muscles tensed up as soon as the touch came. The balm stings on her skin and in her nose- a sharp, airy scent of aloe. She bites down on her shredded, raw lip, trying hard to stop herself from whining, but a few pathetic sounds still escape her.

“One part done,” Anne said, her voice as soft as her fingers.

Joan just makes a noise through clenched teeth, pressing her face back into her folded arms. Anne’s touch is light, barely there over the biting of the salve. Every now and then, she stops to take more from the bottle, always muttering a quick warning before she continues. She’s going slow, steadily rubbing small circles all over Joan’s shoulder blades. The weird minty chill numbs the skin wherever her hands glide, to and fro, covering every inch.

“I’m almost done with this part, sweet girl,” Anne cooed. “You’re doing so good.”

Beneath her hands, Joan’s flesh was rough and bumpy. It was like rubbing lotion on the back of a horny toad lizard. It was so hot, too, like a piece of the sun was permanently burning inside of the poor girl. Luckily, the aloe vera seemed to soothe the cinders billowing about Joan’s body. The flames licking through her would flicker their way over to the cold, wet barrier and slow down, prodding the goop in a disgruntled manner. And then, they’re smothered by a glob of sharp-scented aloe, wisps and embers flying out in shock before they, too, are put out.

Anne moves to Joan’s legs next, then her arms, and then her neck and ears. Finally, she began to smear the gel onto Joan’s face, hearing her sigh softly in relief as she did so.

“All done,” Anne smiled. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

Joan was definitely blushing- Anne could tell just by the way she hunched her shoulders around her neck and looked away shyly.

“Come on. Put this tank top on and then you can lay down. Or you can stay up. Wanna watch a movie?”

Joan nodded. She stood up and her nose wrinkled. She was basically wearing a full body suit of aloe vera.

“I feel slimy.” She said. “Like a snail.”

Anne laughed. Her heart melted at how adorable the girl before her was.

“You are too cute,” She said. “Come on. Put the shirt on.” She tossed a basic pink tank top to Joan, who quickly pulled it on. She saw the fabric cling to the aloe vera almost instantly and Joan’s nose wrinkled once again. “Yeah, it’s gonna do that.”

After quickly cleaning up, Anne led Joan to her bedroom. Joan was hesitant to get into the bed, but Anne assured her that a little aloe rubbing off on the sheets wasn’t going to bother her, so she clambered in after the queen. They end up deciding to watch The Princess and The Frog right as the front door opened and closed from downstairs and several voices filled the house.

Anne expected Joan to get nervous or say she should leave, but, instead, the girl just scoots a little closer to Anne, who leans away in fear of hurting her burns. Joan seems offended.

“It’s gonna hurt if I touch you.” Anne reminded her.

“I don’t care,” Joan grumbled. Her fever and exhaustion was making her adorably grumpy. “Please just hold me...”

Anne’s heart fluttered- she couldn’t say no to those eyes!

As expected, Joan hissed when Anne put her arms around her and pulled her close to her, but then she sighed softly and rested her head against the queen’s chest.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered. “For helping me. I didn’t think anyone...”

“It’s no problem, Joan.” Anne quickly cut off her nervous comment. “I care about you.”

“...I like being cared for.”

Anne glanced worriedly down at the top of the frizzy blonde head resting on her chest. She pulled Joan even closer and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“You deserve it, Joan.” She said. “You deserve care and so much more. Never forget that.”

“Stop it,” Joan whined weakly. “You’re gonna make me cry on you...”

“Cry, sweetheart. It’s alright.” Anne said. “It’s not going to change what I think.”

“Thank you,” Joan choked out through whimpers. “Thank you so much...”

“No need to thank me,” Anne said. “Besides. You have my robe. It’s official. You’re, like, mine, now.”

“Your what?” Joan looked up at Anne timidly.

Anne shrugged. “Niece? Goddaughter? Granddaughter? Robe stealer?” She kissed Joan’s forehead, making her smile shyly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I like all of those options,” Joan whispered, tucking her head back under Anne’s chin. “But I...I want to be your-”

“Annie!!”

Anne’s bedroom door swung open and Joan lurched away from Anne. She sat up straight, still, staring at the TV as young Tiana goes running out of her bedroom after a frog croaks at her. She doesn’t want to see whatever expression Kitty has on her face.

“What’s up, Kit?” Anne said cooly.

“Oh, I was just wondering where you were,” Kitty said, then glanced at Joan skeptically. Her nose twitched a little, but she quickly turned back to her cousin. “Cathy is cooking tonight. She wants to know if you still want to learn how to make that really good soup she made?”

Anne saw Joan’s shoulders droop just slightly. She quickly makes up her mind.

“Maybe some other time,” She said. “Call me when it’s ready, alright?”

Kitty blinked. She glanced at Joan one more time.

“Alright.”

Then, she’s gone. Joan still doesn’t move, so Anne has to ease her back into her arms, now stroking her hair soothingly.

“I could have left,” Joan whispered.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Anne reprimanded. “I want you to stay right here with me.”

Where you belong.

Joan swallowed a lump of emotion rising in her throat and nodded. She nuzzled closer to Anne, not caring about how it agitated the burnt skin on her nose.

“Thank you,” She mumbled. “I-I...”

“Shh...” Anne soothed her. “It’s okay, sweet girl. No need to thank me or anything. Just relax, okay? If you’re tired, sleep. I’ll be right here.”

Joan felt heat bubble up inside of her, but this time she knew it wasn’t from the sunburn or the fever, rather the heat came from the giddy blush that glows a refreshing pink along her flesh-scales.

“I’m... I’m glad.”

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six fanfic #six fic #six fanfiction #anne boleyn #katherine howard #joan on the keys #anna of cleves #jane seymour #tw: blood #tw: pus #tw: body horror #nana boleyn #skin bone and scales

[avauntus]

Yo you have My Country WIPs? How exciting! I've been meaning to read Messenger for a while, that reminds me.... anyways, can you tell me about and/or post a snippet of trillium??

Thanks for asking! (If you end up reading Messenger, I hope you enjoy it!) 😀

Trillium

(another WIP set in @staidwaters One more lie... -verse. Hwi & Seon-ho on the road.)

What we call the trillium ‘flower’ is no flower at all...trilliums have no above-ground stems or leaves. Instead, the plant is a fragile extension of its underground rhizome, a process that happens, hidden and secretive, for up to seven or more years before a trillium grows from seed to a mature, blooming plant.

They weren’t even two days on the road when they had their first (post-death) argument about, of all things, a horse. Yi Bang-won had, inconceivably, decided not to kill them after they survived the first round of arrows and spears. That had been an odd hesitation that Hwi could not recall having seen before in his eight years of service to the lord, prince, and now King of Joseon. But Bang-won had given them enough supplies for a few weeks -- enough to load down a pack horse, also provided-- and sent them into the wilds. 

If they had decided to bicker over the direction, or the degree of trust they had in Bang-won’s word that they would be allowed to flee if they kept their survival quiet, that might have been understandable. Instead, they seemed to fall into an unspoken accord-- if Bang-won was going to change his mind again, there was little to be done about it, and clearly northeast into Gangwon-do and its mountainous landscape dotted with tiny valleys was going to be their best chance at vanishing. 

On the morning after they’d left Bang-won’s escort on the road, Seon-ho had rolled out of their blankets and said, calm as anything, “We should stay here awhile before heading out.”

“Why?” asked Hwi, blinking sleepily. He wouldn’t mind the chance to rest, but-- “Bang-won is going to expect us to go further away if we’re meant to disappear, and the longer we linger down here in the foothills, the deeper the mountains will be into winter when we get that high. The leaves are already turning,” he said to Seon-ho, although he would have thought Seon-ho knew all this, already.

“I’ll only need a few hours,” said Seon-ho, and Hwi had shrugged and yawned. Fine by him, then.

...

Seon-ho nodded, but didn’t otherwise comment, and Hwi huffed out a slightly frustrated breath. “Are you actually angry about something, or just brooding?” Hwi asked at last, and Seon-ho’s chin shot up-- he’d been staring at the ground, but now he met Hwi’s gaze.

“If I went ahead, you could probably return to Hanyang,” said Seon-ho levelly. “Whatever this is that Yi Bang-won is doing, it’s for you, not me. He’d take you back into his service if you asked.”

Hwi made a face, feeling the certain instinct he always had about Bang-won’s motives-- Seon-ho might be right, but that would only be enough to save Hwi alone. Bang-won’s own suspicion of the people around Hwi would lead him to act, sooner or later. 

“Maybe,” he told Seon-ho, serious. “But I don’t want to return to his service, and especially not without you! That promise he made to leave Hui-jae and Ihwaru’s network and the Northern Forces settlements, Chi-do, Jeong Beom, and Mun-bok alone, to not kill you-- it only lasts as long as we play his games, and this is one of them.” He grinned a bit. “Besides, it doesn’t sound so bad, retiring to the mountains! This is what I always wanted, you know-- freedom and enough space to settle down and live well. It won’t be a noble estate, but…”

“Hwi, it’s fall, and soon it will be winter,” Seon-ho cut in seriously. “I don’t think settling down is going to be a possibility in snowbanks deeper than our heads, and Bang-won isn’t going to allow for us bedding down in a farming village for the winter either, not if we’re meant to be dead.”

“How will he even know?” asked Hwi, and Seon-ho gave him a look.

“He’s had men tailing us since we left his guards on the highway,” said Seon-ho, and Hwi’s mouth twisted, because he couldn’t argue-- that sounded right. “In any case, I’ve sorted out the supplies, and I think I can carry enough of them that you can ride the horse from here on out without laming it,” continued Seon-ho, still level and nearly breezy, as if this were a foregone conclusion and they were just repeating their next steps.

“That’s not necessary, Seon-ho,” said Hwi with a little frown, looking intently at the other man. “If anything, you should ride and I’ll carry the supplies; you were much more seriously wounded at the palace than I was.”

“I’ve recovered enough, and I’m not the one who was reckless enough to offer myself up to a rabid tiger in search of a crown,” said Seon-ho.

Hwi bristled at the implication in the statement. “There wasn’t another way to halt the bloodshed,” he told Seon-ho shortly. “Besides, who attacked us first? Yi Seong-gye. Bang-won had nothing to do with that!” He stood up and grabbed the cookpot off the coals with a hand wrapped in the folds of his shirt, and began forming the remaining rice into balls, briskly. “You want to prove something by hauling part of the horse’s packs uphill yourself, go ahead. I can tie you on to the horse’s back when your goat-stubborness leads you to pass out from the strain.”

Seon-ho huffed out a breath through his nose and smirked at him, as if Hwi were the one being ridiculous. “Hwi, your skin has been the same shade as campfire ash ever since we left the highway. It’s not me collapsing we need to worry about. This isn’t something you can wish your way out of.”

“I’m not!” exclaimed Hwi, then sighed at himself. He should be happy that Seon-ho cared, right? He should, and he was. This wasn’t Seon-ho trying to slash at him, verbally or otherwise, Hwi reminded himself. Maybe they could be the same as they had been, before Liaodong-- he’d like to get back to that, if it was even possible. That meant Hwi needed to try. He took a deep breath and smoothed his expression, even managed to laugh at himself, a little. 

“Sorry. I guess with everything, and worrying about Hui-jae and the others, I’m a little too on-edge. I really am fine. I’ve just been sore these past few days; I’m dealing with it, I promise,” he told Seon-ho earnestly.

“It doesn’t seem like just your arrow-wounds,” said Seon-ho, still looking at him seriously.

“Seon-ho, I know you mean well, and I appreciate that,” Hwi said, finishing shaping the last of the rice balls and setting it on the pot lid with the others. “But you don’t know me, now. We haven’t done much more than yell at each other from the opposite sides of a battle for years. I am fine, except I don’t like arguing with you about this,” he finished, meaning to bring the discussion to an end.

“Fine,” said Seon-ho flatly after a moment. “We’ll load it all back on the horse, then,” and they did, although Hwi noticed that Seon-ho kept some of the supplies split out into the smaller bag, as if he were preparing to carry them later. Hwi really didn’t want to fight, though, and left the organization of the horse’s packs unremarked upon.

It was a warm autumn day, for all they had been discussing snow and ice earlier, and they made decent time. Hwi was beginning to sweat more seriously as midday wore into afternoon, and he could feel the odd twinge and stab from his poisoned wound and stomach. Their supplies of medicine were limited, though-- they would have to find someplace to settle and work out how to contact an apothecary or doctor for more without alerting Bang-won’s men, and that would all take weeks, if not months. So Hwi resolved to save what supplies he could now, pushed on without the usual second dose he’d take at this point, with all the activity they’d been up to, and convinced himself that it really was fine. The pain wasn’t much different from his arrow-wounds, and those were healing. 

When Seon-ho paused at a fork in the road, Hwi realized it wasn’t just the pain-- he felt...light, almost. As if he could take a step forward and just float away. But rather than try it, he came to a swaying halt and looked at Seon-ho. 

“Right is more direct, but left might take us closer to a town,” said Seon-ho. “More wheel tracks. What do you think?”

 Of the two of them, Hwi had always been the more talkative, but this was getting ridiculous, he thought. Seon-ho was going to be down to single-word sentences soon. “Why are you so...tense?” Hwi asked, meaning to grin. His lips just twitched instead. “Did the Jurchen have something...against words?”

Seon-ho turned to stare at him, brow wrinkling as his eyebrows drew together, and Hwi took a shallow breath so as to not pull at his aching chest, then sighed.

“Go right,” he told Seon-ho. Better to arrive wherever they were meant to be going sooner, wasn’t it? 

As Seon-ho continued to frown at him, Hwi took a step forward down the right-hand road, meaning to show the other man how it was done, and his foot lost contact with the ground as his stomach spasmed. A bright flash of grey-white pain shot across his vision. He had a moment to be confused, and then was briefly, intensely irritated with himself before he hit the dirt and whited out entirely.

#fanfic #my fic #my mc:na fic #my country: new age #seo hwi #nam seon ho #staidwaters #ask meme #wip #convenientalias

[mostly-sentence-starters]

I still love those mellow yellow petals anyway What's that thing they say about a rose by any other name? Then my fragile flower turned into a ball of grey So I took a breath and made a wish and blew them all away

#lyrical musings #Song: Dandelion #Source: Gabbie hanna

[lovingsiriusoswald]

“Fragile, But Not Weak”

Part 2 - His POV (Other parts here)

// Part three can’t be seen in the tag so click here

Pairing: Fenrir Godspeed and Delinquent!Alice

Word count: 1685 words

Tagging: @ellysilver and @christmaswarlock!!! thank you so much for the support (┳Д┳)

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰

“How can a woman do that so swiftly?! She even got rid of the magic cuffs I used on her!” I yelled in frustration but he dismissed me.

“Blanc already told us that Alice has arrived in Cradle and decided to reside here. Why are you so shocked you encountered her?” Ray smugly smiles at me.

“I never thought that she would be a delinquent! Let alone someone who can dodge bullets!” I say exasperatedly as I stood from my chair, gaining attention from some soldiers in the dining area.

“Fenrir, I understand that you’re shocked at such an encounter.” Sirius says gently. “But someone as trivial as her shouldn’t be entertained right now, we have a war coming up soon.”

“Or does this mean that you’ve taken an interest in her?” Seth butts in, singing the words from his lips with a bright smile. My annoyance had reached high levels.

“She flat out told me I had pretty eyes! In the sweetest way too! Then got me pummelling to the ground!” I felt myself get flustered from embarrassment. To think that a small framed woman like her could get me off guard and take me down like that. I also couldn’t get my mind off the way her eyes squinted as she smiled through her mask, but I felt how sincere and sweet it was.

“You’re so lucky Fenrir! You received a compliment from sweet Alice and even got to play around with her! I’m actually jealous!” Seth puts a hand on his cheek as his smile grows wider.

“This isn’t something to be jealous about!” I yell in disbelief and I see Ray and Sirius chuckle, clearly amused at my disbelief. Pricks.

“Your food’s gonna grow cold.” Luka says gently as he looks at my plate, the mushroom cream soup and pasta he served was almost untouched since dinner started. I plop back down, completely giving up whatever the hell I was fighting for. I quietly finished my plate as I thought back to what happened earlier.

“Now that I got a good look on you, you have pretty eyes.”

“Please don’t think I lied, but I really like your eyes, Ace.”

How can two sentences get me so flustered? It had me so shocked that it took me 5 minutes to get up from my feet and realize that I should’ve been chasing her to arrest her.

“I’m crashing in early,” I say as I finish up my plate and bring my dishes to the kitchen sink. I ignored their calls and their teases as I walked up the stairs and jogged towards my room. I quickly got off my uniform and went for a quick shower.

I let the hot water fall all over me as I stared up at the ceiling. Puffs of steam surrounded the room and I took deep steady breaths. Her eyes were all I could see, but I still thought she looked beautiful.

Dammit!

I lightly hit my head on the wall and groan in frustration. I just met her and she’s got me so worked up! Dammit Fenrir, you should’ve come to your senses sooner and arrested her, instead of dawdling like a fool like that! All you saw were her soft blue eyes and her long wavy hair and you already thought she’s beautiful! Just how desperate are you?!

Another low groan erupts from my throat and I run both of my hands down my face, in an attempt to cool down my flushed face. I force her out from my mind and got out from the shower. As soon as I’d finish up, I threw myself over my bed, landing with a soft thud.

I could still remember the faint smell of summer flowers on her hair. It was refreshing and soothing and relaxing and.. it smells like home. I shift to lay on my side and put my hands out, folding it slightly to the way I held my gun earlier as I attempted to shoot her. I realized that it wasn’t as firm as I used to. Surely she’s used some magic to affect me like that.

“When I see you again,” I smirk to myself as I balled my hand to a fist, determination flooding through me. “I will get you. I will not lose to you. I’ll be firmer than I was than earlier.”

The next morning, Sirius had asked me to buy some groceries at Central Quarter. I decided to jog on my way there, to get some exercise along with the stupid boring task he’d given me. I helped with some folks setting up their shops for the day when they needed, especially the ones affected by that mess of a chase yesterday. A few of them would say their thoughts about what a troublemaker she was, just like how the first Alice had arrived.

Once I got to the Black Bridge, I skimmed my hand through the ledge where I had nearly pinned her down, only to notice a small faint stain of blood. I got her?

Somehow I didn’t feel very triumphant, it actually pained me to think that I’d hurt her and she had to endure that pain. I shake off my thoughts as soon as I realized them. “Argh, what the hell are you thinking?!” I clenched my fists and let out a sigh of frustration.

I immediately jogged to the Central Quarter and went to the shops that I needed to go to. I visited a confectionery to have lunch. “Good afternoon! What can I..” The woman by the counter trails off as she meets my gaze. “What can I do for you?” She quickly plasters a smile. I’d heard about women getting flustered around the generals, so I ignored her stuttering.

“I’d like to have some earl grey tea and some cinnamon rolls.” I smile at her.

“Fantastic choice! I’d like to recommend you one of our brand new products if you’re interested.” There was something familiar about the way she smiled, it was lovely to see. “We call it the Ace’s Adrenaline! Its a mocha cake, mixed with just the right amount of creamy strawbery yogurt and sprinkled with oatmeals that is guaranteed to refuel your energy! After working all morning, I personally think that this is a good pick for you right now.” She cheerfully smiles that it was almost infectious.

“You’re right, running around doing groceries and helping people sure gets tiresome.” I place my hands by the counter and slightly lean forward. “The treat sounds fantastic.” I smirk back at her, the way she speaks had gotten me interested in what she was selling, such conviction held a promise. “I’d like to have one slice of Ace’s Adrenaline then.”

“Perfect! It seems befitting to you, is it not?” She winks playfully and cheerfully prepares my order. I sat by a nearby table and watch her work. The bell hanging by the door rings as it opens, showing a white-haired fellow enter.

“Fenrir! What a pleasure to meet you here.” He politely greets me and I salute him with two fingers in return.

“Blanc! Its been a while hasn’t it? How have you been?” I motion him to sit with me but he raises his hand.

“It’s alright, I’ve only come to visit..” He turns to look at the lady by the counter.

“Oh, Blanc! Lovely to see you!” She smiles at him as she makes her way towards me, with my orders on top of the tray she was holding.

“How have you been feeling, love?” Blanc asks her and she nods a little.

“I’ve been feeling a little better.” She answers softly as she places down my food and tea. “Is there something that you want to take home?” She turns to him and he softly shakes his head.

“I only came to check how you were feeling, I still have errands to run and I’ve just eaten lunch before I came here.”

Customers started piling in and she bows to us both. “I’m sorry that I can’t chat long, hope you like the food!” She says hastily as she starts to attend to the other customers.

“You know her?” I ask Blanc as I take a sip of my tea.

“For quite some time now, yes.”

“What’s her name?” I try to sound like I’m just asking it casually, but I’m actually very interested in her.

“She prefers not telling her name due to some personal issues. If you really want to know, you’ll have to ask her yourself. I’m sorry.” He apologizes and I nod to him.

“It’s alright I understand, all the more reason to visit this place.” I smile as I start to eat my food.

“In that case I’ll be on my way, it was nice running into you.” Blanc smiles a little as he hurries out of the shop. I take my time in eating my cinnamon roll and relax. She was interesting, I’ll admit. There’s just something so intriguing about her and I wanted to know her more.

But that’s not necessary. I need to focus more on the war that could happen anytime soon.

I enjoyed my stay at the confectionery, especially the new treat she’d given me. She was right about it refuelling my energy, I felt refreshed and pumped, ready to kick ass if necessary. I neatly placed my dishes and teapot by the table.  I raised my hand as I leant back on my chair, trying to catch the lady’s attention. She meets my gaze and walks over to me, “How was the treat?” She asks as she starts to clean up my table.

“It was fantastic! Definitely a new favorite, I’d come back here for more next time.” I reach down to my pockets and hand her my payment. “If there’s a change, keep it.” I wink at her and she giggles. “I have to go, thank you for the perfect lunch!” I stand and pick up the bags I had and she waves to me as I leave.

“Have a great afternoon, Godspeed!”

#fenrir godspeed #fenrir godspeed x mc #fenrir godpeed x alice #au #alternative universe #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fragile but not weak #ikerev fic #ikerev fanfic #ikerevo #ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikemen kakumei #fbnw soph #wowowow soph is writing

[tarithenurse]

Defense of Asgard (10/11)

Wordcount: 2897 (sorry)

Warnings: violence, maybe language, smut (fingering), fluff

“Keep reading” for obvious reasons.

Loki’s PoV

Loki’s victim is gurgling on the ground in a last, futile effort to breath, and around him his fellow Asgardians are either finishing off their own adversaries or using the lack of golden maniacs to recover. Straightening up, he pushes a strand of jet-black hair out of the eyes and looks around for [Y/N]. It feels as though a cold void threatens to pull him off the planet, when he sees the weapon aimed at her face. Lurching into motion, he barely makes it three steps before the blast of the gun makes him stumble in shock. NO!! He watches as the momentum makes the love of his life collide with the bastard, sending them both sprawling onto the ground.

NonononoNO! Scrambling frantically for what feels like an eternity, it only slowly dawns on Loki that [Y/N]’s left hand is snaring the wrist of the Sovereign, keeping the gun pointing away, while the other hand is closing around the golden neck. Even from here, the prince can see how she’s biting back a scream of pain until her skill takes effect, draining the downed would-be-murderer of life and leaving him skinny and pale beneath her. The way she arches her back while the brief moment of ecstasy rolls through her, should perhaps make Loki jealous…instead it entices him. The woman is mysterious, deadly, yes even magical. And she is mine. The thought makes him smile, as his picks his way across the battlefield.

“[Y/N]?” He squads next to her, ready to leap away if instinct still is ruling her.

Turning to face him, his wife’s eyes are clear blue-grey with the tint of pleased golden freckles, but the milky sheen that would have clouded them as she drained the life out of the Sovereign is long gone. Finding her hand, Loki gently pulls her off the corpse and into an embrace. Both their heartrates are beginning slow, simultaneously with their breathing, after the fighting, and resting together for a moment allows a different kind of peace to envelop the couple. Over a field, one of the turrets hits its mark and brings down another transport in a flaming ball that lands the snow beneath before it has hit the ground.

“We’ve better get ready…” [Y/N] sighs, clearly not enjoying the battle as much as the Asgardians.

Cupping her face, Loki wipes away a smear of her own blood that has tracked red paths down her cheek and past the jaw. Despite the attempt at cleaning her, the face he adores is still blushed, although now it may be for different reasons, but she avoids meeting his eyes and there is no easy way to tell what she is feeling and thinking.

“Why do you blush, my flower?” A soft kiss is enough to coax her face towards him.

She bites her lip, coy and stubborn at the same time. “I guess you saw what happened…” [Y/N] sighs when he nods. “Yeah, well…I’m not gonna run and hide.”

“I know.” Standing up first, Loki pulls the healer to her feet. “Yet you cannot stop me from worrying.”

“Just look out for yourself, mister Trickster.” Smiling playfully at him, the woman heads off to attend to the minor injuries the defenders have sustained.

Pacing down the road, he reaches Tyr and the Warriors Three who are discussing the situation above. There, against the dark of night, it’s possible to see the faint shadows of the many different vessels. Many of them have retaken formation and Loki can guess that they are not the Ravagers, but the Xandarians who value discipline. A lightning blast slams into the ground, functioning as a warning of where his king and brother is about to land. Show off. Even if the prince rolls his eyes and sighs at Thor’s talents, it is good humoured rather than coveting, although (or perhaps because) it feels unsafe to get near it – too often has the God of Thunder amused himself by zapping his friends with small electric jolts, and it is for that very same reason, that Loki waits patiently out of reach until the air surrounding the tall, blond warrior has stopped buzzing.

“There you are, brother.” The younger of the two is leaning on his spear when he flashes a grin at Thor. “How fares the battle above?”

“Not bad,” looking around, the king takes in the scenery on the ground, “yet…they do not seem to appreciate the warm welcome.” He rolls a corpse over with a foot and nods thoughtfully. “They have retreated for now.”

Sif and [Y/N] join them, the former rubbing the stomach of her armour absentmindedly before reaching out for her husband. “I hope they are not running away?”

Her comment makes Thor snort with ill-contained amusement. “Hardly! They are too thick-skulled and proud to know when to stop!”

A slender arm snakes around Loki’s waist, and as he looks down he’s met by serious dark-blue gaze that he knows so well. Those eyes are truly a window to [Y/N]’s soul because the altering dispositions change the colours of her irises, each shade corresponding to a different frame of mind. He had learned the hard way that violet was a warning of anger or aggression. Pulling her closer, Loki hopes that she can find some consolation to stave away the sadness and regret that is filling her.

…

Reader’s PoV

Being held by her husband makes things a bit better, but [Y/N] truly hates when people die…even if they are actively trying to kill someone else. In fact, the whole reason for becoming a nurse and later a hero (thanks to the skillset the Inhuman DNA has given her) was to save lives, and she still managed to find herself in one situation after the other where not only her friends were fighting to the death, but she too had to kill. But of course, having been a member of the Avengers and SHIELD had forced her to adopt a different mindset. Everyone on the teams had had their fair share of battles and death, making them the best people to help [Y/N] deal with it when it became her turn to take a life for the first time, and it’s what had kept her relatively sane during the showdown against Thanos. And now here.

Trying not to look at the lifeless figures strewn on the ground, [Y/N] glances around at the faces of her friends in arms. They have fought hard already, but the Asgardians have impressive reserves of energy when compared to humans home on earth. They’re gonna need it. A faint glimmer has appeared on the edge of her perimeter, signaling the arrival of something living within the 50-odd meter radius of her skill’s range. Even though the Sovereign have golden skin, hair and eyes, the particles (that they are made of to [Y/N] when she closes her eyes) don’t always match, and she’s forced to judge the identities from other signs: the physical attributes (each Sovereign is frighteningly similar to the next, thanks to cloning), the mutations (that should have crippled them, but somehow doesn’t), and the itch that spread across the Inhuman’s own skin as her body tunes in on theirs.

“Incoming.” [Y/N]’s warning is echoed by Heimdall.

Facing the new threat, she plants the spear in the ground to free her hands. The round discs on her belt detach with the right leverage and pressure on the center flips a series of serrated blades along the edges with a click turning them into shuriken. There. The first one has stepped into a circle of light from the elevated brazier, making an obvious target of itself, and [Y/N]’s about to let one of her throwing weapons fly when Thor hurtles his artwork of an axe towards the doomed enemy, releasing cascades of lightning that fries anything in its path. Tony had offered plenty of snide comment the first time he saw the weapon leaned against the wall, most of them had been about compensation, but he stopped once he saw Thor use that thing. There are no jokes now, although some of the king’s friends dare to complain that they have no one to entertain themselves with. Jinx. Once more, Heimdall’s voice booms from above, calling for Thor to go elsewhere and bolster the defenses there.

…

The pale grey of the morning is slowly diminishing and allowing the pastel colours to take over. All around [Y/N] are the remnants of the latest Sovereign wave to attack them, this time fueled by desperation rather than conviction. The Asgardians are walking among the slain, checking to see if the job has been done to satisfaction by jabbing the golden bodies with whatever weapon they carry. By now, everyone has had enough of the maiming and killing, and [Y/N] is more than happy to rest in Loki’s arm while they have the chance. He’s brushed a bench free of snow and spread the bottom of his cape over the still cold surface for her to sit on, before dragging her against his own body and shielding her inside a cocoon of arms and soft, green fabric.

“You fight well, my love.” His breath is warm against her hair. “You have made me very proud.”

Tilting her head up, she finds Loki’s emerald eyes. “Proud?”

The taunting smile proves that she knows that it downright excites him, and it has given him more than a few ideas to use at other occasions.

The God of Mischief doesn’t have a chance to answer before you sit up straight, looking over at Sif who’s limping back into range. The queen and a handful warriors had followed in pursuit of a number of stragglers who were trying to make it to the tower where Heimdall has been (and still is) keeping watch. The Watcher would most likely have been able to deal with them himself, but it would have removed his focus from the events in the sky and thus any new waves of attackers. As [Y/N] untangles herself, the concern for the queen grows stronger.

“My queen.” The healer rushes to the queen’s side.

“It was just a bash by a blunt weapon…my armour took the brunt of it.”

It’s true, there are no lacerations or outwards trauma, save for the biggest bruise in newer Asgardian history. But the hip is slightly dislocated and, which is worse, the sacrum has been knocked crooked, creating tension in the lower body…including the uterus with the fragile life. Already the tissue is preparing for the first spasms that will release the blood, growing placenta and the peanut-shell-sized embryo.

I have to act fast. “We need to find a place where you can lie down.”

The urgency in [Y/N]’s quiet voice is enough to stop any objections, and Sif enters the nearest house. Only pausing to close the door after them, [Y/N] is pleased to see how nimble her sister in law lies down on the rug covering the cold floor. Kneeling between the legs of Sif, she bends the knees and slide a hand under the royal ass until the fingertips have found the right places to apply a gently pressure through which the healing power flowers in a steady stream, making the cells bend to her will.

Moments later, the Inhuman can help the Asgardian back on her feet with the promise that everything is fine again…for now. “But I have to say that you should take it easy for a few days.” Like that will ever happen.

“Who am I to argue with my midwife.” Sif smiles sweetly before striding out of the house.

It takes a moment for [Y/N] to come to terms with the new title she’s been bestowed, so when she too leaves the house (closing the door carefully) Sif’s already out of view. Instead Loki’s leaning casually against the wall, playing with an icicle he’s broken off the low reaching eave.

“What was that about?” He’s pointedly looking anywhere but at his wife.

Think fast. This is not for me to reveal. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean,” this time he turns towards her, “it could appear that you and the queen are keeping secrets.” The silence stretches for a moment as they study each other’s faces. “Are you?”

“Pfft.” A pokerface is easy to master when in complete control of every single cell…but Loki is unparalleled at picking up on the smallest details. “Firstly…my role’s that of a medic, so I had to ensure she wasn’t wounded. Second…she’s my queen and friend, and commander during this battle. She tells me where to go and what to do. I wanted to ensure that I wasn’t needed elsewhere.”

In a few long strides, the tall, slender god has covered the distance between them. Grabbing [Y/N] by the shoulders, he bends down to pierce her with a burning gaze as if he can will her to tell her anything else. His eyes are glittering turquoise and green, and [Y/N] has to concentrate to keep her own from shifting like his.

The voice of the god is soft and cold when he finally speaks. “There is something you are not telling me, darling. I do not like it.”

“Women sometimes do that, you know.” A smile dance across her lips as she allows an age-old truth to save her rather than lying. “We confide in each other. Help each other. Console each other.” Reaching up, she cups his frost-flushed cheek gently. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and you have to be able to trust, that it does not mean I’ll betray you.”

It’s like watching a balloon deflate quietly and suddenly [Y/N] finds herself in his arms once more. “Forgive me, my flower. My mind is burdened with the many troubling events of late, and my heart is wrought with worry for my people and you.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him tenderly. “And no need to worry for me at least.”

…

Loki’s PoV

As it were, there was no need to worry for any Asgardian either. It was not long before it became apparent that the last Sovereign had fled and while the Xandarians and Ravagers landed on the snow-covered fields, the Asgardians that had not participated in the battle re-emerged to take part in the recovery and cleaning up. It was a task that would last days, as many buildings and ships had been destroyed and was now littering the streets and surrounding areas, but the first priority was to create a pyre and burn the fallen enemies. [Y/N] busied herself by tending to the lighter injuries, although the Asgardian healers tried to convince her it was beneath her. She only paused to recover her energy, but eventually fatigue caught up with her, and she allowed Loki to walk her to their chambers.

“The bath is ready, my flower.”

Loki turns towards [Y/N], only to find her dozing of, still fully dressed, on the low bench in the bathroom. He wakes her gently before using his own magic to rid both her and himself of the armour and clothes they have been wearing since the previous morning. Then he lifts her easily and steps into the large tub where he sits down. A content sigh and smile grace her fine features, encouraging him to settle her with the back against his chest.

Using the sponge and soap, he cleans every inch of her soft skin, and Loki finds himself so engrossed in the work that he does not realize how her breathing changes until the cupping of her breast makes the nipple perk. Pinching it softly between a finger and a thumb, he smiles at the tiny gasp [Y/N] lets out and it encourages him to abandon the cleaning utensils, so he can use both hands to slide over the gorgeous nakedness. One hand slides down the expanse of her chest and stomach to tease the fine curls where the thighs meet, the other plays with the bosom he so dearly admires, and already his cock is showing exactly how much he approves of the sight before him. I could watch this all day. The woman is biting her lower lip in pleasure, her head and wet curls leaned back against his shoulder to grant an unobscured view.

Loki has to stop her, when she tries to get in position to reciprocate. “Not this time. Just let me please you.”

For a moment, golden eyes appear under the heavy lids, but as his fingers slide further between her legs and finds the small bundle of nerves, the eyes close again and it’s the perfect lips that part instead. Weaving unimaginable patterns and interchanging the pressure and speed, Loki explores every fold and crevice, playing at the entrance to her core or pinching and stroking her clit until her moans transform into pleas for more. Then he slip a few fingers into the silken cave, slick with pleasure and need, teasingly increasing the speed and depth until the first shiver wrecks her frame.

Loki gives her time to calm down again, only adoring her body with long strokes as he kisses and nibbles her mouth, neck, shoulders…anywhere he can reach. Once relaxed, he finishes their bath, dries them both and carries her to bed where she falls asleep in his arms.

…

#In defense of asgard #fanfic #loki x reader #MCU #marvel #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Thor Odinson #lady sif #Warriors three #sovereign #xandar #ravagers #valhalla #asgard #heimdal #writing #escapism

[teachingoutsidethebinary]

Spark of Love: Part 3

Summary: In order to go to kindergarten in three months, Remington needs to learn to control her powers. She gets a little help from a certain lightning-friendly Avenger.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Thor, OFC Remington

Warnings: scaring a kid

Word count: 1722

A/N: Tag list and request open! As always, thanks for reading! :) 

Part 1       Part 2

Masterlist

“This is a ridiculous idea,” Tony warned as he walked through the field. The sun was high and the grass crackled against his pressed suit pants. Bucky, Wanda and Remington were a few yards ahead, and the little girl was bouncing around some tall flowers as she walked.

“You have any other suggestions?” Steve replied as he stepped aside to avoid a groundhog hole. “She’s supposed to start kindergarten in three months. What if what happened yesterday happens in school? She needs to learn control.”

It had been a year since Remington had come to live in the Tower. It was clear that after a little bit of TLC, she was an incredibly intelligent child. Her vocabulary improved immensely as she read every book she could get her hands on. She was clever, and often tried to manipulate the Avengers to get what she wanted. Well, she really didn’t have to try that hard with Steve, Bucky, and even Tony since they were already wrapped around her finger.

Remington had a meltdown the day before when Steve told her she couldn’t eat dessert without eating her vegetables first. She threw a temper tantrum, but it was so powerful, the lights began to surge and the breakers crackled from the overload of electricity. This kind of thing had happened before, but this was by far the most powerful incident. Remington got scared when the light above the kitchen island exploded, but she was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t stop the small jolts of electricity from escaping her fingertips.

“Remington, you need to calm down,” Bucky warned, trying to comfort her. She looked at him with frightened eyes, but her powers showed no signs of letting up.

“Remington, look into my eyes,” Wanda commanded. Red tendrils floated out of her palms as she spoke soothingly to the scared little girl. “Take a deep breath, my dear.”

Remington became transfixed by the right wisps and the lightning dissipated from her hands. Her breathing returned to normal, and the static left the charged air.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to.”

Bucky gathered her up in his arms and hugged her close. “We need to figure this out,” he said to Steve, who nodded in agreement.

“Just let the kid eat ice cream without the vegetables,” Tony whined as his pants got caught on a burr. “What’s the big deal? So she grows up a little spoiled. It happened to me, and I turned out alright.”

Steve just stared at him. “Okay, fine,” Tony conceded. “But why does it have to be the walking L’Oreal commercial? Why can’t Wanda just do it?”

“Do you know anyone else who can control lightning?” Steve asked. “Wanda’s great for calming down, but we need someone who understands some of Remington’s powers.”

Tony grumbled a bit under his breath, but he knew Steve was right. The two men caught up with the rest of the group a few minutes later and waited in the center of the field.

“We’ve been waiting here forever!” Remington whined as she swung from Bucky’s metal arm. “Can we go home?”

“Not yet,” Bucky replied. “Uncle Thor’s coming.”

The words had barely left Bucky’s mouth when the sunny day suddenly became gray and overcast. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few drops of rain spilled from the sky. A blinding flash of lightning cracked overhead and the ground shook as a large man flew down from the clouds.

“Woah,” Remington whispered, hiding behind Bucky.

“Seriously, Thor, you had to make it rain?” Tony complained, running his hands through damp hair.

“I forgot how fragile you humans are,” Thor remarked, smirking at Tony. He placed Mjolnir on the ground and walked over.

Before Tony could reply, Steve cut in. “Thanks for doing this, Thor,” he said.

“It is my pleasure!” Thor beamed, clapping his hands together. “Now, where is the child?”

Remington hid further behind Bucky as Thor knelt down to greet her. “Hello, my dear,” he said gently. “What is your name?”

“Remington,” she replied shyly.

Thor gave her a large smile. “Lady Remington, I hear you can control lightning and electricity! Can you show me?”

Remington shook her head. “I do bad things with my powers,” she admitted somberly.

“Remington,” Wanda said, “you can’t hurt anyone out here. Show Uncle Thor what you can do.”

Remington thought for a few moments and finally decided to step out from behind Bucky’s legs. She walked over to Thor and held out her hands to him. His monstrous hands carefully grasped hers, and she closed her eyes. Her nose scrunched up as she gathered up power and shocked his palms.

“Interesting,” he mused. He turned to face Steve. “Friend, you’re not going to like what I do next, but it will help her, I promise. Be ready, Lady Wanda.”

Before Steve could protest, Thor puffed out his chest and began to shout. “YOU CALL THAT POWERFUL?!” he roared above Remington. She cowered below him and covered her ears. “I’LL SHOW YOU POWERFUL, CHILD!” He raised his hand to the sky and lightning shot down between them.

“Thor, are you out of your damn mind?!” Steve yelled.

Remington screamed and her own powers mixed with Thor’s lightning. Wanda prepared her calming red wisps, just in case. She could read Thor’s intentions, and she had a feeling his crazy idea might actually work.

“DO NOT LET THE FEAR CONTROL YOU, LADY REMINGTON!” Thor continued to yell. “EMBRACE IT! CONTROL IT!”

Remington closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists. She forced them down to her sides and she furrowed her brow. The lightning continued to escape from her closed hands, and she felt herself losing control.

“I can’t!” she cried out. “I can’t!”

“Wanda!” Thor commanded. Wanda quickly intervened and let the red wisps envelop Remington. Thor’s thunder and lightning subsided, and Remington’s own powers died out.

“Are you crazy?!” Bucky yelled. “What were you thinking?” He tried to pick up Remington, but Thor blocked his way.

“Move,” Bucky growled. The plates in his metal arm whirred as he clenched his hand into a fist.

“Do you not see what happens?” Thor asked. “She lets her fear control her power. She needs to learn to calm herself down.” He turned around and carefully knelt in front of a trembling Remington. “I am sorry for frightening you, Lady Remington,” he said kindly. “But I promise it has a noble purpose.”

Remington looked Thor directly in the eye. “You didn’t have to be so mean,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like shouting.”

Thor smirked. “Being scared is unfortunately the best way to learn to control your fear,” he replied. “That is your desire, is it not?”

Remington considered his words for a few moments. She really did want to learn so she could go to school and meet new friends. “Fine,” she said, stubbornly. “But I want ice cream after.”

“Done!” Tony announced. “You can even have two bowls!”

“Tony!” Steve and Bucky shouted.

But Remington was satisfied with Tony’s answer and jumped up and down. “Scare me again, Uncle Thor!” she demanded gleefully. “I want to learn!”

Thor stood back up. “Let us go again!”

And they did. They practiced and practiced until the sun hung low in the sky. Thor came back once a week to help Remington practice her skills. He wasn’t so much focused on making her powers stronger as much as he wanted her to control what she already had. Of course, Remington got her bowls of ice cream after each practice. It took time, but she was getting better and better each day at controlling her fear, and ultimately, her powers.

The three months flew by, and soon, it was time for Remington’s first day of school. Tony managed to pull some strings and get her into one of the best kindergartens in the city. Remington insisted on taking the bus with all of the other kids. It was quite the sight…

Remington stood confidently in her grey leggings, sparkly blue tutu, and ninja t-shirt. Steve took pictures of her as she waited for the bus. She gripped the straps of her monster truck-themed backpack as the yellow school bus pulled into the parking lot of the Avengers Tower. The kids squished their noses against the glass to get a glimpse of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Remington gulped and lost her gusto as the bus door opened. She turned around uncertainly, looking to her aunts and uncles for comfort.

“You’re going to be fine,” Wanda reassured her, stroking her hair.

“What if I don’t like it?” Remington asked.

“Give it a chance, kid,” Sam replied. “I bet you’ll make all sorts of friends.”

“Promise, Uncle Sam?”

“I promise.”

“Just remember,” Steve added, “your power…”

“Needs to stay a secret,” Remington finished. “I know.”

“You have done well in your lessons,” Thor complimented. “I have the utmost confidence in you, Lady Remington.” She beamed at his compliment and seemed to feel a bit better about leaving.

“Okay, kiddo, time to go,” Bucky said, crouching down to give her a hug. She went down the line and hugged everyone else before finally boarding the bus. She gave a small wave as the door closed. They all watched the bus drive off into the distance.

“I hope this was a good idea,” Nat said. “You know, I’ve heard some kids wait until they’re six to go to school. Maybe we should have waited.”

“Of course this isn’t a good idea!” Tony exclaimed. “Everything gets worse once they get to school. First it’s kindergarten, then it’s college.”

“Don’t rush it, Tony,” Steve replied. “Let’s just be proud of her today.”

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky added. “I know it.”

They stood in silence for a few moments.

“Anyone want to follow the bus and make sure it gets to school?” Tony asked.

“Yup!” Bucky quickly replied.

“I’m in!” Nat said. “We can catch up to it down by 5th Avenue.”

“I’ll drive one car,” Sam offered.

“I’m coming with you, Sam,” Steve said.

“I shall join Tony,” Thor commented.

Wanda just rolled her eyes but followed Thor in Tony’s car. “You guys are overreacting,” she said, exasperatedly.

Tony spun around and pointed at Wanda. “Hey, that’s our kid we’re talking about. Better safe than sorry, wouldn’t you agree?”

Wanda smiled. She couldn’t argue with that.

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety @bloo-moon-freak

#spark of love #avengers fic #avengers family #protective avengers #domestic avengers #tony stark #steve rogers #james bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #thor

[thejanemercer]

I still love those mellow yellow petals anyway What's that thing they say about a rose by any other name? Then my fragile flower turned into a ball of grey So I took a breath and made a wish and blew them all away

Oh, what a shame Now it don't look the same Guess it don't look the same Oh, what a shame

#[ jane's spotify playlist || tunes ]