#and before i realised in dawning horror that it must have sat in my ask box for days it definitely made me happy lmao

[pharawee]

drop this sunflower 🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy! let's spread some sunshine ☀️

Oh nooo, this was swallowed by my asks and I only just saw. 😭😭

This calls for an emergency hug.

Thank you so much for the sunflower and for brightening my day! 💜💜💜

#ask #ask game #i'm so sorry #i didn't mean to ignore your ask 😭🙏 #and before i realised in dawning horror that it must have sat in my ask box for days it definitely made me happy lmao #anyway i hope you've had a great week so far and that your weekend will be even better 💜

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x15)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 15: Not All Rainbows

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

An ice pack sits partially on the sofa’s arm and partially on the head that is being knocked softly- but repeatedly- by its designated owner. The fist taps that forehead with the vigour of a dedicated hammer that is softly checking the tensile strength of its mettle. The second camera takes the liberty to zoom in on Tony’s face that has the tension the size of the Alps looming over his head. Other spectators sit around, going about their activities with their five senses while the sixth was stuck on Tony. One camera panned on Wanda’s figure standing in the kitchenette, stirring her coffee cautiously, locking eyes with the lens.

Wanda: Only if you could see the monstrous cloud looming over his head. *stretches the corner of her lips* It’s made less of anger and more of worry and embarrassment. *blinks and furrows her brows* And choco-chip ice cream for some reason. *shrugs* Though I'm just glad that nothing was broken or smashed today. *stops midway* *raises her index finger* Although...

Scott: *glows inside out with a big smile stuck on his red face* *swings from side to side in the chair* Huh? What? *shakes head* Nothing. Just *inhales* I'm worried about Tony *continues to smile*

"So-" Steve took the first step and everyone held their breath- "now we know why we weren't able to reach Carol before. She is clearly...kinda...sorta stuck right where Y/N and Loki are? I think the kids are safe now." "Oh? The kids are safe? I must have missed the scene where they returned home with another weird pet," Tony remarked monotonously with his eyes still closed. Peter leaned in towards Scott. "So Loki is one of the 'kids' now." Both the shippers fist-bumped discreetly before looking all serious. The camera swivelled right towards Wanda, who shared a look of bewilderment while pointing at the joy of the shippers who were clearly not reading Tony's wavelength. And Tony was not the only one on the wavelength. There in the corner on the dining table, Clint sat lost in some thought so deep that his resting face was now a resting bitch face while he dipped his arrows in tiny bottles- the purpose of which only he knew- and handled them like his own babies. "You still have to find a way to stab him with these," Natasha was quick to mention as she walked towards her friend and sat opposite him. "Oh, I'll find a way. I was in his head too, remember," Clint pointed out. "He completely underestimates me." "Hmm," she scrunched her nose, "just remove that itch-like thing on your neck before you go after him though." "Where?" He asked as he scratched the side of his neck with the end of his arrow, his furrowed brows suddenly releasing themselves at the dawn of realisation before disappearing from the camera frame to fall down from the seat with a thud. "Told you not to wipe both ends with the same cloth," she muttered while wistfully looking down at an unconscious Hawkeye.

That One Steamy Dungeon��� No one knew how, when or why Lulu was sitting there in Carol's lap like he knew her for ages. No one knew why Carol was stroking him with the back of her fingers while her eyes were stuck on you like two magnetic poles finding that one direction and sticking to it. And you genuinely did not know why you could not stop looking at Carol. All of Carol Danvers. Especially her lips. "What?" Carol finally dismissed the silence with one casual word. "Ag-sa-wuu-you're looking beautiful," was what you came up with. Loki stared at Lulu's camera with one long blink of...slowed surprise. The buzzing camera caught all three of you sitting in the returning silence over dried hay, looking at each other before you scooched down a little to hide the embarrassment visible over your face.

You: *whisper* W-well, she does look pretty despite all the dirt she's lying in. I mean *violently points at Carol in the background* look at her!!! How can someone look sooooo fucking beautiful??? *lick your lips* Except for Loki of course. That dude is on a whole another level.

Carol threw a shirt over Loki's face from her backpack. "Weren't your looks enough this time?" "Wasn't your hairstyle enough this time?" came the retort. You sat there in the middle, your eyes moving between both of them to calculate this new chemistry you were seeing. The camera caught you pulling your legs closer to your chest. "I didn't know you two were so...close to each other."

Javier: *signing* Why? *Furrows his brows* does that make you furious, Y/N? *wiggles his brows up and down in question* Hmm? *zooms in on his face* Hmm? *turns the camera towards the screen from which he and Green are watching the live broadcast*

"Close? I met him on one mission and this punk would have been dead had I not saved his ass back then." Carol smirked through the sentence and you did not realise any time sooner that you were staring at her, your mouth almost at the edge of drooling. "You blew my cover," Loki stressed while putting on the grey free size shirt. "And then she had the audacity to make me pay for her bar bill on the next stop," he gasped while looking at you. Javier took the opportunity to make his drone zoom at your iris, catching your pupils dilate in 4K as soon as Loki started narrating the story to you while you nodded in enthusiasm. "You do realise your ex-girlfriend wants to cut off your new girlfriend's head right this moment, right?" Carol was generous to point out while getting up and wiping off all the dirt and hay. "I'm not his girlfriend." "She's not my ex-" Both of you had the synchronisation of an orchestra. Carol took this opportunity to let her eyes pass the judgment- which played from one face to another and back for sheer entertainment.

Carol: *shrugs* *runs her hand through her pixie cut hair* Priorities, I guess. *nods*

"Anyways," Loki tried to cut this weird air surrounding the three of them that apparently Lulu was the only one enjoying, rubbing himself all around Carol's leg, "do you have a plan to get out of here?" "Of course," Carol simply jerked her shoulders, "punch my way through." You blinked at the camera.

You: Is that why they are called Captain? It has to be, right?

You shook your head and looked around in the ground, leaving Loki to do the bickering on your part as well. "Well, Miss one-punch woman, this time you are not the only one that needs to escape." You found a stick in the corner. It seemed to be made of the same ashen wood that Aellae sat on in her throne room. "We have tiny mortals to save too." Carol chuckled. You raised the stick your eye level, feeling the weight in your hands when suddenly your eyes grow wide and your mouth turns into a horror-filled 'O' "What? Where is the comedy?" A violent grunt came from your lungs, turning both Carol and Loki into attack and defence mode in your direction. Lulu's camera caught you taking the stick out of the orc's stomach. The dull creature blankly looked at the blood turning into sparks flying against the gravity before slowly consuming the whole creature, taking him with them. The next twenty seconds were a pause on every breath. You finally turned around, the stick still in your hand. "Did I kill him?" you asked in a whisper. Loki and Carol shared a glance. "It was just a bruise" Loki shoved your concern away with his hands. "He's in heaven now," Carol sang. "He was a bad guy, right?" "Yes," both of them nearly shouted. "It's good that he disappeared. You helped the universe get rid of a bad guy," Loki clapped his hands before give you an awkward thumbs up. You blinked at both of them. The smile eroding on your lips slowly turned the duo uncomfortable. "Good." Was all you said for your stature completely transformed. "Because that felt..."  you did not finish the sentence, clearly concerning your company. Well, Lulu seemed to like whatever vibes you were giving off. “Y/N,” Loki pretty much sang your name cautiously, slowly lifting his hands in the air to have a word with you to process whatever you were feeling. But you were already running outside with the most suspicious giggle the room had ever heard. Carol even shivered a bit to shake it off of her.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun You better run

The one buzzing drone in the hallway caught the slow-motion emotion of you walking into the hallway with the ash stick in your hand like a gun- locked and loaded- with something fierce burning in your eyes. Behind you Loki was trying to catch up with the adrenaline rush you were feeling, calling out your name to stop you. Carol was close behind, cheering you on as much as she could.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga

The orcs didn’t even seek you out. One of the reasons was the fact that you were running towards them first, swinging your arms with as much force as your body allowed, screaming your lungs out and jumping with fueled excitement whenever they went up in flames. Loki had to take a moment out of those crucial seconds to look at you. To look at that animalistic look in your eyes. Pausing for a millisecond to consciously question whether to admire it or fear it, he almost smiled. He might have stood there for a few seconds more had he not felt the blue plasmic force run by his side to destroy the one orc aiming for you from your blindside.

It started with the hayloft a-creakin' Well, it just started in the hay (loft) With his longjohns on, pop went a-creeping Out to the barn, up to the hay Young lovers and they are not sleeping Young lovers in the hay (loft) With his gun turned on, pop went a-creeping Out to the barn, up to the hay (loft)

"Seriously?!" He shouted at the glowing Captain who flew past him. "Catch up. Catch up!" she teased him while leaving a trail of bodies in her way. "ANARCHYYYYYY!!!!!!!" You howled as you ran, following your new crush. Loki sighed, his head trying to hang as low as possible as he looked at the sleek shackles around his wrists. Breathing in a lungful, he grabbed the nearest iron rail from the window looking out at the barren mountains and bent it till it broke in his flexing hand. "Is this why I am still alive?" He whispered to himself while continuing to walk in the direction you just dashed in.

My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun You better run My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun My daddy's got a gun Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga

Throne Room Aellae sat on the ash throne frozen in thought when one of her underlings interrupted her daydreaming with its presence. "What?" She did not disguise her displeasure. There has been a mishap on the laboratory floor, my lady." Her body automatically shifted on her seat. "Four guards are dead. The source is unknown." "Is it the woman?" "No, my lady. I just checked up on her after locking Master Loki up." "Then who is it?" "We are yet to find out. My lady." "Then why are you wasting my time by standing here and doing nothing about it?" The skinny elf-like underling bowed down to her and scurried in the opposite direction. It had reached the entrance of the throne room when a weak scream left its lungs and it stepped back- falling down in the process- to make way for the uninvited guest. The poise on Aellae's face took a turn as she looked at the person casually sauntering in her direction, never realising when she got up. "Oh, don't stand on my account," White mentioned breezily with a smirk, coming to a halt right in the middle of the room. "Zune." She called out the name like spitting a curse. "It's been a while, my least favourite Witch of the West Galactica." Zune smiled his precious smile, standing bright in stark contrast to his dull surroundings. "Last time we met, you were grovelling on the floor, begging for mercy in front of the Silver Court, asking them not to punish you for the endless crimes you committed in the last century." The composure was evidently crumbling away in little pieces. Aellae's stone-like glare was slowly turning into fast blinks. Her usually unruffled breaths were now a mocked laugh. "And the court decided to send you to arrest me? Where is the rest of the coven?" She pretended to guess before snapping her pale fingers. "Oh, right. I burned them all. Poor boys. J'uke, Fae and Mi'in were still so young." Zune huffed and smiled. "Hmm. They were really young when they fought you, weren't they? And to answer your question, no. The court did not send me here." Now this made Aellae burst into laughter. "So, you are here for revenge? For your mates?" Licking his teeth, he bit his lip and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, all the playfulness in his feature draining out with every passing second. "I am just here to clean up the mess that you made. But they are the ones who are here for revenge." Taking a step back, Zune gave Aellae a few seconds to realise that they are not the only ones in this room. And just when it dawns upon her, she sees the rest of the 'coven' come out of the shadows, surrounding her from every probable escape route this place could have. "Fae," she whispered with a deep-rooted horror in her throat, backing up into her throne when she looked at the familiar red figure walking towards her. "When you were setting us up on fire-" Fae carried no empathy in his eyes as he moved closer with every step- "you forgot that you cannot make Gods made up of ancient stars disappear when you please." Every cell in Fae's body vibrated with a demonic aura that made the witch go down on her knees. Her breaths shook and her eyes watered. The claustrophobia resulting from just his presence made it hard for her to breathe. "No," she shook her head, trying her best to mask her fear. "No. This cannot be. I destroyed you. I destroyed the senate. I destroyed everything that stood in my path. I cannot fail this time. This world needs to kneel before my power. That God needs to kneel before me. NO!!" The six looked at their leader to begin the ceremony. "Aellae of the covens abandoned, child of the dark refugees, you are hereby sent to the endless pits of the universe for your crimes against the creatures of the universe." The screams of the witch echoed throughout the castle till every last ounce of life in her voice could be heard fading away by the other group at the far end of the other wing. By the time Carol arrived, all that was left were the seven boys and a pile of ash resting by the throne. “That was fast,” she did not refrain from mentioning, “I thought it would take more than that to get her to give up.” Zune shrugged. “Well, it was easy because we had you and your friends this time. She did not have much to distract us with, unlike the last time she was in prison.” Carol smiled a kind smile at them. “I hope they didn’t give you any trouble?” Fae stretched the corner of his lips. “When you first called us to go around the universe to look for a human, we were a little sceptical. But we were glad to have met her.” “Especially Zune,” Mi’in quipped, earning a yank by the ear from the leader. “Thank you for protecting her.” “No biggie. We would have protected her even if you didn’t tell us to.” Carol furrowed her brows at the statement. “Because Loki had already asked us for that favour,” Zune mentioned, clearing any doubts, “and we owed him from way back.” Feeling the ‘ah’ of a satisfactory conclusion coming on her face, she stopped midway to hear your scream turn louder the second you got closer till you turned the corner to enter the hall with your stick, forcing yourself to stop your lungs from going any further than that. “Oh,” you straightened your stance, giving up on the attack position as soon as you realised there was no more threat, “looks like you guys already cleaned the place.” “You almost sound disappointed,” J’uke stressed, judging by your disapproval of the lack of bad guys. Loki stepped in next, clearly having taken care of whatever tried to attack them from the back. "She hurt my friend. I at least wanted to watch her burn," you simply shrugged. Fae patted your head softly. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance." He smiled the most ridiculously comforting smile. "How?" You whined, "you guys already finished her." All the seven boys, Loki and Carol shared a look with each other while you stomped her foot in the ground while staring daggers at the pile of ashes.  "Yeah-" Zune blurted out, scratching an itch in the back of his neck- "we definitely, for sure, totally killed her. Like-" he pretended to chop the air with his hand- "so smooth." Everyone nodded in agreement. Our elder boys of the group supported their leader while Carol gave them soft applause. Loki gave them a thumb's up.

You: *turning away from the scene in the background where everyone now sits outside the castle having a chat with each other* Aww *smile widely* it feels so good to watch them get along like that!! *start staring in the distance* *smile still stuck on your face* I wish my family could get along this well too. You know. *tilt your head* If all of them got along with Loki, I feel like half of the world's problems would vanish just like that. *watch Javier sign something to you* What? Merch store? *reads some more* Manga?? *looks closely at Javier as he continues to sign* Fanfi-what does any of it have to do with Loki? *camera pans in on your confused innocent face*

"Here's my little monster!" Carol talked in a tone that one used on babies while stroking a very excited Lulu. "Who's a scary boy! Who's a scary boy!!! You are!!! Yes!! You are!!!" You chuckled, watching Lulu enjoy the love and attention from the Captain, bumping his head with hers, wiggling in her lap before settling down in her arms, his adrenaline going down. "Who's that?" Carol asked him, pointing at you. Lulu chirped. "And who's mamma's boy?" Lulu chirped again. "Aaaand who's gonna protect mamma from bad guys?" Lulu growled. And then he chirped again, hiding his faceless husk hairy face in his paws. "Oh my God, he growls!!!!" you gasped. "Oh, he is got a lot more to show you, mamma! Give him time." You sat down next to Carol and stroked a yawning Lulu, who was now making biscuits in her arms. "This one's helped me a lot through this weird, fatal, dreamy galactic trip," you mentioned wistfully. The camera- as well as Carol- noticed how your brows furrowed slightly before your teeth bit down on your lower lip and you turned your gaze up to search for something in the rocky terrain before finally resting on Loki. Carol watched this subtle shift, patiently spectating how Loki too was stealing glances your way while having some serious looking chat with the boys.

The boys and Loki: *standing in the grey terrain like a bunch of Gods modelling for luxury hair products* Loki: It's spelt Z-U-K-O Zune: You named a dog after the fire God? Loki: Wha-no. It was all her *points at you*. Apparently, Coco was a bit too mushy for her. Something about 'Zuko reminding her of a guy who was in his redemption arc right now'. Whatever that means. Zune: *looked at the camera panning in on his face*

"So, you wanna go back now?" Carol asked you, her hands still busy stroking a purring Lulu. You inhaled to answer but felt yourself turning to look at Loki. Carol noticed it too. "Of course. H-how, long will it take?" you scratched your forehead. "We were actually pretty close to getting Loki free of his...cuffs. And I'm sure two powerful beings is always better than one." Carol chuckled and nodded. "Tell you what-" she took your hand in hers, something that you were not expecting- "I will go and take care of a couple of things for our return journey. Till then-" she stroked your hand- "you find out for yourself. Whatever it is that you're looking for." That gentle tone and those cryptically simple words changed some spectrum of the emotions on your face. You stared at her for a long while with your mouth agape. "What are you talking about?" Your breath asked in exasperation. "Cuffs, I guess?" she proposed softly with a knowing smirk. You forced out a laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about," You chuckled and found yourself looking back at Loki again.

The boys- well, at a few of them- tried to calm down the God who seemed to be picking up a rock from the ground. "Okay now-" Gin, our green jellybean, raised his hands- "let's all calm down and talk about this." "Yeah, yeah. How about we all go to the nearest oasis and have a cup of starry vodka and discuss how we are all alive. Right, Mi'in?" Me'isri, sweet yellow candy boy suggested casually. "Right," Loki nearly sang. His every step towards the boys made them retreat two. "We should be happy that the witch is gone for now. What could we possibly have had to do with her anyway? Hm? What's that? Oh! She was the one who stole my essence you say?" "Look," Ho, the sky blue cheery lad was suddenly not feeling so cheery at all, "we did not know-" "You numbnuts were the one who told me that!" Loki was practically hissing through his teeth right now, his steps breaking into a jog that was letting out some potential screams waiting in some lungs. Lulu was having a gala time just jumping in whichever direction the boys ran into as Loki chased them.

#loki #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki smut #loki series #marvel #marvel fluff #marvel fanfic #loki fanfic #loki fic #marvel smut #fanfic #mcu #mcu loki #mcu fanfic #mcu fluff #mcu smut #It's The Avengers

[mmvalentine]

Prompt request perhaps?? I’d love love love to think morrigan had a crush on feyre the first time she came to the night court and stayed with Rhys for a week - and I wonder what would’ve potentially happened if feyre took morrigan up on her offer to hangout…. Or, maybe, if they hook up after the bat boys head into the birchin. You are so so talented and ilysm

Awww ilysm toooo okay just a lil fluffy one just for you x

One Perfect Breath

The truth was, that amongst the Night Court and its inner circle, Morrigan was the only one Feyre really felt comfortable with. The Illyrians had power rolling off them, one of them seemed like he could flatten you and not even notice, and the other seemed as distant and unknowable as the moon herself. Amren was literally not all-fae and showed very little interest in Feyre besides. And Rhys… well, Feyre didn’t know where to begin with the High Lord.

But there was something so easy about Morrigan, something so unapologetic and unclouded in her lovely face that Feyre found herself drawn quickly to the female. It was like of everyone here, Morrigan was the only one who said what she really meant. Who was telling the whole of the truth.

So all week Feyre avoided Rhys and his entourage, but let Mor in every time she came knocking.

Which was every single day, promptly in the morning as Feyre was finishing breakfast. Sometimes Rhys ate with her, more often he was elsewhere and Feyre ate alone. But it seemed that every time she pushed her plate away, the golden haired fae was at her bedroom door.

Not that Feyre minded in the slightest. In the year that she had been at the Spring court, she had gotten to know Lucien and taken Alis as an advisor and confidante. Tamlin’s body was as familiar to her as her own. And yet with Mor, Feyre suddenly felt like she had… a friend. Someone who sought her out purely for the joy of her company. Feyre didn’t know that she had ever had that in her life before.

So she found herself on the last day of her week in the Night Court, not with the High Lord but with Mor, lounging across a plush velvet sofa and watching the twinkle in Mor’s eyes as she laughed. Unguarded as ever, and all the more charming because of it. Feyre could see why she was so well loved here.

Feyre had woken early that morning with a strange mix of relief and anxiety to be retuning home. Of course she wanted to go home… but she had successfully avoided thinking about her almost-wedding, and wasn’t ready to think about it now. Mor arrived before breakfast, as if she knew Feyre needed her, and had been a welcome distraction.

They had been comparing preening techniques of their respective High Lords, since Feyre had let it slip that Tamlin spent a half hour brushing his hair everyday. Mor had laughed so hard she snorted, and then divulged that Rhys’ skin care products cost more than hers did.

“But you’re immortal and perfect,” Feyre said, confused. Mor laughed. “I forget sometimes that you used to be human. I never met you before you were fae.” “Well tell me then,” Feyre said, leaning her face on her fist. “What unforgivable flaws do you have?” Mor made a face. “Well no, I have none, obviously.” She grinned. “But Rhysand is a drama queen, Tarquin’s clumsy, and…” here she paused to look around her. They were alone, but she still leaned forward conspiratorially. “I hear in the Spring Court they’re terrible lovers.”

At this, Feyre blushed deeply. “Well,” she stammered. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.” Mor rolled her eyes. “My dear, I’m afraid you’re not exactly a reliable source. You only had human lovers before Tamlin, isn’t that true?” “Well, yes,” Feyre admitted. “Then you wouldn’t know,” Mor said. Feyre lowered her voice. “So you think fae in general are better in bed than humans?” “Honey all we do is throw parties and go to war and fuck around. What else are you supposed to do when you’re immortal? I literally have had centuries of practice. And you’re telling me you hadn’t noticed a difference?” Mor fell back in mock horror. “Dios mío,” she said. “You’re wasted on Tamlin.”

“Okay,” Feyre said with uncertainty. “That makes sense. Well I guess either way I’m content and that’s good.”

Mor sat back up. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You’re not curious to know what you’re missing out on?” Feyre shook her head. Mor crossed her legs under her and leaned in closer. 

“Are you sure?” she whispered. “You wouldn’t want even one, perfect kiss?” She looked down at Feyre’s lips. “Um…” Feyre swallowed. Mor looked back up, and her brown doe-eyes were luminous in the soft dawn light.

“All I know,” Mor said, now only inches from Feyre’s face and suddenly serious. “Is that life can be full of such pain and sorrow.” Indeed there was a now depth in her look, an ancient hurt, that Feyre wanted so badly to smooth away. “And so any chance I get, I choose beauty.” Feyre’s eyes flicked to the rose of Mor’s mouth as she emphasised the last word. “I choose the lovely, perfect things, even if they only last the space of one… short… breath.”

And then Mor kissed her, and time stopped altogether. Feyre’s heart thundered in her own ears, her blood was free-falling though her veins, and she was very certain in that moment that she had never tasted anything so sweet as Mor’s lips.

“Mor!” They were interrupted by a deep, rolling voice.

They broke apart, and Mor looked up innocently at her High Lord.

“What?” she asked, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

“Behave,” Rhys replied sternly, his brow furrowed but his mouth twitching.

Feyre just shook her head, dazed. The heady floral scent of Mor was a haze around her head, and even as the female squeezed Feyre’s fingers and trailed out of the room, the memory of her smell and her whispered touch still lingered.

“I must apologise for my cousin,” Rhys said, still looking like he was fighting back his smile. “That’s… alright,” Feyre struggled out. She searched for her lost breath but couldn’t quite find it. “Time to get you home then?” Rhys asked. “Of course,” Feyre said quickly. “I, ah, will collect my things.”

Then she wandered one way, realised it was the wrong way and turned around, and eventually got herself ready while Rhys watched with stars in his eyes and an amusement that he kept carefully under his tongue.

****

Thanks again to everyone who has been sending me prompts, you are sending them faster than I can fill them so if you don't see yours yet please be patient with me!

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @thalia-2-rose @positivewitch @asteria-of-mars

#asks #prompt fill #feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #fluff

[alma37]

I checked on AO3 and, a year ago today [02/02/20, for those of you who are a few hours behind France], I started posting for a deliciously wicked fandom, Dracula 2020.

So, to mark the occasion, I decided to post here (on AO3 later today), a little one-shot I thought about a few days ago. I wanted to put it in one of my wip, but it didn’t quite fit. I still liked the idea, though, and I needed to write it.

This is also kind of a gift for @hopipollahorror and @lady-of-the-wolves, my steadiest supporters of late. Thank you, girls, I am not sure I would have started writing again without your support.

For @thebeautyofdisorder, I know you had a rough year and I wish you a great 2021. We have so many tastes in common, It seems I continuously reblog from you. I am well aware it won’t make your troubles disappear, but I hope this little piece will make you forget them for 5 minutes (and that it won’t be perceived as further punishment or what’s the phrase? Cruel and unusual punishment!😉) .

For my other mutuals, I know we don’t talk much, if at all, but I am glad you came to see and stayed.

And, of course, for all my followers, occasional readers and everyone else who took the time to come and check my little nothing of a blog, leave comments, reblogs and likes. Thank you guys.

And now, i leave you with a small piece I had great fun to write. As usual.

I apologise for the long-ish introduction.

*************

This is a Dragatha, sometimes in the future (theirs, not ours; perhaps it is our present, in fact, who knows?). Dracula turned Agatha into a vampire. A long time before this fic.

Some sort of enemies with benefits.

And it actually answers to this prompt. I think.

Title : A [h]arrowing evening

Fandom : Dracula TV 2020

Relationship : Agatha x Dracula

Rate : I’d say T or light M

Words : I don’t know, I didn’t count, go check on AO3 when it’s posted!

- Come on, Agatha. Just admit it : you like me!

The former nun turned vampire, Dracula's most fervent opponent, was backed up against the wall, a small wooden arrow in her hand. Why did she decide to come and see him in his own apartment, she’ll never know. Her nemesis was crowding her, a triumphant smile on his face. She defended herself.

- Stop being so arrogant, Count. I don't like you.

- Oh but I think you do. Very much so.

His growing smirk, his roving hands and, mostly his acumen were too much for her. Suddenly blinded by years of pent up rage and frustration, she drove the arrow into his chest with ferocious intent. The small stake slid under his ribs upwards towards his heart.

For a moment, they stayed still face to face, Dracula's smile slowly fading, morphing into an expression of utter stupefaction, as his eyes fell on the weapon thrust into his thorax. Annoyed, Agatha pushed him backwards. To her absolute consternation, he stumbled with a groan, then bent over, his hand reaching blindly for the small piece of wood. His face was now wearing an expression of agony before his legs started to give out under him. With horror, Agatha watched him slowly falling to his knees before his upper body followed suit and he went down like a dead weight. By chance or instinct, he fell to his side, only just avoiding the stake from driving through his heart. Once on the floor, he started writhing in pain, barely able to hold his screams. Finally, Agatha understood : the arrow must have stopped short of piercing the heart, but was probably touching it if his convulsions were any indication.

After a moment of indecision, Agatha grabbed his shoulders to hold him flat on his back then straddled him.

- Stop squirming. You'll only succeed in piercing your heart yourself.

- As if you didn't intend to do it!" Her victim hissed through his pain.

Agatha opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, before she finally replied, surprised with herself :

- I... don't know.

His face was deformed by the unusual pain he was in. She supposed he probably hadn't felt this bad in centuries. Serves him right, but... His strained voice made her jumped out of her thoughts.

- Whatever you intend to do, Agatha, please do it now. It is unbearable.

At his begging tone, the younger vampire froze for a long time, undecided : finish him off, like she promised herself a long time ago, as it was a chance she certainly wouldn't have again, or remove the arrow and stop the bleeding, against all her principles?

Her nemesis was in a state of anguish she had never seen him before. He was shaking so hard, trying to control his body.

But he wasn't begging anymore, just waiting for her decision. She could see in his eyes the torture he was enduring. He still didn't utter another sound.

And she realised that, as much as she thought she hated him, she couldn't bring herself to just end his life, as lifeless as it was.

He was not only a unique creature, he was also the only one who understood her and she realised with a shock that she came to care about him in a way that prevented her from driving the small arrow all the way through his heart. She actually liked their fighting : it was invigorating and, yes, fun. They hadn't really tried to kill each other for years now. His half-hearted attempts to get rid of her, lately, was his way of flirting, she supposed. And apparently, she thought in dismay, became hers too.

But the biggest blow came when she finally realised she actually wanted to tame him somehow or maybe convince him to redeem himself in some ways, which was barely thinkable, much less doable. She just wanted him. Full stop. And annihilating him forever didn't suit her purpose anymore.

- Whenever you want, darling." The count groaned through gritted teeth, his brow drained in sweat.

At last, Agatha came to a decision and, instead of doing what her conscience was telling her, she chose to follow her heart : she wrapped her hand around the piece of arrow that stuck out from his chest and pulled it out without warning.

She was thrown out from his lap by his violent recoil as he screamed out of his lungs in pain. Agatha, not deterred, scrabbled back to him and pinched the wound to stop the bleeding. That last part was easy, as Dracula had promptly passed out.

When she understood he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, she put him to bed and took a book, while keeping watch over him, berating herself all night long for her weakness.

At dawn, the older vampire slowly emerged from unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes, he looked around as if searching for something - or someone. When he found her watching over her book, he started asking in a rough voice : "What..." He cleared his throat several times before trying again :

- What happened?

Agatha lifted an eyebrow.

- Don't you remember?

Dracula began shaking his head :

- I don't... I seem to remember flirting with you and... Ah!" His face cleared. "Yes! You tried to kill me.

Agatha shrugged.

- And I would have succeeded this time.

Dracula straightened up with a groan. Agatha, taking pity on him, piled up a few pillows behind his back and helped him get a more comfortable position on the bed. When she tried to sit back on her armchair, the Count held on to her hand, so she was either obliged to sit on the bed or tried to shake his grip. She chose the easy path and sat next to him.

- So why didn't you finish me off?You had me at your mercy, you could have cleared this world of my evil presence.

Agatha didn't look at him but rather at their joined hands.

- I.. I don't know.

- You would have missed me!

Agatha snapped back.

- Don't be ridiculous!

Dracula smiled his devilish smile.

- You, Agatha van Helsing, like me!

- I most certainly do not!" Agatha protested, outraged. She tried to remove her hand from his, but he was holding fast.

- Well, I wouldn't blame you, you know. I am probably... Definitely head over heels in love with you after last night's little demonstration.

Agatha finally pulled her hand out of his, and stood up, shaking her head.

- You are a...

- monster?

-... beast! And obviously better. So I am leaving. Goodbye, Count Dracula.

Dracula reached for her once more :

- No, wait!

Agatha sighed, annoyed :

- What?

- You could at least kiss it better.

The former nun was about to will him to hell but something in his apparent casualness made her change her mind. She came back to sit on the bed and, after barely an hesitation, she straddled him. She felt him tensed momentarily, probably a reminder of the previous night. But he relaxed when she gently unbuttoned his shirt. She glanced at him and smiled when she saw his look of intense concentration turned towards her. She bent over and she licked the disappearing scar under his ribs. She felt his entire body shudder with pleasure, which made her smile grow larger. She had cleaned him the previous night, so there was no blood to tempt her. His all body was temptation enough. She nibbled at the scar then soothed it with her lips and tongue. Her nemesis had grown rigid from repressed desire. She finally moved from the scar to make her way upwards with slow, languorous and arousing kisses.

The first time he tried to touch her, she took his hands and flattened them back on the bed. The second time, she just held onto them.

The third time, she felt his eagerness wouldn't be denied, so she deftly evaded his grasp before he could close in on her. She moved swiftly out of the bed and put some distance between them, so that he could not reach her fast enough.

- And that's about all the kisses you'll ever have from me. Get a rest, Count Dracula. I will come and check on you tonight.

Without waiting for an answer, she left him in a state of obvious arousal, but laughing at her cunning.

- I can't wait." He called after her. He couldn't resist having the last word. Agatha shook her head in disbelief, but she was smiling.

*********************

Soooo, what did you think? (If it’s bad, please don’t tell me! 😉)

Anyway, I just really really wanted her to stab him at close range and truly physically HURT him (like Zoe, in TDC, but more purposely, if you know what I mean).

For the arrow, I imagine she has a small-ish one, like those used for a crossbow, except it is completely made of wood, even the tip. Something like that...

But, well, you know me : I always prefer a happy (-ish) ending. Reality’s sad enough. We don’t need it into fiction. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it.

If you really liked it, give me a shout and I’ll post the little follow-up I just had an idea of. Which is more on the comedy side (as in funny).

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dragatha #agatha x dracula #my fanfiction #fanfiction #dragatha snippet #not in my next fanfiction #not that I know of anyway #just a thank you one-shot #to all my dracula2020 followers

[monstersandmaw]

Male changeling (Dunnock) x female reader - Part Two (sfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I had not intended for this to get so long, and the story is now three chapters in total! The last part just needs a bit more adding (it's nsfw btw) and some editing, so it shouldn't be as long between this and the last part as it was between the first and second. It’s been up on Patreon for a while, since folks there get it on early release as usual.

Catch up with Part One (sfw) here (Tumblr link | Patreon link)

Content: more fluffy bonding and memories with our childhood friend, a bit of talk about the reader's father, and of Dunnock's origins/background, and preparations for the little village's Spring Equinox Festival...... Wordcount: 2886

As dawn filtered through the thin, light-degraded fabric of the hut’s old curtains, you became gradually aware of the warm, solid presence of Dunnock’s body behind you. After sharing the evening and your food with him for supper, you’d fallen asleep on the soft hearthrug beside him, and apparently he had dozed off as well. Over the course of the night, as the fire had died down to little more than ashy, red embers, he had shifted to tuck you tightly against his chest. One massive arm dangled over your waist, clawed hand resting limp and relaxed in the space beside your stomach, the other arm pillowing his strange head.

In the moments before he stirred too, you stared at him. The monumentality of just what his existence meant stunned you for a second, and you swallowed thickly. He was every bit as real as the solid floor beneath you, and yet your mind screamed at you that he was impossible. The smoky grey fur swirled around his closed eyes in a pattern that made you ache to trace your finger along it, just to feel the contours of his face, the strange plains and angles that weren’t quite wolf and weren’t quite bear; they weren’t quite anything that you could relate to, and yet there he was.

Perhaps sensing the shift in your breathing as you slid from sleep to wakefulness, perhaps sensing nothing at all, Dunnock inhaled more deeply and blinked himself awake. His long-lashed eyelids fluttered for a moment before they revealed the deep, cornflower blue of his eyes and you smiled. He, however, appeared to crash back to reality with a jolt. The moment he realised where his arm had been lying, he retracted it with the speed of a striking viper, ears flattening and eyes widening.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice rough and thick with sleep. “I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean…”

“It was nice,” you smiled honestly, half rolling and half shuffling to look at him a little better. More than one part of you felt bruised and sore from your night on the hard floor, and you probably had makeup smudged under your eyes or something, but there was a look in his steady eyes that made you not want to care at all. They really were spectacular eyes after all - the brightest and most vibrant blue.

He blinked slowly, left eye closing fractionally before the right, and you grinned as you recognised it as something that the little barefoot boy in the woods had done too. In a flash, you saw him standing in a glade and beaming at you with a handful of dirt and a tiny hazelnut that had clearly been stashed by a squirrel and subsequently forgotten and left to sprout. His freckles had enchanted you as much as his eyes had, and you found yourself tumbling unbidden down the verdant banks of memory lane in an instant.  

“What?” he rumbled.

With a chuckle, you reached a hand up to his cheek and trailed your fingertips over the impossibly downy fur there. A quiet, almost wheezing rumble left him, and those eyes, so clear and intense, disappeared again as his eyelids fluttered down, unable to look at you as you touched him with such tenderness.

“What?” he repeated in a hoarse whisper without opening his eyes.

“Just remembering the little things, is all…” you said. “You really are the same, you know?” you added a moment later as you dropped your hand again.

At that, he did look at you, surprise evident in the set of his cervine ears.

“I mean… sure, you’re about as different as it’s possible to get, physically, but you’re just the same otherwise.”

His lips tugged into a wonky smile that revealed sharp canines, and he rolled onto his back to stretch. He lay there for a while with his hands resting lightly on his chest and his legs stretched out like a hound luxuriating by a fire.

“How’s your leg?” you asked as your eyes travelled down the length of his strange and beautiful body.

Flexing his foot experimentally, the pads of his paws spreading rather sweetly, he grunted and nodded. “Fine. All healed.” Shooting you a cheeky sidelong look, he added, “Told you.”

Breakfast was bacon butties, something that Dunnock hadn’t had since your father had died, and he clearly relished them.

“He used to bring me one sometimes,” Dunnock confessed after practically inhaling two soft white rolls filled with hot, crispy bacon that you’d offered him. “I’d always smell them when he made them on Saturdays, and sometimes he’d see me between the trees and make me an extra one too.”

Something ached at the thought of Dunnock knowing your father almost better than you had.

As if he’d spotted the thought on your face, the changeling looked away and then added, “He used to talk about you a lot.”

“Really?”

“Mn. If he’d recently come back from visiting you when I saw him, he’d tell me about how you were getting on. I think he knew I missed you too.”

Guilt twisted your gut and you felt your breakfast curdle as you stood by the kitchen window and gazed out at the empty bird feeder on the edge of the clearing near your car. “I should have come back here, but I just never seemed to find the time… between studying and taking care of mum - at least to start with - and then juggling work experience and a part time job to pay the rent…”

“He understood,” Dunnock supplied quietly from behind you, and you sensed that he wasn’t just speaking for your father.

“That… That doesn’t make it easier,” you said. “I’m glad he did though.” After another pause you said, “I loved him a lot.”

Dunnock bobbed his head and grunted softly. “You’re a lot like him.”

“Mum always said I’d end up working for the wildlife service or something. Speaking of… I’d planned to take a hike today. You don’t know of any good trails, do you?” you asked with a grin.

“Oh, I can think of a few nice routes,” he chuckled, heaving himself onto all fours and shaking his dense fur out. “I’ll let you get ready and meet you just up that little trail where you found me yesterday.”

The hike with Dunnock brought back a relentless flood of memories.

He led you down the network of endless paths that the two of you had forged together as children, taking in all the old haunts from the Neolithic quarry nestled between tall mossy pines, to the small bog at the edge of the forest where the heath drained down into a treacherous, peaty swamp, dark and stinking and full of tannins. Here there were butterflies and glittering dragonflies that made crazy loops through the reeds, and rabbits with twitching noses snuffling through the underbrush. Further out, you saw stocky, bristle-brush ponies on the moor, and the larks burbling above, and although the walk drained you, physically, it began to recharge something mentally that had been empty for so long that you’d failed to notice it any more. Even your boss had seen it, but it had evaded you for the longest time.

That evening, Dunnock stayed with you again, and he remarked on the life returning to your eyes, which made you blush and thump him on the shoulder. In turn, he just rumbled another chuckle.

“Dun… Tell me about the Fae then?” you asked after you'd both eaten. With Dunnock tucking into your food as well, you were almost out of the modest supply you’d bought on your way in, and the next day you’d have to go to the store in Iska’s Well.

A ripple of tension shuddered almost imperceptibly up his spine, and he seemed to have braced for an impact that you couldn’t see. Sitting beside the fire that you’d decided to let die down early that night, he then sighed and half shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know much about it. I’ve never lived with them.”

“But… how do you know what you are?” you pressed carefully.

Taking another huge lungful of air, he shifted slightly and gave another noncommittal shrug. “The family - whose human baby my parents stole to bring up as Fae - raised me until I was about five I think, and I must have shifted for the first time around then. I don’t really remember them very well, but I remember that they were frightened of me. The woman was… she… I think she knew about the Fae in some way because the moment she saw what I was, she drove me to the forest and left me there. I won’t repeat what she said, but she knew that I wasn’t human. I don’t know what the man thought of what she did, but no one ever came for me.”

He didn’t seem particularly upset by any of what he’d just revealed to you - just awkward - but you sat there with your mouth hanging open in horror. “Dunnock…”

“What?” he asked, blue eyes searing with a frank confusion that stunned you.

When you blurted, “You were abandoned twice?”

He just snorted. “I suppose so, but the forest took care of the rest. And I include your father in that. He knew I was different when he found me riding the wild ponies across the heath. I must have been six or so, completely naked and thoroughly wild… I think he gave me some of my earliest clothes…”

It was your turn to snort. “I can’t believe he didn’t try to take you to a hospital or a police station like any sane person would have done.”

“I shifted in response to what I thought was a threat,” Dunnock laughed, shaking his head as he fondly recalled the events of his first meeting with your father.

“And he just… accepted it?” you asked, amazed. From what you recalled of your father he had been a patient man, but not very… imaginative. He’d entertained no ideas of religion or of a world beyond. For him to accept that Dunnock wasn’t from this world painted him in a new light. You wished you could talk to him about it now, and that thought brought unexpected tears to your eyes.

Dunnock startled at the change in you and surged silently to his feet, nuzzling his head and cheek against your neck where you sat on the floor with your back to the moth-eaten couch behind. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Shaking your head, you told him it was fine. “Being here - and learning all this - it’s just… stirring up old feelings, you know?”

“I know. How about you tell me more about the animals you care for? I’d like to hear what happened to the Rottweiler that wouldn’t be adopted without the rabbit…”

You knew he was distracting you, but you were only too happy to tell him that one.

Yet again, Dunnock stayed the night, but this time you both curled up on the mattress in the corner of the room. There was no need for a sleeping bag with the warmth that Dunnock’s body threw off, and you curled gratefully into the curve of his body while he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around you this time.

As you drifted on the shores of sleep some time near midnight, having talked each other hoarse again, he gave a cavernous sigh and tugged you a little tighter, murmuring in your ear, “I missed you…”

The next day you woke late and headed into Iska’s Well in the car while Dunnock returned to the woods alone. “I’ll know when you’re back,” he said quietly. “That infernal jay will probably come tattling to me first.”

“Really? Do they actually… you know… speak?” you’d asked, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

He shook his head. “Not with words like we are now, but they have their own way. I got pretty good at listening, besides… I can… feel when you’re in this part of the wood.”

You’d petted him gently between his ears and listened to his brief but happy rumble before he’d risen onto his hind legs and brought his finger to the underside of your chin. Leaving with an obviously affectionate little stroke there, he disappeared into the shadows in a mere few paces, and you blinked in surprise. It was as if he’d vanished completely and you swayed on the spot.

“Dunnock?” you whispered.

“Mn?” came his curious response from the depths of the trees. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah… don’t worry. See you later,” you breezed. He really was something Fae about him after all.

Iska’s Well was busy that lunchtime, which was to say that there were all of three people in the general store, and they were all talking animatedly about the Spring Equinox Festival. The owner of the shop, a portly woman in her early sixties with soft grey hair and a motherly look to her, glanced away from their little huddle as the brass bell above the door tinkled a welcome, and she smiled at you. “Hello dear!” she called. “How’s the old cabin treating you? No squirrels in the roof?”

“Nothing of the sort, thank you,” you replied, warily eyeing the other three women who had suddenly taken a very keen interest in you.

“Oh that’s good,” the shop owner exhaled dramatically. “I was wondering after you left last time if we’d have to send Steve down to help you out with anything. I’m pleased to hear that your father’s place is being lived in again.” She turned to the other three gathered conspiratorially at the end of the counter and added, “You remember our dear ranger? Well, this is his daughter. She’s only up here for a short while though, is that right?” she asked you and you nodded.

One of the women brightened visibly, her initial suspicion of an outsider evaporating now that she had a context for you, and she said, “Oh! How long are you here for then? You should come to the Equinox Festival tomorrow. It’s the highlight of the spring! Isn’t that right, Martha?”

The shopkeeper nodded. “Our Sam is going to be playing with his little band, and there’s a hog roast and dancing… You’ll never want to leave, I promise!”

“Sounds ominous,” you quipped, but the women only laughed.

“We’ll see you there then?” the second asked.

She looked like the kind of woman who wouldn’t take no for an answer where hospitality was concerned - in fact they all did - so you just nodded and smiled and said you’d probably be there. That seemed to do the trick and you were allowed to continue your shopping in peace, leaving fifteen minutes later and heading back to the cabin.

Dunnock wasn’t there when you drew up in the little gravel parking area in front of the house, and he didn’t reappear until sunset which saw you sitting on the porch step, idly watching the birds flit back and forth from the pines to the bird feeder.

“No wonder everyone’s here,” came Dunnock's deep, rough voice from between the rough trunks of the nearby trees. “Sunflower seeds at this time of year - what a treat, eh?”

You couldn’t help smiling, and in a heartbeat you found yourself on your feet and walking towards him. It felt as though he were reeling you in, pulling you closer by the sheer force of his presence. Everything about this felt natural and right and you didn’t pause to think. He leaned his tall body against the last of the trees and waited for you to join him, watching you approach with his steady, forget-me-not blue gaze.

Hanging on the branch beside him you noticed two fresh trout, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. “You’ve been feeding me since you got here. Thought I should return the favour. Do you not like fish?”

“Oh, they’re fine,” you grinned. “You’re lucky my dad taught me how to deal with them though. Not everyone knows how to gut and bone a fish…”

Something flashed across his face but he hid it behind a chuckle.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was definitely a ‘something’,” you pressed playfully.

Dunnock just shook his head stubbornly and took the fish off the branch with a claw and into the cabin for you.

As you ate that night, Dunnock easily lounging on the floor and you at the little scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen, you were reminded of the equinox festival. “Have you ever been?” you asked when you brought it up.

Dunnock shook his shaggy head. “No,” he said, easing back a little and leaning a fraction closer to the wood burning stove. Apparently, despite the thickness of his pelt, he really enjoyed the heat it threw off. “I’ve heard it going on most years though. Sounds like it could be fun.”

“You think I should go?” you asked and he grinned.

“If you want,” he shrugged. “I think most of Iska’s Well show up for it. You’ll have no shortage of dance partners, that’s for sure.”

With a snort, you inhaled deeply with the satisfaction of a full stomach and easy company and murmured, “Maybe I will go after all…”

Part Three

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

#exophilia #changeling #male changeling #fae x reader #male fae x female reader #female reader #male monster #male monster x female reader #i'm adding the reader tags now on their own #sorry for not adding those tags sooner

[chestnut-b]

Himawari - Chapter 3

“You’ve never thought of killing Naruto? Of having your revenge?”

“What makes you think I haven't?”

Chapter 3 of a Kimetsu no Yaiba-verse AU

Kakashi sat in his room and looked gravely at the mess of scrolls and papers before him. It was just past midnight on a cloudy evening, and the only light available was from a paper lamp that was just a bit weaker than he would have liked. Beside him, Uhei snored softly with only an occasional twitch of the nose, clearly exhausted from sprinting through the countryside.

He looked over the latest report.

“I brought Dango-chan along with me up North this time. The trace we found was pretty fresh. She estimates it couldn’t be older than a few months. Unfortunately, there aren’t any locals left for us to question, so we don’t have any clues about his latest form. We may have bought ourselves a bit more time, but judging from his trajectory, I can’t say it looks promising. Don’t slack off too much. I’ll be sending Dango-chan back, rendezvous with her when you can.”

This was bad news as much as it was not-so-terrible news, Kakashi mused. 

He dipped a brush into some fresh ink, and marked a cross onto the map before him. With one efficient stroke, a line soon connected this latest cross to an older marking in the South-west direction. Kakashi surveyed the work before him; a serpentine constellation of lines, crosses and notations collected on Orochimaru’s whereabouts over the generations across the country.

Jiraiya was right. Having just taken over a new host, Orochimaru would be unable to switch bodies for a while. Past records told them he needed time to recover his strength after each possession, but the overall trend was undeniably disturbing. The periods between were getting shorter and shorter; the collateral damage growing in devastation with each iteration. Did he require less recovery time now, or was he just getting desperate? 

Kakashi grimaced. Too little information. There had only been a handful of sightings of the great demon himself over the generations, and even then only a few reports existed from people who had lived to tell of their encounters, one of whom was Jiraiya. His own Father, as great of a warrior he was, had not survived his.

 He looked over the map once more, taking in Orochimaru’s journey and his inevitable destination.

Really, they had a few years at best.

 The Pillar let out a small sigh, allowing his thoughts to drift to the pair he knew were sleeping just across the courtyard from him. 

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

“You’ve never thought of killing Naruto? Of having your revenge?” 

It was a question born out of curiosity. He really just wanted to get to know Iruka a little better. 

Then came his answer.

“What makes you think I haven't?”

 If there was any brevity in the air before this, it was nowhere to be found now. 

 An amber-brown gaze was fixed on him, and for the first time he found himself unable to read Iruka. Between them now was only the crackle of a flame, and they waited to see who would break their silence first.

Well, he’d started this inquiry, Kakashi thought. Time to see where it would take them.  

“Seeing how well you get along, it’s a bit surprising…that’s all.”  

It was sincere, without a hint of sarcasm.  

Sensing this, Iruka broke eye contact and dipped his head, staring at his own reflection in the cup of tea still in his hands, his expression somber. Kakashi refused to press choosing instead to observe silently; the subtle signs of exhaustion, usually camouflaged by a smile and good humor. Iruka never let it show in front of Naruto or his students, but if the other evening was anything to go by, he mustn't have had a decent night's sleep in a while now. 

 “Sarutobi-sama can be unexpectedly cruel sometimes, you know.” Iruka whispered. His lips turned in a wry smile. 

If Minato-sensei and Jiraiya had been any indication, Kakashi thought he might have had some kind of clue, but he held his tongue. Hopefully, they’d be able to joke about it later. 

“Kakashi-san, how do you think we came to find out about Naruto’s immunity to sunlight?”  

Ah. This was something that had bothered him for a while, and certainly not something he’d expected to find out so soon, not from Iruka, anyway.  

When Kakashi had delivered his sensei’s newborn child to Jiraiya, it had been a few hours before dawn. It was the last time he ever saw Naruto before coming here. Meeting him out in the open with Iruka that first day was something completely unexpected.

“Am I even allowed to hear this?” 

“It was left to my discretion. I think...it will be good for you to know.” 

To Iruka’s discretion? 

Add another entry onto the pile of mysteries that was Umino Iruka.

“You’ll have my silence, I swear it.” 

Iruka put down his cup before finally lifting his head to meet his gaze again. There was a kind of condemned relief in his expression, Kakashi found. Almost like he’d been waiting for the day he could speak of whatever it was that haunted him. 

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

 Iruka found some comfort in the thought that Kakashi would be the one to hear his confession.  

He had come to like the man. Behind the cool, bored exterior was not just a genuine ability to care, but a sense of humor and a smile (though he couldn’t see most of it, but he could definitely feel it) that Iruka found strangely refreshing.

Would he be able to see Iruka in the same way once this was said and done? 

As unlikely as it was, it would be nice if he could.

Iruka took in another breath to steady himself. 

Slowly, the memories he had tried to lock away came bubbling to the surface.

“It was just over a year after I lost my parents to the Kyuubi.” He started. “Sarutobi offered to take me in, and I only agreed on the condition he’d teach me the skills I needed to defeat the fox. Stupid, I know.” He sighed. Iruka remembered the days of endless reading, pouring over texts and scrolls till his head spinned. The physical training was just as punishing. Sarutobi was a harsh taskmaster, but Iruka had gotten what he’d asked for.  

“I’d just started living in his estate when he introduced us.” He paused, and his smile turned just a bit sadder.  

 He also lost his parents, the same night you did, Iruka. 

“Naruto was so small. I’d babysit him after training in the evenings. It was the only time I ever saw him.” Only Iruka would have been able to tell of a time when Naruto’s inability to be understood came from not having even learned words yet.  

“But the wounds, they never healed. I was still so angry.” The fists in his lap clenched involuntarily. “When I came of age, I demanded to know how I could kill the fox once and for all, and I needed to know where I could find it. It was what we’d agreed on.”  

He’d been standing in the rock garden that afternoon, and Iruka recalled the look on Sarutobi’s face as he sat in the shadow of the study. 

Even through the veil of pipe smoke; it was a picture of concern and unmistakable disappointment. 

All that training, even the time with a child like Naruto hadn’t been enough to quell the hurt that had been building inside.

“Sarutobi’s a man of his word though. He fully intended to give me the answers I wanted. So he called the attendants to bring Naruto, it was the first time I ever saw him in the day.”

Naruto was still asleep, and was placed before Sarutobi. But soon there was a yawn, and he started shifting and eventually awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. Iruka remembered staring at the scene in growing horror, the realisation slowly dawning upon him. 

“If you would take what it is you seek, Iruka, you know what you must do. This was all he said.” Iruka repeated, feeling his throat tighten. 

Kakashi hadn’t said a word since he started, and Iruka wished in the back of his mind that he had. Anything to take him out of the flow of this painful recollection, he would have welcomed. But there were no words, just a softened gaze without judgement, and somehow that made it hurt all the more.

“This was all I’d lived for after my parents died. Although thinking back, it was so pathetic. Sarutobi had never lied to me, he had no reason to then either. So I waited.”

If he’s a demon. All I would have to do is wait right here. 

There wasn’t a single rational thought going through his head at the time. In his mind he saw his parent’s broken bodies, smelled the blood in the air that night. Even the groggy smile on Naruto’s face when he saw Iruka wasn’t enough to snap him out of his delirium.

Then he got on his feet, slow and unsteady as newly awoken toddlers did.

“Ruukaa!” 

Those had been one of his first words too.

 “He started walking towards me...and I just stood there.” He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, spreading across his face. Shame. Shame.

 Every step Naruto took closer to the boundary of shade and light pounded like thunder in his ears. Between them both, a sinister parody of Yin and Yang.

“Then he fell. I wasn’t in time to stop him completely.”

Naruto reached out his small arms towards him, and tripped on his next step. If time was crawling before then, it stopped for him now. The last thing Iruka remembered seeing was the light hitting tiny hands, and a surprised yelp. Iruka’s body had moved on its own then. But he was too late. He knew it. He felt Naruto’s body against his as he crashed back into the study. 

What would he see when he finally opened his eyes? He remembered once, a demon tied to a tree, slowly disintegrating into blackened, glowing ash as the first rays of dawn hit him. 

But the body against him was still solid, and that gave him the courage to pry his eyes open. 

“But Naruto was still there. He was whole. His arms were completely untouched.” Iruka felt the tears of shame and relief flow freely, and rubbed them away with the back of his hand. Crying in front of a Hashira, as if the shame he felt wasn’t enough.

Naruto was smiling at him, his eyes so wide Iruka saw his own reflection in them. Something in him shattered then, and he embraced Naruto, crying. The toddler merely patted his head with his tiny hands.

Behind them, Sarutobi looked on, dumbfounded. His pipe dropped and forgotten on the floor.

“That was how we realised Naruto could live under the sun.” 

Yes, even if it was only because, for a moment, Iruka had been willing to let Naruto get hurt, for a sin that wasn’t even his.

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

Kakashi could have been mad, perhaps he should have been. 

His sensei’s child, the baby he had to fight so hard to save on that massacre of a night, could have died for a boy’s revenge if it weren’t for a strange twist of fate. 

He’d been granted the chance to live normally in the light of day, something his clan never had the ability to do, and Iruka was the reason for that, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. 

Could he bring himself to be angry at Iruka?

The youth was a wreck before him, even if he was doing his best to hide it.

Kakashi certainly didn’t expect this, going into the afternoon. But he’d gotten what he’d asked for, and then some. 

He didn’t get a chance to ponder for long before Iruka spoke again.

“You have a visitor, Kakashi-san. By the sounds of it, it’s an important message. I’ll get out of your way.” He bowed, before taking his sword and rising. As he broke the seal on the door and parted the shoji, a familiar bark reached his ears. It was Uhei, Kakashi realised.

“Thank you for the tea.”

He didn’t even give Kakashi the chance to respond before he disappeared into the hallway.

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

Dinner that night was an awkward affair. At the school they ate communally, the offerings of the day depending on what the older students could scavenge from the surrounding forests. Survival training was a daily affair here, after all. Staples like rice and salt they received from headquarters, anything else was up to them to procure. 

It was a simple meal of rice, bamboo shoots, pickled plum and mackerel, fished from the river a distance away. 

Kakashi had rejected any attempts to seat him as an ‘honored guest’ the day he arrived, and because he’d been placed under Iruka’s care, they normally sat together with the other Instructors. Tonight, Iruka was nowhere to be found.

“Oi Naruto, what’s up with your brother?” Across Kakashi sat Izumo today, one of the guards and assistant Instructors. He’d turned around to nudge Naruto in the back. The boy, who’d just snuck Lee his bamboo shoots, merely turned to Kakashi and sent a nasty glare his way. 

 Oh dear.

“He said he wasn’t feeling well. I’m bringing him dinner later.” 

“Again? You sure you aren’t giving Iruka a hard time? It’s been happening more often lately.” This time it was the other guard, Kotetsu who interjected. Naruto looked utterly indignant, his glare towards Kakashi only intensifying. 

“Ask baka-Kakashi over there! He was just fine during class today!” 

“Naruto you idiot! Show the Hashira some respect.” Mizuki hissed from his seat. Naruto stuck out his tongue at him before turning around to continue his dinner. Watching the exchange, Lee looked a little greener than usual.

“My apologies, Hatake-dono. The kids here forget their manners sometimes. Naruto in particular overreacts when Iruka’s involved” Izumo sighed. Kakashi shook his head and waved it off. He had to admit ticking Naruto off was just a bit enjoyable, but really, he couldn’t blame the kid. 

Naruto had good reason to be upset at him.

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

Kakashi’s terrible habit of letting his curiosity get the better of him seemed to have gotten worse since he arrived here. 

That was probably why he found himself crouched upon one of the wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling, his presence carefully masked, above a sleeping Naruto and his guardian. Iruka looked exhausted, but slept without the tremors that disturbed him the previous evening. Naruto was curled up close, facing him, almost as if he was the one on guard that night. 

 In hindsight, the conversation in the afternoon was undeniably revealing, but also produced more unanswered questions than Kakashi was comfortable with. 

He also wasn’t usually this impulsive, but this was home ground. There would be little risk in getting at least one of those questions answered here tonight. 

With blade in hand, he descended.

No, he wasn’t expecting his blade to sink into flesh, but he didn’t quite expect what happened in the next instant either. 

As soon as he’d leapt from the beam, Naruto was snatched from his futon by an obviously very awake Iruka, who rolled them both right past a curtained partition, before being seemingly swallowed by a wall just behind it.

A misdirection seal, here?

Kakashi felt a presence materialise above him.

He only had time to free his blade from the stabbed futon under him before turning his body to block the weapon and the subsequent mass that descended upon him. The ring of metal meeting metal pierced the air. Having found focus, Kakashi’s eye was met with a gaze that was only unfamiliar in its intensity and the sheer annoyance it radiated. Though, if he looked carefully, he could find some barely hidden amusement mixed in there too. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Hatake-dono?”

He couldn’t quite see the smirk that was definitely on his lips, but his eyes had a tendency to reveal too much. 

“Oh, just thought I’d drop in and see how you were doing, Iruka-sensei. You didn’t show up at dinner.”

Kakashi smiled, how thoughtful he was. 

A small shift reminded Kakashi of his current position. His back was pressed against Iruka’s futon, with its owner currently straddling his waist as he put more of his body weight onto the blade threatening to bite into Kakashi’s throat. It was not the slayer katana he would have expected, no, Iruka’s still lay in its sheath by his hip. Instead, gripped in his hands was a kunai, longer and deadlier looking than the ones usually kept hidden in clothing. A fascinating choice of weapon for someone who was supposed to be a swordsman.

Kakashi would have commented on it sooner, but instead he took a moment to take in the view. Feathers from the ripped futon had been released into the air from their commotion, and some were still continuing their sleepy descent. Combined with the pale light and his intense glare, it gave Iruka an otherworldly look.

Kakashi found himself thinking that with the addition of some wings, he’d make for a fine tengu. Although, his face was much too dignified to play the part. He chuckled at the thought.

“Something amusing, Kakashi-san?”

“I was just thinking you looked a little annoyed, Iruka-sensei.” 

“What would I have to be annoyed about? “

Interrupted sleep, spent seals that needed resetting, a ripped bed and blanket, having to fetch Naruto back from wherever he was hidden.

He could think of a few more things. 

But for now, he found that he didn’t mind at all being the main object of Iruka’s irritation. 

“Nice kunai you have there.” The force against his blade increased by just a nudge, an offer for a closer look.

“Our blades weren’t created to be used against humans.” 

 A teacher even outside the classroom.

“A gift from Sarutobi?” 

“The best blade-,”

“-is the one you have on you” Kakashi finished. How many times had he heard Minato recite that line, but there was no denying the truth in it. After all, who knows how many slayers had died for want of a blade, even one as small as a kunai.

Iruka looked satisfied enough with his answer though. A small smile had slipped through the cracks.

The killing intent in the air had died down, and Kakashi thought it a good time to get some answers. He looked Iruka straight in the eyes, intending to start with the most important one:

“Have I incurred your anger, sensei?” 

It came out softer and more apologetic than he’d intended. 

That was enough for Iruka to falter, his eyes widening in surprise. The kunai was swiftly withdrawn, and in that moment he seemed to gain an acute awareness of his current position. It took mere seconds before his face was ablaze, right to the tips of his ears, making the scar across his face stand out more than usual. The warmth against Kakashi’s body soon disappeared, and before he could stop him, Iruka had his forehead and palms pressed against the wooden floor beside him.

“Forgive me, Kakashi-san. I forgot my station.”

“Iruka.”

Silence.

“Iruka-sensei, I won’t repeat myself. Raise your head.” 

He did as he was instructed, but refused to meet his eye. Kakashi sat up on the futon across him, reached out, and placed a hand on the teacher’s shoulder.

“Our conversation this afternoon has obviously caused you a lot of grief, sensei. It wasn’t my intention. I apologise.” 

Iruka merely shook his head in response. 

“Please. Don’t.” He pleaded under his breath. “If anyone has cause for anger, it’s you.”

“Sarutobi-sama told me you were the one who saved Naruto that night. If it wasn’t for my stupidity, Naruto-,”

“Naruto wouldn’t be living the life he does now. Like a normal child, with friends, family - you. He’d be kept in the dark, alone and not even knowing why, when he could actually live under the sun with everyone else.” 

 Iruka was finally looking at him now, albeit dumbstruck. Like he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Iruka, we’ve all made mistakes, but Naruto’s alive, and it will be our job to make sure he stays that way.” Yes, Iruka’s and his, most likely. He wasn’t sure if the other Hashira would be so keen on the idea. 

This time, Iruka didn’t argue with him, which he was grateful for. It had been a long, exhausting day. Instead, he favoured Kakashi with a look of considerable relief, and just a glint of hope to have found a comrade who considered Naruto worth protecting, despite the truth of his existence. 

“By the way, Iruka-sensei, where’s Naruto?” 

“Ah.” He froze. It took a whole three seconds before he took to his feet and started for the door leading to the back yard. 

“Kakashi-san, it would probably be best if you weren’t here when we return. Naruto was spewing some awful things about you when he delivered dinner. I’d hate to get him riled up this late.” It was quiet, teasing, but noticeably lighter than it had been all day. He was about to set off when Kakashi interrupted.

“See you later?” 

“For tea? Only if you’re making it. It was good.” 

“All right. I’ll help you with your beddings too.”

“I’d expect no less. Have a good night, Kakashi-san.”

With that he disappeared beyond the wall and into the night.

Kakashi stood to leave, but not before looking up at the spot where Iruka had descended from. He’d had to squint; engraved into the wood was the faintest misdirection seal he’d ever seen. 

If Iruka doesn’t stop with the surprises, I’m going to have to keep bothering him.

He sighed. But somewhere at the back of his mind, a voice was telling him it might not be so bad.

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

 End of Chapter 3

Author’s Notes:

Wow, a long one after a long break! Hope you guys enjoyed it! It took a while to figure out what direction I wanted this to go in, but it was a very fun chapter to write. It’s going to be a surprisingly slow burn, this one. 

The art is of an awkward Iruka babysitting young Naruto. 

This chapter is also on AO3 if you’d prefer to read it there sometime.  Any comments at all will be most appreciated and devoured with thanks. : ) 

#kakairu #iruka #iruka umino #umino iruka #naruto #kakashi

[nad-zeta]

Match up! ~(˘▾˘~)

Can I get a matchup? I��m 5'4 chubby pansexual girl. I have brown skin, dark brown eyes and short black curly hair that’s puffy and in a Afro when it’s out.I like cooking,singing, animals, video games, cuddles, hugs, playing with people’s hair and people playing with my hair. When you first meet me I may look mean but I’m kind, caring, goofy and sassy. I’m only mean when you mess with me, my family or friends. I’m a calm and laid back person but sometimes I can get mad easy but a hug calm me down.I’m a affectionate person and I don’t know why but I like the nickname babygirl.In my free time I like to read, listen to music and play with. I don’t like drama and fighting but I will fight if I have to. For some reason it’s seems like I’m always smiling sometimes I don’t know I’m smiling until somebody point it out.I like watching horror movies and playing horror games since I’m chubby Im really warm.

I really love your matchups you are a good writer☺️

Eeeep! 😱😱☺You are too kind!❤❤☺ Thank you so much for the kind words and the request dear. Also sorry for taking like 1 million years to get this written! I hope you enjoy it love and I hope you have a super good day! ❤❤🌻🦋

So I match you with…………….. Shingen

Naturally the first time Shingen laid eye on you, was when Yuki had saved you from plummeting to your death the night of the fire. You had ran and ran and ran to get away from Nobunaga and Hideyoshi, who spooked you by demanding to know who you were, and where you were from. Shingen spotted Yuki saving you from falling off the cliff and rode towards the two of you to make sure you guys were alright.

The second this man saw you he fell in love. You were unlike any woman he had ever seen before, the way you seemed to glow in the light of the full moon, had him absolutely speechless. Honestly, he thought, you must have been some sort of celestial being, with the way you shined. 

He walked up to you and kissed your hand as he introduced himself. Your expression was taut, and Yuki couldn’t help but be slightly intimidated by your features, “Careful my lord, she looks mean.” Of course, that comment from the young man earned him a stony glare from you, which sent shivers down his spine. 

Kenshin and Sasuke broke up the party as they arrived and the second Sasuke spotted you he sighed in relief, he had been looking for you for over four years. Before he could even offer you a place to stay, Shingen beat him to it. And that my friend is how you landed up in Kasugayama castle.

Shingen made sure to put you in a room fit for a princess, and he spent your first day at the castle showering you with gifts and trinkets. You honestly was so overwhelmed by the Kasugayama boys warm welcome, that you wanted to do something nice for them, to thank them. So you used your talents, to cook them each their favourite dishes to say thank you for the warm welcome. You made your way to Sasuke the next morning to ask him about all the warlords favourite foods so that you could start making your thank you gifts. You had decided to bestow it upon them at that evening’s banquet.

Sasuke smiled as you chartered down a list of everyone’s favourite snacks, and you got to work.

You had been in Kasugayama all of one week, and you really wanted to make Shingen’s dish extra special, as he had been the one who had most helped you to adapt to the castle life. He took time out of his schedule every day to show you around the castle and town. He would also pop into your room every day to enjoy a cup of tea with you. 

That night at the banquet, Kenshin was getting rowdy as he usually does, insisting the boys fight him. You honestly disliked fighting and drama, so you decided to defuse the situation by handing out your special gifts. You started with Kenshin handing him a big jar of freshly made pickled plums. His eyes sparkled as he plucked one from the jar to prop it into his mouth. The bunny warlord was now sitting in his corner, happily munching away at the pickled treats. You couldn’t help but giggle, as the way he was stuffing his cheeks made him look like a cute bunny. 

Next was Sasuke and Yukimura, you had found out that they both really enjoyed chestnut dumplings, so you handed them each a plate stacked high with the sugary delights. When it came to Yoshimoto, you were somewhat stumped as Sasuke had told you that he liked all foods that are delicious. So in the end you had decided to make for him your classic homemade stew, which he happily ate, all while wearing that elegant smile. 

Finally you turned to Shingen, whose brown eyes lit up in excitement as you handed him a hefty package. He opened it and was awestruck at the array of sweets you had managed to prepared for him. Eyeing Yuki, he took you by the hand and led you to his room, so that he could peacefully munch on his candy without Yuki scolding him in the background. “You truly bless me, my goddess, I shall savour every bite of these heavenly treats.” The two of you sat, and nibbled on the sweets, while sipping on some tea as you chatted late into the evening under the light of the moon.

Needless to say, Shingen was already head over heels for you, from the first night the two of you met, however, every detail he learned about you just made him fall more and more in love. He loved how you were the kindest person he has ever met. 

He loves how goofy and sassy you are, being able to easily match his wit and charm with your own. He can’t help but chuckle whenever you counter his flirty comments with a sassy remark. And he absolutely adores your goofy side. And he realises quickly that after just spending one afternoon with you, that he has never smiled and laughed as much in his whole life. You bring so much joy and love into his life; and he can’t help but fall in love.

And just when Shingen thought that he possibly couldn’t fall more in love with you, you just had to go and melt his heart into a puddle of pure happiness. It was no secret that you loved animals. You had taken up the duties of official Kasugayama animal caretaker. You would spend hours just playing with the warlord’s pets. If you weren’t cuddling with Kenshin’s army of fluff, you were playing fetch with Yukimura’s wolf pup. However, your favourite pet of all, to spend time with, was Shingen’s bear cub, which you had half and half adopted as your own pet. The little bear absolutely adored you and could often be found nestled on your lap enjoying the attention of you petting his soft fur as you read. 

One day as you were reading to the little bear, a song popped in your head, and you started sing. At that exact moment, Shingen had walked by your room, and his heart was stolen, your voice was so smooth and beautiful. HE swore he had died and gone to heaven at the moment, hearing your angelic voice sing. It was then when he couldn’t hold back his feeling for you in any longer. He made his way into the room and told you just how much he loves and adore you.

The two of you were the cuddliest couple around. As Shingen absolutely loved to just hold you in his arms. You were so warm and soft, and all he wanted to do is shower you with kisses and worship you from dusk to dawn.

He loves to just spend every waking moment with his goddess. Of course, since the two of you got together, you let it slip that you loved being called baby girl. And boy oh boy, did he like that nickname, he legit would call you that, from that moment on wards. 

He loves that you are always smiling, you are just so carefree and laidback. He can’t help but think of you as his own personal ray of sunshine, always beaming and making every room instantly brighter whenever you enter.

Of course, Shingen being the sneaky tiger he is, loves to tease his beloved goddess, which sometimes causes you to get mad at him. Although Shingen being the master of information, knows precisely how to get you to stop being mad at him, or out of any angry mood really. He will come up behind you and envelop you in a warm hug while kissing your ear and neck, all while whispering the sweetest words of affection to you, as he apologizes for teasing you. Of course, this causes you to instantly melt.

Shingen loves to spoil you. Whether that is with gifts or physical affection, this man just wants to shower you with endless amounts of love and affection. He absolutely loves to play with your hair. He can honestly spend hours upon hours just pulling his fingers through your lushes locks. If you want to make this man the happiest man alive, then play with his hair. He loves loves loves, it whenever you see him overworking himself, when you come up behind him and hug him. Bonus points if you gently pull him down to rest his head on your lap. He will practically be purring in delight as you tenderly pull your fingers through his hair while singing or reading to him. He will be like putty in your hands.

With Shingen, there is never a shortage of cuddles and hugs, this man will literally pull you into a warm embrace and shower your face with kisses whenever the two of you run into each other in the hallways

Often the two of you lovebirds can be found nestled in each other’s arms, under the light of the moon, sharing a drink. One of you is most likely always playing with the other’s hair as you share the events of your days with each other.

Other potential matches………… Masamune

I hope you enjoyed this, dear! 😳☺And I hope you have a super good day! @blackchubbyqueen ☺🌻❤🌻

#matchups #matches #match ups #ikesen matchup #ikemen shingen #ikesen shingen #shingen takeda #shingen matchup #ikemen sengoku shingen #submission

[presumenothing]

vast, even endless 

submachine games, by mateuz skutnik // AO3

Later they will call you Elizabeth the merciful, among other things, but before all that you are Liz: scientist by training, explorer by necessity, friend by choice.

Very possibly Murtaugh’s only friend, in all of the seven layers and beyond, but that’s mostly on Mur. You try to make the best of it anyway.

i.

Everyone calls you Elizabeth, at first.

Everyone, that is, except Murtaugh.

Which is not surprising in the least.

Even then, back in your first days at the Core, when you were more than acquaintances but not quite yet friends, he talked to you more than anyone else.

Which is not to say that he spoke very much at all.

This was before – before the Lighthouse and the portals and all the destruction that no one could have seen coming.

(Well, perhaps Mur could. He’s always known a great number of things, after all. Certainly more than he ever bothered telling.)

Not that you particularly object to it, of course. He says Liz and my dear Liz and you know full well that it’s a term of endearment, so you smile and answer to it.

You also start calling him Mur.

The first time you say it, it’s in half-joking retaliation, tinged with more than a little exasperation on a day when both the Lab (and him, if you are to be honest) have been more than a little frustrating. He’d wandered over to your workstation, managing to unerringly avoid all the wires snaking about on the ground despite the abstraction in his gaze, which is something you’ve learned to expect.

“Yes, Mur?” you’d said, scratching out one line of equations before looking up to find him returning your gaze, looking straight at you. Not three inches (or layers) to the left, but right at you, pale blue eyes startlingly focused.

Then he smiles, and that’s – unexpected, too, but not in a bad way.

(You can’t help but notice: the team at the Lab pick up the habit of calling you Liz easily enough, but even now you’ve never heard anyone referring to Mur by anything less than his full name.

Of course you notice.

You know, too, what the others say behind your backs. No-one had really understood it back then, not even you – the true significance of the layers still had been unknown, beyond the faintest inkling, but somehow everyone had known instinctually that Murtaugh is different from the rest of you, in a fundamental way.

You know it, too, but you call him Mur anyway.)

.

ii.

Mur falls to his knees, his eyes wide in mute horror, and you cross the distance between you, glaring anyone still holding up their weapons into varyingly grudging submission (they will respect you, you have ensured that much if nothing else).

“What have I done, Liz?” he says, in a voice barely above a whisper, eyes focused for the first time in what must be decades. “What have I done?”

You wonder – is it seven times worse for him, seeing the damage sevenfold over at once?

“Maybe you should just let them.” The words are still spilling from him, like a dam broken. “Kill me. Look at what I’ve d-”

“Which is why you’re going to help me fix it,” you say firmly, in a tone that brooks no argument. “And if I ever hear you mentioning that I should let anyone kill you again, Murtaugh, I will slap you so hard you won’t know which way is up, I swear to Shiva.”

“But–”

“Indulge me in a hypothetical exercise, since you insist. Say I let them kill you.” You’re right in front of him now – sitting, not crouching, you’re a practical person and this is already shaping up to be a long conversation. “What good does that do?”

The silence around you is weighted, a lever ready to tip on whatever answer he might give, but you know better than to expect that.

Not aloud, at least. You have never been able to fully keep up with Murtaugh’s thought processes when it comes to karma and the layers, no-one can, but in almost everything else you can manage a fair prediction of how he will think.

It’s why you had insisted that the confrontation be here, in the knot that holds everything together in more than seven ways. If Mur could be confronted with this and still not see how badly he’s erred, you would not have stepped in front of those who would end him; but you’d been certain that he would realise the state that your realities have fallen to, and he has.

Just as you know he will see another truth in this – that none of you can even have a hope of repairing the subnet, without the person who’d wrought the destruction in the first place.

It’s not too different to what you’ve been trying to tell him all this time. But Murtaugh is a prodigy, and an increasingly paranoid one besides; the only conclusions he will truly trust are his own.

What you needed all along was for him to convince himself, and from the look in his eyes when he finally looks back up you can see that he has.

…that only leaves everyone else around you (and their many, many guns) to convince, then.

Well. It’s not like you ever expected this to be easy, after all.

.

iii.

“Rule one,” you say, writing it clearly on a sheet of paper, “if I tell you not to do something, you stop immediately. No arguments.”

You pause and consider your audience briefly, then scratch out that last sentence with a sigh.

“Okay, arguments allowed, but stop first. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” answers Mur, but his voice is abstracted, and not in the layer-blinded way you’re more accustomed to.

The feeling of being closely watched finally dawns on you, and you look up to find – yes, Mur staring right at you, instead of the rules you’re writing up.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What is it? I’m not one of your experiment samples, you know.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?” he asks instead. “You making all the decisions from now on?”

You don’t even bristle at the words – from anyone else, the question would seem derisive, even accusatory, but you know Mur is just asking it for the same reason he always has. Curiosity.

(You think, with no little amount of weary amusement, that this is what started everything in the first place. Curiosity and a cat. How fitting.)

“I think I can rather confidently declare that you making the decisions turned out fairly terribly the last time.” The gesture at everything around you is unnecessary, but you do it anyway; let it be known that you are not beyond being petty even to him. “So yes, the decision-making will be unilateral for now. Your comments are still welcome, though.”

He’s still looking at you with that startling focus, but you already know to expect that. Not so much the expression on his face, which corresponds in no way to the frankly rather insulting declaration you just made, and anyone else would have accused him of not paying attention but you also know that would be patently false. “My dear Liz. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

You cannot suppress a snort in response, and you do not try. “Shiva knows I ask myself the same question everyday. Now, are we going to do this or not?”

.

.

.

And when he appeared, Murtaugh was finally able to see what has happened. He fell to his knees. She came to him, sat down beside him and they started talking.

The bullets never reached them.

– Submachine 9: The Temple

#submachine #submachine game #what even is the bloody tag for this series #fanfiction #mine #*only just about follows the plot of the games* #*proceeds to write fic anyway* #yet another ancient wip from like 2016 #WIP CLEARANCE 2K20

[snortyport]

(Un)Broken Happily Ever After Chapter 2

Summary-  You’re friend has some wise words that you desperately need to hear.

Word Count- 3045

Pairing- Non idol!Tae x reader

Warning- None that I can think of, maybe swearing

A/N- Thanks so much for reading! After this chapter, the timeline will be a little different so enjoy the continuous timeline while you can lol

Previous | Masterlist | Next

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

You pull up to Yoongi’s house, parking along the freshly mowed curb, the smell of fresh cut grass still lingering in the air. You pull your visor down to check your face over. Your sleep wasn’t very good, and your appearance isn’t hiding that fact. You let out a small sigh and then smile at yourself but dropping it seconds later. Who are you fooling? No one will believe that you’re fine.

He’s probably going to know something is up. Look at me, I look terrible. He’s one my best friend and can usually read my emotions before I can.

Grabbing your bag and exiting the car, you walk up the driveway to Yoongi’s house, wishing to whoever is listening that things could go back to the way they were. When you and Tae still cared about your relationship.

Standing at his front door, you knock three times, your knuckles scraping on the wooden door. After a minute of waiting, you knock again, harder. You know Yoongi likes his sleep and usually works the midnight shifts at Open Mic Night Café where he’ll often stay late to play the café’s instruments once all the customers have gone home. So maybe coming here so early wasn’t the right move. But you’re here now and you don’t think you have the mental capacity to drive somewhere else.

You’re not even sure why you decided you come to Yoongi’s. Jungkook is your oldest friend, having known you since childhood. You’d only met Yoongi when you became friends with Tae four years ago, a year before you started dating. And yet when thinking of whose house to come to it was Yoongi who popped into your head. Maybe it’s because he’s so much quieter than the rest of your friends. He doesn’t ask questions, rather he’ll sit in silence with you while you think over your problems. He’s a quiet comfort and that’s what you want right now.

You don’t want to talk about Tae, or why you broke up. You don’t want to sit for hours while someone tells you that you’re great and things will work out. You just want to sit in your own head and not do anything. And Yoongi’s place is the perfect spot for that.

You know he won’t make you talk about your feelings because right now you don’t totally know what you’re feeling.

Hell, you haven’t even cried.

So how are you supposed to know how you’re feeling? It’s too soon and the only thing you feel is tired.

You knock on the door harder, but instead of stopping after three knocks, you keep going. That’ll get him up.

You hear angry ranting and feet stomping on the other side of the door. “First they mow the lawn at the ass crack of dawn and now this jackass keeps kno—” he pulls the door open with gusto; rage written on his tired face. His face goes slack but morphs into confusion when he see’s it’s you. He’s wrapped in his comforter from his bed and his hair is sticking up in every direction. He squints at you in the early morning sun, looking between your face and the duffle bag hung on your shoulder. “Y/N? What’s wrong? What are you doing here so early?”

And with those simple words, your walls come crashing down. Your face contorts as a sob rips from your throat. You cover your face as the tears start streaming down your cheeks.

It’s over! It’s really over! I left! Why did I leave?

Yoongi watches you in horror. You show up on his doorstep after waking him up after only a few hours of sleep, and then you start sobbing hysterically. You feel bad putting Yoongi in this position, but the tears don’t stop. He’s never been good with anyone crying and here you are, at his door like the worst Amazon package he didn’t even order.

He opens his opens his arms without saying a word, and you rush him. You squeeze your arms around him, pressing your face against his shoulder where your tears soak into his shirt. He wraps his arms and the blanket around you and the two of you stand there. Yoongi doesn’t say anything as he lets you cry on his shoulder in his doorway for what feels like hours.

But when you finally calm down enough to stand on your own, the sun had barely risen above the houses on the other side of the street.

Yoongi grabs the bag off your shoulder, dropping it onto his and turns around to go farther into his house. You close the door before following him into the kitchen. He sets your bag down on the dining room table, motions for you to sit and silently starts moving around his kitchen, grabbing two mugs, and setting the kettle to boil. He digs in his fridge and brings out a half-eaten chocolate cake.

When the water boils, Yoongi pours it into the mugs and adds just the right amount of honey without you having to tell him. He brings everything over, setting your mug in front of you. He opens the cake container and hands you a fork. You eye the cake for a second, debating if chocolate cake first thing in the morning is a good idea, but fuck it, you’re sad and cake will help.

“Now, you ready to explain why you’re here crying on my doorstep,” he leans back in his chair to check the time on the oven, “at six thirty-eight am on a Saturday instead of curled up in bed with Tae?”

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you mumble and look down at your brewing tea, not quite sure if you’re stable enough to talk about it yet. You swallow thickly and look up into his concerned eyes. “Me and Tae broke up,” you say quietly.

“You… broke up? With Tae?” he asks, his face tangled in bewilderment. “I thought he was endgame or whatever. Something big must have happened? Did he cheat on you? I swear I’ll go over there right now and beat him up. I’ll stop and grab JK on the way too,” he says, standing up from his chair, letting the blanket drop to the ground. You can’t help the small smile that slips onto your face, but you shake your head and he sits back down and pulls the blanket over his lap. You love that he’s willing to beat up one of his best and oldest friends for you.

“You don’t have to do that,” you shake your head, your smile sliding off when your mind drifts back to Tae. “It wasn’t one big thing, but lots of little things that have just piled up and piled up and piled up until it finally came crashing down on me,” you say, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. “I just couldn’t handle it anymore,”

“Couldn’t handle what? What was he doing?”

“It was more what he wasn’t doing,” you look up into his baffled eyes. You sigh and take a sip of your tea. “I don’t know how you get it so perfect…” you mumble, taking another sip, letting the hot, calming liquid sooth you into talking.

“I work at a café remember. I make the best drinks. Now what wasn’t he doing? I’m confused,”

“Remember when that little boy died? And how bad Tae had gotten?”

“Of course. It changed him completely. I thought he was in a good place now?” he asks and takes a bite of cake.

“He is, but, when all of that was going down, he could barely get out of bed let alone clean, so I did all the housework,” you say twirling your tea spoon in your mug. “But when he started feeling better, I thought he’d start helping out again, but he didn’t. I’d come home from work and there’d be a huge mess. I’d ask him to clean while I’m at work and I’d come home, and the apartment would be even messier than before. I’d clean it after I’d get home from work and the next night I’d have to clean again. It’s just become too much,” you take another sip of tea.

It sounds stupid now that you’re saying everything out loud but caring for an able bodied, grown man that’s acting like a child is exhausting.

“I’d work late and there would be no supper waiting for me. He’d order takeout for himself and give me his few bites of leftovers when I got home. We haven’t been on a date in, fuck, forever. I don’t even know how long. Conversations have started ending in fights,” you sigh, “and I guess I’m just tired of it all. It almost didn’t feel like we were in a relationship. I felt more like a parent nagging her son to do his chores. It’s so tiring.” Tears spring back into your eyes and a lump forms in your throat. “I’m so tired, Yoongs,” you rest your head in your hands as the tears fall.

He brings his chair beside yours so he can rub your back. He sits there while you cry. He doesn’t tell you things will be ok, or that you’ll get over him, and you’re glad he doesn’t. You wouldn’t believe him right now and you don’t need pointless words of comfort.

When the crying episode ends, you lean back in your chair, wiping your eyes.

“Did I make a mistake? We’ve been together for three years. Am I really going to throw that all away without trying to fix it in the first place?” you ask him desperately.

“It sounds like you guys just weren’t working. I don’t know if talking things over would have helped,” he says, placing his hand over yours on top of the table. “Sometimes people need time apart to realise what they’re missing. If after some time apart you still love him and want to be with him then go and see him and maybe that’ll be it. But if after some time apart you don’t want to get back with him… then you’ll know I wasn’t meant to be,” he leans back in his chair and takes a sip of tea.

“What if I want to get back together but he doesn’t?” you ask timidly.

He sighs and takes a moment to think. “Well, then you leave him be. It’s a risky game to play but hopefully it’ll pay off the way you want it to,” he sips the last of his tea and stands up to take it to the sink. “I think you did the right thing though. Taking some time away from each other. I think it’ll do good for both of you to be on your own for a bit.”

“I do too… but… I really miss him. Even though we didn’t do a lot by the end, just being in his presence was comforting, you know? Like we mostly sat on our phones and ignored each other, or Tae would play video games and I sat on my laptop, but it was nice having someone there, it wasn’t lonely,” you smile sadly at the almost finished cake. You put the lid back on after taking one more forkful, then you get up and put it back in the fridge. “Why do you put cake in the fridge by the way?”

“Because I like it cold, and it holds its shape better. Now, I get it’s nice to have someone to help stop the loneliness, trust me I do, but that doesn’t mean you should be using the wrong person to do it with,” he pats your shoulder.

“But he was so right at first. Why did that change?” you whine, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sometimes the right people come into our lives at the wrong time. You met in senior year of university, right when you should have gone out and started your life, but you stayed here with Tae. I’m not saying that was a bad thing, but you didn’t get out there and do what you wanted to do,” he grabs his blanket and wraps it around himself again. “Didn’t you want to move across the ocean after you graduated?”

“Well yeah, but Tae didn’t want to move away from everyone right after we graduated so we were going to move when we were more settled, you know, when we had more money,” you shrug your shoulders, “but then we just never left. Life happened and plans changed.”

“Well, life has changed again. Why don’t you go now?” he suggests.

“I guess I could, but I don’t know if I want that anymore,” you tell him. “I have a good job; all my friends are here. I just don’t think I want to leave. If I’m being honest, I don’t really know what I want to do with my life anymore. But you’re right, I used to have dreams and aspirations. I guess I put those aside to make Tae happy. Not that I haven’t been happy too, I was, but everything I did, I did for Tae.”

“And that’s fine. If you were happy and that’s how you wanted to live, then good on you. But now you can figure out what you do want to do. Even if it takes you months, or you decide to you don’t want to do anything then that’s fine too,”

“Right now, I have no idea what I want to do,” you say, shaking you head.

“And that’s ok. You can figure out first how to be you without having someone hanging off you everyday,” he tugs the blanket closer to him, and yawns. The purple dark circles under his eyes giving away how tired he truly is.

I’m such a bad friend for keeping him awake and listening to my problems when he’s so clearly tired.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you say, wringing your hands together.

“For what?” he looks on at you with confusion.

“For coming here, waking you up and dumping all my problems on you,” you shuffle your feet on the spot.

He steps closer, presses his hands against your cheeks, and lifts your face up. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re my best friend, I’m always going to be here for you,” he kisses your forehead and stares deep into your eyes, which if anyone else did that, you’d be blushing and thinking they have ulterior motives, but it’s different with Yoongi. There has neve been any kind of sexual tension, ever, since becoming friends.

Tears spring to your eyes at his kindness but he wipes them away as they fall with his thumbs.

“Why don’t we go back to bed. You can stay in the guest bedroom for as long as you want,” he drops his hands and grabs your bag for you. He takes off out of the room and down the hall to the bedrooms. You have no choice but to follow him as he makes his way to your new room.

You’ve stayed in this room many a times. Drunken nights out with the group and being too tired to go all the way home, snuggling tight with Tae. Nights when Tae was still working, and he’d have the graveyard shift and you didn’t want to be alone.

He opens the door and throws your bag onto the bed.

“You know where everything is so if you need anything, just get it,” he scratches his head and looks you over. “You sure, you’re ok?”

“I’m… I’m ok right now. Thank you so much Yoongs,” you say, your voice cracking at the end. Without saying anything, he pulls you into a blanket hug and rubs your back. He lets you go and turns to leave, waving over his shoulder as he leaves your room.

You close the door behind him and then sit on the bed. You look around the empty room, taking in the blank walls and baren furniture. This is a bachelor pad through and through with almost nothing decorated except the main rooms. You fall back onto the bed, you head hitting the pillowy mattress, and you stare at the ceiling.

Do what I want to do? What do I want to do? Travel maybe? But my job would never allow that.

Maybe get a new job? No, I like my job and I finally have more responsibility.

Maybe I just do nothing right now like Yoongi said.

People are always saying you should have a dream, but you don’t. All you want to focus on is finding yourself. Finding what makes you, you. And maybe that can be your dream.

You became so reliant on having Tae around that you forgot how to be by yourself, and how to do things on your own.

As the sun’s rays glide across the floor and disappear with the arrival of the moon, you don’t move from your spot. You heard Yoongi leave his room a while ago. You debated going out to see him to thank him one more time for letting you stay, but before you could even sit up, he was shutting the house door to go to work.

So, you continued to lay there.

You mind racing with different scenarios.

Going back to Tae. Moving away from everyone and everything. Dying your hair fire engine red. Getting something pierced. Every thought bringing you closer to what you really want. And that’s to be better, not for Tae, not for your friends, or your job, but for you.

You’re a grown up and you’re always relying on someone. To go to a restaurant with you, to go shopping, even getting a pick me up coffee. You’re always calling one of your friends to come do things with you.

It’s time to grow up and become the independent woman you always thought you were.

No one is in your way. No one can stop you.

From here on out, it’s you, and only you. With maybe a little help from your friends, because let’s be honest, Rome wasn’t built in a day, but from here on out you’re your main priority.

Here’s to me and my new journey.

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

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Here’s to women finding themselves! 

Tagged: @anatron9000​, @sugalarity​

If you’d like to be tagged, let me know!

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #break up imagine #taehyung #namjoon

[atinytokki]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐥𝐥

Chapter 11: Crossroads Pt. 2 

(Warnings: Violence and blood)

As Seonghwa leapt out the window and started running, he was surprised to hear footfalls following behind him.

He thought he had would have left his brother in the dust, but it seemed the prince was keeping up as the two of them sprinted down the hill and back through the town, guided by the flashes of light and jarring sound of bullets ringing out. 

Seonghwa didn’t even dare hope, but the logical side of him clawed at anything he could think of. The shots are still going, his mind whispered. They’re fighting back, they haven’t been killed in their sleep.

How he could have been so stupid to leave them like that, when enemies lurked around every corner?

Junhee called his name but Seonghwa ignored it, hurtling around the corner and slowing to a stop. He and Junhee came face to face with a small group of uniformed men. Royal Navy.

“What’s going on?” Junhee finally burst, leaning over to catch his breath. “Why would you run towards gunfire?”

The eyes of the officers before them widened and they immediately prostrated themselves, not expecting to be in the Crown Prince’s presence at such an hour. 

Seonghwa went from gasping at the decimated state of the upstairs window to watching in horror as one by one his friends were led out of the inn. Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Hongjoong— all restrained and disarmed.

From behind them, a familiar figure strutted out with pride. It was Admiral Kim, and half the commanding officers of the ATEEZ, scourge of the Royal Navy, were in his custody.

Actually... only three.

San wasn’t with them, hopefully he had escaped, and as for Seonghwa...

Seonghwa choked on a breath as he realised that somehow, in a stroke of fate, he stood with the favour of the crown prince, and no evidence to connect him to the pirates who were all being forced onto their knees now and displayed for the royalty to see.

“What is the meaning of this?” Junhee asked tiredly, expression nonplussed even as Kim went on to explain.

“Pirates hiding amongst us, skulking about in our towns, probably meaning to kill you, Your Highness.”

Hongjoong was staring at Seonghwa with a face that clearly warned him to bide his time. Speak up for their innocence now, and he could easily be thrown in with them. Wait until he had Junhee’s ear to himself, and perhaps they would be set free.

Seonghwa didn’t like it but he swallowed his doubts and hung behind his brother as the Admiral went on.

“Not just any pirates, either. This is Kim Hongjoong—”

Roughly, he grabbed Hongjoong’s strawberry hair and tugged his face up into the lantern light for all to see.

“—Captain of the pirate band ATEEZ, a frequent thorn in our sides. We’ve run into each other before, haven’t we?”

His cheshire grin spread from cheek to cheek and the pure malice he emanated made Seonghwa’s stomach boil.

They were in serious trouble.

“These are surely fellow pirates of status for him to have been travelling with them,” the Admiral remarked with a gesture towards Wooyoung and Yeosang, who knelt still as statues and ignored the sneers and saliva spray from the officers around them. The Admiral squinted at Yeosang for a moment before adding, “I recognise this one too, but I can’t place where from.”

“Can you prove it?” Seonghwa called when he couldn’t keep it in anymore. These soldiers didn’t look above killing the three of them on the spot.

A cloud passed over the Admiral’s face. “Pardon me, but who is this?”

Finally, Junhee’s tongue came unstuck from the roof of his mouth and he pulled Seonghwa forward. “This is my younger brother, Seonghwa. He’s been missing for some time but I’ve been blessed to be reunited with him tonight. Treat him as you would me.”

That last addendum was air in Seonghwa’s lungs. His voice was being given authority.

“Can you prove that they’re pirates?” He repeated, more confidently this time before gesturing to the houses and shops around them. “Because if not, you’ve just interrupted the sleep of half the island and accused innocent men of... what exactly? Plots to assassinate my brother, the Crown Prince? Seems like quite a leap to conclusions.”

“This one I can prove,” Admiral Kim growled, dragging Hongjoong up and in one precise movement, ripping at the neckline of his shirt and pulling it past his shoulder. Burned into his skin was a pirate brand, a couple years old, situated next to the newer scar from Seunghyun’s bullet months ago. The Admiral gazed at it with satisfaction. “A souvenir from the last time we met.”

A letter seared into a pirate screamed guilt, and could never be removed. There was no way Seonghwa could argue him out of this. 

But he did get some gratification out of watching the Admiral’s face fall at the unmarked skin of Wooyoung and Yeosang. 

“A lucky coincidence for them,” he mumbled. “That they evaded naval encounters thus far.” With that, he shoved their heads back down and didn’t blink when the momentum pushed Yeosang onto his stomach. 

“Wh-Which makes them innocent until proven guilty,” Seonghwa stuttered, cringing at Yeosang’s attempts to sit up, struggling against the officers who pushed him back down.

“Piracy isn’t some quaint, mischievous fringe lifestyle,” the Admiral spat, words laced with poison. “We can’t pardon them just like that when they’ve already been arrested for rooming with a known pirate. They must be investigated, that is the law.”

“Admiral,” Junhee snapped, surprising Seonghwa almost into flinching. “Do not speak down to Prince Seonghwa. He may not be learned in all our laws and their applications, but he is still royalty by blood. And he has a point.”

Admiral Kim bowed his head respectfully but practically hissed back at Seonghwa, more wraith than man, “We’ll keep them in custody here on suspicion of criminal activity by association with Hongjoong.”

Here he turned back to the Captain in question and eagerly clapped him in irons.

“Kim Hongjoong, I charge you with all of your crimes against the Crown and Empire, namely piracy, for which the penalty is death.”

The protesting ruckus of Wooyoung and Yeosang was ceased by a single look from the Admiral. “Don’t worry your colourful little heads. He won’t die until he watches both of you be killed first. Even if I have to drag the evidence up from fishermen and brigands.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Junhee nodded and Seonghwa stood there and watched his friends be dragged away.

“Your chariot awaits you, pirate kings,” the officers jeered, none too careful with their handling as Yeosang and Wooyoung each received a pair of handcuffs.

“We’ve invented an entirely new class of tortures,” the Admiral crooned into Hongjoong’s ear as he packed him into the carriage waiting to drive the three to the jailhouse. “Just for you and your crew.”

Patience, Seonghwa screamed at himself internally, glued to the spot against his will.

This was Admiral Kim, before whom men trembled in abject fear. He was clever and committed and the moment Seonghwa was out of the man’s sight, he was on the clock.

Kim bowed low before the princes, climbed in with the prisoners, and shut the carriage door tightly.

The hourglass had tipped and sand was sinking quickly.

...

Mingi heard the dawn before he saw it. The mystic’s ménagerie of birds chorused outside his window and heralded in a sunrise that dipped treetops in golden light.

A lazy morning melted into a lazy afternoon and Mingi found that his ever-present itch for action had died. It was like the sweet breeze that tickled the wind chimes was a perfume that relaxed him almost to the point of lethargy.

He sat contentedly on the balcony with Yunho, sipping from a honeyed beverage of some kind that he didn’t care to put a name to, while Jongho kept Eden company inside.

The older pirate still wasn’t on his feet yet, and the pocket watch Mingi pulled out every once in awhile warned him that they’d have to make a decision about what to do soon.

Just as he went to open his mouth and make a suggestion, a particularly strong gust of wind sent autumn leaves wafting past them and up to the twin doors of the mystic’s watchtower.

Mingi watched with fascination as she emerged from behind the shades and caught a leaf as it drifted towards her. Her expression darkened as she gazed at it like it was some kind of messenger.

Suddenly her attention turned to the two of them. “Join me,” she called before turning back inside, silk robes fluttering behind her. There was no need to discuss it, so Yunho and Mingi simultaneously rose from their seats and climbed up to the watchtower, beckoning Jongho along with them.

“I received a prophecy,” the mystic informed them, not even turning from where she stared into her crystal ball. 

“Concerning...us?” Mingi was hesitant in making assumptions, but she had called them up there after all. 

“In a way, yes,” the woman answered, stepping back so they could see. The inside of the globe looked like a mess, flame and crushed plants mingling, a dark substance that looked like water, and a hazy fog swirling around. It was not a clear depiction of the future, but whatever it was, Mingi could tell it was bad.

“Enemies are plotting to strike,” she said gravely, and from the way Jongho fidgeted, Mingi could tell he wasn’t satisfied.

“Which enemies?” The youngest asked. “And plotting to strike when? How?” There was a tinge of jealousy to his voice. Foretelling hidden dangers was once his job.

“That much is clouded still,” the woman sighed, covering the ball with its velvet cloak and settling into a chair. “But this is not like the mischief of demons or the ambition of the Navy. There is unrest in the very fabric of reality. It feels almost like...”

She rubbed her temples until the sensation came back to her and she could put a name to it. “Almost like preparation for war.”

War with the universe.

That notion was like a fuse that flickered on in front of Mingi’s face and tensed his muscles in anticipation of an explosion. His drive had returned to him.

They’d waited around on their backsides long enough. This was as clear a signal as any that their stay in this small paradise was up.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Mingi commanded the room with a quiet cough. “We have some things to discuss.”

...

The cobblestone streets were home to San, and he could navigate them blind. So he ran to the eastern marina in the dark, thinking on his toes.

The Crown Prince’s escort fleet and all the Navy ships were at the western docks, but still San stuck to the shadows and scanned the boats for one special ship.

The ATEEZ was gone.

San triple checked and then clamped his hands to stop himself from tearing his hair out.

Where could they possibly have gone? And why would they leave?

The crew of the ATEEZ had been loyal through every tribulation thusly so why now did they choose to betray their officers, at the worst possible moment?

“Pirates!” He hissed in frustration, sitting himself down on the edge of the dock. “Backstabbing, good for nothing, traitorous pirates.”

And now he had to steal a boat.

“But first...” he mumbled, pulling the pages out of his pocket again and staring at the sad, wrinkled parchment.

Had Hongjoong not been resolute in his order to call for help, San wouldn’t have spared the spellbook pages another glance. They’d destroyed his life already, he found it hard to believe they could do any good.

But there, scrawled in a corner on the fourth page, was a spell for silent communication. So he took a deep breath and read it before selecting the person he would call.

He thought back to the voice that had spoken to him in his fight with the demon. Part of him recalled who she was, but all he needed was to remember her voice and try to speak back to it.

“Please help us,” he whispered, reaching out with his mind. “We’re in trouble, the Navy’s come to capture us. Send help.”

He whispered incantations until he felt a jolt of energy and a ringing in his ears. 

His voice had been heard.

...

The more Seonghwa looked, the more he came to believe that San had escaped the battle unharmed.

As soon as the Navy officers had left, he assured Junhee that he would join him in his royal residence soon and entered the inn to comb through the crime scene.

The cowering innkeeper and his family were of no help, so he hurried upstairs to their decimated room and picked through broken glass and curtain for anything incriminating.

It created a pool of regret in him to be rifling through their bags while all of them were probably being beaten senseless elsewhere, but if he was careless, they would experience much worse. The Admiral would probably return soon on a hunt of his own.

Seonghwa sighed in relief at the fact that Yeosang had left Eden’s compass on the ship and the treasure was safe there as well. 

He had to leave some of their belongings or it would be obvious he had come to cover their tracks, but he collected his own bag and all of San’s things. Now it was like the two of them were never there.

As long as the Admiral didn’t know about San, the surgeon had a chance to get off the island and get help.

Seonghwa returned his room key at the front desk before leaving the inn behind. All the keys were accounted for now. One less shred of evidence for the Admiral to uncover on his return.

Seonghwa headed to San’s old house, and thankfully the woman who lived there now was awake and compliant when he asked her not to tell any soldiers of their visit there earlier and paid her in advance for her cooperation.

By the time he returned to the temporary palace, the sky was grey and promised morning soon. 

“You know them, don’t you?” Junhee asked the moment Seonghwa collapsed in the bed his brother had ordered prepared for him.

His mind took a minute to catch up, but Seonghwa hummed quietly when he realised he couldn’t very well deny the statement.

“You know, the merchant told me you were captured by pirates,” Junhee whispered, settling into his own bed once the lights had been extinguished. “It shocks me that you’d defend one of their kind after all they must have done to you.”

There was a moment of silence in which Seonghwa felt he could say nothing other than the truth. When the soldiers questioned them, it would be as if they never knew each other, but to Seonghwa there was no way to minimise what they had done for him.

“They saved me,” he finally croaked out. “These pirates saved me. I’m just returning the favour.”

“You were travelling with them, then?” Junhee pressed, and he sounded more intrigued than anything as he turned on his side to face Seonghwa. 

“We didn’t come to kill anyone or steal anything,” Seonghwa said softly, emotions he had bottled up in front of the Admiral slowly working themselves out and down his cheeks as he spoke. “I don’t know if it’s within your power but, please, hyung. Please pardon them.”

Junhee stared at him for some time and Seonghwa waited for him to laugh and call him ridiculous. Maybe even turn him over to the Admiral and have him hung with the others.

“Everyone makes mistakes. I’ll speak for the unbranded ones,” Junhee finally said. “But if they are proven guilty...”

He flopped onto his back and broke eye contact, and Seonghwa knew he had made up his mind. “They’ll have to pay for their crimes.”

Seonghwa wanted to fight back, he wanted to explain that none of them deserved death after all the good they had done, but he swallowed his arguments and thanked Junhee humbly.

It was something. More than he could have asked for without his new status, and more than Junhee owed him.

Their quiet mid-morning breakfast was intruded upon by a visit from the Admiral.

Junhee let him in but scowled at the interruption of his explanation of royal eating customs to Seonghwa.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Admiral Kim apologised with a low bow. “I just wanted to ensure Prince Seonghwa was settling in well.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t here to gloat, which meant Yeosang and Wooyoung weren’t talking for him. As expected, they wouldn’t condemn themselves.

Seonghwa forced a smile and assured the man that he was doing fine, to which the Admiral hardly reacted. What was he here for?

“Is there an end in sight to the investigations?” Junhee asked conversationally. “I’d like to get home to begin wedding preparations soon.”

“Well,” Kim flashed a charming smile. “I may have a lead to follow up. The pirates’ ship is absent from the harbour.”

“So, perhaps they aren’t pirates after all then?” Seonghwa was quick to ask, trying not to sound too triumphant already.

“What do insects do when it rains?”

Seonghwa was completely blindsided. “Pardon?”

“Critters— insects, spiders and the like. They could be killed by a single drop of rain if it falls on them, so how do they survive?”

Seonghwa froze. The Admiral knew something. He answered his own question and Seonghwa’s thoughts flew to San.

“They scatter.”

...

San watched flames consume the wrinkled parchment, his soul finally at peace as the fire licked away at what remained of the spellbook.

He let the charred scraps fall to the bottom of the harbour and told himself it was the right thing to do. He had used the spells just as he was told and all that remained in that book was death and dark memory.

With the destruction of the spellbook pages, the demon’s plans were officially ended.

Now, San had to run for his life. 

The town was on high alert and he would be caught most certainly if he attempted to return to it.

The only option was to leave the island entirely and wait for help to break him back in.

A small sailboat was anchored just a few spots down from where the ATEEZ had been, and after purloining some food and supplies from the guardhouse kitchen, San snuck aboard to commandeer her.

The wind was insistently pulling him out to sea, so he obeyed it, working tirelessly to man the thing himself and slip out of the marina unnoticed by soldiers. 

From what he could make of the stars, he was headed south. He sent up a prayer, out of spontaneity and not magic, and drifted with the sea. 

Mostly he just hoped his supplies would last, and that the others would get here before he had to worry about them.

Time was slipping away as the sun peeked over the horizon and San felt like he was slipping with it.

...

“Why were you with a known pirate?”

Wooyoung shook his head at the officer yelling at him (a Lieutenant Byun if he had heard correctly) and tried not to tremble where he sat, restrained, in this dungeon they called an interrogation room.

There was no time to collaborate on a story or make a plan of escape. It was just him, this lieutenant, and the bucket of water he kept dunking his head into until this torture ended.

“Answer me, why?”

The world was plunged into freezing watery depths again and Wooyoung fought until his lungs burned like they were about to explode and suddenly he was up again, coughing and making a mess of himself.

He didn’t think he could do this much longer.

The lieutenant grabbed him by the neck to dunk him again and he broke.

“He captured me,” Wooyoung wheezed. And he wasn’t even lying. “It’s the truth. I was working for Bang Si-Hyuk, privateer, and he-he attacked our ship and kidnapped me. That’s how I ended up with him.”

It was a lead that would hopefully send the Admiral after Si-Hyuk for confirmation, buying time if nothing else.

“You expect us to believe you?” The lieutenant laughed.

“Ask Bang himself if you don’t,” Wooyoung’s voice shook but he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to get out of this room and away from that water bucket. “I don’t have any more information.”

Byun stared at him for a moment before signalling the guards to unbind him and take him back to his cell.

“Well done,” he goaded Wooyoung on the way out. “You’ve just volunteered your brown-haired friend for the next round of questioning.”

Yeosang.

Wooyoung’s eyes fell shut with disappointment in himself and he almost begged them to leave Yeosang alone but he was already being returned to his cell.

Yeosang’s was next to his, and he only had enough time to reach a hand through the bars that separated them apologetically before the guards took him away.

Wooyoung sunk to the floor and tried to collect himself. It was like a metal weight sat on his heart and he could barely move.

Hongjoong’s cell, the one across from him, was empty. Wooyoung didn’t know where they’d taken him and he didn’t want to think about it.

The sooner they got out, the better. He just had to keep believing Seonghwa would help them. If not for him, their entire company would already be dead.

Wooyoung focused on his breathing and memories of the rest of the crew while he tried to recover. He missed them more than he could say.

They had been successful in exorcising San, and San had been successful in escaping, so all things considered, the odds were still favourable. 

Wooyoung just had to keep that in the forefront of his mind and the beatings would be manageable.

After some time of being alone with his thoughts, Yeosang was dragged back into his cell.

Lieutenant Byun brought him back personally with cruel eyes and it was clear that he hadn’t cooperated.

“If he doesn’t want to speak, then he won’t be eating either,” the officer said, sliding food under the bars of Wooyoung’s cell and pointedly avoiding Yeosang’s. “Try to share with him and your fingers will be broken.”

Wooyoung waited until the footsteps retreated to scoot over to the bars that separated the two cells and slip his hand through.

His fingers found Yeosang’s shoulder and after a moment, the other melted under his touch. He turned him around to face him and regretted that they couldn’t embrace through the bars but was glad to be able to see his face.

It was badly bruised and blood was drying where it flowed from his head, but it was the way Yeosang’s eyes struggled to focus that worried him.

“I tried fighting back,” he admitted quietly, eyes lingering on Wooyoung’s untouched meal. “They didn’t take kindly to that.”

Wooyoung rested his forehead against the bars and Yeosang mirrored him. “We just have to hang on and we’ll be out soon,” he finally said, not nearly as confidently as he’d hoped it would come out. “They can’t find anything on us.”

A growl from Yeosang’s stomach reminded Wooyoung of the food waiting for him. After a quick glance around the area, he smuggled a chunk of bread through the bars and immediately paid for it.

A guard shot out of the shadows and entered his cell, yanking the rest of the food away from him and grabbing one of his fingers to deal punishment.

“No, no, please—“

Wooyoung barely had time to muffle his own scream with a fist in his mouth as the finger was snapped, a fracture cracking the bone and a sharp pain shooting from it.

The guard said no more and left the cell. 

Wooyoung didn’t respond to Yeosang’s concerned cries and curled into a ball while the other sighed and petted his hair until the pain and tears had subsided.

Eventually they sat back to back, singing softly to busy their minds. Hongjoong had still not returned, but Wooyoung waited instead for sleep to find them.

In sleep there was at least some respite.

...

Jongho watched the diamond spray of the waterfall cast a rainbow over the valley and listened to Yunho and Mingi argue about what to do.

Mingi was in favour of setting out immediately and asking Eden to pull his weight, and Yunho insisted that the older pirate heal and be able to walk first.

Jongho didn’t know why they hadn’t considered the most obvious option.

“Let’s just leave him here,” he broke in, sighing when they stared at him in surprise. 

“He would never allow that!” Mingi scoffed.

“We could always just ask him!” Jongho argued back. “Ever think of that?”

“How do you think we’ll even get off this island without his help?” Yunho pointed out, and Jongho was about to make a suggestion when another voice cut him off.

“Just ask me,” the mystic smiled, reaching into her sleeves to hand them something while they scratched their heads wondering where she had come from.

“This, I believe, is yours.”

In her palm lay a knife. The one Hongjoong had given to Mingi, that the beast had run away with stabbed into its skin. 

“How did you get it back?” Mingi breathed, taking the knife reverently and turning it over. 

“I have my ways,” the woman waved off the question before sobering. “I agree with the youngest, it would be wise to set sail now, without Eden to slow you down. I have just received a message, word from San. He flees from Namhae alone and calls for aid. They’re all in grave danger.”

“Is this connected to the war you mentioned?” Mingi asked nervously, sheathing the knife as they made their way inside. It sounded like he’d be needing it.

“Only time will tell,” the mystic said simply, stopping them outside the door to their room. “He’s awake, but I’ll give you some privacy.”

Eden certainly was awake and reading at that, Jongho noticed as they settled into plush cushions and danced around the point of the conversation.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Eden said coolly, shutting the book gently and laying it on the arm of his sofa. “Your crewmates are in trouble and you need to go to them, I understand.”

Mingi frowned at Yunho’s poke in the ribs but opened his mouth to reassure Eden they would only leave if he was in agreement. “It’s just that you still need time to heal, and we can’t wait any longer.”

The sail to Namhae was relatively short but every day they spent was costing their friends.

“I’m in good hands here,” Eden agreed. “Hongjoong will understand when you reunite with him.”

There was a pause where his eyebrows drew together and eventually he sighed.

“Tell him I was wrong. About you, about him... about everything.” The words came out all jumbled together, but he spoke from the bottom of his heart. He believed in them now.

“You children have been nothing short of miraculous.”

Course decided, the three got to packing and said their goodbyes. Jongho knew the first place he was coming back to when he had the chance, and it was this island. It was a wonderful and awe-inspiring place, and he had a friend to return to now as well.

Eden called his name as he was about to cross the threshold, so he turned back to hear his parting words.

“If we ever meet again, I hope it is under much better circumstances.”

...

In the dim hole that was their prison, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed.

Meals came infrequently, and Wooyoung was much more careful about being caught sharing after his earlier stunt.

To ease the guards’ suspicions, it took a few days of eating his meals himself before he could slip something to Yeosang through their clasped hands, sitting back to back against the bars like they had done before.

Hongjoong came and went, always with very little sleep, and Yeosang couldn’t help but notice how the guards stopped marching him out for “questioning” and started dragging him.

If he put up a fight, it wasn’t in front of them. He never had much to say when he was around, either, apart from asking if they had eaten and begging them to trust him.

He said he knew what he was doing. He said he had a secret plan. He said he needed them to be patient. So they were.

Conversation was strictly discouraged by the guards, but they got by with being able to look at each other, and in Yeosang and Wooyoung’s case, cling to each other through the bars.

It seemed the Admiral had forgotten about them, or was no longer interested.

No one interrogated them for days, and it seemed they couldn’t lawfully be beaten outside of interrogation tactics as suspects and not proven pirates. 

They waited endlessly in the damp mustiness of the prison, a stone floor for their beds and stale food for their bellies.

Morale had sunk low enough that they didn’t bother to whisper about escape anymore, but the stray thought about Seonghwa was an ever-present hope. He was working on getting them out. They were sure of it.

Until one morning when both were escorted to the interrogation room together and Yeosang was sat down for the Admiral himself to question.

“I found something peculiar when looking through the evidence,” Admiral Kim told them theatrically, waving a couple of scrolls in the air before unrolling one and showing it to Yeosang.

“A map,” Yeosang deadpanned. He had resisted all of Byun’s interrogation techniques, and he wasn’t about to cave in front of the Admiral.

Wooyoung watched anxiously from the side.

“Not just any map,” the Admiral lilted, tapping the right corner. “This one has portions of the East charted on it. Places no one outside of my fleet has ever been.”

“What are you insinuating?” Yeosang gritted out. “I’m tired of playing games.”

The Admiral’s smile wilted and he tossed the maps to the ground. He was angry now.

Yeosang flinched as the Admiral reared his hand back for a slap, but suddenly the man froze and everything went quiet for a moment.

Kim’s hand came up alongside Yeosang’s face, and he rubbed some of the blood off his eyelid. He was gentle, tender even, and as much as it sickened Yeosang, it allowed him to breathe for a minute.

“I thought I recognised you,” the Admiral said quietly, thumb lingering on the birthmark next to Yeosang’s eye. “Now I know where from.”

Yeosang didn’t move a muscle, willing the man to stop putting the pieces together, but it didn’t work.

“Kang Yeosang.”

Byun and the other guards gasped at this revelation. They had the son of their own Head Navigator imprisoned and tortured.

“Let them free,” the Admiral sighed, finally stepping back and crossing his arms. He ignored the look Lieutenant Byun gave him and opened the door to let the two shocked prisoners walk free.

“Unfortunately, I made a promise to your father once, that I would make sure no harm ever came to you,” he said by way of explanation, walking behind the pair as they helped each other towards the exit. “He wouldn’t be very happy with me if I had you executed.”

And as for Wooyoung, it seemed he was imprisoned by association and pardoned by association as well. It was the first thing Yeosang insisted upon and surprisingly, the Admiral allowed it.

“I’m after another member of Hongjoong’s company now,” he informed them vaguely, a knowing smile teasing his lips. “One who seems to have escaped me. But I won’t presume to glean information from you— off you go!”

The door was open. They could leave. 

Wooyoung turned back as they limped towards the light, just in time to see the Admiral enter Hongjoong’s cell.

“There’s going to be an execution next week in the square,” the man snarled. “Yours.”

Yeosang and Wooyoung shared a knowing look. They were on the other side of the bars, which meant they were responsible for springing their Captain out next.

Knuckles white around the bars of his cell, Hongjoong’s hoarse voice rang out and followed the Admiral as he left.

“I may have to go down. But I’m taking you with me.”

...

Taglist: @nightynightnyx @atzjjongbby​ @celestial-yunho​ 

A/N: ONE CHAPTER TO GO!! And then I start the next book in the series ;) Things are getting really intense, what do you think will happen? Comment or send an ask <3

← Previous | Masterlist | Next →

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #atzeditors #atzinc #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez pirate au #ateez pirates #ateez fantasy #pirate au #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #tokki writes #treasure series #ch.10 crossroads pt 2

[fullmetalscullyy]

the last dance - chapter 9

summary: “Congratulations on your wedding, sir,” she smiled widely. “You’re one step closer to becoming Fuhrer.” Post-Canon. Roy Mustang marries a Drachman Princess to secure Amestris’ ties with the country, while also furthering his political career. Riza Hawkeye works behind the scenes to make sure he reaches the top, however once he does, where does she go next? He’s hit his goal of becoming Fuhrer because he got married, so what is Riza’s purpose now? Will she finally atone for her sins, like she’d planned?

read chapter 8 | rated: m | read on: ao3 + ffnet

Riza’s breath was frozen in her throat.

Words may have been spoken but she wasn’t sure. Roy encompassed her vision completely, just like old times. However, Riza did notice that the rest of the team filed out the room, even Annika, and left her and Roy alone.

He stepped forward and Riza flinched. She didn’t know why. Roy stopped, continuing to simply watch her.

“Riza?” he called to her quietly.

She broke.

She took a shaky breath in, feeling tears threatening to overwhelm her. Why was he here. Why now? Why, when she couldn’t have him, did she want to fall into his arms and never leave them?

Her eyes close and the weight of everything that’d happened in the last half hour crashed into her at once. She was a free woman… But she had nothing left. She was out of the military with this “scandal” and she no longer worked for Roy. She’d lost everything trying to set things right, only to fail miserably.

Arms enveloped her and Riza fought against his hold. She didn’t deserve it.

Roy shushed her. “It’s okay,” he soothed, readjusting his grip so he could hold her even tighter.

“No, it’s not,” she sobbed. Her knees shook and felt herself falling. She didn’t fall hard though. Roy caught her and eased her onto the floor, following along with her. The pair of them knelt on the rich carpet, Riza a sobbing, pathetic, mess in his arms.

“I tried,” she told him. “I tried to make things right, but I failed.” Her eyes squeezed closed tightly. His scent flooded her and made her want to cry harder. She didn’t deserve comfort from him.

“I know,” Roy murmured. A hand was pressed on her hair and smoothed down her short and greasy tresses. “You were amazing,” he soothed.

“What?” Riza asked, blinking her eyes open.

“The strength you had to do that, to offer yourself up to be executed of all things,” he added, choking on the word he stressed. “I wish I could possess half of that.”

She pulled away, meeting his gaze, but Roy had cast it downwards.

“The Elders approached me. I explained your thoughts on the matter, but they still insisted. I…” He glanced down. “I know this was what you wanted, and I, of all people, would never want to take it away from you, but… I couldn’t say no to them.” He met her eyes and saw how pained they were. “I took so much from them already… I couldn’t leave them out.”

Riza pressed a hand to his cheek. “You brought them so much back too, though remember?”

“So, did you,” he stressed, giving her a tight squeeze. “And I couldn’t have done it without you. Havoc’s right. Everything falls apart with you, Riza. We all need you. The world needs you. I need you more than anything,” he finished, his voice dropping to a whisper.

The reminder of Annika popped into her head, and Riza froze.

“What about Annika?” she asked before swallowing past the lump in her throat.

Roy shifted in place, glancing away from her. Riza’s grip on him loosened, finally understanding. She realised the position they were in and moved away. As she did, Roy’s head snapped back to hers, his brow furrowing.

“Riza?” he asked uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it like that, sir – I mean… General,” she finished lamely. He wasn’t her commanding officer anymore. Old habits die hard, but she was just a civilian now, she supposed. General would justify for now, until she figured out where she sat in this world now.

“What –?”

“I’ll let you go, General Mustang. You don’t need to stay any longer.” Riza could feel her shoulders rounding in on themselves, so she stood and straightened her spine. Roy rose in a hurry, meeting her gaze with his own worried one.

“What are you talking about? Of course, I do.”

“Your wife will be wondering where you are, General.” Riza cursed as her voice broke on the use of wife.

Realisation seemed to dawn on Roy, but Riza couldn’t figure out why.

“Oh. No, you misunderstand,” he stated, shaking his head. Roy approached her hurriedly as Riza watched his movements cautiously. He gripped her hands tightly, anchoring himself to her. “She’s my wife, but I don’t love her.”

It took Riza a moment to grasp what he was saying.

“Excuse me?”

Roy shifted uncomfortably. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. And these were her words, not mine, but what I have with Annika… There’s no live. It’s an arrangement. A marriage of convenience for us both.”

“It’s still a marriage.”

“Yes, I know that, but she won’t mind.”

Riza frowned. “I won’t get in between a marriage, General –”

“It’s Roy,” he interrupted. “Please. And don’t worry about it.”

Riza snatched her hands back. “No, I won’t –”

“Riza,” Roy soothed her, trying to calm her down. He sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not explaining this very well.”

“No, you’re not,” Annika interrupted, appearing from nowhere.

Riza jumped about a foot away from him, fear prickling over her skin.

Annika noticed and waved off her reaction. “Riza, my dear, relax. Roy has always appeared to have been excellent with words but when it comes to you, it all goes out the window.” She shot a look at her husband. “I wonder why?” she asked allowed, shooting Roy a pointed look. Roy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Riza, look,” Annika stated. “There’s no love between us. Never was. I used him, and he used me.”

An unsettling feeling settled in Riza’s stomach at the implication of her statement. It climbed up her throat and Annika appeared to have noticed. Her eyes widened in horror.

“No! Not like that!” she reassured Riza. “No, Roy helped me get away from my abusive father, and I promised I’d help get him to Fuhrer. We agreed from day one that if someone else was to come along, we would end it. I would be a disgraced Princess if I was divorced and wouldn’t need to travel back to Drachma to my awful father – which, don’t worry, I am very happy about – and Roy said I’d be free to be with anyone I wanted to be. I said the same to him…” Annika cast her gaze between the two of them. “However, I see that the person he’s been in love with has been with him all along.” She shot Riza a pointed look.

The dread in Riza’s stomach had left, and in its place, several emotions were churning up inside the organ, too difficult and muddled to name.

“Do yourself a favour, Riza, and jump at this chance you’ve been given. You’re an amazing woman who I admire so much.” Annika gently grasped her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Make him happy,” she smiled. With a final squeeze, Annika turned and left the room without another word.

“Riza?” Roy called to her. It sounded far away as Riza stared at the door Annika had exited. She may have stood there frozen for seconds, for minutes, she wasn’t sure.

“Is that true?” she whispered.

“Every word,” Roy replied with confidence. He smiled sheepishly at her. “She was right. With you, I’ve never been able to find the right words, or the right time. One thing happened after another and then I was too scared of messing anything up. But I do love you, Riza. You’ve known that for years and it’s never changed.” Riza felt tears spring to her eyes. “And I realise how much that marriage must have hurt you. I apologise for that, but it was necessary to get her out of that home.”

As Riza’s brain caught up with her, she couldn’t help but notice the similarities between her childhood situation and Annika’s. Had Roy helped her because Annika reminded him of herself, and their childhood together under Berthold Hawkeye?

No, surely not…

But it certainly sounded like something Roy would do.

Both Riza’s hands were back in Roy’s grip as he met her eyes with a soft smile.

“What will you do now?” he asked quietly.

“I… I don’t know.” She really didn’t, and that terrified her. She was still reeling for the judge’s decision. Her brain hadn’t even thought about where she would sleep that night.

“Come and work for me again,” Roy offered.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “The military won’t let me.”

“The Fuhrer is your grandfather. I’ll be Fuhrer after that,” Roy argued. “I’m sure you’ll be able to.”

“It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Riza, you offered yourself up to be executed for what you did in Ishval. The majority have praised you for your actions. I wasn’t joking when I said I wish I had half the strength you did.”

She studied his eyes, trying to discern if he was lying, but he wasn’t. The truth was all there in those dark orbs, laid out before her for Riza to accept.

“Or,” Roy added, giving her hands a squeeze. “Private security is also another venture you could find yourself in.” His eyes flashed, with… mischief? “Then you won’t be working under me.”

“What?”

“Annika and I already spoke after your trial went live and are readying the divorce papers.” Riza’s mouth parted in shock. “Discreetly, of course. No one knows and it won’t be public until next year sometime.” He sounded displeased by that admittance. “It wouldn’t be good publicity if I was to be divorced right before becoming Fuhrer, no matter how much I want to be.”

“Why?” Riza asked. She still couldn’t grasp what he was saying.

“So, I can be with you, of course. Only if you want to.”

Her mind and her emotions were being jerked in every direction today. Just when she thought she’d got a lid on one surprise another came barrelling at her at full speed. She needed to sit down. Or a drink. That last one sounded better.

Unfortunately, there was no drink available to her in the courthouse, so she sank into a couch behind her. Roy followed suit, his hands not leaving hers, but instead of joining her on the couch, he knelt in front of her.

“Do we deserve it?” she asked.

His smile faltered. “Annika has opened me up to many different ways of thinking. Before I met her? Absolutely not. Duty came first for us always. However, we’ve conquered our demons and rebuilt what we had a hand in destroying. For me…” Roy dropped his gaze. “It doesn’t ease the guilt, but my soul feels more at rest now that I know by job is done.”

“I felt the same way,” Riza admitted in a whisper. “That’s why I was so okay with all this.”

Roy nodded. “I understand. I was too, however Grumman said I would have to wait until I became Fuhrer. And God knows I didn’t want to leave you to do it alone. It felt like I was abandoning you, but I still had work to do.” Roy shifted on his knees, giving her hands a tight squeeze. “So do you, if you’re willing?”

“Everything is done.”

Roy shook his head with a dry smile. “Someone still has to keep my sorry ass alive. The best person to do that is you. If you decline, I won’t fight it –”

“Okay.”

A heavy breath left Riza as she accepted his offer because there was no place better for her than by his side. Whether that was as his bodyguard, or, further down the line, his wife, Riza didn’t care. She just wanted him.

Roy edged forward and pressed his lips gently against hers. Riza whimpered and wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly. His arms snaked around her back and pulled her flush against his body. Her tears dripped onto her cheeks, but she didn’t mind.

They were happy tears. It had been a long time since she’d experienced that.

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #royai au #emma writes #the last dance

[gothiccbts-blog]

My Darling, Chapter 2

Genre: Murder Mystery, Horror, Angst (in this chapter)

Pairing: BTS x Reader

Summary: Working as a detective constable for 5 years definitely had you seeing some horrific scenes in your career. However, nothing would prepare you for the string of murders around the city which all had one intention; getting your attention.

Words: 4.4k

Author’s note: Hello! Sorry, this took so long to write, I was in London at the Wembley concerts (which were AMAZING btw) and also doing some shit in real life but here is chapter 2 finally!! Let me know what you think, thank you!! - Lisa 

Chapter 1◀         ▶Next Chapter

‘Dear My Darling, Y/n Y/l/n,

Finally, my words meet your beautiful sparkling eyes, I can only imagine how they widen and still in shock as you take in each one of my words on this very piece of paper. Even writing this knowing that you’ll be holding it one day is getting me all excited here, detective~ haha.

You’re finally getting to notice something of me. Finally, I’m getting your attention. If only I could see your doe eyes in real life staring back into mine. You’re so beautiful, detective. I don’t think you get told that enough. You’re just surrounded by dogs who can’t see the true flower that’s right in front of their eyes, they don’t deserve to be in your presence. They don’t deserve you.

Anyway! You’re probably wondering; ‘why is all of this happening?’ ‘do I know this person?’ ‘am I being stalked?’ and as much as I would love to give you answers, I won’t. It would spoil the game, silly! A little game of ‘who did it?’ to keep you on your toes, detective, doesn’t that sound fun?~

I must leave now, places to go, people to see, people to kill… I’ll see you soon, detective <3,

But you won’t see me~

L.32’

-

7:28pm

“L.32’? What the fuck does that mean? Is this guy talking in code or something?” A frustrated and obviously anxious voice booms from beside me as he runs his hands over his pale face for the 10th time since he got into the lab, not that I was really listening at this point.

After seeing that letter on the ground of the night club’s freezer and having to open it with cold stiff hands, processing every word, process what was actually happening; You’ve been in a state of pure shock ever since. Apparently, it’s been almost 12 hours since you found the letter, for 12 hours you’ve been in this lab with forensics and other officers, but it all feels like 12 minutes at the most, your mind right now is in a dream-like state. You always see victims at crime scenes, ones who discovered or witnessed vile and outright evil acts that have been committed or even in TV shows, they’re sitting there like an empty shell of a human with a blanket wrapped around them just staring into nothing as though their whole entire being has been shut down within them. You never actually know how shock feels until you experience it yourself.

It’s trauma. Your body goes numb and suddenly everything around you is just in a state of blur, voices aren’t even reaching your ears, air isn’t reaching your lungs, your muscles tense up like they’ve turned to stone, unable to move from the ground you’re stood on, your brain is working at hyper speed trying to process and make sense of the events that have just occurred. That’s a shock. That’s what you’re having to deal with.

“I can’t say anything right now as we don’t have any results or answers back… we’re working as fast as we can on this, Officer.”

You’re very thankful for that voice, the deep and honey-rich voice that belongs to no other than your roommate and long-time best friend, Kim Namjoon. You both met back at University, you both having a keen interest in crime and forensics so you both instantly clicked. It all began with you being forced to work with him and a few other people on a group project, needless to say, you both bonded over how the other students weren’t helping with the project leading to endless nights of bitching. Oh, what a simple time that was.

You’re so happy and thankful to have him within this field with you working as a Forensic Scientist, he’s always been there from terrible boyfriends and break-ups to when you’re having a mental breakdown over a homicide case. He’s your rock and you couldn’t be more thankful for meeting the big tree of a man, plus he has a good taste in plants for your shared apartment so that’s always a plus.

“Hey, Y/n… you still with us?”

You’re quickly snapped out of your daydream when Namjoon waves his glove covered hand in front of your face, a small smile appearing on his lips, not in amusement but more in sympathy.

“I’m fine, Joon… Just a little… shocked, that’s all.” You say honestly if there’s anyone who can read you like a book it’s him so there’s no point in putting on a fake mask of being okay when you’re totally not.

“Maybe you should call it a day, y/n. You look really tired; a good night’s rest will do you some good,” He suggests, looking like he’s just witnessed a crying puppy in an alleyway as he looks down at you, your eyes must be revealing how drained you are to him as you look up at him,

“Plus, analysis on the paper, pen, and handwriting used on the letter will take a good day to come back with results, that and trying to pinpoint any clues or indications within the writing itself… you should use this time to rest, please.”

A hand comes in contact with your other shoulder, rubbing the numb skin a little as the body comes closer, making you break eye-contact with Namjoon to turn to face the person.

“He’s right, Miss y/l/n, you should call it a day… do you need me to give you a ride home?” Officer Min softly asks as he peers down at you, a look of sympathy on his face, mirroring Namjoon’s. It’s not often Officer Min changes his expression from his neutral ‘cold’ one, that’s another reason why he’s always picked to lead the homicide cases around the city, he’s got that threatening look to him which gets people to talk. You know he isn’t just a stone cold officer, you’ve noticed the little things he does to show he actually cares; getting you coffee when you’ve got a long night, making sure you eat and get home safely, making sure you’re not cold or not too warm. It’s the little things that you appreciate.

You shake your head, too drained from all of this to even bring yourself to say no, all you can let out is; “I need a walk, don’t worry…” before pushing yourself away from both of the men, grabbing your jacket and putting it over your vulnerable and stiff body, the weight of the jacket feels like it’s increased as though someone’s put boulders into your pockets, or maybe it’s your body that’s grown weak.

“be careful, Miss y/l/n, give me a call if you need anything…” Officer Min says, sympathy laced throughout his words before the man next to him speaks up,

“There are some leftovers in the fridge, heat them up then call it a night, you always forget to eat…” Namjoon states more than he suggests, he’s always looking out for you especially during big cases like this, although all of those cases seem pretty little now.

With a nod and a forced smile, you make your way to exit the building, just trying to keep whatever Namjoon has left in the fridge for you in mind rather than the nauseating letter that’s sat in that very lab.

-

8:00pm

The cold piercing air brushes against your exhausted and discoloured skin as you make your way down the damp pavement, the streetlights being your only source of sight as well as some car’s headlights which would pass now and then. It’s weird, you thought, how your mind isn’t bursting at the seams with possibilities and questions into the events that occurred tonight but rather it’s quiet. Not a single thought or idea is running its way through your mind and developing into worries and ‘what if’s, instead you’re just enjoying the silence of the world around you. The silence of the street. The silence in your head.

As if your body was being controlled by someone else, you’re stopped dead in your tracks, right in front of a pathway coming off of the pavement, only lit by a single orange street light in the middle of it. You head slowly turning as your eyes scan the concrete of the ground trying to figure out why your body had the sudden urge to stop as you made your way home.

Your eyes widen as realisation dawns on you as to where this other path leads to; The Stigma Nightclub. You should’ve guessed since the faint noise of the club’s bass travels through the air to where you’re standing, cold in the middle of a dimly lit pavement.

The murder all seems different now, it isn’t just something you can detach yourself from and solve through an outsider’s perspective, this time you’re entangled in this mess. This involves you now, that what makes this murder so much different. You were on this person’s mind as he was slaughtering this poor boy, you were on this person’s mind when he stained his fingers with the person’s blood and smeared it on the cold brick wall of the club. You.

Without any thought, you’re moving in the direction of the bass and laughter, seems like Mr. Jung hasn’t decided to keep the club closed for even a few days after the murder happened. Not that you’re surprised in the slightest, he is money hungry after all and he doesn’t hide it. All you have to do is take one look at what he’s wearing and you’ll know that he’s proud of his bank account. Always the latest designer watches, rings, personally designed suits and shoes, his outfits alone are easily over a million dollars. 

Your eyes burn at the sight of the vibrant pink neon sign at the club’s entrance piercing through the darkness of the night. It’s pretty packed outside already with girl’s shivering in their tight and short bodycon dresses and men who are obviously trying to look impressive and appealing to whoever they can get their hands on. They’re all waiting like caged animals behind a red rope waiting for the club to open at 9pm.

Just shows how popular this club really is, even with murder right outside its doorstep there’s still people coming here waiting to fill their stomachs with alcohol. You can’t blame them really I mean, you used to be one of them.

You move before you catch the stern eyes of one of the bouncers, who seem to be occupied by an already very drunk and touchy girl trying to get in early, heading to the side of the club which is still covered in police tape and markings of where the boy’s body was. From the looks of things, the crime scene cleaners have already come since all is left of the murder is the faint red stains on the concrete of the ground and the brick wall.

You duck under the police tape with shaky legs, your wide eyes focused on the brick wall of the club, the faint stain of the embedded message still slightly visible.

‘My Darling..’ you mumble to yourself, your stiff fingers moving out to touch the cold wall like a puppet being controlled by some string, your brain congested with the question of who the hell would write this message specifically for you? And why? What did they want from You?

A bright flash of white light had you snap out of your trance, your glossed over eyes rapidly blinking in order to get your eyes back in focus as you turn to the direction of the sound of movement.

A figure. You can’t identify who it is as you squint, the person seems to have their hood up and… is that a camera?

Whoever this seems not to have noticed you yet, you are pretty far back in the alley since you were looking at the writing, plus this person clearly is focused on something else rather than you.

Maybe they’re forensics? Weird, I thought Officer Min’s team was finished here, especially since everything’s been cleaned up... You thought, staying as still as you can so you can try and take in as much of this person’s appearance before getting noticed, luckily the sound of people’s laughter and shouting from the front of the club are drowning out the noise of your rapid breathing from fright.

They’re lean... tall... maybe 5’9”? 5’10”? Pale from what I can see from their hands around the camera lens... looks male from their build…

The bright flash of light illuminates the alleyway, giving me a millisecond of the appearance of the stranger. Obviously, this boy appears to have noticed me too by the way his brown doe-like eyes widened as his shutter went off. He’s wearing an oversized black hoodie with the hood up, the peak of his dark brown fringe coming out from underneath, pale glowing skin.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Trying to sound as stern and intimidating as I can, I take a few steps towards the boy who is obviously in a panicked state by the way his shoulders are tensed up and his fingers tighten around the camera.

“What are you doing at a crime scene, you know I could have you arr- hey!”

Before I could even reach him or finish my sentence, he makes a run for it, his head quickly ducking underneath the tape as he sprints over the wet pavement, as far away from the club as he can. My natural instinct is to sprint after him, my own fitness level only allowing me to run so fast. This boy is obviously quite fit if he can this fast! Must be an athlete or something! Your thighs and calves are already on fire and you’re not even going at half the speed he is.

“Stop running! Hey!”

Your loud and strained shout, obviously not going to the gym for a while has worn you out easily, must have startled him as the next thing you hear is a smash of what sounds like glass, his camera.

Quickly scrambling to pick it up, leaving pieces of his shattered camera on the wet pavement as he makes a run for it again before he’s out of sight, jumping over a nearby fence into god knows where, probably some poor family’s garden.

With painful breaths you slowly make your way to where he dropped his camera, looking down to see broken glass and some plastic. Deserves him right for creeping on a crime scene.

‘Shit…’

As you’re about to walk away, pissed now that you have to call Officer Min and tell him exactly what just happened in detail, something else on the ground catches your eye where the smashed camera parts are laying. Squatting down, you pick it up from the murky ground, rubbing off some of the dirt with your thumb. It’s a little small black piece of plastic in the square-like shape, but you know exactly what it is; an SD card. A proud smirk takes over your dried-out lips. Let’s go see what other photos you take, creep.

-

8:45pm

Your exhausted body finally relaxes as you flop onto the soft comfort of your sofa, not bothering to take off your jacket or your shoes, it’s too much effort to do right now. The last thing you needed tonight was to do a 100-meter dash in the most uncomfortable shoes in the world but who knows what this job will throw at you, all you know is: you’re in dire need of a massage and some wine.

Finally dragging your deflated body off of the couch, you drag your feet into the kitchen, immediately going to the wine rack that you and Namjoon keep stocked up and grab one of the cheapest bottles of red wine. Grabbing a glass from the top shelf of your cupboard with a drawn-out groan and pouring yourself a well-deserved drink, not before grabbing the bottle and taking it back to the couch with you. You already know the whole bottle is going to be empty by the end of the night.

A loud moan escapes your lips as you take off your torturous shoes, if the neighbours had heard they’d think you were finally hooking up with someone. Truth is, after Taehyung you were never with anyone else, not even one-night stands sounded appealing to you. In your mind, if it wasn’t Taehyung then why bother? He was the one you wanted, why settle for anyone else?

Now you’re too busy to look for anyone else after your heart was broken, you didn’t see a point in trying to build a relationship again, truth is you never got over him. How could you? You had your whole future planned with him from your wedding, honeymoon, future house, future kids, and then for it all to be shattered by his hands and thrown away was just too much for you. How could you move on after something like that?

The piercing taste of the cheap wine hitting your taste buds takes you away from those thoughts, I can’t be thinking of that now!

Suddenly remember what you picked up tonight, you reach into your jacket pocket and take out the still dirty SD card. Wiping away some of the dirt from the small golden plates, you grab my laptop and carefully put in into the correct slot, your chipped fingernails drumming on the surface of the laptop in the anxiety of what I might find.

If this guy is weird enough to take photos of a crime scene, who knows what else I’ll find on this thing…maybe I should call Officer Min first…

Glancing at your phone on the table, you shake your head, he’ll probably be passed out or too busy with Forensics right now to bother with this. Plus, that means calling him and you’re really not in the mood for any more human interaction for the night, today has been too rough.

Finally, your laptop is able to read the damaged SD card, multiple files appearing on your screen. This guy must use this SD card a lot seeing as there are multiple folders on here. Looking at his first glance you’d think that this was a normal person’s memory card, files such as ‘Holiday 2017’, ‘Photography’ and ‘Other’ are all carefully organised.

Moving your cursor, you click on the file titled ‘Photography’ and before you know it your screen is filled with various photos; photos of anything you could imagine. Plants, buildings, the sea, architecture, clouds, people, this is everything you would see in the portfolio of a professional photographer. If you didn’t think this guy was such a creep you’d be impressed with his work, doesn’t look like he’s going to be taking any more professional photos like these for a while considering he smashed his lens running.

Going back, you try to find some of the photos he took tonight, he couldn’t have deleted them while he was running. Biting the skin of your lip as you move onto the ‘Other’ folder, the grey blank squares slowly loading to reveal what you were looking for.

These aren’t just photos of this crime scene; these are photos from so many crimes scenes. You click on one, a small gasp coming from you as you take it in in all its glory. He took these while police were there, while forensics themselves were taking photos! How did he even manage to sneak there without anyone noticing?

Skipping to the next photo, your heart is frozen stiff when your brain finally picks apart what it is that’s staring at you from the screen. It’s you. This photo must have been from like last year from what you can tell from the length of your hair, plus you don’t wear that jacket anymore.

In the photo you’re facing a body on the floor, you remember; It was a robbery gone wrong. Poor guy was making his way home from work from a car insurance company in town, some young boys decided it was a good idea to try and rob the guy, needless to say, they got what they wanted. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you look as though mid-conversation, probably with Officer Min who is usually always by your side, even back then.

The photo is just focused on you, this guy is obviously using his professional photography skills in order to capture you. You try to steady your breathing, trying not to jump to the conclusion that you’re already thinking; is this man linked with the murder?

With a sudden harsh press to the ‘esc’ button, the photo is quickly removed from your screen, your shaking fingers coming up to rub your tired eyes. As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

As you’re about to pull the SD card out of its slot in your laptop, a sick feeling washing over your exhausted body unable to look at anymore, sudden realisation dawn over you. There’s still another folder on this memory card. It’s innocently titled ‘Holiday 2017’.

Swallowing, your fingers find the touchpad and move the cursor over to the file, closing your eyes as you double click, god knows what this sick fuck will have hidden in her- huh?

It’s… it’s literally holiday photos.

Photos of the beach, family members, group photos, drinks and food, lots of happy smiles. Thank god, no more photos of dead bodies or even you. You sigh out in relief, grabbing your wine glass again as you skim through all the photos, seeing if anyone matches the physic of the boy you saw tonight.

Downing the remainder of your glass, you sigh out, looks like this guy was taking more photos of his friends and family rather than have him in them. Well, it’s a start I guess, I could always take these to Officer Min and look through some databases for any identification of any of these people. Hopefully, some are family members, that would just be grand.

Pausing at one photo you notice that it isn’t older people anymore, it appears to be young men, look around the age of the boy tonight. Leaning in towards the screen, you scan the bodies before you reach one face in particular, your intoxicated brain taking a moment to identify who the person in this photo is.

‘No… it can’t be…’

Moving your fingers on the touchpad, you zoom in on the man’s face, a sharp intake in breath fills your lungs. It’s him.

It’s Jimin. Taehyung’s roommate. Smiling on the beach with some other guys you don’t recognise.

Oh, what a night this is.

-

Friday 7:38am

After seeing that image of Jimin on that man’s SD card, you already knew exactly what you were doing today. Let’s just hope Jimin still lives in the same place as before and hopefully he isn’t home. The last thing you need is to be faced to face with the man that broke your heart again.

“Baby? You awake?” a deep and husky voice said into your ear, the feeling of a hand rubbing the side of your thigh also pulls you out of your slumber.

“Mmm, well now I am…” you smile sleepily, keeping your eyes closed as you move your hand on top of his, your fingertips brushing over the smooth skin of his hand.

“You know… Jimin’s out right now, he got called into work early…” the feeling of wet pecks being placed against your neck has a giggle escape from your lips, your eyes fluttering open slightly.

“And? What are you suggesting, Tae?” you innocently ask, feeling his hand turn to intertwine his long slender fingers with yours, his leg managing to make its way in-between yours.

“Well… It involves a lot of this…” he says as he places more and more kisses all over your neck, his teeth grazing against the skin of your neck.

“This…” his hand is now released from your fingers, slowly making its way up your stomach just below your breasts, a teasing laugh escaping his lips as he runs his fingers between the valley of your breasts till it reaches under your chin, where he tilts your head towards his.

“and maybe just some of this…” he grins, leaning in to place his plump lips onto yours, both of you smiling into the kiss as my moves his body on top of yours.

You stop your car with a loud sigh, just staring at your steering wheel before slowly tearing it away to look at the apartment complex in front of you. Oh, how it’s been so long since you’ve been here. You practically lived here with Taehyung when you were dating, you both were inseparable. The last time you were here was when your heart was broken.

Shaking that memory from your head, it’s too early to be thinking back to that, you think. This is for business, for work, there are people’s lives in danger here you shouldn’t let your past come in the way of this. Who knows what will happen if you don’t catch this creepy bastard.

The clicking of your shoes echoes through the hallway of the apartment, making your way up the cold concrete stairs up to the 3rd floor, you know now never to take the lift, the amount of times you got stuck in that metal death trap is unbelievable! Although you and Taehyung always made most of your time alone in there.

The familiar sight of the discoloured wooden door with the number ‘36’ displayed in silver is now in front of you, a breathy laugh comes from your lips; looks like they never did get round to painting the door again, no matter how many times you told them.

You look at your watch, it’s almost 8am, Jimin doesn’t usually leave to work in his family’s butchers till 9am which means he should be up. That is if he still even works there. Let’s just hope Taehyung is passed out or moved out, you pray.

Your knuckles bang against the wood before stepping back, your jaw clenching with nerves as you hear shuffling from behind the door, keeping your head down as you hear the fumbling of keys and the lock turning.

You bring your head up when the door is swiftly brought open, the lump in your throat now getting even bigger when you see who’s answered the door.

“Y-y/n? Baby?”

Oh no.

#bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts smut #bts angst #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts horror #bts killer au #bts au #bts thriller #kpop ff #jungkook #jimin #v #taehyung #jhope #hoseok #rm #namjoon #suga #yoongi #jin #seokjin #bts moodboard #bts drabble #bts edit

[tendertenebrosity]

Ruler and Empress part 14

Masterpost here! Even the first few paragraphs of this is gonna contain spoilers for part 13, so if you haven’t read that bit yet, you probably should before going further!

Lian sat, numbly, expecting to hear the sound of guards rushing in at any moment to drag them away.

What have I done? I killed her. I never thought - I needed to stop her, but I didn’t think -

Lian could not believe what had happened. That the Empress had allowed the opportunity to arise, or that Lian had taken it. Any second now, this brief moment of stillness in which they understood exactly what they’d done would break apart, into terror and violence and inevitable consequences.

But there was… nothing. Incredibly, whatever noise Lian had made when they killed Elisandre, it had been slight enough that nobody outside this room had heard it. Hadn’t the guard that had brought them here stayed outside the door? Surely not, or he would be in here by now.

Lian sat there on the ground, surrounded by broken glass, beside the cooling, bloody body of the Empress. The curtain danced in the light of the softly glowing candles. And nobody came.

An unknowable amount of time passed before the pain of the cuts on their fingers brought them back to themselves.

I have to hide this, Lian thought, their first coherent thought in what felt like a very long time but must have been only minutes. Nobody knows  - yet. If they find out - the guards, the Empress’ court - If they find out what I’ve done, what will they do in retribution?

Their breathing was harsh, ragged, filling their ears, as they carefully, haltingly started down the trail of thought. Lian wouldn’t have been so afraid if it was only themself who would pay the price - or at least, they liked to think they wouldn’t have been afraid.  It would still be worth it, if Lian died but nobody ever heard that last order that the Empress had been planning to give out. But the Empress’ court was made in the image of its monarch - or the other way around, perhaps - so Lian didn’t dare hope things would stop there.

Far more likely that the penalty would fall on their country as a whole.

Lian raised their hands up to the candlelight, trying to gulp back their breathing to something resembling calm. No glass fragments remained; underneath the blood - oh gods, so much blood - the cuts didn’t seem serious. Their fingers stung fiercely, but they still moved.

It was astonishing that nobody had come for Lian already. But since they hadn’t… maybe there was still time for Lian to fix this.

No more time to sit here in a horror-struck daze; time to think. The breeze that pushed past the curtain still smelled of smoke. Lian had a thought of climbing down from the open window, but dismissed it; they could never make such a climb without rope, and what good would it do to flee and leave evidence of their guilt? Their people could not escape through a window.

It’s the middle of the night, and she called you out of bed. Who knows you’re here? Only that one guard?

Once the Empress retired to her bedchamber, Lian knew, she usually wasn’t disturbed until she emerged on her own. Only the most urgent of messages would be brought to her. So if the guards truly had not heard… and if Lian could return this little sitting-room to normal… her absence probably would not be discovered until long past dawn.  

Lian took one final deep breath, and let it out as slowly as they could. Then they pushed themself to their feet, and into feverish activity.

The table was easy enough to right, the unbroken glassware set aside. But after that it was no longer avoidable; they needed to deal with the body.

As they lifted one of her arms - terribly warm and terribly heavy - they were appalled all over again at the blood. The smell of it clogged their nose, thick and metallic and nauseating. They’d seen this much blood before, of course, but if anything those memories made their stomach flip even more.

Wait. I shouldn’t get any more of it on me. Lian looked down at themself. Their right hand was already sodden, of course, and there was rather a lot on their chest, but amazingly, the rest of their nightclothes had only flecks. They tried to breathe through their mouth and let themself be consumed by the practical problems the body and the blood posed.

They went to her bedroom, holding their hands carefully away from their clothing. The bed, as before, was covered in silk and velvet; they hauled one of the covers free. They wiped their trembling hands and their face with a corner, then bundled it up in their arms to take it back to the sitting room.

It took them… gods, they weren’t sure, perhaps as much as half an hour and what felt like most of the fabric in the Empress’ room. But they mopped up the blood and the spilled water. Swept up the shards of glass, all but the tiniest pieces, with shaking hands and rapid, panicked breathing. Nobody knocked on the door as they worked.

Lian wasn’t particularly strong. Elisandre’s body was both extremely heavy, and nowhere near as heavy as it felt like it should be as they wrapped it up in the covers. The golden braid and the embroidered silk almost overwhelming the slight body with richness and heaviness. All of this. All of everything they’d been through, the power this woman had held over so many lives, all the damage that had been done… and in the end she was so small.

No, you idiot, Lian thought, a touch hysterically, as they managed to roll the fabric-swathed bundle over for the final time and tuck in the edges. It’s not all her, it’s not just her. Do you think the entire Empire will evaporate into dust just because you killed the person at the top of it? Was that what you thought? Idiot, idiot, idiot. You didn’t think. You should have thought! Their heart pounded so hard, and they were so clumsy, it seemed incredible nobody could hear the noise they were making. Any moment, the door could fly open, and everything would be ruined.

You should have thought this through. What have you done?

The edge of the window hadn’t seemed particularly high before, but it did now. Arms around one end of the bundle, heave upwards, find the tipping point and…

The terrible velvet roll slid over the windowsill and was gone, out of their arms in an instant, and Lian heard the flap and rustle as it fell, long moments of falling until it hit the garden bed several stories below.

Surely someone had heard that. Lian stood there, in the stifling candlelit dimness, and gulped for breath.

I’ve ruined everything. I’ve killed everyone.

They stuffed that thought away as unhelpful. They closed their eyes and made themselves take several more deep breaths.

They opened their eyes and surveyed the room. Did it look like it had before? Not perfect, but better.

They ended up rearranging the tiny tables and dragging a rug three feet to the left, to cover the places where blood was caught in wood grain. Tided the bedroom and rearranged the silken pillows.

Then they stood, out of breath, in the centre of the room, and realised that was all they could do. Part of them couldn’t believe they’d even got this far in their frantic, barely-thought out attempt to hide what they’d done. They would almost certainly be discovered as soon as they stepped out the door…

But that didn’t mean they could stay here.

Lian blew out the candles one by one. They rolled their sleeves up, retrieved their wrap from the floor where it had fallen so long ago, and arranged it around themself with exacting care, so that not a fleck of blood showed.

On their way to the door, they examined their own reflection in the glass front of one of the cabinets. Fine lacquerware and silver glittered in the dimness behind their washed-out face.

No blood showed. Their hair, still pulled back in its braid for sleep; the wrap tucked close under their chin; their eyes shadowed with tiredness and red-rimmed, but nothing more than that. They looked like they’d been crying, but as long as they didn’t look like they’d been frantically covering up a murder, Lian could live with that. They practiced dropping their gaze and looking only miserable.

Tense as a harpstring, as a bowstring, they opened the doors and padded out into the corridor on cold bare feet.  

There was a guard at the end of the hall; less than a hundred metres away. Oh, gods, oh, gods. Lian swallowed back their heart, beating fit to burst in their chest, and approached him.

It was, they realised, the same one that had pulled them out of bed. An age ago.

“Her Majesty’s done with you, then?” he said, as Lian stopped a few feet away.  

“Yes,” Lian whispered. They clutched their wrap tight with numb fingers, gaze fixed on the floor. Oh gods, was there blood on their feet? They had not thought to check… “T-take me back to my room, please.”

The guard stepped closer, intimidatingly close; he seemed to want to see Lian cringe, so they obliged, shrinking back. “That what her Majesty’s orders are?” he asked - was it suspicion, or just the guards’ usual heavy-handedness than made him press Lian?

“For now,” Lian stammered. “I’m to - uh - her Majesty will want me back when, when it’s light, but I…” Their voice dried up into a croak.

The guard looked them up and down, and Lian felt like their guilt was plain to be read on their face, in their shaking hands, the sweat that beaded their temple and their neck. The Empress’ blood was cold and sodden against their chest under the wrap. But they stood there, silent, and prayed he would take their stammering and trembling for distress at whatever the Empress had said or done.

Eventually he nodded, and they nearly collapsed from relief. He took them firmly by the shoulder and guided them back towards the darkened cavity that was the staircase downwards.

Lian sniffled, quietly, as they walked, and didn’t try to dislodge the hand on their arm, for fear of disturbing the careful arrangement of their wrap. Their head was spinning, and if they stumbled a few times on the stairs, the guard didn’t seem to find it odd.

How much does he know of what’s happened? Lian wondered. Of what she had planned for the morning?

If the Empress had told anybody else of her intentions, all that Lian had done tonight might not be enough. The cataclysm they had tried to avoid, a third of the city to be burned, could still occur.

The guard made an impatient noise as Lian stumbled, taking a step too quickly. They clutched their wrap desperately and held their body away from him as he supported them down the next few steps.

Once the corpse was found, Lian thought shakily, glancing over at him, this man would point the finger at Lian. Was possibly the only person who could, given that he’d escorted them there and back alone. If Lian was a different person, they might have been thinking of ways to make sure he couldn’t do that.

Impossible, even if Lian had wanted to.

The guard was mercifully silent as he escorted Lian down the stairs and through the silent, dim corridors. The sound of their bedroom door closing behind them was muted, soft, somehow definitive; footsteps followed as the guard walked away.

Alone inside the dubious haven of their bedroom, Lian cast off the wrap and their bloody nightclothes.

They could scarcely summon the energy, but after a long moment sitting on their bed and just breathing, they pulled it together enough to put the bloodstained clothes somewhere out of immediate sight, before they cleaned the blood from their chest and hands. This done, they crawled to huddle under their blankets.

I need to get rid of those, they thought, numbly, wrapping their arms around their shoulders in the darkness, trying to keep from shaking. Someone will find them. I can’t endanger the cleaning staff. Tomorrow, I’ll get rid of them. How can I get rid of them where nobody will see?  

What do I do in the morning?

The Empress must not have given any orders for punishment of the city. Lian clung to that thought, using it as an anchor to pull themselves together. It had been a spontaneous decision, while Lian was there; she had been wild with anger, nothing she said had been calculated to her usual standards. So surely she hadn’t told anybody else yet.

In the morning, Lian would see to the aftermath of the fires. They would act as if nothing untoward had happened. Should they pretend the Empress had not even summoned them? Could they pretend to shock when someone told them of the fires?

Please, gods. Let me not have brought ruin on us all.

#Lian #Empress Elisandre #ruler and empress #royal whumpee #whump drabble #my stuff #violence tw #blood tw #death tw #royalty whump #emotional whump #subterfuge

[floralseokjin]

burn in hell (she said) snippet

“Out,” you barked at the human Hoseok had sat on his couch, not bothering to take a proper look as you stormed inside and made a beeline for his desk, some papers under your arm.

Were you fucking serious right now? You were going to start counting and weighing numbers this time of night? The human he’d taken a shine to at the bar ripped away from him immediately, scampering for the door. Hoseok rolled his eyes. She would have broken instantly. Immediate fear at the arrival of a second demon. Sometimes it dawned on him how feeble some were, and how unsexy that truly was. Still, he wasn’t going to let you realise his frustrations.

“Do you fucking mind,” he growled through grit teeth. He sat back into the couch, watching your infuriating face as you sat at his desk. His desk. He spread his legs wide. Asserting dominance. Unfazed with the erection that lay down the inside of his thigh. Embarrassing deep down for him, maybe yes. The human had not even said so much as two words as soon as he’d brought her inside, giggling nervously, breath slightly shaky, but he was so highly strung, even whispering in her ear had gotten him hard. However, you didn’t know that. His motives were all over the place. Just like his head had been since you turned up. It turned out you didn’t notice his attempts anyway, because you didn’t so much as throw a glance his way.

“Fuck in your own time,” you told him flatly, filing through some pages in front of you. “I have work to do.” He watched in horror as you grabbed for a calculator and started banging in numbers . Bitch. You antagonising bitch. This was it. He was going to fall victim to some type of human weakness. Dead before 30 from a brain aneurysm.

“My own time?!” He raged, standing up in one swift motion, fists clenched together. “I have no fucking own time anymore. Not when you’re here 24/7.”

Again, you were unfazed by his display. Not even flinching as he shouted. Instead you finally looked his way for more than a few seconds, expression condescending. Your tone matched. “It’s not my problem you choose to mix work with pleasure.”

Hoseok closed his eyes slowly. He had to. He needed to practice taking slow breaths. It was the only way to control his blood pressure. His reactions were what you wanted. To get under his skin. He must remember that. “Do you not do the same?” He asked once he reopened them, taking one last deep breath.

You slowly let a smirk spread across your face. He hated it. He wanted to wipe it from your face. Drag your mouth open with the head of his cock. Shut you up once and for all. Fuck. You were twisting his mind. His dick twitched in his pants. It was still hard. Harder.

“You forget, this is your bar.” You sounded sly. Voice sweet. Probably turned the humans’ legs to jelly. Hoseok knew the truth. It was false. Like everything about you.

“I don’t have to be here. I just choose to be,” you shrugged, getting back to your “work.” You twirled the pen between your fingers, murmuring as you continued. “Because it’s fun. Everyone is so pretty here.”

Hoseok’s eyes flashed. He was standing over you before he even realised he’d moved. “Then leave.” You were correct. You had no need to be here. He’d heard from word of mouth you already owned a successful motel business here in Hell as well as the human land. Why were you meddling in his game?

“Why would I do that?” You asked him, and he couldn’t tell if you were genuinely wondering or playing him again. He was growing weak… “Seokjin said I needed to keep an eye on you.” You didn’t even bother looking at him, or acknowledging his towering presence by your side.

You sat in his��chair, at his desk, and acted like you owned this whole club. His club. His dick twitched again. The ache was beginning to get frustrating. How long was it since he got to stick his poor cock into something? He was so deprived everything had become foggy in his mind.

#hoseok smut #bts smut #fic:burn in hell

[izupie]

A drabble/ficlet request by @sirjanstark for Izuocha playing video games~

This got longer than I intended (as always) I hope you like it!

AO3 Link >>> [xXx]

-----------

“I’m sorry about the weird game selection,” Izuku laughed, scratching a hand behind his neck, “I did a mystery game trade with Kaminari, and this is what I got.”

“A ‘mystery game trade’? That sounds fun!” Ochako looked through the small pile of Xbox 360 games, putting each one on the bed as she flicked through them.

“Yeah, but I don’t think our tastes are very similar.” Izuku already knew the titles, but rested his chin on Ochako’s shoulder to read them again as she laid them all out on the bed. She poked his nose and giggled while he made an over-exaggerated pained sound and wrapped his arms around her, twining his fingers with hers.

“Hm, doesn’t Kaminari own like boxes and boxes of video games?”

“Yeah, I think he’s got every console or something.”

Ochako nuzzled her nose into his cheek, her voice holding a note of laughter, “I think he might have swapped these ones on purpose Deku.”

“Y-You think?” Izuku frowned and looked over them again, but on second inspection he realised they were all about zombies, monsters or ghosts. “He just wanted to scare me!” he gasped.

Ochako was practically vibrating with repressed laughter, though some of it hissed out between her teeth as she spoke. “I think so.”

Any one of those games would terrify him - he really wasn’t good with horror. “Betrayed by my own friend,” he said, with a mock sigh, “and I got so excited when he said he had Xbox 360 games we could trade. It’s not like it’s a current console anymore.”

“Oh, Deku.” Her eyes creased shut as she smiled, and she squeezed his hands. “So what kind of games did you give him in return?”

“Just a pile of my favourite RPGs.”

“I can’t imagine Kaminari getting stuck into a huge RPG...” Ochako mused. She released his hands and spun around in his arms to face him. “You know what, I bet he won’t play the games you sent him, so we should play one of these and then you can tell him how much you enjoyed it. I bet he’ll be so surprised!” She seemed full of so much enthusiasm that Izuku didn’t want to refuse, and before he’d even realised it he’d agreed aloud and she replied with, “Great! Let’s pick one.”

Ochako ducked out from his arms and flipped the game cases over while Izuku tried not to panic. He really didn’t want his girlfriend to see how much of a coward he was with horror. He could face down terrifying villains and jump into a burning building to save people, but he couldn’t handle zombies, monsters or ghosts.

“R-Really? You don’t think they’re too weird to play? We could do something else instead?” Izuku asked hopefully.

“This one’s multi-player! C’mon!” Ochako held out a box to him and he took it while trying not to cringe.

With some reluctance, Izuku watched the disc slide into the console as he sat down heavily on the edge of his bed beside Ochako, her controller held out in front of her - ready for the game - eyes shining with excitement.

Izuku’s frown deepened as the menu started up and a low note boomed out of his TV, while high pitched violins punctured the sound with sharp screeches that unsettled him and made him twitchy. But Ochako remained completely unaware of his inner turmoil.

“I can’t believe we have to escape these zombies with no ammo - I guess we need to creep slowly, huh Deku? Don’t want them to catch us.”

“Uh, y-yeah.” Izuku gripped his controller tightly.

“Oh, I think my flashlight just ran out too. It’s so hard to see - wait, did you see that shadow move?”

Izuku swallowed loudly, his grip getting tighter.

Both moved their characters slowly through the house they were stuck in, the score behind them silent except for one quiet low foreboding note and the sound of their footsteps. He chanced a glance at Ochako, but she was focused intensely on the screen, her eyebrows scrunched together in concentration and her bottom lip held between her teeth.

“What was that?” she whispered.

Izuku’s attention snapped back to the screen. “W-What was what?”

A zombie slammed through a door beside both of their characters.

Both Izuku and Ochako screeched in terror.

When Izuku opened his eyes again (when had he squeezed them shut?) he blinked at what he saw; his controller was now embedded into his Xbox, making his TV screen blank, while the second controller was floating on the ceiling, and they were both clinging desperately to each other. He could see green lightning dancing over his arms and realised they must have triggered their quirks in their fright and surprise. Their arms were tight around each other, as if they had automatically reached out to protect the other.

He let out an amused breath as Ochako leaned back, her wide brown eyes flicked between the now smoking console and the controller on the ceiling. She laughed as understanding began to dawn on her, and he couldn’t help but join her until they both fell about laughing, an embarrassed and slightly hysterical edge to it. When he finally calmed down enough to speak, Izuku wiped his eyes and placed a gentle hand on Ochako’s cheek as she wiped her own eyes too. He kissed her nose as his racing heartbeat began to slow, and she released her quirk on her controller, catching it deftly even though she was still laughing.

“Horror game was probably a bad idea,” she wheezed, casting a pointed look at his broken Xbox.

“I guess I can be a little - jumpy,” he admitted sheepishly, “I mean, I really needed to upgrade my console anyway, but I - I guess I’ll need to replace Kaminari’s game.”

#sorry it took so long to post! #izuocha #dekuraka #izuocha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #izuocha fanfic #my fanfiction #izupie

[hollenka99]

They Shall Not Grow Old

Summary: In the trenches, Captain Castiel Novak and Private Dean Winchester form a friendship as they fight alongside each other.

Warnings: War, WW1, Homophobia

What are you doing here?” The man who had seen too much horror asked one the latest members to join his unit. This kid was definitely underage. He couldn’t believe the army was this desperate for soldiers already.

“I intend to fight the enemy, sir.” “I suppose I should keep an eye on you. Captain Castiel Novak. What about you?” “Private Dean Winchester. And I don’t need protecting.” “Yes you do. How old are you, anyway?” “18.” “I doubt that. What’s your real age?” “16.” “Does your mother know you were stupid enough to enlist?” “She’s dead.” “What about your father? You must have some family back in America.” “Just me and my brother. Dad has been here in France for some time.” This caught Cas’ attention. “Wait, you’re not Winchester as in General Winchester, are you?” “Sure am.” God, this idiot was proud to be caught up in this hell. The poor son of a bitch was going to either die or lose his sanity within weeks.

Despite first impressions, Dean proved himself useful. He was an expert at handling a gun. Castiel learnt more about Sam and the life Dean had with the Singers while they fought.

In turn, Dean learnt various things about Cas’ life back home. Before Sarajevo, Castiel had been working towards becoming a teacher. Once war came, Cas enlisted to serve his country. Cas had, like Dean, family members in the military which had influenced the decision.

There was one occasion where General John Winchester visited the trench. Cas noticed the fearful yet unquestioning respect in Dean’s eyes when in the presence of his father. He had been a soldier long enough for him to understand attachments here were a dangerous thing. But never had he witnessed such a cold encounter between two family members. General Winchester didn’t even acknowledge his 16 year old son, underage by two years, should be safely home in South Dakota with the Singers.

On the last evening of June, Cas plodded into the trench with a sullen expression. He reached Dean with little hesitation.

“I suggest you write to Sam tonight. It may be your last chance to.” “Hey, Novak, what you muttering to him?” One said. “He’s a puff.” Another laughed. “God’s gonna chuck you both into Hell when this war’s over.” A deeply religious third warned.

“We’re going over the top tomorrow morning.” His words silenced them all with terror. “I was just giving Winchester the heads up first because he’s a damn kid.” “Might as well paint a target on my face.” “Write to your families tonight. There’s not much any of us can do.” “So, wait, they think it’s okay for us to run straight at the Germans? We’ll all be vulnerable.” Dean couldn’t understand it. “Hey kid, you realise you’re a soldier, right? They sit back, miles away from the action, while we try to survive.” “But-” “Winchester, face it: everyone like your daddy doesn’t care about us.” “Knock it off, Williams.” Castiel scolded. “We’re all going to die in the morning. The boy might as well die knowing the truth.” “I said, knock it off.” He repeated with equal firmness.

The remaining hours trickled by. The majority of the company had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Only two still sat awake.

“Dean, please go to sleep.” “I can’t, Cas.” “Staying awake will only make it worse.” “What do you think will happen to Sammy? God, Cas, he’s only 12. What if the war goes on forever? I don’t want him anywhere near here.” “I’m praying it ends before Christmas. It’s unlikely but nothing’s impossible. Who knows, perhaps homosexuality will be legal one day.” “As if.” Dean scoffed. “Next you’ll be telling me women and blacks will be able to do whatever they want. Come on, Cas, be reasonable.” “Would be nice to be accepted as a puff, though.” “Yeah.” Dean nodded thoughtfully.

“If you never volunteered, what would you have done with your life?” “Taught, English preferably.” Cas answered. He finished writing the letter he intended his family to receive. “What about you?” “Watch out for Sammy, mostly.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Marrying some girl so we could have 2 or 3 kids and live somewhere with a white picket fence isn’t my type of thing.” “I have a childhood friend back at home. She is attracted to other females. We planned to convince our friends and family we were heterosexual like them by marrying. I doubt the lie would have lasted indefinitely.”

Castiel takes a good look at the youngest man in the room. So damn young. Too young, in fact. Cas had repeated it too many times in his head since meeting Dean in February. Dean should be in America, doing whatever young men his age did in his hometown. Dean should be somewhere, anywhere but here.

Cas reflected on how Dean had changed in the past months. He had been such a hopeful and patriotic boy. Dean had wanted to be of use to his country, to feel like he could live up to his father’s reputation.

Then he experienced what no-one should. The death, the echoing sound of weapons blasting, the loss of his innocence. Cas would give anything to reverse the effects of the fighting, just on Dean. Instead, he reassured him nightmares were common occurrences here. It was all he could do.

Profoundly upset by the memories, Cas made a rash decision. “If I’m going to Hell, I may as well go for the right reasons.” His lips connected to Dean’s. “But, honestly Dean, sleep.”

Tensions rose that following dawn. Every soldier stood in the pathways of the trench. The imminent fates of all involved could not be ignored.

“Cas, I’m scared.” Dean whispered silently. “Keep running. Do that and you can go home.” “I don’t want to go home, not like this.” “Neither do I. Whatever happens, I promise it will be alright in the end.” Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

The whistles blew. Above they clambered. A wave of men faced a tsunami of bullets.

100 years later, an ancient man watched as the local children lay wreaths of fake poppies in remembrance. He was proud of his big brother. He only wished he could have told him that face to face.

#my writing #supernatural #tw war #tw ww1 #tw homophoia #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #written in 2016 #ao3 transfer