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@krystalwithakay
Masterlist
Note: still a work in progress so some links may be dead rn
~~~ KNY ~~~
Rengoku Kyojuro and Fam
Headcanons
Rengoku Comforting S/O
Rengoku Comfort
Kyojuro’s Tiddies
Confessing During Training
Fics
Selfish Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
~~~BNHA~~~
Tomura
Fics
I Trust You
Hawks
Fics
Sweet Love
Sweet Love
Word Count: 3127
Yandere Hawks x Reader
Everything was so good in the beginning. Hawks was charming, funny, attractive, everything you wanted in a guy. You two had hit it off after he saved you. You assumed he flirted with most young women he saved. You'd even seen news reports of him going on dates with civilians. But you were different. He liked you. Genuinely liked you. As time went on, you saw a different side of him.
Reader contemplates escaping from Hawks. But he knows just how to make her stay.
It would be so easy. He’d fallen into a routine with you, even letting you go outside. Like a normal life. You could make it out if you were quick enough. You stood in the doorway of the house while Hawks and your daughter took a nap upstairs. Just as you were about to step out, a voice rang out behind you.
“Where you goin’, sweetheart?”
Of course he heard you. With his feathers, his sense of hearing was increased tenfold. He could sense the smallest vibration ringing through the air. His mind was trained to listen for the opening of doors or windows even in his sleep. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper, especially when you weren’t sleeping beside him. The deepest, most peaceful sleep he got was when you were in his arms.
“Oh, I was just going to the store.” You were a horrible liar and you knew it.
“For what?” Despite the fact that he had just woken up, he didn’t sound tired at all. He was wide awake.
You didn’t turn to look back at him. He wouldn’t believe you, but you still felt like you had to try.
“Ice cream,” you mumbled.
“But we have ice cream, honey.” He sounded so innocent, but you didn’t miss the threatening tone underlying his words.
“Ice cream?” Your daughter murmured sleepily.
At the sound of her voice you turned around. She was situated comfortably in Hawks’ strong arms. Her chubby cheek was pressed up against his chest, and it made her look even more precious.
“Mommy wants to leave.” His voice was deep and menacing.
“Wha? Mommy, no!” Your daughter was always clingy. Even if you were just going into the other room, she would protest. You guessed she learned it from her dad.
“No, sweetie. I was just going to get some ice cream so we can have a Sundae later!” You put on your best fake smile.
“Ooh, I love sundaes!”
It dissolved into a real one at the sound of her excited voice.
“I do too,” He spoke. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen and we can start making them?”
You looked back at the open door. Your ticket to freedom. Even then, Hawks was fast enough that he would probably catch you. But you owed it to yourself to try.
You made a move to turn around.
“Why don’t you fly into Mommy’s arms, hmm?”
When you looked back, he was holding your daughter by her sides, and she rubbed her eyes lazily while she spread her wings.
“Show her how much you learned. On three.”
“Keigo--” you stammered.
You hated bringing your daughter into this. Sometimes you wondered if he only got you pregnant so he would have something to tie you to him and dangle over your head as a threat if you tried to leave. But when you saw how his face lit up when he held her for the first time, or how lovingly he tucked her into bed each night, those thoughts quickly faded. You knew he loved her as much as he loved you.
Loved.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t use her to get you to stay, however. Hawks was unscrupulous. He would use whatever means he could to prevent you from leaving him. Any except threatening to hurt your daughter. He tried to, once, but as soon as the words left his mouth tears flowed down his face and he had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hurt her. He loved his daughter. He also loved that she was the manifestation of your bond to him, even more so than the ring on your finger.
“One…two…” he began counting and lifted her higher.
“Honey, she’s still sleepy. She’ll fa--” Your protests didn’t do any good.
“Three!” He cheered.
Hawks threw your daughter into the air. You thought she was too groggy to fly right after waking up, but she caught the air under her wings and crashed into your chest.
“A-Akina!”
“Mommy!” She squealed as she hugged you tightly. “Did you see? Did you see? I flew! I can do it!”
“I know, honey. I know you can,” you said softly as you petted her hair.
A soft thud behind you clued you into the fact that Hawks had used one if his feathers to close the door.
“Keigo, how could you!” You scowled at him.
A lopsided grin plastered his face, but you could see the panic underneath it. The two of you never spoke about your “courtship troubles early in the relationship” around your daughter. That’s what he called it. You’d phrased it more like “stalking, obsessing, and kidnapping.”
When you first complained about it after giving birth, he threw the last term back in your face by pulling you into your daughter’s room while she slept.
“See? That’s the only kid napping in this house. Unless, of course, you want another one?” He smirked devilishly. Even with his wings and handsome face, he was anything but an angel.
You slapped his face playfully. You shouldn’t have laughed at the pun. It was so stupid. Especially for such a serious situation. But you were a sucker for puns. You couldn’t stop the giggles. His stupid puns were one of the things you liked about him, before you knew about his “tendencies.”
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His words brought you back from your reminiscing.
“Don’t you sweetheart me,” you spoke firmly.
You were so angry. He pulled you in with his charm, made you fall for him, and then kept you prisoner after he couldn’t suppress his obsession for you anymore. He hid it so well around others and your families, no one knew what he could be like behind the scenes. Sometimes you felt like you were the crazy one for thinking anything was wrong. You had to remind yourself that he had drugged you, tied you to the bed, and had his way with you when you first mentioned breaking up with him. Or how he proposed to you at a public heroes’ gala so you couldn’t say no in front of the cameras and crowds. He knew you hated conflict and wouldn’t be able to deny him and cause a scene. He was wicked.
You wanted to yell at him for what he did to you. For how controlling and clingy he was. But the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them.
“We agreed there would be no flying in the house!” you spoke in your most authoritative “mom” voice. Even he couldn’t help but flinch and shrink at the sound of it.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he said sheepishly.
“Mommy, are you mad at me? I’m sorry!” Your daughter cried.
“Shh, no, darling. It wasn’t your fault. You were just doing what Papa told you to. He’s the one in trouble,” you glanced at him menacingly.
“You’re right. It was my fault. Tell you what, I’ll go make you girls the best sundaes ever, and I won’t have any.”
Your daughter gasped in shock. “Not any? But that’s horrible!”
“It’s what I deserve for breaking the rules. It wouldn’t be fair if you were the only one who got punished when you misbehaved, right?” He leaned down and spoke to your daughter while she clung to you.
“I guess,” she grumbled while nuzzling into your chest.
To her, the idea of not having any ice cream while there were not one, but two super yummy sundaes right in front of her was the worst punishment imaginable. She was just an innocent child, after all.
“Let’s go pick out your favorite ice cream bowl while Papa gets started, okay?” You spoke to her. You couldn’t be mad at her. It wasn’t her fault. Nothing was.
“Okay!” Her mood instantly picked up and she smiled widely. You could never stop yourself from smiling as well at the sight of your daughter so happy.
You followed Hawks into the kitchen. After you picked out her favorite bowl, the pink one with ducks on it and a matching spoon, you picked out your own. It was mint with kitties and had its own matching spoon.
“You wait here while we get everything ready, okay?” You said as you sat her in her highchair at the table.
“But I wanna help!” she whined.
“I know you do, honey. But Mommy and Daddy need to talk for a minute.”
“Okay,” she pouted.
You pressed a kiss to her cheek and her pout faded instantly, no matter how much she tried to prevent it.
Hawks was bent over to rummage through the freezer while he picked out everyone’s favorite ice cream. Except his, of course.
“Babe? Did you want the strawberry or-” He froze when you leaned down and whispered in his ear.
“If you think not getting ice cream is your only punishment for that little stunt you pulled earlier, then you’re in for a real treat.”
He swallowed thickly.
Even though he was stronger than you, he loved when you played into his games and would obey at any cost. Even if it meant he would be teased mercilessly and never allowed to come that night. Or if he was “forced” to spend hours with his face between your legs. The two of you pretended it was a punishment, even though you knew it was one of his favorite things to do. It gave you some semblance of power and control.
Sometimes, you couldn’t help but admire how committed he was to everything. To you. To his daughter. To the life he so desperately wanted you to live with him. Even if it meant he ended up writhing helplessly on the bed while you edged him for the fifth time that night. He never broke out of the flimsy restraints. Well, they were flimsy to him. You could never break from them, even when you tried with all your might.
He could have been supremely selfish (even more than he already was with all he did to you) and been the only one to dole out the punishments when you “misbehaved.” But, he was nothing if not committed. On the rare occasions that he slipped up, he would only smile apologetically and take whatever you decided to give him.
You snatched the ice cream from his hands with a “hmph!” and strutted to the counter.
“Why didn’t you take the lid off these?” you scolded wile ripping the lid from the ice cream containers already on the counter. “You need to let them thaw before we can scoop them. But don’t put them in the microwave! You always leave them in too long and then they get all soupy. I’ve told you a million times, if you’re going to do that you put it in for five, ten seconds tops-”
He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pressed a kiss to your cheek.
“I’m sorry, Kiri. I’m just not as good at making sundaes as you are.” He spoke directly into your ear with his sultry voice. How could he sound so sexy when only talking about ice cream!
“Whatever!” you huffed. “That’s no excuse. You’re too careless. You can’t get distracted when you thaw ice cream in the microwave. Would it kill you to pay attention to one thing for ten seconds?”
“Yes,” he stated confidently.
You sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Now, go get the whipped cream and cherries.”
“Yes, ma’am!” He gave you a mock salute before he stepped away.
“Hurry up! I’m hungryyy!” your daughter complained form the other room.
“You had dinner an hour ago! There’s no way you’re actually hungry,” you shouted.
“I’m hungry for ice cream, duh!” She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Watch your tone, missy,” you warned.
“Fine,” she drawled.
You peered around the doorway to the dining room and shot her a firm look.
“I mean, yes, Mommy,” she spoke demurely.
“That’s better,” you praised and went to join Hawks in the kitchen.
You were gone for what, three seconds? And already he was spraying whipped cream directly into his mouth by the time you entered the kitchen.
He stopped immediately and tried to wipe the cream from his face.
You stood with your hands on your hips and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I know,” he spoke with his signature grin.
You snatched the can from him and rinsed the tip at the sink.
“You better not do that when she’s watching. She’s learned enough bad habits from you!”
“What?” he squawked playfully. “No way! Name ten.”
“Let’s see… drinking milk straight from the carton even though she can barely lift it when it’s full.”
“I don’t even do that anymore!” he interjected.
“Yes, but she saw you do it and that’s how she learned it. Also, throwing her food in the air and trying to catch it in her mouth.”
“But it’s so much fun!” he claimed.
“When you catch it. When you don’t, it just creates a mess for me to clean.”
“I can help clean more often if you want,” he said and kissed your neck.
He was trying to distract you. But you weren’t going to let him.
“Piling her blankets and pillows all over her bead to create a ‘nest’”
“It’s comfy and you know it!”
You did. He did the same thing to the bed you two shared.
“Again, I’m the one who has to make her bed in the mornings. And ours, for that matter.”
Hawks wouldn’t let you have a job after you got married. He was obsessed with providing for you. He didn’t even want you to do housework and tried hiring a cleaning lady, but you would have gone crazy with nothing productive to do all day.
“Yeah, but, uh…” he couldn’t even come up with a good excuse for that one.
“Jumping into dirty puddles to ‘clean her wings like the birdies’”
“Oh god I forgot about that,” he muttered against your skin in embarrassment.
“At least you help bathe her so it’s not that bad. But still. Oh, and clinging to me when I’m trying to do stuff. Kind of like you are right now,” you glared at him.
“But you’re so warm and fun to hold! Even you can’t deny that.”
“Sure I can.”
He had the audacity to actually pout at you.
“Speaking of which, let go. I have to go start the sundaes.” You started walking towards the ice cream bowls.
“Go ahead,” he said with his arms still wrapped around your waist.
“Keigo,” you groaned. He couldn’t be serious.
“What? I’ll walk with you.” He was serious.
“Being a smartass. She didn’t get that from me, that’s for sure.”
“Hey! You can be one too,” he said indignantly.
“Yeah, but not in front of her. I don’t want her to grow up into a brat. Like you.”
He gave you his best puppy dog eyes and let you go. You ignored him and started scooping ice cream into the bowls. He got out the sprinkles.
“Oh, so now you wanna help.”
“I wanted to help before! I just got distracted,” he admitted.
“Add easily getting distracted to the list,” you said as you drizzled chocolate sauce over Akina’s ice cream and strawberry sauce over your own. He stepped in and added the whipped cream.
“Using too much whipped cream,” you said as he recreated Mount Fuji on top of the ice cream. He sprayed some on your nose.
“Hey!” you scrunched your face and went to wipe your nose, but he held your hands. He looked you dead in the eyes as he licked the cream off your face.
“Ew, Keigo!”
He chuckled in response.
“Is it done yet?” Akina asked loudly.
“Yes, honey! We’re just adding the sprinkles,” you replied.
“Wait! I wanna add my own,” she insisted.
“All right, all right,” you acquiesced. “You carry the ice cream and I’ll carry the sprinkles.”
“Anything for you, love!” He chirped.
“Anything except letting me go,” you whispered under your breath as you grabbed a bowl in each hand.
“Do you really want to go?” His voice was quiet and filled with sadness.
“I…” you trailed off
What did you want? As nice as your life with Hawks was, you couldn’t ignore how it started.
Right?
“It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t let me go,” your voice sounded hollow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.”
“Isn’t it a little too late for that?” you laughed mirthlessly.
“Better late than never, right?” his eyes were glassy and his voice shaky.
“No. You are not making me feel bad for you. And you are not crying. Especially in front of Akina.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again when tears streamed down his face.
“Oh god.” You set down the ice cream and grabbed a paper towel. “Stop that! It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
It always ended like this.
“Really?” His eyes were filled with nothing but love and adoration for you. You could almost see the man you fell in love with in them.
“Yes. Really.” You kissed his cheek.
“I love you.” He never sounded more serious than when he said those words. Even when he put villains in their place or gave interviews on television about his desire for a peaceful society.
“I love you too.” In some ways, you really did. It made the whole situation even more confusing.
You rushed into the dining room and Akina cheered at the sight of all the whipped cream. Hawks took a moment to compose himself before entering with an array of sprinkles.
“Who wants sprinkles?” His voice boomed.
“I do!” Akina cheered.
“Inside voices,” you said firmly, but not loudly.
Akina brought her hands to her mouth before whispering “I do.”
“Here you go,” Hawks whispered as well when he laid out an array of sprinkles on the table.
That stupid look never left his face. Not while he watched you add sprinkles to your ice cream. Not while he watched Akina practically empty half the container onto hers. Not while you scolded her for doing so. Not when you fed her ice cream and she fed some to you, getting it all over your face in the process. Or when he was relegated to doing dishes while you got Akina ready for bed. It briefly left him when you delivered on that punishment you promised him, but it was back once he wrapped you up in his arms and wings as you both drifted off to sleep. Right before your consciousness faded, you could sense a similar look on your own face as well.
I Trust You
Word count: 2860
Notes: Reposting all my fics cus I can't find them in my privated posts rip. Here is my first ever yandere shiggy post!! Enjoy!
You shivered as Shigaraki’s rough lips dragged across your neck. You couldn’t suppress the scared whimper that left your mouth. He groaned. You stiffened in his lap. His hands gently rubbed your sides in an attempt to comfort you. It wasn’t working.
Your gaze focused on the large, bright TV that sat across the room. It just barely illuminated the dark room enough to show all the posters and clutter littered around the room. Video game posters from FPS or RPG games looked strange next to cutesy anime posters. While you had a lot of similar interests and liked a lot of the same games, you still had your girly interests. You never expected that your captor would agree to hang up posters of your favorite things in his room.
You were playing your favorite game. It wasn’t multiplayer, but Shigaraki assured you that he had just as much fun watching you play as when he joined you. At least then he wouldn’t mess with your concentration by cuddling and kissing your skin at the most inopportune moments. You could swear he did that on purpose to mess with you.
He kissed your cheek. “I’m wearing the gloves…” He muttered.
You knew that. That wasn’t what scared you. You did your best to relax. It wasn’t good to make him angry. The thought of angering him scared you more, however, and an impatient sigh tickled your neck.
You shuddered again. “Kiri…” He spoke softly. You should have responded, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate.
“Why are you scared?” his breath tickled your ear and his voice made your skin erupt in goosebumps, like it often did. Especially when he spoke right into your ear like that.
“I-I’m not scared! I want it! I want you,” you spat as quickly as you could.
“Sweetheart, be honest with me.”
Your shoulders tensed up even more. You hadn’t thought it possible. He rarely used pet names with you. He said he loved your name too much not to use it. So, whenever he called you something endearing, it had the opposite effect of what was intended.
“I’m being ho-”
“Stop.” he spoke only slightly louder than before, but the commanding tone in his voice made you jolt as if he had been shouting. “I… I love when you say those things. I really do. But I want you to mean them. The lip service isn’t enough anymore.
Kiri. I love you. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I want you to be happy. I know I can get… scary… when I’m angry. But I promise I won’t be angry with you if you’re honest with me. Even if I don’t like what you’re saying.”
He knew. He’d known for a while. How long? He was just playing along? What were you going to do if lying wasn’t working anymore? What was he going to do? He had to be kidding. There was no way he wouldn’t decay you on the spot if you truly spoke your mind.
“That’s not true,” you whispered. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Shit shit shit shi-
His head lowered onto your shoulder as he nuzzled into your neck. His arms wrapped around your waist in a firm, but not suffocating hug. “I mean it. You’ve been doing your best to be good for me. I know you’re not trying to defy me, so I won’t get angry. If something’s wrong… I need to know. I need to fix it.”
The only way to fix it is to let me go.
“I don’t want to let you go…”
Is he a fucking mind reader? Did All For One give him a telepathic quirk at some point?
“We’re perfect for each other. I know you’ll see it too someday. Then you won’t want to leave anymore.”
“Fat chance…”
He chuckled. The vibrations of his voice rumbled against your back.
“Brat.” He teased. It wasn’t in the infuriated tone he had used in the past when saying it. It was… playful. He was so confident in the two of you being right for each other that your defiance didn’t enrage him anymore. It still bothered him, sure, but your presence was so calming, so comforting, that he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at you anymore. He knew things would be perfect eventually, so he didn’t panic when there were a few bumps in the road.
When you hadn’t stopped resisting after the first week, Sensei had told him to be patient with you. You were scared. He could understand that feeling. Even though he would yell or throw things, decay whatever was in his hand when he was angry, he made sure to never once touch you. He needed to show you there was nothing to be afraid of. Your heart was strong, and you wouldn’t break easily. You wouldn’t let him into your heart out of desperation or exhaustion. It had to be genuine. It was frustrating, but it made him love you even more. Your body might have been weak, but your mind was strong.
It made it all the more meaningful when you actually started to respond when he talked to you. He was able to say things to you he would never let himself think of, let alone say to anyone else. Whether you liked it or not, even if it wasn’t reciprocated, you had a way of worming yourself into his heart and breaking down all of his barriers. Even when you weren’t trying. He answered all of your questions. He hadn’t even realized some of his own feelings until he had spoken them to you. He spoke of his parents, how alone and scared he was, his feelings of vulnerability, inferiority, all of it. How All For One took him in. The nightmares he had. His dreams for the future. All of his goals and hopes.
“But, don’t you essentially want the same thing as him? Why do you think he’s wrong about wanting to rebuild society? You said yourself you didn’t have any plans for how things should be after All Might is gone and people lose their faith in heroes. Are you sure you don’t hate him just because he stabbed you?”
He scoffed. He wanted to tell you that you were wrong. To shut up. But it was the first time you had spoken so freely to him. You never said more than a few words at a time. He didn’t want to ruin it. He shifted next to you on the bed.
“I…” It was that day when you first coaxed his true feelings out of his mind without him being able to stop it. It was three months, twelve days, and four hours after he had taken you.
“I think you might be jealous that he’s getting all the attention. I mean, I would be too if people ignored me for some asshole who stabbed me. But you have to look past that. You have to think about it without being blinded by your distaste for him. If you think about it, he’s actually helping you. Even if he didn’t plan on it. Didn’t you say two people already joined because of him?”
“Yes. It’s good for the League. And I hate it. I hate that he’s right. I hate that he’s stealing the spotlight. I’m jealous. I want to tear it all down; it’s what society deserves. I never cared to think much about what to do afterwards. I never considered it important. It’s not wrong to build it up again the way he wants to. And that makes it worse. It makes me angry. Makes me hate him more.”
…What did I just say?
His jaw stiffened. He didn’t want to admit those things to himself. Yet, here he was, telling you his innermost thoughts. He wanted to take it back. Blurt something out to make himself feel less embarrassed, less exposed. But he hesitated. You were staring off into space as you spoke before he could deny anything.
“Hmm, that makes sense. I mean, you’re the leader, but everyone kinda treats him like he’s more important. Even though he’s stuck in jail. He’s not doing all the planning, directing the missions. I can see why that would piss you off.”
He was so fucking glad he hadn’t said anything. You didn’t notice his bewildered gaze fixated on you. You were saying so much. You were seeing things his way. Even if you didn’t agree with his goals, you were trying to understand him. He cherished every word you spoke. He promised himself never to lie to you. Never to stop you from saying how you really felt. Even if it was embarrassing or frustrating.
That’s why he didn’t call you out when he you started saying what he wanted to hear just to placate him. His heart hurt knowing that you were lying, but the words he had been dying to hear sounded so amazing in your sweet voice. He pretended not to know. He let himself enjoy the fantasy. You’d mean it someday. You’d realize it someday. If he confronted you, you’d be scared again. He didn’t want to ruin it.
But he couldn’t take it anymore. It had been months of you lying. You had built trust with each other. Even if you didn’t mean the affectionate praises and declarations of love for him, here and there you let your true feelings spill. Usually about anything except him. Even if it was something insignificant, like how you didn’t like a particular snack he bought for you. He relished in your honesty and thanked you for it. He was able to get you things you actually liked once you were willing to tell him. He was able to play games with you that you genuinely enjoyed. To banter with you and joke around. It was so perfect. There was just that one little problem plaguing his mind. He wanted you to mean everything you said. Even the things about him. Even if you hated him. Or disliked him. Or wanted to go home. He wanted to know.
It had been six months, two weeks, and three days since he’d taken you. He felt he had given you enough time to realize he would never hurt you. He shifted you in his lap and gently cupped your cheek, directing you to look at him.
“I love you. You know that, right? I’d never hurt you. I want to know how you really feel. I promise I won’t get angry. Even if you say you hate me.”
He had to choke back a sob that suddenly rose up his throat. The mere idea of you hating him, even after all you had shared together, was too much for him to handle. But he had to be strong. He had to know. Even if it killed him inside.
“I don’t hate you,” you spoke softly. He could see in your eyes you were telling the truth. This time, tears of happiness were what he had to hold back. “I just…” you looked away from him. Down at the bed. He hated when your eyes weren’t on him. Especially when he was talking to you. But he knew it could be intense. He didn’t want to pressure you. So he softly caressed your cheek as you spoke, “I’m never going to stop missing my home. I’m never going to stop missing my family, no matter how much I like it here.”
His breath caught in his throat. You liked it here? He wanted to pounce you and drown you in kisses. But he didn’t. You weren’t done talking. Your voice was precious. Your thoughts were precious. Your honest thoughts were the most precious of all. He exhaled as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to disturb you or derail your train of thought.
You took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve started liking… Well, I have fun with you. I’m never going to agree with hurting innocent people, but I can see where you’re coming from. And it scares me. I shouldn’t be able to understand. But I do. At least a little bit.”
You decided to trust him. He had shared so many feelings with you, so many things you knew weren’t easy for him to admit. You owed him this. “To really let you in… into my heart, I mean…”
God, this sounds so cheesy!
But you didn’t know how else to say it.
“It’s intimidating! It’s fucking terrifying! I… You… If things had been different, I could see us working. There’s so many times I’ve thought you’d make the perfect boyfriend…” Tears of euphoria spilled onto his cheeks. You were still looking down. He kept his breathing as steady as possible. He never wanted you to stop talking.
“But you’re a villain! You hurt people! I can never be okay with that… if it does mean things will be better in the end for everyone, I could maybe forgive it, but I don’t even know if things will work out that way!” You were stifling your own sobs now.
“Sometimes I think, why not? Why don’t I just let you in? It feels so nice when you hold me… I never have to worry about weirding you out with all my stupid thoughts and opinions like I do with my classmates and most of my friends. I can just be myself. But…” The sobs were making it difficult to speak. You leaned your head against his chest.
“Would I be a bad person if I loved you? After what you went through, can I blame you for being angry? For hating everyone? But it still doesn’t make it right… You…” He was rubbing gentle circled on your back. You could hear his heart hammering in his chest. You could feel that he was sobbing, too. He’d never cried in front of you before. You’d caught a glimpse of a few stray tears here and there after some heavy conversations, but he’d always turned away to compose himself. He was letting you see it this time. He didn’t push you away. He was at his weakest.
Does he really love me? Does he really love me that much?
“But, If I give in… It’s going to hurt even more. When you get bored. If I do get out of here and go back home… I won’t be able to be happy. And then you’ll find another toy. Someone more obedient. Someone more open. And it would hurt. Maybe you’d come after me. I’d be scared. I want to be with my family. I would be scared if you hunted me down. But, I’d be hurt if you didn’t. I’d be hurt if you gave up. Forgot about me.”
“If” I get out of here? What am I saying! I can’t give up hope. I miss everyone...
“Kiri…” He shakily whispered your name. “Do you really think I’d ever stop loving you? I’d die before I forgot about you. And even then, I would still want you. You can be so stupid sometimes.” He couldn’t help the slight giggle in his voice. He didn’t want to seem demeaning, but what you were saying was so unthinkable that it was amusing. “I love you. I love you. Everything about you. I want to make you happy.”
“But I don’t even know what will make me happy! Either way, I’ll still- ” You couldn’t speak through your cries anymore. Tomura held you closer. He kissed your cheek and you felt the hot tears running down his faced and the snot oozing from his nose. But you didn’t care. You were just as much of a mess. For a while, the two of you just sat there. Holding each other and crying.
“It’s the same for me. I want to make you happy, but I don’t want to let you go. Either way…” He was the first to speak. His voice was hushed, gentle. “I can ask Sensei. I’ll find a way. Maybe you can see them. You can’t leave, but maybe you can visit. We’d have to make sure they don’t go to the cops. They can’t tell anyone.”
You looked up at him in shock. “To-Tomu…” You had to wipe the snot from your face and rub the tears that clung to your eyelashes. “You’d… You’d do that? For me? It’d be so risky. What if they got heroes involved? What if…” Your eyes lowered. It was tough to say it. Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you just hated the thought of it. “What if I didn’t come back?”
You whispered so quietly that Tomura had to lean in to hear you. To your surprise, he smiled and stroked your hair. “Don’t worry. We’ll arrange things beforehand so they know not to cross us. And, when it comes to you…” You locked eyes with him. It was tough not to close them in contentedness when he stroked your cheek so tenderly.
“I trust you.”
Can I ask where your dabi x reader fics have gone, I tried to find it on your page to reread then because ive missed it, but I couldn't find them
I privated all of my stuff a while ago and I'm going through now unprivating stuff, but I don't see some of my old fics ^^' so I think I might just have to repost them honestly which sucks. They'll be back on my page though, thank you for reading!!
How I react to the new 6th LI atm, tbh:
BRING BACK VALKO!!
Ah, yes, the duality of (wolf)man
just a lil sneak peek of something I'm cookin up hehe
tw: mentions of blood
bro's a licker
I LOVE ME A LICKER AAAAAAAAA
Zombie stage
AAAAAA I LOVE THIS!! THEY WOULD BE SO CUTE IN ZOMBIE STAGE!!
VALKO TRAILER DROPPED
HES SO COCKY I LOVE IT
SCENT KINK CONFIRMED??? I FUCKING KNEW IT!!
AND WE GET TO CHOCKE HIM?????????
Awooo 🐺 New LADS LI ✨
🎶 It’s rutting season… I need a big boy, I need a big boy~ Welcome to Linkon, Valko! 🐺 I see the potential now. Exciting times. Also Sylus is still my husband, team vampire 😂 I’m excited to hear Valko’s voice though. Hopefully it’s deep. Btw, no bush in Patreon 🌿
well theres two now
Did you wipe your blog? Like remove a whole bunch of your posts?
Yeah I locked it down after the doxing. I'm slowly getting back into tumblr so I'll make some stuff visible again.
Awooo 🐺 New LADS LI ✨
🎶 It’s rutting season… I need a big boy, I need a big boy~ Welcome to Linkon, Valko! 🐺 I see the potential now. Exciting times. Also Sylus is still my husband, team vampire 😂 I’m excited to hear Valko’s voice though. Hopefully it’s deep. Btw, no bush in Patreon 🌿
Welcome Valko!!
THIS IS A VALKO SIMP SAFE SPACE
the amount of my moots who are just not into him 😭😭😭
but moreso the INSANE amount of hate i've seen for him already is pissing me off. even in fandom servers i'm in people were still being assholes. this is a safe space for those of us who simp for him. i'm headcanoning so many kinks for him already. werewolf girlies, let's brainstorm the freakiest stuff we can!! he's gonna be into so much shit in my mind before he even comes out XD
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ VALKO: CHASING NIGHT ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
WOOF WOOF BARK BARK
A Visit: The Raven at the Gate
a quiet night becomes tumultuous due to unpleasant confrontations with the hatchlings and powers you neither fully understand nor control. the help you're offered is a double-edged sword.
->meanvamps. contains mind control, non-consensual touching, predator/prey dynamic. also on ao3.
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You wake three times that night. The first time, to pressure; hands on your hands, pinning them to the pillows. A body astride yours. Someone humming under their breath. The eyes of a beast glint in the dark.
“Calm,” the nightmare says, so you are calm. Screaming doesn’t even occur to you.
Someone inhales and exhales against your neck and noses along your jaw, nuzzling, taking in your scent. You feel a rumbling animal noise like a wolf growling, considering, and then a sharp huff. You sense acceptance. Primal and pragmatic approval. You are part of the flock now. Sharp teeth nip at your pulse with shallow bites, prodding but never breaking the skin.
Someone else’s fearful reluctance pricks your heart like a thorn. You are of the flock, yes, but you are still dangerous. The hands holding yours down push harder, growing sharp at the ends.
“Someone,” the nightmare hisses, “should clip your wings.”
You wake up the second time gasping and flailing, thrashing your body until you’ve kicked away the blankets and knocked everything off the bedside table. Scrunched up against the headboard, you scan the room once, twice, a third time before your panicked heartbeat slows and starts to settle. You’re alone. One of Athanasius’ ornate lamps has been reduced to colorful shrapnel, shards of stained glass scattered across the wood floor.
Someone knocks. The sound makes you flinch. “Sacrament?” you hear. Athanasius doesn’t wait for an answer. His silhouette fills your doorway, haloed by another lamp in the hall. “Oh dear,” he says. “Stay where you are. I will retrieve a dustpan.”
“I thought you told him to stay out of my room,” you say.
“I did. Another discussion is in order, it seems.”
“A discussion?” The sharpness in your tone takes him by surprise. Athanasius pauses, half-melded into shadows, and turns back towards you. “What if he hurts me next time?” you ask.
“He will not.”
“How do you know that?”
You hear a soft sigh but Athanasius is quiet a moment longer. He steps through the doorway and comes to kneel at your bedside. Glass crunches beneath his feet. He holds out his hand, palm up, waiting, silently asking for yours. You don’t move. “My apologies, sacrament. For you to be so fearful here, in my care, is unacceptable. Permit me another chance to prove my sincerity and the safety of my convenire.”
“You say that like I have a choice,” you mutter.
You can’t really see him. He’s just another shadow, a graceful outline drawn in the gold spilling in from the hall. But he’s smiling. You can sense it. There’s a subtle shift in the connection between you, blooming warmth and delight.
“I seem to recall offering you a lesson in self-defense,” he says.
You ignore the needling sensation of his satisfaction when you sit up straighter. “Yeah. You did.”
“I believe there will be an opportunity this evening, should you wish to take it.”
You don’t agree right away. He doesn’t push and he doesn’t leave, either. You find yourself studying him in the dark and feel scrutinized in return. This is no different than his plea for another chance. He presents the inevitable as something you can enjoy and hopes you mistake that for a choice.
The silence stretches on and your pulse hammers in your ears. You’re struck by the terrifying thought that he might be content to stay there, knelt at your side, for hours or days or however long it takes to get what he wants. Elders measure time differently. Their patience is unfathomable. Your plan has been to play along, wait him out, and seize your moment, whenever it comes. He has to get frustrated or bored eventually.
Athanasius tilts his head slightly, a smile stretching across his face like he’s listening along to your turbulent thoughts. Your moment, you realize, is never coming. The sun will die before he loses focus and lets you slip away.
“I really would like to let you roam beyond the convenire,” he says gently, like you need convincing. “And I know you would like more independence. The freedom to go where you please without a chaperone. It would put my mind at ease if I knew you could protect yourself.”
You search his face for a lie but you have no idea what to look for. For something as old as him, deception might be second-nature. “Don’t let Mihai come in here again,” you say.
“I will not allow him to disturb you. I give you my word,” he says. He holds his hand out again. This time, reluctantly, you take it. He doesn’t pull you out of bed. His fingers curl around yours and he brings your wrist to his mouth. He shuts his eyes and kisses your pulse three times, pausing between each with a soft inhale. The air in the room feels unbearably heavy when he opens his eyes again, gazing up at you through his dark lashes.
He’s not smiling. His breath comes quick and shallow, his gaze somehow both intently focused and distant, looking through and beyond you. His hand wraps tightly around yours and squeezes until it starts to hurt. Your wince and the small, discomforted noise you make snaps him out of it, whatever it is. He lets you go and smiles easily like nothing happened. He says something about tidying the floor and taking your time getting ready, and then he’s gone, dissipating as shadows.
That was important, you understand. Meaningful to him somehow. Your wrist still tingles.
Athanasius comes and goes with a dustpan and garbage bag, sweeping up what remains of the lamp. You dress for a workout and slip out of your room, but you don’t make it halfway down the hall before someone pulls you to a stop and corners you against the wall.
You’re expecting Mihai. You’re absolutely not expecting Orion, his chest heaving under a clinging tank top and his smile terse. “Hey there,” he says. He sounds winded. When you try to slip around him, he cages you in, resting his hand on the wall beside you. “Hey, so, I’m just wondering. Where were you the other night?”
You try going the other way and he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “Athanasius made Renaud take me to work,” you say, hoping he’ll back off if he gets an answer.
He doesn’t. You see his jaw clench, a slow swallow working down his throat. “Oh, yeah? So that tattoo place, right? What’d you do there?”
“Can you back off a little?” you ask, pushing his chest. He doesn’t budge.
“You let him fuck you,” Orion says. It sounds like an accusation. You sputter an excuse, a casual deflection, but his thumb brushes back and forth on your shoulder and you feel him slip into your mind like a stone thrown into a lake, disrupting your conscious thoughts with a ripple of sudden intrusion. Shock flickers across his face but then he plasters on his usual easy grin and leans in closer. “Hey, hey, no worries. I don’t judge. It’s just, y’know, I hope you’re not too attached. He sleeps around a lot and, like, between you and me, he only fucks people he hates.” He slides his fingers along the side of your neck. “Messy bite, too,” he murmurs. “You liked mine better. Right?”
You try to say no but the word won’t come out. You’re lightheaded and the hallway starts to look hazy, the light dimmer, the colors all running together the way they do when you’re slipping under someone’s mesmerism. You make a quiet, frightened noise in your throat because your mouth won’t open.
“Don’t be embarrassed. That’s normal, y’know.” He strokes your arm from your shoulder to your wrist and back up again, caressing your neck. It’s getting harder to stand up straight. You have to lean back against the wall and that just makes Orion press even closer, his breath warming your lips. “You’ve been thinking about it, too, yeah? You want me to bite you again. Right?”
You want it. You shake your head frantically and you make a muted, miserable sound, but you’re turning your head and craning your neck, giving him everything he wants. It feels like a nightmare. He keeps you from bolting with a slow, steady stroke up and down your arm, but you’re still conscious, too aware for his mesmerism to dull the terror you feel at losing control. Your body obeys and your mind riots.
Something crackles like small branches snapping. The subtle wintry scent of magic fills the air.
Orion lurches back from your neck and takes you by the shoulders, squeezing. He’s trying to talk to you. His mouth moves but you can’t hear him over the ringing in your ears, and the voice of his mesmerism is like a meaningless murmur coming from another room. He turns, still gripping your shoulders, and yells something down the hall. You’ve never seen him so afraid.
The shadows around him stir. Renaud slips from the dark on his right and then he freezes, wide-eyed and shrinking back like a frightened animal at the sight of you. Athanasius surges out of the dark already reaching for you, curling his hand beneath your chin and wrenching your gaze upwards, away from the hatchlings. It happens too quickly for you to see him clearly but you feel flickering embers in your connection, pinpricks of surprise that flare into a conflagration of conflicted emotion. Excitement and wariness, hope and dread, eagerness and resignation; it all comes at once, all inextricably tangled together. Before you can make sense of it, the full force of his mesmerism comes in a drowning wave and you are gone again.
*
The third time, you wake in slow motion. Coming back to yourself is a gentle process under Athanasius’ precise control. He releases your senses one at a time, keeping everything foggy and dreamlike as long as he can. You smell the rust and spices of hot, fragrant blood-tea. You feel the plush warmth of a heavy blanket stretched over your body. You’re woozy and sore, feeling like one big bruise. The room is a blur at first but it sharpens, the shapes and shadows within becoming recognizable silhouettes.
Table and armchair. Ornate picture frames. The gray stone of the fireplace and the sleek black screen of a TV above it. You’re in the parlor, on the couch. Someone is nearby, next to you, petting your head. Someone is in the armchair. A conversation is happening without you.
“…would not be opposed to an official inquiry?”
“Your travels have taken you through Envred before. I need not tell you how they are likely to respond to such accusations.”
“Pride is for the bird whose nest is well-tended. What right do they have to refuse?”
“We must do this quietly.”
A long pause. A soft sigh. Athanasius speaks with a quiet viciousness you’ve never heard from him before. “You show restraint when it vexes me most. They do not deserve our respect or our discretion. They deserve nothing. Do you know how many witches a single compound murders in the span of a month? A year? When I think of that filth trespassing into other territories—”
“Athanasius.”
The hand on your head stops for a moment and then resumes its ministrations, even more gently than before. “Good evening, sacrament,” Athanasius says, honey-sweet once again. You squirm out of his lap and curl up on the far end of the couch, and he smiles patiently. The only light in the room flickers in a faint glow from tealights on the coffee table, glinting in the eyes of the nightbound watching you.
You don’t recognize the one in the armchair. It’s not one of the hatchlings. Half-lit, you only see part of a stern, solemn face and pensive frown. His hair is long and dark like Athanasius’, falling over one shoulder in glossy waves. You can just make out a black vest and a pinstriped shirt underneath. Legs crossed, stiff and upright posture like he’s posing for a portrait. He leans forward to set a saucer and teacup on the table and as he nears the light, the shadows peeling back from the rest of his face, you realize it’s not a stranger after all.
It’s Lord Regent Avudim.
“My, you look surprised,” he says, chuckling at the unabashed horror on your face.
“What are you doing here?” you say.
“I am visiting an old friend and confidant whose opinion I hold in high regard.” He shares a look with Athanasius that you can’t even begin to interpret. They’re smiling, but it doesn’t reach their eyes. Athanasius exhales wearily but he brightens again when he turns back to you.
“How are you feeling, sacrament?” he asks. He looks you over briefly. His gaze lingers somewhere below your face. “I apologize if there is any lingering discomfort.”
The question isn’t fully formed in your mouth before you realize what he’s looking at. Everything hurts, but your arm is the worst. The pain is deep and dull, an ache buried in your muscles that throbs when they flex or move in particular ways. You find a bandage plastered to your shoulder when you push up your sleeve. You look to Athanasius for answers and find him staring back at you with uncomfortably intense curiosity.
“Do you recall the incident at the Council meeting when you were sentenced to sacramental service?” he asks. He’s watching you carefully as he speaks, paying attention to your defensive posture, the way your hands clutch at the blanket and your shoulders draw further inward. “You attempted to use your magic in a haphazard manner and lost control of it.”
“I never really had control of it. Since, you know, I never had the chance to learn,” you remind him.
He continues calmly like you never spoke. “You had a similar incident once again this evening. I was unable to completely subdue your magic even after rendering you unconscious, and saw fit to administer antiarcanic injections.” He pauses. It doesn’t matter how well you maintain a stoic facade. You know he’s catching the scent of sweat and hearing your pulse pick up from a saunter to a nervous gallop. “You received three times the recommended dose. I was reluctant to continue but your magic would not respond to anything less. Any witch in your position would be incapacitated for some time and feel quite unwell upon waking. Unless…”
He trails off and tilts his head, as if inviting you to finish the thought. The silence stretches on uncomfortably. Is there any point in stalling or trying to lie? You know how nightbound interrogations work. You wonder what they’re even fishing for. They probably know already. You know Edmund found every little sentimental trinket you had stashed away back home because they’ve all quietly appeared in bags and boxes, delivered to your room by Athanasius with a coy smile. He must’ve found your stash of antiarcanics stuffed under the mattress, too. You’d kept them in an innocuous plastic case, packed them between sheets of painkillers and stacks of bandages so it looked like a first aid kit, but you’re sure that didn’t stop him from rifling through it anyway.
“No, it did not. We teach our agents to be thorough,” Avudim says. He chuckles at your withering expression. You shouldn’t be surprised. You feel him in the same place you feel Athanasius, a gentle, squeezing pressure on your mind. Maybe fledglings like Edmund need to put you under completely, but elders only need connection to get a foothold in your thoughts. He hums in approval and smiles condescendingly. You remember, as vividly as you can, the night you climbed onto the Council meeting stage. You imagine the Lord Regent dead beneath you with a dagger through the heart.
In retaliation, Avudim imagines you at his mercy instead. Not as it truly happened; worse. He thinks of you stretched sensually across that table, your arms above your head, your neck bared, chest heaving with quick breaths and heart racing in both fear and desire. You are dressed in nothing but a translucent robe that drapes heavily like silk, so thin and sheer that your skin shows wherever it settles against your body. It is white for now, but you know it’ll bloom scarlet wherever they feed. Avudim’s fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face to look up at his sharp, hungry smile as the Council descends like wolves upon a trembling deer—
And then it’s gone, the vision wiped from your mind. You’re still trembling. You feel hot and tingling as though still shaking off the euphoria of being fed upon. Avudim sips his blood-tea with his eyes shut as though nothing happened.
“Enough,” Athanasius says. “Do not test the Lord Regent, sacrament. It concerns me greatly that you have used antiarcanics so recklessly in the past.” He raises his hand just as you open your mouth, anticipating an argument. “Yes, I know, you did so out of necessity, and so we must ensure it is no longer necessary. It is clear to me now that what I considered ‘rewards’ are, in fact, rather urgent matters that must be attended to sooner rather than later. Your magic lessons will begin once I have finished developing a lesson plan and will continue until you are no longer a danger to yourself or others. The Lord Regent has generously offered to teach you self-defense—”
“No,” you say.
Avudim doesn’t even look surprised. He does a poor job disguising his smile behind his hand, feigning a thoughtful expression. Athanasius tilts his head and looks at you patiently, as though waiting for you to explain yourself.
“I don’t want to learn from him,” you say, watching the Lord Regent out of the corner of your eye. “I’m already sore.”
“It will not be like last time. He will teach you, not simply seek to exhaust and humiliate you,” Athanasius insists.
You look at Avudim again. He looks at you, smiling innocently. “Then you have to stay,” you tell Athanasius.
“Of course. I will escort him from the premises myself if he does not conduct himself appropriately.”
They look at each other again and this time you notice subtle movements. Narrowed eyes. The twitch of an almost-smile. They must be talking telepathically. The conversation moves even faster than the ones you’ve seen between the hatchlings and they’re better at hiding it. You wonder how long they’ve known each other and how much power Athanasius truly holds in Skelveross.
“We will begin with a lesson on predation,” the Lord Regent announces.
He stands gracefully and Athanasius follows, the two of them pushing the furniture towards the walls and making a wide open space in the middle of the parlor. The light leaves with the candles and you find yourself swarmed by shadows. The nightbound are just outlines and glinting eyes again, swift shapes that make you flinch whenever they move. You can’t tell them apart anymore. You can only assume that the one that comes closer is Avudim and the other, drifting over to the fireplace, is Athanasius.
“Let us pretend that you are alone in the night, somewhere beyond the convenire,” Avudim says. “It is dark. You cannot see well. But you know you are being followed. And then…” He starts pacing around you in a slow circle. It doesn’t matter that this is just a lesson, that he’s in Athanasius’ convenire and you know he won’t hurt you. Your heart is in your throat. “You should always keep an eye on that which preys upon you,” he chides. You find his eyes in the dark and hear a chuckle. “Good. Maintain eye contact. We are ambush predators by nature. A traditionalist will always prefer to take you by surprise. Now, you will move towards safety.”
“What does that mean?” you ask. You glance away for just a moment, searching for Athanasius, and the air stirs around you. You feel breath warming the back of your neck and a hand clutching your shoulder.
“Do not lose sight of me,” Avudim murmurs, so close you can feel his words against your skin. “But yes, your instincts are correct. Go where you are protected. Try again.”
He vanishes, his touch and his breath suddenly absent. You turn back and forth, spinning in place trying to find him again, but he never reappears. Athanasius watches, unmoving. Should you go to him? Is it safe? You take a step closer but it doesn’t feel right. Wasn’t Athanasius next to the fireplace? That’s the other side of the room. At least, you think it is. You’ve stumbled around too much to know for sure. A wall. That’s what you need. A way to get your bearings. You move with your hands outstretched, searching for something familiar.
“Very good,” you hear. “If you are denied one sense, use another.”
There are two sets of eyes in the room again and you watch them both, backing away slowly. Which way is safety? Neither one moves. Your shoulder knocks into the wall and a rush of dread pulls your gaze away for barely a second, not even a blink, but that’s all a nightbound needs. All you see is more darkness, the lights in front of you vanishing, but you feel movement, sense the sudden oppressive presence of something standing too close and caging you in. An arm rests against the wall beside your head. A hand cups your jaw. You jolt in surprise but there’s nowhere to go, and he tightens his grip to keep you there.
“Fear leads you astray. Look at me. Look carefully.”
You move purely on instinct when he leans in, trying to push him away. He’s too close. You feel his hand gripping your shoulder to keep you still and his breath warming your neck. There’s nothing to see. You don’t know what he wants from you. He’s just another shadow in a room full of them but there, in the far corner--points of light. Athanasius. His eyes shift slightly as though he’s raised his head in pride.
“You are accustomed to fleeing at the first sign of danger. But you must know where a predator lurks before you choose which way to run.” Avudim grazes his thumb over your pulse and then he tugs you away from the wall by the shoulder. “Once more. Find what hunts you first. Find safety second.”
Movement churns in the dark, shadows rearranging. You steady yourself and scan the room carefully. The first set of eyes you find is distant and closing in, pacing just as he did the first time. You follow with your eyes, never letting him see your back. You move when he does, a step back for each he takes forward. Suddenly, you feel warmth. Fondness. The connection between you floods with cloying affection, the same sensation you always get when the Lord Regent smiles at you like a cute, mischievous animal. Angry and flustered, you almost look away.
You can’t see it, but you can tell by feel that he’s grinning. “Good. Very good,” he says.
“That’s not fair,” you mutter, your face burning.
“We are never fair when we hunt.”
Another slow turn around the room and you finally spot a second pair of eyes. The relief you feel is almost embarrassing. You resist the urge to bolt. Patience. That’s what he’s trying to teach you. Don’t rush and don’t give yourself away. You mirror his movements, pacing the room again, until you know Athanasius is behind you. You step backward without looking until you run into something.
A hand gently clasps your shoulder. You nearly collapse in relief. Their touch is different. You know even before you hear a pleased hum over your head and a soft, “Well done, sacrament.”
“Yes, well done. You are very trainable,” Avudim says, sounding far too happy about it for your liking. “My apologies, but the rest of your lessons must occur another night. There is an urgent matter that requires my attention. I recommend the exercise we practiced this evening in the meantime. I have no doubt the hatchlings would be eager to assist you.”
“I bet they would,” you mutter. You’d rather not get within reach of Orion or Mihai right now. Maybe you could talk Renaud into it. Athanasius rubs your shoulder in reassurance and then brushes past you. “Hey, wait, uh…”
“Yes, sacrament?” He stands beneath the archway where the parlor ends and a meandering hallway begins, the Lord Regent just beyond it.
The cold light of their eyes fixed upon you makes your heart race all over again. It was just a game, you think. That lesson just now, stumbling around in the dark, was never going to hurt you. But the danger felt so real. Even now, knowing it’s over, you want to bolt. It’s only Athanasius’ presence that gives you the strength to stand still. That’s safety, after all. Him and the convenire--that’s where you run.
“Where, um. Where are you going?” you ask. The dread is back. Not the same immediate sense of danger as when Avudim hunted you. A subtler, creeping thing. A bad feeling.
“I always see guests to the door. It is polite,” he says simply. You nod. The lights shift; he’s tilted his head. He doesn’t say anything when you follow them both down the hall, staying close to Athanasius’ side. He doesn’t have to. Through the connection, he can feel your nerves and your wariness, your unwillingness to be alone in the dark and something else. Something bitter and disappointed.
Athanasius’ hand settles on your lower back. He means to be reassuring but it just makes everything worse. Tonight’s lesson was not about self-defense the way you hoped but the way they understand it. They’re nightbound. You’ll never have the upper hand, and why would they want you to? The best thing they can do is train you to seek protection from the proper places. To love and rely upon the bars of your cage.At the front of the manor, Athanasius and Avudim exchange shallow bowing gestures. The Lord Regent bids you goodnight and Athanasius locks the door behind him.
The heavy click of the metal bolt sliding into place doesn’t scare you, but the sense of safety and peace it brings does.
Orionnnn puppy boiii!!!
