#on the other hand another friend has dogs that are not inclined to become one with people and are friendly to me after getting used to me

[callmerainman]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 | 𝐊𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

fandom. Hunter X Hunter

pairing. Knuckle Bine x hunter!fem!Reader

spoilers!. huge Chimera Ant Arc spoilers

plot. the night before the final fight against King Meruem in the palace of East Gorteau, you decide it’s time to confess your love to none other than your friend and Hunter companion, the oblivious Knuckle Bine. Because you can’t sleep, and cause maybe you’ll never have another chance to tell him. But instead, Knuckle makes you promise something: to put the World before him tomorrow. Will you respect his wishes?

word count. 3,6k

prompts. Chimera Ant Arc, aftermath of the Chimera Ant Arc final battle, Reader is also a Hunter and Morel apprentice, secretly in love, love confessions, awkward romance, Knuckle is dense, kissing, making out, getting together.

You like many things about Knuckle.

In the beginning he didn't give you a good impression. You both got close to each other after you got taken under the protective wing of Morel, who instructed you along with Shoot. Shoot is a quieter type, really silent, but getting along with him was smooth and easy. With Knuckle it was a whole other story. During your first missions together he always raised doubts about the tactics you proposed, on the other hand you did the same with him. If you said A, he would say B. If he wanted to go right, you wanted to go left. And this would always end up in yelling, staring contests and headbutting. You understood some things about Knuckle: he was hot-headed, impulsive, loud and a braggart. But he was also kind. No matter how many times he shouted against you, he never did it for personal hatred. It was for genuine interest in helping people in need, and to make sure that the mission was successful. He never insulted you with more than a superficial "idiot", and from his eyes you always understood that he didn't really mean it and that he didn't want to offend your intelligence. Even Knuckle soon realized how kind you were, and how much you took care of things and people you cared about. He respected it. You two learned how to trust one another and make a better team, much to Shoot's and Morel's relief, who honestly couldn't take it anymore. Your fights decreased, replaced by an unconditional affection and a unbreakable loyalty. And from your part, even love. People would often ask if you and Knuckle were a couple. And every time both you and him would answer with a ferocious "OF COURSE NOT!". Knuckle's cheeks and ears would get hot, and you would feel your stomach erupt in warmth from embarrassment. You couldn't look at each other in the face.

His hair, first of all. They were his trademark. Always styled in a pompadour, they were really popular between high school thugs. Knuckle told you that he even formed a gang when he was a student, and that it was the most feared inside the school. To be honest, you were really sure that it was just a very normal group of friends who loved to slack off, and that he told you that just to sound tough. You like the stress lines under his eyes, which give him a serious look just how he wanted it. And you appreciate his ears, which become red and hot when he loses his shit or when he's embarrassed, two moods he constantly swings between.He has a pretty body, toned and muscular thanks to his intensive workouts and his inclination towards the art and use of Nen.And you like that he takes care of stray dogs, and the way he cries so easily out of sympathy and emotion. He's a sweet guy who gets moved to tears so often even though he hides it behind a tough-guy armor. You like more things about him than you can count.

One time, while patrolling alone with Morel and Shoot during a mission, you dared to question them about all of this.

"I wonder why people always ask me and Knuckle if we're a couple. For example, why not me and you, Shoot?"

If only Shoot had eyebrows, he would have raised them all the way up his hairline. So his hooded eyes were just comically wide. Morel, on the other hand, erupted in a loud, gigantic laugh that made you jump in surprise. A laugh so hard that he had to hold onto his pipe. You stopped, putting your hands on your hips.

"C'mon, what are you laughing at!" you pouted.

"Are you really asking why people think that you and that idiot are couple?!" Morel choked between laughter "you with the shiny eyes every time you stare at him? Who drools when he takes off his jacket during combat? Who plays with her hair like schoolgirl when we get out for drinks and he offers you a beer? You gotta be kidding me!"

And he proceeded to keep laughing again. Meanwhile, your face caught on fire. You smacked both hands on your mouth, shaking your head vigorously.

"I never stared at him!" you tried to object.

"If I may intrude" Shoot intervened, shyly "you stare at him a lot"

"That's not possible..." you whispered.

You wanted to threaten your own mentor to stop laughing, because what Morel said wasn't true at all. You didn't like Knuckle that way. But you just couldn't protest. Morel was right. You did really like Knuckle that way!

"Fuck, I like Knuckle! How could it be...and most importantly, what do I do!" you exclaimed, fisting your hair in your hands out of panic.

Morel sighed, puffing some smoke in the process. Then, he showed off one of the big grins of his.

"Boys are complicated, dearie, so I suggest we all get drunk tonight"

"Sounds like a great idea" you replied.

The step from liking to loving was really short. It was so easy to fall in love with Knuckle once you understood that you had feelings for him. Even though you kept fighting now and then, and you still called each other idiots. He cared about immensly, and you cared about him. Everything culminated one night after you promised to protect each other with your own lives. Morel took you out to drink as usual, and maybe you and him were a bit drunk.

"If the situation ever requires it, I'll give up my life for you, (Y/N)" Knuckle said.

Yeah, you did drink, and you were waiting for a taxi outside the bar you usually spent your free time in. But the way his eyes looked into you as he said that was so damn serious. And you, to such a determined and kind gaze, could answer with a stare just as serious.

"And I'll do the same for you, Knuckle"

Night before the selection

It's a quiet night. Clear, silent. You and your teammates would appreciate it more if only there wasn't this uneasiness in the air. Tomorrow the King of Chimera Ants, Meruem, will begin the selection, which will kill millions of people in no time. You, Knuckle, Morel and Shoot were selected to go to the NGL region to get rid of the menace. It's, without the shadow of a doubt, the most dangerous mission you've ever dealt with, you understood it during your fights against the Ants. And facing the Royal Guards will be way worse. Both you and Knuckle risked a lot, and if you ever had to die one day, you feel like it would be tomorrow. And you still didn't tell Knuckle that you love him. What if this is the last good moment to tell him? Tomorrow you won't have time for sure, and maybe not even after, because you're not sure that there'll be an after tomorrow. The thought creeps you out and prevents you from sleeping and gathering energies. You tried to sleep on the floor of the small abandoned chalet where you and and your squad are resting. But the fact that Gon and Killua keep doing push-ups doesn't really help. With a nervous sigh, you get up. You exit the chalet, taking a big breath of fresh air. You were feeling like suffocating before. The air is cold just right. And stars are really beautiful in NGL, without any artificial light the night sky is a whole other story. This could be your last chance to see so many pretty stars, because you're pretty sure that tomorrow you won't have any time to raise your nose up. An imperceptible sound of chattering makes his way towards your ears. You turn around to see if you have company, but there's no one. A small leaf lands on your nose, and you look upwards. Shoot and Knuckle are discussing something on top of a tall tree, you can't hear what they're saying but the concern in their voices is evident. Knowing that you aren't the only one uncomfortable relieves you, so you decide to climb up the tree and reach them.

"Trouble sleeping?"

As soon as Knuckle sees you, he jumps. And Shoot flushes red in a matter of seconds, sweating profusely. You raise a curious brow.

"What's going on? Did I interrupt something?" you ask, concerned.

Even Knuckle's cheeks become a blushing mess, his lips pressed tightly against each other and his muscular body stiff under his white jacket.

"No it's just..." Knuckle says, almost stuttering "y-you...YOU HAVE SOME NASTY EYEBAGS!"

Knuckle points a finger right to your face, and Shoot covers his face with his hand.

You're absolutely not convincing...he thinks.

But Knuckle still manages to make you mad as fuck, and you grit your teeth.

"That ain't true! It's just that I can't sleep tonight!" you protest, raising two fists in front of the Beast Hunter.

"I think I'll leave you two alone" Shoot whispers, and with only a jump he gets down the tall tree.

"Shoot, wait!" you exclaim.

Having his company would have reassured you, since he was just as anxious as you. You're always surrounded by impulsive Hunters without any sense of danger, who understands you better than him?

"But for real, are you okay?"

It was Knuckle who talked, who's voice got softer. He's looking at you with apprehension, the stress lines under his eyes frowning. You relax your gaze too as you meet his eyes.

"Not really" you sigh, and you sit right next to him on the tree branch, your feet swinging in the darkness beneath it.

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we went on so many missions before this one without loosing once. But we aren't invincible, and this is a really big menace. I'm worried that we might not make it"

You were so scared of never getting to tell him that you love him. Maybe you should do it now. Knuckle doesn't say anything. It's true, by this hour tomorrow he could have already lost you. The thought terrifies him. He had already faced 5000 battles without losing one, but nothing can guarantee him that you'll be with him after tomorrow. He presses his lips together and looks down. You can't stand his eyes either.

"You're right, this time we can't be so certain" he murmures "I'm sorry, (Y/N), I can't make you feel better"

You have to tell him now.

"Knuckle, there's something I have to sa-"

"Wait, (Y/N), I have to tell you something too" Knuckle interrupts you. He has never done this, he always respected your words, even when he didn't agree.

You hold your breath, gripping your clothes between your fingers.

"What?" you ask with half a voice.

Knuckle finally looks at you, serious. He reaches for you with his hand and softly grazes your face so that you can look at him. You hope he doesn't feel it getting warmer under his touch, because you feel that way in response of his unexpected gesture. You just know that your pupils are dilated now. You're drowning in his eyes, always so furious yet kind. After making sure that you're looking in his eyes, he lets his hand fall from your face slowly.

"I..." Knuckle opens his mouth, but it seems like words are stuck in his throat. He never had trouble talking, why now?

For a moment it seems like Knuckle's stumbling on his own words.

"I..." ha takes a deep breath, before shaking his head "made you a promise, one night in front of our bar"

You look at him intently.

"And I know that I was very drunk, but I always took it seriously. And I know you did the same"

You didn't expect him to talk about your promise. Instinctively, you scoot closer to him making your body scratch against the bark of the branch.

"Of course I took it seriously" you say.

"But I gotta ask you to break it”

You spread your eyes open. Knuckle gets close to you too and lays his hand on your shoulder. A shiver goes down your spine.

"Knuckle I can't"

"But you have to, because this isn't just a mission, you just said it yourself. This is about saving the world, and promises can't count anymore. Except for this one"

"Which one?"

Slowly your hand trailed up your own shoulder to touch Knuckle's, caressing his fingers. Usually the embarrassment would be too much to handle. Your physical touch was always playful or angry, never intimate. But you don't have time to be embarrassed.

"Tomorrow you have to prioritize the mission, not me. Even if I'll be on the verge of death, you have to put our duty first, not me. I know that this goes against what we always said to each other, but please respect it. If the situation ever requires it, put the world before me"

Your fingers tighten around his hand harder. You feel yourself tearing up but you repress them. You grit your teeth and tremble. You start to really fear how you'll feel tomorrow if this is your reaction at just the idea of losing Knuckle. Would you ever take it?

"Alright, I'll do it"

Knuckle is surprised, but pleasantly. He really didn't want to fight with you tonight.

"But only if you'll do the same with me. If the situation requires it, choose the world and not me"

Knuckle holds your hand on your shoulders. He frowns. He always does it when he's conflicted. Then, he nods with determination in front of your eyes.

"Alright, I promise"

"Then I promise too"

Too focused on holding your hands, none of you noticed the free ones crossing their fingers behind your backs.

Dawn after the fight of East Gorteau

You broke your promise with Knuckle and Knuckle did the same for you. You woke up next to Ikalgo in a warehouse under East Gorteau's palace, where Meruem lived. The octopus explained to you that it was over, that the King was poisoned and was spending his last moments with Komugi, the girl you had in custody hours ago. You won. You're covered in wounds, but still able to stand up. You ended up like this while fighting against Youpi, throwing yourself in defense of Knuckle who fell in his trap. Your weapons were reduced to dust by the Royal Guard, but you were able to blind some of his eyes. However, the fight made both you and your Nen unable to fight. Your Nen was proven really effective against Royal Guards, so giving it up was a loss for your team and for the chances of saving humanity. You broke your promise. Knuckle did the same for you when Youpi threatened not only to kill Morel, but also yourself if he didn't deactivate Potclean. And so Knuckle did. You both broke the promise that you never intended to keep. After the fight you collapsed from tiredness and loss of blood. You had a brief and confused memory of Knuckle taking you in his arms before laying you down in a safe place. When you woke up, Ikalgo was next to you and told you the news.

"Where's Knuckle? Is he okay?!" you blurt out.

Ikalgo nods "The King knocked him out along with Meleoron, but he's fine. He should still be at one of the palaces towers"

Using your last energies, you stand up. Ikalgo cured all your wounds but scratches and cuts are still visible. Some scars will never go away.

"(Y/N)! Are you sure?" Ikalgo asks, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll go get him. Can you take me to him? There are some things that still haven't said to him and I thought I would never be able to"

Ikalgo, seeing your sincere and tired smile, nods. He takes you under one of his tentacles, supporting your body until you arrive in front of the room where Knuckle was laying down unconscious. You stand in the room. Sunlight beams through the window and delicately touch his sculpted body, his face still frowned in determination despite his loss of senses. You smile again, calm, before looking at Ikalgo. You exchange looks of understanding, then he trots towards Meleoron and takes away his sleeping but unscathed body.

It's just you and Knuckle now.

You get close to his body slowly, ruins crankling under your feet. You crouch down in front of him, sitting on your legs. You reach for his hair and start caressing them slowly. You almost don't want to wake him up, even though it's a tormented sleep caused by violence.

"Knuckle, it's me, (Y/N)"

His back rises as if he had been underwater for so long. He groans deeply before using all his energy to roll on his back. Now he's facing upwards, his gaze looking up at your calm and sweet smile. Knuckle squeezes and opens his eyes slowly, welcomed by your face. A small smile extends on his own face in response.

"(Y/N)..." he slurs, his voice raspy "you're alive...did we win?"

Carefully, you take Knuckle's head between your hands and slowly place it on your lap. He lets you do so without daring to protest.

"Yeah, we won. The King was poisoned and is spending his last hours in peace. It's over" you answer.

You gently start to caress his pompadour, now messy. Your delicate strokes go in tandem with your tired breaths.

"Great, but...I broke the promise" Knuckle goes on, a bit mortified.

"I did it too, it doesn't matter, I would do it again" you reply as you keep touching him.

You never had such an intimate moment, such a gentle touch under sun rays. You've never been so happy to see the sun rising.

"Knuckle, there's something I have to tell yo-"

"I'm in love with you"

You jump in surprise and spread your eyes open. For a moment you believe that he's just being delirious because of tiredness. But then you get lost in his gaze. Knuckle's face, always so angry and tough, completely melted in a tender and meek smile, kissed by the sun, pacified. You stop stroking his hair for a sec.

"What?"

"I'm in love with you, I really mean it. Tonight I realized how precarious the world is and that I couldn't afford to just not tell you" Knuckle says, in a whisper.

Your eyebrows arch upwards and a moved smile sprawls across your wounded face.

"I love you too, Knuckle"

Knuckle's reaction is similar to yours. Mouth slightly parted, a small inhale of surprise. It's really sweet. He didn't expect you to reciprocate, he didn't expect nothing from you in fact.

"(Y/N)..."

"I love you even though I always fight with you, even if you're hot-headed, stubborn, a braggart and with a weird haircut. But I love the way you care about others even when you deny it, and the way you cry for them. I love your haircut too, by the way. I just want to give you back the kindness you give to me and other people"

Your hands touches him again, this time caressing his cheek. Knuckle doesn't know what to say, words dying in his throat. You get lost in his eyes once again, then you snap out of it and your cheeks get hot.

"Ah-ehm, sorry...um...I wanted to say these things last night on the tree but I chickened out " you stutter awkwardly.

Knuckle breaks the silence with a laugh that echoes through the chamber.

"Hey, what are you laughing at?" you ask, scowling.

"It's funny, I wanted to confess too last night. Me and Shoot were talking about that, and that's why you scared us when you appeared out of nowhere. Ah, I don't even know why I told him!"

You chuckle "Maybe because you care about him a lot"

"That's not true, take that back!" Knuckle shouts, pointing a finger in your face.

Knuckle's face becomes a blushing mess, and you let yourself go in a laugh because Knuckle is always the same. Incapable of hiding his kindness and his affection towards other people. The finger aiming at your face touches your cheek, then under the eye, next thing you know his entire hand is encapsulating your cheek.

"Come over here..."

Without even realising it, you bend over Knuckle and you kiss. You often asked youself how kissing Knuckle would feel like, and this exactly corresponds to the idea. So delicate, but passionate. Knuckle's lips move on yours and you reciprocate immediately, closing your eyes. You press your mouth against his, it's warm like a hug of someone coming back from war. Warm like someone who couldn't wait anymore to say I love you. When you rise up you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but unsuccessfully. You're sure that your face is a mess, just like Knuckle's which is really hot red.

"Wow..." you whisper.

"Yeah, wow..." Knuckle murmurs, dumbfounded.

You look down at him again "What do you say if we wait for Morel and Shoot to get better, then we all go out to get drunk to celebrate, then we go make love in my apartment?"

"Hell yeah"

Knuckle gathers some energies to hoist himself on his elbows and sit up. You help him stand up, but you have to support each other under your arms because both of you are too tired. You start to walk out the room.

"And after that you'll be my girlfriend?" Knuckle asks.

"I'm pretty sure that I already am"

Suddenly, you hear some sniffling echoing through the empty palace alley. You turn around.

"Are you seriously crying right now? For real?" you ask, startled.

"Shut up! I'm not!'

"Yeah you are, idiot!"

"Don't you dare tell this to anyone, or..."

"Or?"

"I don't know, I can't do anything to you you're my girlfriend now!"

#knuckle bine #hunter x hunter #Hunter reader #ao3 writer #knuckle bine x reader #knuckle hxh #knuckle #morel mackernasey #shoot mcmahon #fem reader #knuckle x reader #one shot #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #writers on tumblr #x reader

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

What would the Emeritus brothers be like with a bilingual s/o? Specifically, one whose mother tongue they don’t speak? Like Spanish, Portuguese, or Mandarin, to name a few examples.

Thanks for opening up requests! Love your blog! 🖤

Thank you so much!! <3 I hope you enjoy!! <3 

Papas with a Bilingual S/O 

You did ask for an S/O with a mother tongue the Papas did not speak, so I’m going to follow that guideline. But I DID just want to add a fun fact in there as well! 

The Papas are actually all polyglots, meaning they can all speak multiple languages! Some more than others for one reason or another. When it comes to being a demonic pope with legions in so many parts of the world, you HAVE to speak so many different ones! However, this doesn’t mean they all speak every language to exist (except maybe Primo.) 

I also kept the reader’s native tongue vague so you can apply whichever you’d like! :)

-

Papa Nihil: He might speak several languages, but he’s not exactly the best at picking up new ones these days. Sometimes you can’t teach an old dog new tricks… but that doesn’t mean he won’t try! Whether he learns your native tongue or not, Nihil is happy to listen to you speak. Nihil adores when you playfully teach him new words or phrases. He is happy to use the best ones on you! Nihil is happy to know enough of your first language to convey his feelings or know yours. So expect him to at least know how to tell you he loves you, or that he wants you to have a good day. Truthfully, when it comes to his love of horror movies he might ask you to translate certain iconic scenes into your native tongue! And best of all? He will be putty in your hands when you flirt in your native language! Daily you get a lot of, “Amore, how do you say *insert random mundane word* in-?” Random words he has asked about so far; TV, blanket, carrot, window, Ghoul, screw driver, and swimming.

Papa I: You would be hard pressed to find a language Papa couldn’t speak, or at the very least understand everything you were saying. Papa is a legendary linguist within the Ministry, and has led many apprentices in keeping dead languages alive. But that doesn’t mean his verbal speaking is perfect in every tongue! So he was delighted when you were open to letting him learn more from you with your first language. These impromptu lessons are actually what caused you both to become close friends and eventually a couple! Papa appreciates all your efforts in teaching him, and he is a fast learner. He has even gone so far as to encourage you to teach lessons to the siblings of sin, if you were so inclined! In your daily lives he will always speak to you or leave you thoughtful notes in your first language. The only difficulty he has is learning slang and common sayings… but you find it both hilarious and a bit adorable when he tries!  

Papa II: Funnily enough, you both don’t know each other’s first language. Most of your communication has been through English! So it was a fun time for you both when you became closer to deciphering each other’s native tongue. You mutually wanted to be able to understand each other in all three languages; Your first language, his Italian, and English! So it was a lot of work and fun together. Papa absolutely loves teaching you Italian every chance he can. Claiming that it just sounds so much better rolling off of your tongue. And in turn, he cherishes every time you sit in his lap to teach him more of your language. Papa picks it up rather fast, even if it’s not entirely perfect. You both eventually know enough to hold a conversation in each other’s mother tongue! Though Papa prefers letting you get to speak, no matter what the language is. He just finds your voice soothing overall. He also happily teaches you how to curse someone out so you can use it in the ministry! You laughed at the generous offer! 

Papa III: Ever the romantic, Papa finds it incredibly charming when you flaunt your linguistic skill around him! Language is such a beautiful and fascinating subject! There is nothing more interesting to him than learning how each different language communicates- especially when it comes to poetry and music. He is wrapped around your finger each time you use your first language to flirt with him. Papa will constantly encourage you to try and seduce him with your words (even if you only pretend. He’ll never know what you’re ACTUALLY saying if you say it with enough flirty tones!) While proficient in the languages he uses regularly for his Papal duties, it takes him a little longer than his eldest brother to pick up your first language. But that doesn’t stop him from trying! Papa will go out of his way to make sure he knows the basics so he can always tell you the most important phrases of your mother tongue! Such as ‘Good Morning/Night’, ‘Thank you’, all the pick up lines, and eventually ‘I love you.’ Though the majority of the time, he uses it to flirt with you or gossip. 

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: One of the original reasons you fell for Copia was that he went out of his way to learn your native tongue when you first became friends. According to him, you always exclusively used Italian when speaking with him. It was only fair that he learned your first language too! Copia was a hobbyist linguist on top of being an official tome translator for the ministry at one point. So he was happy to learn a new language to converse with you! As a couple, this is one of his favorite ways to bond with you. He sees it as a chance to grow closer to you while perfecting his grammar and pronunciations! Typically, Copia will switch to your native tongue when you are alone or at home. But he’s also not above utilizing it in public when he doesn’t want others to eavesdrop… or just shit talk someone in the room he can’t stand.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost reader insert #reader insert #gn reader #reader x papa #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost fluff

[fishy-xp]

compounded disasters pt.3

ft. arm and ep 14 spoilers

arm catalogues all the cctv after the shootout. he's creating the list of casualties so they know how many flowers and reimbursement packages they need to send out to the families of the fallen bodyguards. he's also looking at the employment records of the minor family (which are very poorly managed and highly inaccurate, it's driving him insane) to track down any loose ends and finish them off or buy their loyalty. one of the cameras by the pool catches something that night. it's vegas and pete. arm puts down the clipboard he has of the hospitalised bodyguards and leans forward in his seat. he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose so he can see more clearly.

vegas holds his gun under his throat and for a second arm ceases to breathe. he's never had much inclination towards the whole politics of the theerapanyakuls. he very much enjoys the isolation of his armoury and the mind-numbing antics of khun tankhun. all he knows if that he never wants to meet khun kan or be on the receiving end of khun vegas' torture kit.

but before vegas pulls the trigger, pete runs in. arm doesn't even know what to think when he sees pete hug vegas, when he sees pete fall to his knees, when he sees vegas turn around and there's a smile on his face before he's shot by another bodyguard, when he sees the unbridled rage that overcomes his colleague and pete fires several fatal shots in the bodyguard and when he sees pete holding vegas' body, head tucked in against the heir of the fallen minor family and wail like a dog grieving their dead owner.

arm knows everyone in the mansion. he is the one that reviews all applications and does the background checks, he knows everything there is to know about these people. arm likes to think he's friend with all of them, they just don't know it. until pete.

pete came with his own background check. he hands two copies of the file over to chan and arm. chan skims through it, shows it to khun korn to which the boss nods and then chan nods, before resuming his stoic guarded position. arm on the other hand realises exactly how devoid of anything personal it is and it sounds like cookie-cutter perfection. but he sees his superiors and says nothing. what was in that file becomes fact in the official archives and arm never conducted his own background check on pete.

there are times when arm wishes he didn't know absolutely everything. he's seen a lot of things as head of security. whether others come to know of these things are entirely up to him.

tee was the bodyguard found by the pool. he had a small family in the north. he came from a family of rice farmers but made his way to bangkok when he showed a proclivity for hand to hand combat. he used to do mostly recon missions but lately he took an interest in learning medicine from the doctors so he could go back and open a clinic in his village. tee wanted to retire soon from this life and korn was ready to let him. his only daughter just started high school. he was a good bodyguard.

arm deletes the cctv footage and the official reports say that tee was likely caught in the cross fire during the shootout. he closes his laptop and makes his way back to his room. he walks into the bedroom to be greeted by pol, a bandage wrapped around the bodyguard's left arm. they greet each other as pol opens his arms and the head of security immediately joins pol on the bed and rests his head against the other's chest. pol eases arm's glasses off his face, puts them on the bedside table and massages his temples. arm relaxes and remembers the feeling of seeing pol on the hospitalised personnel list and then being overwhelmingly relieved when he sees the notes say that he only had a graze wound on his arm. he lets that relief and peace wash over him as the two bodyguards fall asleep in the other's embrace.

for the rest of the night, arm lets himself know nothing.

a/n: this drabble was inspired by arm in ep 2 when khun was accusing porsche of killing his carps. arm interrupts and brings to khun's attention that the pagaent is starting soon. pol also looks at arm, nodding and winking. and when khun calls for pol to come, pol complies but also waves goodbye to porsche (pol is just the sweetest little man with the smoothest brain and arm is very into that). i like to think that arm takes care of his fellow bodyguards in discrete and subtle ways. his loyalty is towards his fellow brothers more so than the major family. this is further shown in the way he always gives out random devices to porsche and pete without asking questions. especially since he bugged one of kinn's buttons lmao. so i think arm would definitely know pete shot another bodyguard that night and yet he chose to protect pete.

#arm is my absolutely favourite #i need him and pol to be happy #season 2 better make armpol canon #kinnporsche arm #the bodyguards #armpol #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche #vegaspete #vegas theerapanyakul #kinn theerapanyakul #porsche pitchaya #pete phongsakorn #porsche #kinnporsche meta #kinnporsche drabbles #kinnporsche fanfic #compounded disasters

[oldbutnotyetwise]

One More Day

     One More Day.  What do you think of when you hear that?  Maybe that Country Music Song by Diamond Rio.  You know the one, 

Last night I had a crazy dream

A Wish was granted just for me

It could be for anything

I didn’t ask for money

or a mansion in Malibu

I simply wished for one more day with you.

     Or perhaps you think of the other song of the same name from the Musical Les Mis that is sung by the lead character Jean Valjean.

     Or perhaps you are less musical and more  inclined towards books and movies in which case you might think of the book by Mitch Albom of the same name, which was then made into a TV movie.

     All of these are about getting another day with a loved one after someone has died.  They are about regret, wishing a wish that can never come true, other than in a song, book or movie.

     My body is slowly dying, leaving my able mind trapped inside this shell of a body, a body that was once able, but now is very unable.  So please excuse my premature One More Day, I’m not dead…yet, but my one more day is about having one more day inside a capable, working body, and how I would choose to spend it. 

     What follows is not a perfect day, I’m not sure that “A Perfect Day” actually exists.  What follows is a good day, a very good day spent as I wish I could spend it, if only my body hadn’t one day become the enemy, always looking to gain more ground in its war against me.

     My day would start off just before Sunrise when I would make love to my beautiful wife Robin.  Afterwards we would lay in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, under the Comforter as we watched a remarkable sunrise through our bedroom window.  The sun slowly creeping up, peaking just above the eastern horizon and slowly chasing the darkness away, as well as the fog that often lingered in the valley, offering all the hope that comes with a new day.

     I would then get myself up and out of bed, I would put on my running gear and go for a nice comfortable 10 K run with my daughter Elizabeth.  It would be down country roads and dirt paths, we would run across deer and other wildlife enjoying their early morning, they would just look up at us as we casually ran by before returning to their grazing.  Elizabeth and I would enjoy easy conversation about any number of things, the kind of conversation that only a father and daughter who are also friends can partake in.

     After the run we would return home where Robin would have made us a delicious breakfast consisting of an Omelette, Bacon, Home-fries and Toast.  We would enjoy the delicious food, the three of us would laugh as we shared good conversation while the dogs laid at our feet.

     After breakfast the three of us would take the dogs for a hike around our farm property.  While Tia would be bounding off into the surrounding fields and woods, popping out every once in a while to check on our progress, Kiwi would forever be dropping her stick in front of us, sad brown eyes looking up at us, pleading with us to throw the stick for her.  

     Then I would get on my tractor with the Bush Hog and I would go out and work on the hiking trails for an hour or two, cleaning them up, smoothing dirt out, removing any limbs that had fallen across the trail or perhaps digging up and moving a boulder that was in the way.  

     After a delicious lunch made with vegetables freshly picked from our garden Robin and I would go for a hike on the trails I had been working on, holding hands, looking for any changes, wondering how long ago the bear had been there pooping on the trail.  We would stop repeatedly, looking around at our property amazed at how incredibly fortunate we were to get to live in this incredible piece of land that seemed so disconnected from the outside world.

     After we returned home I would go out to the workshop where I would pick out a beautiful piece of Olive wood that I would turn on my lathe, and then after applying the finish I would assemble a new wooden pen that I would put aside until I give to some dear friend who I thought would appreciate it. 

     It will be time for supper soon but I will sneak out on my motorcycle for a quick ride exploring some nearby dirt and gravel roads.  It feels good to ride for the joy of riding rather than needing to get somewhere. 

     Once back home Robin, Elizabeth and I quickly get on our way to a quaint little Italian Restaurant, the kind that is dimly lit, with bright red velvet curtains and small votive candles on the tables covered with red tablecloths.  The restaurant is closed for a private event  tonight, it is a gathering of my closest friends (you know who you are).  There is no head table, just tables set side by side and around in a rectangle with no one on the inside so everyone can see each other.  My meal starts with warm fresh bread and rolls on the table, from the aroma of the warm bread I know it will taste as good as it smells.   Then a serving of Roasted Red Pepper Soup that is just slightly spicy that warms me from my mouth down to my stomach.  After the soup a plate of Chicken Parmigiana with a side of pasta in red sauce is placed in front of me.  The sauce is nice and thick, the chicken parmigiana is a good sized piece smothered in cheese, and there is Parmesan Cheese generously sprinkled over the entire plate.  Once my plate is mostly empty I use the bread and rolls to mop up any sign of sauce on the plate, so much so that it looks like it should go back on the shelf rather than in the dishwasher.  The finale is the Creme Brûlée which comes out perfectly browned and crusty on the top.  I hit the top of it with the back of my spoon and watch the cracks spread before digging in and getting the right balance of custard and crusty topping on my spoon.  As the meal comes to a close I acknowledge that I have eaten too much, but I have no regrets.

     Now before I leave I have time to visit. Somehow the clock has been stopped and I get all the time I want to spend with each and everyone of these incredible people before having to say goodnight.  As I get ready to leave I stop at the door and look back at the faces of my best and dearest friends looking back at me and my heart is bursting with love and gratitude for having these extraordinary people in my life.

     Later upon returning home my friend Suzanne has come over and together we play our guitars and sound just like the amateur folk duo that we are as we sing songs from the 60’s and 70’s.  

     As the sun is starting to head for the horizon the last dog walk of the day is undertaken, the breeze is moving the branches of the nearby trees, the birds are all quiet now, the slight scent of smoke from a neighbour’s wood stove, and not a sound of civilization can be heard.  Kiwi and Tia are enjoying their last out as mother nature paints the sky with shades of red, orange and yellow.  I stand there watching the sun dip below the horizon, the light of the day evaporating before my eyes.  I make my way back to the house, my favourite place in the world, my safe place.  Before I go inside I pause and stare up at the incredible night sky jamb packed full of stars, a sight only country people get to enjoy.

     Everyone else has gone home, Robin is waiting there at the kitchen table with a game of Backgammon set up.  As she often does Robin gets an inexplicably large amount of double sixes and beats me two games to one, and I smile as she does her happy victory dance about the kitchen.  

     Together we go to our bedroom, get undressed and climb into bed.  We exchange our nightly I Love You's, wrap our arms around one another, our bodies tightly held against each other, cheek to cheek while we slowly drift off to sleep.  The day ends as it has begun, in the arms of love.

     I wasn’t able to fit everything into this day, there was no Cribbage game with my dear friend, no game of Mexican Train Dominoes with whatever friends were visiting, no time spent sipping scotch with a friend who enjoys the same elixir, no savouring a warm cup of tea with my old partner from work, no heart to heart chat with my close friend, no meeting with my friend for our Thai lunch, no working in the garden in my overalls until my brow was covered in a pasty combination of dirt and sweat.  Clearly one day wasn’t long enough.

     How would you choose to spend your day if you had the opportunity to pick from all your favourite things to do and people to be with?  Oh wait, that’s right.  You are probably physically capable of making a day like that happen, so I guess the second question is why don’t you?

#als #one more day #love my wife

[kiarathefox]

prime numbers

2: I drink both tea and coffee, I prefer coffee tho, love my bean soup. I take it almost anyway that involves milk. Hot/Cold latte capp flat white. If it's good coffee I don't need sugar. My tea is just kinda english breakfast with milk. I like Spearmint as well.

3: "Scream" from Final Fantasy XIV, free to play up to level 70 including award winning expansion stormblood

5: I usually do sleep with my plush Eevee, Blahaj and Bulbasaur, but recently I've had to give them up because now that I'm moved in with my gf, there isn't enough room in the bed for me, my gf and the plushies. When I upgrade to a bigger bed I can have my beloved plushies back :3

7: Usually, the minimum possible. I live in a hot country and I NEED to be cool when I sleep. But during winter I like 2, because of the addition of a weighted blanket. I LOVE sleeping with a weighted blanket.

11: Blue babyyyyy

13: Abandonment is the biggest one, I have severe issues with being left behind, it happened alot growing up, I had a bunch of friends just exclude me or straight up ditch me. It has led to a terrible habit of overthinking every negative interaction, and thinking I have to be a "perfect" friend or else they won't want to be around me anymore. The other crippling fear is bees/wasps, I have such a fight or flight reaction with them, such an overwhelming fear for something so small. Maybe me being attacked/chased my wasps when I was small affected that.

17: I already have ear piercings, tho I only just got them a year ago after I started transitioning. This revealed that I can't easily get piercings because of the medication I am on, nor tattoos. Because they just won't heal. Either way I don't think I want anymore piercings, but I might just have to miss out on a tattoo :c

19: I have 3 people whom I consider best friends. Two of which I retained from primary school, and one I met early in high school. The high school one has become a brother to me. Which is funny to think that he only had sisters, then finally got me as his bro, then a few years ago I turned around and went "ummm, I'm a sister too actually." Gottem

23: Kind of yeah. I like to think there is some other life out there. (I mean of course right? Even if a planet that's livable like Earth is an incredibly rare thing it COULD happen more than once) BUT I think it might be more likely that we came about so early in the universe's life, that we could be long gone before another civilisation finds us.

29: I either make snap decisions without thinking about it, or if I do make the mistake of thinking about something too long, I'm stuck in an endless loop of indecision until I break down over it.

31: Distant future? God I don't like thinking ahead too much, I think because most of my life I've had nothing to look forward to I guess. In a couple of years I hope to have a permanent home and a pet again. Is that something?

37: Ahh the classic.. I grew up with both and really have no preference for either one. I am very playful with pets, so I would have an inclination towards dogs, but I can still grab my cat and wrestle it with my hand just as well. Plus both of them are capable of being cuddly, or even go off and do their own thing for a bit. I'll put it this way. If I am living alone, I'd prefer a cat, for more peace of mind and less maintenance.

41: I CANNOT PICK ONE FAVOURITE WTF! I'll list a few "winners" My fave recent one would be "The Owl House" My fave older one would be "Avatar: The Last Airbender" And My nostalgia pick would be "Teen Titans"

43: One younger sister. Bit of a rat, especially in her teen years but she's grown, gotten better. We are slowly rebuilding our relationship but I really struggle to trust those who have hurt me in the past. So while I don't know how she feels about me exactly, I kind of have her at arms length for a while.

47: Yeah, muscle memory and all that

#Kiarafox answers

[devil666lovesblog]

Oh thy my carolb, my most delicious Potato chips

I first met her in one of the Lennon walls during the Anti-Extradition movement of HongKong; she is one of the maintainers of one very yellow-ribbon middle class district. I was in and out with the political parties and organizations there. She worked as one of the 包點先生 and she took days off to join the yellow ribbon activities. I asked her for her facebook and she made a picture of my facebook and my friend's profile yet she refuses to add me as a friend. She has a pretty, shiny face with at most a B-cup breasts in a very thin body. 

She is known for her bravery and ease to get lost in the 721 WestRail incident. She is VERY lucky that she survived while many passengers are beaten very badly by the triad associated with the Police which really is the running dog for the People’s Republic of China. There are other girls who are taken and kidnapped by the HKP then they are tortured and probably sexually abused and become public toilet until they are pregnant then they are dumped to the sea to destroy any evidence of the brutal and inhuman act that happened to them. We are up against the state machine of both CCP and HKSAR with little perspective of winning this ‘civil war’.  Several more times I meet Carolb in the same place along with many other activists guarding the same Lennon wall but we mostly talk about the issues related to Anti-Extradition movement and nothing personal, I ask her to add me in her Facebook but she wouldn’t do that for whatever reasons, thus I am giving up since there are more acute business to handle at hand and there are no other ways to reach her. She is safer with one less person knowing her in-depth. That is for the best of the movement and both of us. Thus it so happened so one time a girl who is very much inclined to go back to the dangerous site where confrontation with the monstrous popo and demonstrators, everyone there want her to go home safely but nobody think they are able to persuade her, then I thought for a few seconds I ask her to protect a driver going home and the driver drive her home secure and sound, that I end up saving both of them from the popo. She said: That is very impressive of you. How did you know that trick would work? I am a student of Psychology, I knew about humans. She put her thumb up. My mouth works excellently not just in moving people, but in the future that moves her inside out with her cunt dripping wet of her lovely juice. Was she already excited and aroused when I played my tricks and she watched very closely every move of me in the facebook?

Surprisingly with both luck and courage she survived several other severe police confrontations without being arrested or hurt, I admire her for her bravery and courage because I would be too afraid to be there otherwise. My courage is mostly to fight verbal battles in social media and I am not physically fit. That night, she asked a guy to pick up her bookbag, I instantly realized he is the apple in her eye; and I am nothing but a bald guy who knew a lot about politics and I could talk about that incessantly  like an expert for the whole day. Maybe in her eyes she saw me as an intellectual, strategist, P.R. guy and a planner with excellent argumentative capabilities. Nobody can ever beat me in my debate, there are no five cent parties dare to confront me in my facebook for I am going to send them to hell each and every time, I am fast and swift in chopping their so-called argument to pieces with no mercy and zero tolerance for half-truth and half-logic. I wrote hundreds of articles in both Chinese and English defending the yellow ribbon positions and attacking Pro-Communist political and blue-ribbon supporters who try to meddle the water and gain personal benefits from this social commotion. 

In another time there is a showcase of winter on fire of the Ukrainian movie about the social uprising there, I went up to visit my friends in the Lennon wall then go to the public toilet there, and when I went back I happen to went across a blue-ribbon support shouting cockroach to insult the participants, she was very much surprised that I am the one to chase out a blue-ribbon villain and insult him back while he is laughing like an idiot. He is very much afraid of me beating him up, she just realized I had some physical strength and not merely a talker. I may not be an excellent fighter in the frontline of the battle but I am not a coward. Her unconscious mind must then inferring me to be a mighty man with BIG and HARD stick to penetrate her womb through it’s opening on her bottom for hours then shoot everything till her cunt is dripping with my serum. I had both a sharp tongue and physical strength to give her pleasure in and out of the bed. She must also thought I am a wild guy and very much enjoy wild sex with her in unusual places that most lovers would avoid. She snaps at me as she looks like a little girl looking for her big uncle caressing then abusing and torturing her until I cum and cum and cum all inside her when she had a bigger belly with billions of the genetic-blueprint of me. In my imagination she is yelling: “No, no, no more slapping, please, please please” while I keep slapping her while my dick pushing through her opening till the end of her birth canal then swiftly pulling out while feeling the membranes of her pleasure hole and I hit hard into her cervix like blue ribbon pushing against the Lennon wall. Her cheeks also enjoy the beating of my dick left and right with my penis head spill my love juicy on her pretty face, occasionally I “clean” her tooth via my dickhead and she gladly enjoy this preferential treatment with her hand maturate her wet and crispy cunt. It is as fresh as the potato freshly harvested from the farm.

I was part of an Anti-popo demonstration in Tuen Mun that went off ‘successfully’ which we help the watchout, and I am extremely active in the FB to wage battles of the word against blue ribbon, and embarrass them many many times. Actually I started to do that in 2007, then 2014 then right now I wrote over a hundred thousand Chinese characters and spent countless hours online. My responses are sharp and fast, so fast that the FB server thinks I am a machine. I also wrote many conspiracy theories over the years, contributing mostly to the Pro-Democratic then a fierce fighter of Localist movement.

The next time I met her I was at a celebration opening for a champion  when the DAB district Councillor was ousted with her and many other local residents voted him out, I sense she had some sense of unhappiness but not certain exactly what she was upset about. I chat with her but not on the topic of her love relationship. She is well loved by everyone who was her friend or who befriend during this movement. My facebook exploded with 5k friends because of that, and later I exploded in her tightly and crispy cunt five times in her bed, then fuck her mouth several more times to make it fair. To be fair I fuck her asshole and her cunt in pair so she had a memorable sexual experience with both pain and pleasure as we would have in a social movement yet to be win.  

I met her another time accidentally in LRT which she said she is running out of money due to her involvement in the activism (with complications when the lovers she had borrowed money from then disappeared out of the blue.)  She would like me to help her through this. I said I was originally very interested in her, she should see the love spark shining in my eyes; but she never gave me a chance and I am very lonely in this desperate situation. She said she was very sorry she never gave me a fair chance but she has looked up on me and found me very interesting, filled with wit and courage. She particularly enjoys my sharp and fast response to five cents party in FB; and she said she is desperate to get professional help to help with her love trauma and she is willing to pay me any price. I ask, what if I want to have you for one night and day with 24 hours to fuck? Or just ten Q cum inside?Would you mind? And would your boyfriend mind? Are you a virgin? She said: No way, I am not a virgin long long time ago. Are you a virgin?

Definitely Not.

Out of my expectation she said she desperately wants to have more sexual experience with mature men with some physical strength. For many times she hinted she want to have sex with her boyfriend but that guy doesn’t want to be her boyfriend, and the celebration night she almost force herself on him, his performance and unwillingness completely disappointed her. She wanted a passionate night with his stick moving in and out tens of thousands of times until the afternoon but he left in the early morning cum only three times in a row.  It is like she lost virginity (of three consecutive sex) all for nothing. She wants to be sexually mature ASAP with someone with very strong sexual desire, that is before any chance of getting arrested and gangbang by a lot of popo in the cunt and asshole. She would be raped beyond recognition with both holes that can’t even hold a champagne inside, also with STD and pregnancy. 

So that night she come home with me and I fuck her all over in every holes and in every ways possible: As I stated early 555 in her mouth/cunt/asshole, and her asshole is one of the most sensitive ass I known of. She said somehow in her account in Telegram that teargas utilized by the popo may be mixed with some arousal gas so she felt arousal after confrontation with popo. She seek attention and try to hint that she want to have sex with now her ex-boyfriend but he is not interested and instead he went to ACG show. This is making her feeling very much unwanted; then she remembers the spark of love in my eyes when I first met her and she thought I would be dying to fuck her slutty body once I penetrate her holes. And to be safe on numbers she seduce me to fuck every holes of her. She said she badly wanted to lose the virginity of her asshole then she had nothing to lose when face with the popo next time. She had done some research on who I am by reading many of my articles. She realized I am a person with a very ‘academic(complex)’ mind, yet I am quite a violent academician.  While she dated that guy happily she felt sorry for me being lonely and had done so much for society, and this wild night is just the beginning of her ‘yellow angel’ work to compensate for what I had lost. She wanted me to feel young again by being my sex slave in the bed whatever I need her. She is not a virgin for a while and her ex-boyfriends open her up sexually but none of them satisfy her completely, and after she felt even more aroused when reading my adult novels I wrote. It thus became a convenient way for her to get aroused then get complete satisfaction via my tool for her pleasure. Am I merely a sex tool in her mind? I don’t mind when she is also a walking womb or a private toilet to me, and she would come to my bed whenever I demand her.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddlestone smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddlestone angst #tom hiddlestone imagine #tom hiddlestone x reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston imagine #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fulff #imagine marvel #marvel imagine #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel endgame #thor: ragnarok

[zukkaflowers]

zukka enemies to roommates au

Sokka slammed his head on the cafe table, the noise swallowed up by the chattering of other customers. “I’m being EVICTED,” he moaned.

Katara raised her eyebrows as she drank her tea and then placed it back on the table. “Why?”

Sokka dragged his head up against the table until his chin was the only thing touching the wood and Katara made a face, no doubt thinking of all the germs that were now rubbed into Sokka’s face like lotion. Sokka couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too deep in his despair. “The landlord sold the building. And now I only have two weeks to move because everything around here is so fucking expensive and I got discouraged so I put it off—“

“Move in with Zuko!”

“...like I put everything—what did you just say?”

Katara’s face brightened, a stark contrast to the cloud of doom that had been enveloping Sokka. “His roommate is moving in with her girlfriend and he needs a new one. A roommate, not a girlfriend. And I think his place is really close to your work, too! It’s perfect!”

Sokka finally sat up, shoving his hands in his sister’s face to turn her brightness down a notch because it was hurting his eyes. “Wait wait wait, are you talking about the Zuko I think you’re talking about?”

“Is there another one?”

Sokka had many questions. “Why do you know he needs a new roommate? Why do you know his roommate is moving in with her girlfriend? How do you know where he lives? Did you just say, ‘it’s perfect’?”

Katara watched Sokka as he grabbed his drink, eyes never leaving her face in a demonstration of his seriousness, and then swallowed painfully with a grimace after realizing he’d grabbed Katara’s bitter tea on accident. “You’re such a goof,” she sighed in anguish. “Zuko and Aang actually went to university together and became friends. Zuko wants to be a teacher like Aang.”

Sokka sputtered. “WHAT?” A few strangers shot him judgmental looks at the outburst, which he ignored. “You—you—he—Aang—BETRAYAL??”

Katara rolled her eyes. “This is why we kept it a secret from you! We all knew you’d be overdramatic about it.”

“We ALL?”

Katara shrugged, finally having enough decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, me, Aang… and Suki and Toph.”

Sokka’s jaw dropped wider. “SUKI?” He clutched his heart. “Mine own bestie...”

Katara continued, “Well, it’s Toph that’s really close to him now, actually.”

“Figures. She’s always been my least supportive friend.” Sokka gasped as a realization hit him. “Is… is Zuko the ‘Captain Angst’ guy she keeps hanging out with??”

“Yeah,” Katara said plainly.

Sokka slammed his head back on to the table, where it might as well have stayed long-term.

“I’m serious, though, Sokka,” said Katara. “Zuko is… kind of okay, and obviously he has everyone else’s approval. You shouldn’t let a petty high school rivalry between you two get in the way of your current life.”

“‘Petty high school rivalry’??? Last I heard, there were four of us involved in the rivalry-ing! You weren’t too fond of him or his sister, either!”

Katara once again rolled her eyes. “All I’m saying is, the place is within your budget, it’s actually nice, and the commute is good. He’s only just started looking for a new roommate, and I promise that if you don’t try it out, you’ll regret it.”

“And all I’m saying is, if we move in together, Zuko and I will murder each other.”

Katara looked at her phone and stood up, collecting her bag and bile tea. “I doubt it. You haven’t spoken in five years, and you’ve both changed a lot. I have to go, Aang wants me to meet another stray dog, and we still have lunch with Yue, so I can’t let him get too carried away. I’ll text you details about Zuko’s place. Please at least look into it, Sokka.”

Her eyes were too genuine; he couldn’t say no. “Fine,” he grumbled, fully prepared to briefly skim over the information before moving on.

But when he did look it over, he saw that Katara was right. It was perfect. He could even walk to work if he wanted to, it was that close. The rent was well in his budget, even leaving extra leftover. He could maybe finally replace his cracked phone screen! Sokka sighed at the dim light of his laptop. The fates were telling him something. It sounded like, You will consciously choose the path of suffering, ahahahahaha.

“Sokka... wants to be my new roommate,” Zuko said.

“Hello to you too, angsty pants,” Toph replied through the phone.

“I think I’m going to say yes,” continued Zuko.

“Wait, Sokka? Katara’s brother?”

Zuko swallowed, eyes flicking to the stir fry he’d left on the stove. He’d been checking the notifications on his phone when he saw it and had immediately called Toph. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Toph offered helpfully.

“What do you think?”

Silence fell for a few seconds as Toph thought it through. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“That’s what I’m asking you for. If he’s reaching out, he knows it’s me, so he can’t still hate me, right?”

“I don’t know,” said Toph. “Don’t you like him?”

Zuko bit his lip and weakly stirred his stir fry. “But it’s not like I’m still—I’m not hopelessly into him. It’s just. You know, a little bit.”

“You’re not even going to interview him? What if he poops with the door open? What if he… what if he eats in the bathroom while he poops.”

“Would I ask him about that in an interview?”

“If you’re not a coward.”

“Okay, I’ll interview him,” Zuko said, relenting. “What do I have to lose?”

To: Katara

Sokka: uuugughghgghghhhhhhh zuko wants to interview me

Katara: You looked into the place!!!

Sokka: yeah but i’m seriously doubting myself now

Sokka: can i really pretend not to hate him long enough to get the place

Katara: Have you considered just

Katara: Not hating him?

Sokka: …

Sokka: how could you even say that

Katara: Ok I thought so

Katara: Well just be professional if you don’t wanna be friendly

Katara: Pretend it’s a job interview

Sokka: oh yeah

Sokka: because imagining that zuko is my employer would definitely not make me hate him 400% more

Katara: On the bright side, you haven’t reached the threshold of hate yet if it can be increased by 400%! There is hope

Sokka: ha

Sokka: i scoff in the face of hope

Sokka let Suki pick out an outfit for him before going to meet Zuko at the cafe they agreed to meet at. He wanted to look nice so that Zuko, at least visually, might be inclined to let him become a flatmate, but mostly he just didn’t want Zuko to have the upper hand anywhere, not even in his fashion sense. And Zuko had grown up with money, so he’d always been well dressed.

Sokka slipped the chosen tan sweater over his button down and pulled on a pair of black jeans. The clothes covered all his tattoos—he was sure Zuko would not appreciate them. His hair, he couldn’t do much about, so he settled for tying it back as he always did.

He was so distracted throughout the train ride thinking about all the valid reasons he had to hate Zuko that he almost forgot to get off at the right stop. But the walk from the station was short, and before he knew it, he was opening glass doors, scanning faces, and—there he was. Hair hanging in his face, chin on his palm, and wearing—a hoodie and ripped jeans? Sokka cleared his mind of surprise and tried to relax his face.

He walked over.

To: Toph

Zuko: It went well?

Toph: Be more specific

Toph: For example, what went well

Zuko: The interview with Sokka

Zuko: I’m pretty sure he doesn’t shit with the door open, and he definitely doesn’t eat in the bathroom

Zuko: He was also

Zuko: really nice

Toph: Really nice to talk to? Or really nice looking?

Zuko: Shut up

Toph: Hm deflection

Zuko: I think you’re wrong

Zuko: I think it won’t be hard to live with him

To: Katara

Sokka: GEEZ THAT WAS SO HARD

Sokka: the whole time he’s being this stiff, boring, JERK

Sokka: i had to smile and nod the whole time

Sokka: no way will this keep up if we live together

Sokka: but i have to think of the commute…..

Sokka: and the view….

Sokka: and i’ll be closer to suki….

Katara: But Sokka, you will try, right?

Sokka: try what

Katara: To be nice to him.

Sokka: uh

Sokka: maybe?

By the end of the next week, Sokka had moved in the last of his boxes. He honestly didn’t have that much stuff. He did have one special thing, though. Or rather, a special friend.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked, peeking into Sokka’s new room.

Swallowing his annoyance at being interrupted, Sokka gestured for Zuko to join him. They’d only exchanged at most a few sentences a day, and Zuko hadn’t done anything too irritating yet, so Sokka was going to try to keep his promise to Katara.

“This is my turtle, Duck,” he said, pointing to the turtle swimming around in the tank he’d just finished setting back up.

“What’s a turtleduck?” asked Zuko after plopping down beside him.

Sokka frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Then why do you have one?”

Before Sokka could answer, his phone rung from the dresser, its vibration so strong the whole room shook and Duck popped into his shell.

#zukka #atla #avatar the last airbender #zukka fic #writing #atla fic #zukka fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #zukka modern au #roommate au #sorry idk how to format these i've never posted writing on tumblr before

[dr3amofagame]

more of the mutually assured destruction duo, post-prison this time! this one was really fun, thinking about what this dynamic might be like in the future gives me SO much brainrot, im so excited. this one’s also a little dark, so make sure to read the warnings + tags !! :D 

tw: implied prison abuse, starvation, toxic relationship, touch starvation, manipulation, panic attack, trauma, blood, injury

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison.

And it's ironic, because Wilbur hasn't even been around, has been in hell for fuck's sake playing Competitive Solitaire for nine-odd years, but even he could've seen the self-destruction hanging like a cloud around the other's head from a million miles (and several months? years?) away. Perhaps, he thinks wryly, you can only see the signs when you've lived them, or maybe red flags don't raise alarm when you’ve painted the entire figure in blood, but it doesn't really matter, in the end, because the final result is the same.

Still, it's just a little funny when he's stopped in the middle of his journey through the Nether, not a piece of armor on him per usual and an unused netherite sword slung over his hip.

"Hello, Sapnap." The kid is standing in front of him, eyes gleaming in badly-hidden anger and desperation, smoke rising from the mottled red-black skin on his hands. "Fancy seeing you around."

"You-" Sapnap sputters, unable to speak as his face flushes red in frustration, and Wilbur smiles at him condescendingly. The expression on the other's face is one he's seen before - one Tommy had been particularly inclined to give him in the past, when his emotions raged so heavily that there was nothing for the pressure to do but build, too thick and heavy to force themselves out of his throat. "You're monsters," Sapnap manages, finally, and Wilbur quirks an eyebrow.

At least we're self-aware, he thinks, the all-too-familiar twinge of irritation at Tommy's - and apparently, Sapnap's particular brand of reckless naivety pulsing at the base of his skull. He lets none of these thoughts show on his face as he cocks his head to the side, smiles wider - and Sapnap, just like Tommy, takes the bait.

'Why are you smiling?" He looks achingly young - they all do, really, their expressions and reactions dripping with a sort of innocence and sincerity that dissolved from Wilbur's own face somewhere around the fifteen-hundreth game of poker, and it really does feel ironic, how quickly the outside world can fall apart compared to the unending constancy of the void - but he digresses.

He didn't know Sapnap well before his whole death thing, and as much as he wants to use his partner to get information on the other members of the server, he doesn't really think Dream is really even lucid enough for that - the man clearly hasn't been thinking clearly, not for a long time. It doesn't matter, though, because you learn to read people when your life becomes nothing but running the same broken-edged memories over and over again in your mind and smiling jaggedly over the same few card games - Wilbur had always been a people watcher, and Sapnap's feelings are stamped on every corner of his face.

"Monster, huh," he says, saying the word slowly, rolling it over his tongue like he's tasting it for the first time, watching from the corner of his eye as Sapnap squirms, "Interesting word you've got here. You use it often?"

Sapnap bristles, smoke curling from his nostrils - "It's what you are, dickhead."

Rolling his eyes internally, Wilbur keeps up the act, humming as he fiddles idly with his cufflink. "I mean, if you really believe that," he rocks forward on his right foot, stifling a smile at the way the younger draws back, "But really, it's all a matter of perspective." He twists himself around, pivoting around his heel, beginning to walk in an arc around Sapnap's left side, watching as he spins around, shoulders drawn up to his ears. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're full of shit," he says, voice flat, and Wilbur laughs. It's genuine, really, because well - Sapnap's different. He's fun; the entire server is, after so long in the void. You can only spend so much time with the same two people before they drive you a little up the metaphorical wall, but Sapnap's reactions are fresh and new and different, still saturated with vitality that hasn’t been leached out by the same deck of cards in the same scarred hands shuffled and reshuffled for eternity. He's interesting, and new, and most of all, predictable.

"Say, Sapnap," he continues, blowing over the other's anger, knowing that it'll only make the frustration build more. He lets his hair flop lazily over one eye, lets his smile grow wider, lips pressed together in amusement, turns his face so that it's lit eerily by the lava lake beneath them. "If we're monsters for, I don't know, setting off a few stacks of TNT," he waves his hand flippantly, watching the muscle of the other's jaw jump in poorly-hidden rage, "What does that make you for what you did to Dream?"

Sapnap's eyes go wide, and Wilbur knows he's struck the jackpot. He lets his lips part to reveal bared teeth, jagged and glinting in the light. "I'm sorry, did that hit a nerve?"

The kid's mouth opens- closes- emotions warring on his face, fists curling and uncurling at his sides, lip trembling. "We- we had to-" his hands come to his face, palms digging into his eyes, and while he's not looking, Wilbur draws his expression back a bit, becoming softer, more welcoming. When Sapnap looks back up, his eyes are shining, hands shaking still; he steps forward, then rocks back on his back foot like he doesn't know where to go. "What do you mean?" he throws the words like they're meant to be a threat, but by the end his voice has devolved into something high-pitched and keening, overflowing with desperate grief that Wilbur latches onto like a starving man (ha) with his last meal.

"I'm sorry, it does seem rather insensitive for me to assume," he resumes pacing around the other, voice lilting, soft, "I just mean, it seemed pretty obvious, don't you think? I don't think I've ever seen someone so skinny, really, but I guess that is what happens when you get starved,"

"Shut up-"

"Not to mention the whole panicking thing, I mean, he's like Tommy sometimes with all of the fucking shaky breathing and mumbling around like creepers, not that I'd know what all of that's about," he watches Sapnap through half-hooded eyes, darkly amused, "and pickaxes, oddly enough, but oh well. Who am I to judge?"

"Shut up-"

"And all of the scars - I thought they were from you, honestly, he told me about the whole 'taking his last life' thing, but then he jumped into lava one day - I guess there wasn't much to do in that cell, huh? He didn't even scream, it's really pretty fucking incredible - I thought I'd actually have to break him down a bit, but really, you've made my life so much easier-"

"SHUT UP-"

Wilbur watches with a too-wide grin as Sapnap finally, finally charges, a netherite sword appearing in his hand as he races blindly ahead, tears shining on his cheeks, his words more pain than thought as he brings the blade down-

A blur of purple, the sound of crumbling netherrack and metal meeting metal, flesh hitting flesh - Wilbur moves smoothly out of the way as Sapnap crashes to the ground, an armored figure bearing down an axe against the shield he's raised between them.

Dream, hair tangled and long, wearing armor that is far too heavy for his skinny frame, every inch of him shaking in panic, should hardly be a threat - but this is Sapnap, weakened by Wilbur's sharp words and crippled by the shock of seeing his former best friend's face again, eyes still unfocused from the rage and tears that had clouded over them moments before, so he can do little but raise his shield as the netherite slams into it, again and again. Not a word falls from Dream's lips, but he brings down the weapon at a ruthless pace - ever since he's been free, his attack style has changed greatly from the defensive style he used to favor, even to Wilbur's untrained eye - there's no skill, no art to the way he attacks anymore, just the fearful ferocity of a dog trapped in a cage for far, far too long.

He finally kicks Sapnap down the netherrack cliff that they're on, the other man left to nurse his wounds below them - Wilbur doesn't bother sparing him another thought; Dream's far too weak to cause any permanent damage. Instead, he approaches his partner, weapon, with a smile, watching, satisfied, when he whirls around with a manic expression.

"I'm alright, see?" he croons as Dream's shoulders move up and down with his heaving breaths, eyes fever-bright, teeth bared. He brings a hand down on the other's shoulder and watches as he flinches at the movement, breath hitching, every muscle freezing, knuckles pale on the handle of his axe, before moving again, stumbling forwards, hands reaching for Wilbur's head and stopping halfway. Wilbur tips his head forward, lets the shorter brush his face with trembling fingers, checking his unmarred skin for blood through the purpling bruises already forming on his cheek, and thinks how powerful he is to have a god at his beck and call, a perfect attack dog brought to heel, death itself obediently at his side.

Dream hasn't been the same since he escaped prison, and as Wilbur runs his hand up and down his back, feeling the way his spine arches at the touch, at the fluttering pulse under the skin-and-bone wrist under his fingers, he thinks how fortunate he is to be the first to notice.

#old stuff :] #queue <3 #tw abuse #tw panic attack #tw manipulation #tw toxic relationship #tw blood #tw injury #tw trauma #tw touch starvation #mutually assured destruction duo my beloved #post prison dream brainrot always lmao #my writing :D #my asks !!

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

#is this dumb? maybe. did i have way too much fun writing it? absolutely. #is this how any of this would go irl? god no. is it still fun? hell yeah. #fahc #fake ah crew #ks writes

[fantastic-rambles]

Random BSD Thoughts: “The Untold Origins” and The Decay of Angels

WARNING: Spoilers for “The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency” LN (Brief spoiler for Chapter 91 near the end.)

So I’m still plodding my way through the light novels and making notes on the various things that catch my interest. For those who have read the third novel, saying that I’m going to discuss the Decay of Angels in relation to it might seem odd, but there’s a method to my madness (in my own head, at least).

Right now, we’ve been introduced to the five members of the Decay of Angels in the manga, which seems to have rounded out the group. And the light novel, as the title suggests, refers to events that happen a long time before the events of the manga. But I think that the novel could be hinting toward the existence of the Decay of Angels even back then, with Ranpo and Fukuzawa briefly catching its tail.

(My thoughts/reasonings are pretty tenuous, so there’s a very good chance that I’m wrong/will be proved wrong since I’m no Ranpo who can solve a mystery by looking at it, but this is just where my brain went and I felt like sharing. xD) 

“V” and the Decay of Angels?

(I’ve learned how to use headers instead of having enormous walls of text, go me!)

The lines that caught my attention and sent me spiraling down this rabbit hole are these, which appear near the end of the light novel:

Behind it all was a domestic underground syndicate known as “V,” whose goal was to rid the country of skill users.

And the battle against them was only beginning.

Of course, it doesn’t name the Decay of Angels explicitly, but there are a few things just in the first line that caught my attention:

They are a domestic syndicate. Of course, the Decay of Angels (currently) has skill-users from several different countries, but their leader is very much Japanese. And maybe back then, they were primarily Japanese, with Fukuchi recruiting the others in the years since (more on this later).

“V”: the Roman numeral for 5, which could refer to the five “signs” of the impending death of an angel (one of which is the “lack of delight in their heavenly seat” or something along those lines that the ADA fulfilled--I think I’m mixing up the Mouryou no Hako description with the BSD description, but you get the point). It could also refer to the number of members, but I find that unlikely given that “V” does seem to have more than five people at this point in time.

Their goal, to rid the country of all skill users: isn’t that literally what Fyodor wants to do? Though on a slightly larger scale, as he apparently wants to rid the world of them altogether. But again, if he were recruited later, that would have provided him a strong incentive to lend his support to the DoA.

We also learn that this organization is willing to use any methods in order to achieve their goals, which is rather reminiscent of the methods of the DoA, especially Fukuchi orchestrating an enormous terrorist plot in order to gain control of an international, non-affiliated army and destroy all of the countries.

Plus, the member of the organization who is caught by Fukuzawa and Ranpo is a police officer, Jun Mitamura. Was he an early member of the DoA or the Hunting Dogs under Fukuchi? Yes, he doesn’t seem to be a skill user, as is the case with both organizations now, but it’s also established that back then, the knowledge of skill users wasn’t well-known, and the government seemed to be trying to collect them. So I don’t think it’s unreasonable that some of the earlier iterations of the groups might have had non-skill user members, and it would make most sense to recruit them from law enforcement and/or the army.

To prevent him from talking after he was captured, Mitamura was stabbed by a blade that disappeared (as was Kurahashi); I don’t know when Fukuchi obtained Amenogozen, but it certainly seems like something he could have done if he did have it then. Especially since he was also affiliated with the military (and maybe was starting to get a reputation?) and could probably walk around a police station/jail without raising suspicion.

Angels in the Light Novel (an aside, mostly)

Another interesting tidbit is that “angels” feature prominently in the story, most particularly in the play that is performed early on that has a minor mystery for Ranpo to solve, including the death threat that is received:

An angel shall bring death, in the truest sense of the word, to the performer. - V.

Although this is part of the plan to fake Murakami’s death, it seems clear that “V” and Murakami and/or Kurahashi were in contact in order for this note to be written. After all, it would be a wild coincidence for them to have randomly chosen “V” to be the anonymous sender of the letter and then for this organization “V” to show up later in the novel.

Of course, the “angels” in the play don’t actually have great bearing on the story (as far as I can tell), and the depictions of skill-users in the play are considered inaccurate/dramatized in general (again, since they’re not well-known about at this point), but it is noted that it’s very unusual to include them since they’re generally considered some sort of urban legend. But if “V” had a hand in writing the play through Kurahashi, they could have provided information about skill-users (possibly to pique Natsumi’s interest and get him to show up?) as well as influenced the theme of the angels.

Overall Timeline of Events

So with this information, I’ve organized a rough (theoretical) timeline of events for the development of the Decay of Angels. Starting from three facts:

14 years ago (prior to the present shown in the manga), Fukuchi joins the army and comes to hate war.

12 years ago, the ADA is founded.

8 years ago, Fukuchi defeats Bram Stoker and forces him to join the DoA.

Presumably, around those 14 years ago, that’s when Fukuzawa left the army/being a government assassin and found employment as a bodyguard instead. But Fukuchi did join the army and was caught up by the horrors of war, which led him to start forming plans to destroy all of the countries and establish world domination. So by the time Ranpo meets Fukuzawa two years later, possibly Fukuchi has formed a proto-Hunting Dogs/DoA organization that is called “V” with his charisma and growing fame.

Then, in the following years, he goes on being the world’s hero, fighting against highly skilled and dangerous skill-users. With his reputation and image of reliability, trust in him grows and he’s able to freely go almost anywhere, which would give him opportunities to meet and recruit people like Fyodor and Gogol. Gogol seems to be close friends with Fyodor, so they probably came as a package, while Fyodor may have agreed to the cooperative relationship so that he could get the Book and erase skill-users, while Fukuchi would be able to benefit from Fyodor’s malicious and thorough ability to devise complex plots to achieve their goals. Also:

MANGA CHAPTER 91 SPOILER: “One Order” is apparently an ability that “frees soldiers [people] from the yoke of sin”/takes away their guilt (over committing murder). Sound familiar??? This might just be a coincidence, though. But if Fyodor is also interested in this, it could further explain why he joined up with the DoA.

But not all of the collaborators are working with Fukuchi willingly, as is seen by Bram Stoker. But when he defeated Stoker, Fukuchi clearly thought that he would be useful (either his own idea, or possibly Fyodor’s if they’re working together by that point) and kept him secretly for 8 years. So this is a plan that’s been in the works for a very long time and only coming to a head now, since the ADA has grown enough to be able to realistically pin the terrorism accusation on them.

Miscellaneous Thoughts

How does Fukuzawa get his ability of “All Men Are Created Equal”? If he does have this ability, at the very least, he doesn’t recognize it at this point of his life. Possibly it’s again due to the dearth of knowledge/interactions with skill-users (especially any that would be under his leadership since he’s very much a lone wolf), but is it actually possible to develop a skill later in life as is mentioned in the play, and which Fukuzawa uses to convince Ranpo that he’s a skill-user? (I’m inclined to think not, and that it just becomes applicable after he establishes the ADA and skill-users join, but still curious.)

Little Oda! When the assassin with two pistols showed up, I hoped he was Oda, and he was! Which means that Ranpo and Oda met (ish) before Oda decided to stop killing, and again when Oda decided to start killing again. And Little Oda still likes curry. D:

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd light novel #bsd decay of angels #bsd hunting dogs #fukuzawa yukichi #yukichi fukuzawa #edogawa ranpo #ranpo edogawa #fukuchi ouchi #ouchi fukuchi #random thoughts #analysis #mine

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy!

@jesstargaryenqueen @sailorsassley @sjmships @tomtenadia @endlessdaydream @aflickeringsoul @tillyrubes10 @fredweasleyhasadhd @rowaelin-cressworth @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @rowaelinismyotp @rosegoldannie @maryberry @viajandosinalas @becarefuloflove @allthebooksunderthemoon @sheharahu @swankii-art-teacher @superspiritfestival 

Chapter Fifteen ~ Bridges

Chapter Fourteen ~ Chapter Sixteen

The air was cold and the snow whipped around Aelin’s face as she made her way through the forest to the gate that lead to the city. She had debated using her old shortcut across the river, but it had felt too much like old habits. 

Rowan walked by her side, his body a solid presence beside her. He had not said a word since they had left, she had figured it was nothing to do with her but more to do with seeing Sam — who had not made a good first impression on the fae male. 

Their footsteps crunched in the snow and Aelin was thankful for her flame in times like these. Rowan seemed unfazed by the cold wind that blew around them— she supposed with his ice magic he was used to it. 

The gate had been left open, the wind banging it against the post. Rowan held it open for her and she slipped through. Rowan was a couple of steps behind her but she could feel his gaze on her. She twirled round and stopped. 

“You don’t have to do this. I can go alone.” 

He shook his head. “You’re not going alone.” He stepped around her and continued towards Orynth. 

Aelin jogged to catch up with him, pushing her hair from her face. “Nothing will happen. He’s not going to do anything. I can also protect myself.” 

“I’m not worried about that. I know you can protect yourself.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Then why are you coming? Sam is going to think—“ She paused. 

“What?” Rowan stopped in his tracks.

“You’re jealous.” Aelin made her way to stand in front of him. “You don’t want me to be alone with Sam.” 

“Can I not just accompany my mate somewhere without being questioned?” 

Aelin laughed. “Of course. But you don’t have to lie to me, I actually find it sweet.” 

He glared at her. “It’s not sweet and I’m not here because I’m jealous.” 

Aelin began walking ahead. “Whatever you say, Rowan.” 

He growled and grasped her arm to spin her around. “I’m not jealous. I just can’t stand the thought of you alone with him after how he made you feel and what he said.” 

Aelin tried not to smile at his protectiveness. 

“I don’t know why you look so happy about this.” 

She nudged his side. “Because I kind of like protective Rowan, it’s a new side to you.” Aelin wrapped her arm through his own. “But you don’t have to feel worried about Sam, he’s harmless. Our romantic ship has sailed and what he said to me… it was probably warranted — considering everything.” 

He let out a hmph but held her closer. “I still don’t like how he spoke to you. And I know nothing romantic is going on, but if it was me going to see someone I had been intimate with, would you be totally okay with it?”

Aelin didn’t have a response to that. He was right. She hated the thought of Rowan being with anyone else, or even being in the same room as a woman he had bedded before. 

“We’ve only been mated for a few weeks Aelin, the first years can be volatile for a male. So you have to be patient with me.” 

Aelin didn’t respond. Houses and small shops started to line the streets as they made their way further into Orynth. The snow was heavier than before, the flakes settling on the cobbled path, the sky dark with clouds. 

“Maybe you should wait outside whilst I go in.” 

They had stopped outside of the library, the familiar oak door, the sign above, it felt odd to be here during the day— Aelin had been so used to sneaking here in the dead of night, praying that no one would spot her as she crept through the streets of Orynth. Aelin tried not to dwell on the wave of sorrow that went through her. She hadn’t realised she missed it as much as she did. Sam knew her as well as anyone, and she hadn’t realised she missed talking and laughing with him. She lost a friend in the process and it tore at her. She stared at the door a moment longer before turning herself to Rowan. 

“I won’t be long.” She raised herself onto her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on Rowan’s mouth. “I love you.” 

Rowan’s lips lingered on hers a moment longer before he pulled away. 

It was still early in the day and she knew the library would be quiet for a while longer. She hesitated slightly before stepping inside and she sighed at the familiar scent of old books, she took a moment to take it in. It was still one her favourite smells, it felt like a warm embrace. 

She couldn’t see anyone inside, the towering bookshelves obscured most of the space; the dark wooden shelves reaching almost to the ceiling, ladders lining those same shelves. It felt like years since she had been here, but it had been less than two months, the thought was jarring— it had been so little time since she had been here… and yet how fast things had changed. 

She heard the shuffling of feet somewhere further into the library and her heart began beating faster, her palms becoming sweaty as she anticipated the meeting. 

She hadn’t forgotten the last time they had spoken. The way he had looked at her, grovelling on the floor, Aelin begging him not to walk away, the look of utter disgust in his eyes. His parting words to her still stung, and yet there was a sense of anticipation in seeing him again. She took in a long breath and continued forward, stopping when Sam’s figure emerged from an aisle, his face obscured in the shadows. He didn’t see her straight away, his hands full of books as he scanned a different shelf. 

She hesitated momentarily. 

“Hey, Sam.”

He stilled, his head turning to observe her. His hair was messy and she could see small clumps of dust from where he’d been digging through piles of old books. She stepped closer to him, giving him a small smile as she did. 

“Do you have time to talk?” She brushed her hand down the spine of a book as she spoke.

Sam paused before placing the books on the trolley that had been sat to the side of him. 

“It won’t take long, but it’s important.” 

He looked out behind her, his eyes narrowing at what he saw outside. She turned to look as well. Rowan stood with his arms crossed against the pillar, his eyes locked on Sam. 

Sam cleared his throat once. “Have you come to finish what Aedion started?” 

Aelin felt her shoulders drop. “Of course not. I actually need your help.” 

He turned to walk away, Aelin trailing behind him. 

“I’m busy.” 

She scoffed. “You look it.” 

“I’m sorry if I don’t feel inclined to come to your rescue Aelin. Everything considered, I think I’m being polite.” 

Aelin caught his wrist before he walked away again. “Please Sam. Just five minutes.” 

He brought his other hand to where she held his wrist and pried her hand off, shoving it away. “I said no. Please just go.” 

“Sam…” 

“I said get out.” His voice rose as he spoke. His hand shaking slightly as he pointed to the door. “I don’t want to ever see you again, do you understand? Get out of my Gods-damned store and don’t ever think of coming here again.” 

The sound of the shop bell rang out in the quiet and heavy footsteps followed. 

“You dare speak to her like that?” Aelin didn’t have time to stop Rowan as he stormed toward Sam. “I’ve told you once before and I will say it again. Watch how you speak to your future queen.” 

“Rowan.” Aelin hissed. 

“So you came to rub it in my face?” Sam scoffed. “I never took you as the type to do such a thing. But I guess there were a lot of things I was wrong about with you.”

Rowan let out a growl. “You are out of line.” 

Aelin tried to shove Rowan away, but he stayed firmly where he was. His eyes never leaving Sam’s. 

“Sam listen to me. It’s Lysandra.” Sam briefly looked to her, his brows rising slightly. “She’s the one that needs your help. But she couldn’t be here to ask herself.” 

Sam backed off slightly, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. “Send your guard dog home and I’ll consider listening to what you have to say.” 

Aelin glanced at Rowan, giving a brief nod of her head. She wasn’t in danger, and having Rowan here was making everyone more tense than necessary. 

“I won’t be far.” 

Sam gave a sarcastic smile. “I’m sure you won’t.” 

Aelin gave Rowan another weary look, trying to hasten his exit. When the door slammed closed she let out a breath. She could see Sam assessing the situation once more, he watched intently as Rowan walked down the street and then disappearing into the alley. 

“Can we sit?” Aelin asked hopefully.

“No. You can talk to me here.” 

Aelin let out a huff and found a stool to perch on anyway whilst Sam stood leaning against a wall, his arms crossed and looking anywhere but at her. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him— it was not why she had come. 

“Why does Lysandra need help?” 

Aelin hesitated slightly before coming out with it. “She’s pregnant. And she doesn’t want anyone in the palace knowing about it, and there’s nowhere else she can go where it can be kept a secret.” 

“And why would it be any better here? Surely the same problems arise no matter where she goes.” He shifted his arms to his side and stood up straighter. “Can’t she just marry whoever the father is?” 

Aelin shrugged. “Maybe. But you know Lysandra, she doesn’t want to burden anyone and I don’t think she feels like she is good enough for them.” 

Sam gave her a curious look. “Who’s the father, Aelin?” 

“I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you. But Aedion is the father.” 

Sam let out a short laugh. “Not a surprise at all.” He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, stretching out his legs. “I don’t see why they couldn’t just get married. Lysandra is basically your sister, everyone loves her.” 

“Not everyone loves her. There are a lot of people who would be opposed to the marriage— especially now…” She trailed off, not sure how to continue. 

“You can say it.” 

She thought for a moment. “Especially now that I can be of no use to marry for an alliance. A lot of the lords are hoping Aedion will marry a foreign princess and make alliances instead. Convincing them to give Aedion and Lysandra their blessing will be hard.” 

“I still fail to see where I come into this.” 

“Lysandra just wants somewhere to lay low for a while. But we need her to be within reach of healers and we need to be able to see her without suspicion… and you were the best idea we came up with. Or actually, the best idea Rowan came up with.” 

Sam shook his head. “He probably just wants to keep a closer eye on me. Make sure I don’t start moving in on you.” 

Aelin couldn’t help the redness in her cheeks. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re too good of a man to try and steal someone away.”

“Or not enough of a man to keep them in the first place.” 

Aelin was silent for a moment. “You know that’s not true.” 

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have you anymore, so I’d say it is.” 

“You were the last person I wanted to hurt.” Her voice somber. 

He shrugged. “I think we both knew things were coming to an end anyway. I couldn’t be what you needed. I was making you give up too much to be with me, and it was unfair to do that.” 

Aelin slid off the stool and onto the floor next to him. “You have no idea how much I wanted the life you told me about. To travel the world and have a family, live on a little farm with our animals, living completely free. I wanted it all.” She played with the hem of her sleeves. “I had so many arguments with my parents about not wanting to be the heir, begging them to give it to Aedion or to Elide. I was so in love with you, Sam, and it pains me that I couldn’t give you the life you wanted either.”  She glanced to the side, Sam was already staring back at her. His eyes turning watery. “I wanted to tell you about Rowan. I had planned a whole speech and was going to explain everything to you.” 

He wiped at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to be so cruel that night. I was angry because I’d foolishly thought I could come to you and convince you that we were it, that it didn’t matter about ranks or thrones or any of that— I was going to try and sweep you off your feet and hope you would change your mind.” Sam closed his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face. “I think we were doomed from the start, weren’t we?” 

She gave him a half smile. “Maybe,” she leant forward. “But if I could go back… I would never change any of it. You made me very happy Sam, and I will be grateful that I was able to be loved by you.”

Sam looked at her then, studying her face for a moment. “It was an honour to be loved by you, too. It really was.” He smiled at her, a smile she hadn’t seen in a long time. “He better treat you right. Or I’ll have no choice but to beat him.” 

Aelin laughed, a deep hearty laugh. “He’s certainly no match for you Sam.” 

Sam laughed too and the two of them laughed together, just like they had before. And when they managed their composure, their laughs giving way to silence, Sam stood and offered his hand to Aelin; she took it gladly, savouring the touch, remembering the feel of his hand in hers. 

“Lysandra can stay here for as long as she likes. You and Aedion are welcome to visit whenever you want. But maybe you can leave Rowan behind… I’m not sure I’m ready for that just yet.” 

Aelin nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Sam.” She didn’t give him time to stop her as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Nuzzling her head into his neck like she used to, breathing in his scent. “You don’t know how much it means to me.” 

Sam wrapped his arms around her, squeezing gently. “I would do anything for you, Aelin.” 

She pulled away. “I know. And if there’s ever anything you need…” 

Sam smiled in reply. “I guess you better get going,” he nodded in the vague direction of Rowan. “Don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

Aelin snorted. “I’m sure he’ll survive.”

“Should I expect Lys this evening?” 

“She’ll be here before dinner I imagine. I’ll stop by tomorrow and let you know the details of what will happen.” She paused before the door. “You just have to say the word and we’ll figure something else out. I know this is a huge imposition on you.” 

Sam just shook his head. “It’s fine. It’ll be nice to have some company around here for once.” 

Aelin pulled the door open and the cold winter air wrapped itself around her. The snow was falling faster and the streets were covered in a thick blanket of white now. “I’ll see you soon.” She lifted a hand in farewell and stepped into the frigid winter air. 

She paused a moment, composing herself before finding Rowan. She was relieved that Sam was okay. That he wasn’t angry at her, and that they were able to be civil. Perhaps in time they’d find their way back to friends— but she wouldn’t push it. 

She found Rowan waiting in an alley a couple of streets down from the library. She had followed his scent, finding him leaning against a brick wall, inspecting a dagger she had not realised he had been carrying. 

“I hope you put that away when people come past.” 

He twirled the dagger between his fingers before slipping it into the inside of his jacket. “I know how to behave in front of people, Aelin.” He pushed off the wall and ran his gaze over her. “You’re okay?” 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “I told you he wouldn’t hurt me.” She still slipped her hand into his own and pulled them toward the street. “Everything is fine. Lysandra can stay there as long as she likes. I’ll inform my healer that she’ll be needing to make a trip into the city every couple of weeks, and come up with something to tell Orlon and the other court members.”

Rowan looked skeptical. “This plan works fine until she actually has the child. How do you explain then?” 

“By the time she has the baby we will have thought of something. Perhaps they’ll get married and then it won’t be a problem.” 

“I thought you said the lords would never approve a marriage between them?”

“I can be quite persuasive.” 

Rowan didn’t say anything as they walked through the streets of Orynth. Aelin stopped at one shop to pick up Lysandra’s favourite chocolates and snuck some for herself into the purchase. 

The streets were quiet as they meandered through. The snow enough to keep people away and inside their homes, huddling by the fires, if the smoke from the chimneys was anything to go by. 

Just as they were reaching the edge of the city, Rowan let go of her hand and exclaimed there was something he had to do, telling her to go ahead and he would see her at the palace. Aelin had narrowed her eyes at him and reluctantly agreed. Giving him a chaste kiss before returning. 

Even with her flame she was thankful for the warmth of the palace. The hallways were cast in a soft orange glow, the curtains drawn to reduce the cold that seeped in through the windows. The halls were unusually empty, much like the streets of Orynth, but she supposed on a day like today guests would be huddled in their rooms or in the many drawing rooms that dotted the palace. 

She shook off her damp cloak as she entered Lysandra’s rooms; hanging it by the fire in the hopes it would dry. The room was vastly different to her own, the colours more subdued, the windows smaller, hidden behind shorter cream curtains. Touches of Lysandra were thrown in here and there — a blanket that her mother had made when she was a baby was thrown across the end of the bed, a rug of dark red lay across almost the entire floor and the trinkets she had collected from various cities, lined along the mantel.

“Did it go okay?” Sat on the two chairs near the flames were Aedion and Lysandra. Her cousin was holding Lysandra’s hands in his own, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

Aelin took a seat on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. “Everything is good. He was happy to have you stay as long as you pleased.” 

They both let out a sigh of relief at the news. “Thank you.” Aedion was helping Lysandra to her feet. “We’ll head there now. I’ll try to be back for supper.” 

Aelin stood with them, her eyes going to Lysandra who’s face was pale, a thin sheen of sweat lining her forehead. 

“Lys? Are you okay?” 

She nodded. “Probably just morning sickness.” She turned to Aedion who had a bag in one and her cloak in the other. “Can you give us a moment?” 

“I’ll be outside.” 

Lysandra moved to the edge of the bed, placing herself down. Aelin wordlessly joined her, the two of them sitting and watching as the snow floated down outside. 

“You don’t have to go Lys. We can figure it all out here… You won’t show for a while yet.” 

Lysandra just shook her head. “It’s easier if I’m not here. I don’t want people talking, and I don’t want to have to deal with the looks of pity I’ll get.” 

Aelin scoffed. “If anyone did that, they’d have me to contend with.” 

Lysandra managed a small smile. 

“Sam will take good care of you. He was happy for the company.” 

“Thank you for going. I know how things were left…” 

“It’s all good now Lys. We talked a little and I think we have accepted how things are.” 

Lysandra fiddled with her sleeves, the silence stretching a little too long before she began to speak. “I know you must think I’m being difficult or crazy for not just marrying Aedion and that I’m making a fuss about not wanting people to find out,” she took a breath. “But I see the way people look at me. The way they whisper as I walk past. It doesn’t matter that I’m friends with you or if Aedion and I are together, they’ll still only look at me as the orphaned servant girl who got lucky.” 

“Lys—“ 

“I could marry a king and they would still look at me like I am nothing. All I can think of is if it’s like this now, then what will they say when I start showing? When I have the baby? Not only that, but the Lords of Terrasen would never agree to let me marry Aedion anyway— so it’s never been about whether I want to or not. I know I am not good enough for him, and it’s easier if I just go somewhere else for a while and make this whole thing easier.” 

“Do you think Aedion gives a shit what everyone else says? Do you think I give a shit what they say?” When Lysandra didn’t respond, Aelin continued. “You worry about what people will think, how Terrasen will be if you married him but I can promise you, it will survive. Do you think Orlon would’ve married Darrow if he knew that it would ruin Terrasen?” 

“That’s different.” 

“Maybe so. But you have to know that you have people on your side. If you change your mind about this all, we’ll do our best to support you.” 

“Thank you.” Lysandra paused a moment. “You can tell Orlon. He has always been kind to me, and I trust that he’ll do what’s best for everyone.” 

“Everything will work out, just wait and see.”

Aelin embraced Lysandra, lingering a few moments longer before exiting the room with her. Snuffing out the flames with her magic as they closed the door.

Aedion was waiting on a bench just down the hall and as they approached he wrapped the cloak around Lysandra. He turned to Aelin, nodding once in acknowledgment for what Aelin had done. That conversation would come later. But for now, Aelin watched as they walked away, eventually disappearing. 

#rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #aelin ashryver #aelin and rowan #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #sarah j maas #sjm #sjmaas #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #kingdom of ash #tower of dawn #throne of glass fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #lysaedion #Lysandra #aedion ashryver #lysandra x aedion #only you #only you fanfic

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (5/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

ao3 : beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

-/-

Emma likes seafood.

She likes seafood, but she mostly eats like a ten-year-old boy. Apparently, there’s a little place near her house called Granny’s where she devours grilled cheese and onion rings like arteries aren’t a thing. It makes him laugh when she tells him because she eats how he’s always dreamed of eating. The only time he ever gets the chance is when he’s with his nieces and they convince him to get them food Elsa and Liam never let them get.

She also likes 80’s music, has been working at the Blue Dog for over half a decade, prefers her kickboxing classes to cycling ones, and her favorite color is blue.

That last one was a bit of a throwaway question, but he asked it anyway. Then, of course, he made sure to let her know that his eyes were blue. He got an eye roll and a ‘shut up’ for that before she started rolling her hips again. It was damn distracting, but he didn’t stop laughing at how frustrated she was that he wasted his one personal question a day on that.

One personal question a day.

It’s childish, but he thinks it works. It keeps the line between them defined. He knows what this is, has done it enough times before to not be blind to it. They’re both visitors in each other’s lives. They have expiration dates, and when there’s an expiration date, there’s no harm in spending time together.

There’s no commitment, so there’s no hurt.

He’s not an expert on Emma Swan, no matter how much she fascinates him, but he gets the feeling she’s avoiding relationships just as much as he is. There is a past hurt there, a damned painful one, and if anyone gets that, it’s him.

But he doesn’t ask about that in his one question a day. He asks for her favorite color and food and if she’d rather hike uphill for 10 miles or swim for 20.

For the record, she’d rather hike because she could sit down and eat along the way.

“Would you look at that?” Emma says as she runs her hands under the water of the sink at the bar. “You, sitting at this bar, again.”

He slices his salmon with his knife and grins. “I tried that Granny’s place, but the food had too much grease. Met a rather charming waitress, though.”

“Let me guess. Red streak in her hair, boobs on full display, argued with the owner the entire time?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because that’s Ruby, my best friend.”

“Is she now?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Is that your personal question of the day?”

“Nope,” he says, taking a bite of his food. “I’m saving that for a later time.”

“A later time,” Emma repeats, like she’s considering the words. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the bar. “What makes you think you’re going to be seeing me at a later time? This isn’t enough for you?”

He looks around them and leans closer to her. “Too many clothes.”

Emma laughs, legitimately, and that feels surprisingly good. “I’m literally in a tank top and shorts. That’s about as dressed down as you can get.”

“I was talking about myself, actually. There are too many clothes on me, but it’s nice to know you think so highly of yourself.”

That gets him another laugh and a shake of her head, and he likes that too. He may have no real inclination to become overly attached to her, but he can at least admit to himself that he enjoys her company.

“Shut up.” Someone calls Emma’s name from across the restaurant, and she holds her arm up, putting up one finger. “I get off at The Oaks at eleven. I’ll drop by your place if I’m not too tired.”

“Why the hell are you working there so much?”

“I like the money. And, Jones, that counts as your personal question of the day. I’ll see you later...maybe.”

She grins and winks before walking away, and he swears she puts a little extra sway in her hips. Killian shakes his head as he feels his own smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What a bloody woman,” he whispers to himself before spearing another piece of his salmon.

-/-

“Right there,” she moans. “Like, seriously, right there. Don’t fucking change anything.”

Kilian smiles against her, but he’s quick to return to what he was doing. Emma’s legs tighten over his shoulders, her hands yank at the sheets, and as much as he is throbbing right now, it’s bloody glorious to have her like this. The filter is gone, so too are the reservations, and he gets a bit of satisfaction knowing this is him doing this to her.

His only skills aren’t on the football pitch after all.

He is definitely a bastard for thinking that right now, but he’s never claimed to be otherwise.

“Fuck,” Emma huffs after she comes down from her high. Her legs shiver over his shoulder, thighs tightening so all the sounds fade for a moment, but then her legs fall and all sounds come back in screaming color. “What did I do to deserve that so early in the morning?”

“It’s ten, love.”

“Yeah, that’s early on my day off.”

Killian laughs and kisses the inside of Emma’s thigh before making his way up her body, planting a final one underneath her collarbone before he collapses on his side of the bed and pulls the sheets above his waist.

“It’s not early for the rest of the world.” He smiles, which she doesn’t appreciate, and she sinks further into the bed, yanking the covers over her. He can still see her flushed cheeks and the slightest content smile on her face. “You should try it sometime. See the sunrise, dodge early morning joggers, eat breakfast at a normal time.”

“Trust me, I’m usually up early enough to want to drive into the early morning joggers while I have a Pop Tart hanging out of my mouth. My summer schedule is just...it’s different than usual.”

He has questions about that. It’s something she’s alluded to before, but he doesn’t know if she’ll count that as his question of a day.

He’s thirty-five years old, and he doesn’t know if he can ask the woman he’s sleeping with more than one question about her life. He knows he’s fucked up a lot, but this seems to be the culmination of several screw ups in his own life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that. Well, no, he has all the time in the world, but lately, the boredom has dissipated, the loneliness too.

Lately, he’s got a damn good distraction, and he’s not about to fuck that up.

Emma flips over on her side, her hair a wild, curly mess. She used his pool last night and didn’t wash her hair after. It’s made it even crazier than usual. He thinks he likes it. Makes her seem less reserved.

His phone rings on his bedside table, and he leans over to pick it up.

“Hello, darling.” Emma’s brow raises, but he ignores her. “How are you?”

“Good,” Elsa says. “We’re all good. The girls are in the garden right now, running around and getting all their energy out. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

“I’ve been...busy.”

Emma’s hand finds his thigh, and his leg jumps before steadying. She is not about to do what he thinks she’s about to do. Bloody hell.

“Busy?” Elsa asks, as Emma’s hand walks a little closer to his groin. “Doing what? Have you made friends?”

“Why do you always ask me that like I’m a child?”

“Because you’re basically my baby brother.” Killian laughs and then hisses as Emma’s hand wraps around him. She smirks, obviously satisfied with herself, and he knows she’s doing it for the reaction above anything else.

Tease.

He doesn’t mind.

Except this is a poor idea.

“I believe I’m actually older than you.”

“Semantics.”

He laughs again, and Emma’s hand starts working a little more. Fuck. He needs her to stop, and even though she’s doing delicious things to him, she is looking away, acting as bored as can be. And maybe she is, but then he sees one corner of her mouth tick up.

“Mum, is that Killian?” he hears Ally ask, echoed by a squeal from Sophia, who is obviously having the time of her life. There’s a bit of a shuffle, some muted voices, and then his niece’s voice comes through. “When are you coming home?”

“Hello, Ally,” he says, his voice going high when Emma moves her thumb. “How is one of my favorite nieces doing?”

Emma immediately stops and yanks her hand away, practically falling off the bed. She catches herself and kicks up, moving the comforter up and nearly pulling it off him.

“What the actual fuck?” she whispers hisses, slapping him.

He ignores her as Ally asks again when he’s coming home.

“At the end of September, sweetheart,” he promises. “I’ll come home, and then I am going to kiss you right on the cheek.”

“Ew,” she complains, and he can imagine her nose scrunching.

“I also might give you a present.”

“I like that better.”

“Good. I thought you would.” he watches Emma get up and pull a t-shirt out of a drawer. It’s an old Man. United shirt, and he pretends that doesn’t do a damn thing to him, especially since she was just working him up a minute ago. “Listen, Ally, darling, will you hand the phone to your mum? I - ”

“Sophia, that is my hat! Do not wear it!”

And then the line goes dead, and he wonders how long it’ll be before Elsa gets back to her phone and calls him back.

“You let me do that to you while you were on the phone with your niece?” Emma mumbles, pulling the shirt down then pulling her hair into a mess of a knot on the top of her head. He’s not sure if she’s annoyed or amused. “I hate you.”

“Technically, at first it was my sister-in-law,” he corrects, tapping his head.

“That doesn’t make it any better.” Emma gets back in the bed, pulling the comforter all the way up to her chin, and then she shuffles a little further into the bed before sitting up against the headboard and groaning into her hands. “I am mortified.”

“I did stop you when Ally took the phone,” he points out before pulling at the arm of her shirt. “Nice shirt.”

Killian stands from the bed and walks toward his bathroom, grabbing his briefs along the way. “It’s comfortable,” Emma says. “Is this the team you played for?”

Killian stops, the tile cool against his feet, and then keeps moving, leaving the door cracked as he gets half dressed and starts brushing his teeth. As good as it was a few minutes ago, the mood is gone.

Especially now.

How the hell does she know he used to play football? And how long has she known that? Is that why...no, that couldn’t be why, but he knows that’s why a lot of women have.

“A long time ago,” he says, spitting out toothpaste. “I was with Chelsea when I retired.”

“Is that another team?”

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs, continuing to brush his teeth but sticking his head out of his bathroom door. “You didn’t know that?”

Emma shrugs as she types on her phone. “I don’t know anything about soccer. I only know you played because Ruby internet stalked you a few weeks ago and showed me your Instagram. I literally thought you were just one of those adults who is really into his hobbies.”

Killian nearly lets out a sigh, but he stops himself and turns back around to the sink to spit again before rinsing his brush. He looks up at the mirror. His hair is disheveled, there are lines around his eyes and on his forehead, and his stubble is growing to the point where a beard is beginning to form. He’ll shave later.

So Emma doesn’t know anything about football then. Or him, for that matter. He’s not sure he entirely believes her, that she didn’t look up any more about him, and he doesn’t like that uncertainty. Usually, when he meets someone, they have the upper hand and know the surface layer of all the dirty details of his life.

They usually don’t care to find out the real stories. Not that most of them redeem him in any way.

“Not a hobby,” he says, taming his hair with his hands. “It was a damn good job.” He leaves the bathroom and leans against the doorframe. “You ever play?”

She laughs and puts her phone down. “No.”

“Not even as a kid? Come on. I hear every lass in America plays as a kid.”

“Is that your question of the day?”

Damn. “No.” Killian walks toward the bed and puts his hands on either side of Emma’s head on the headboard, leaning in close. He sees her chest rise, and he smirks. “My question is to ask you to stay in bed with me all day. What do you say, Swan?”

She sits up, and her lips lightly brush against his mouth when she talks. “You should have asked me about the soccer because I was already planning on staying here the entire day.”

“Really now?”

“If we can get crepes delivered from this place that’s, like, ten minutes from here.”

Killian kisses her, long and slow until there’s heat simmering low in his belly. “As you wish.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t come over every night. Nor does he go to her place. But it seems that way as July rolls by, full of hot days that seem to linger forever. Killian finds himself busy during the days. Emma usually has work early in the mornings, so if she’s staying over, she leaves before eight. He doesn’t know how she has time to breathe working at both the Tavern and The Oaks, but she makes it work. When she leaves, he gets up and uses the gym in the basement of the house, going through his tried and true routines before he laces up his trainers and either runs on the beach or on the sidewalks through his little area of the vineyard. He finds the sidewalks are better for his knees, so he tends to stick with that and leaves walking on the beach for his afternoon phone calls with Elsa and the girls or Ariel and Eric.

It’s a routine, one that changes during the day, but for the first time since he got here, he doesn’t hate every damn day. He doesn’t spend his time actively having to try not drink or thinking about Liam or football. He practically buys out a local bookstore and goes through the novels faster than he has in years. He visits different restaurants, museums, goes along with some tourist activities he finds online, and he explores any shop that strikes his fancy.

And while his routine changes, there is one constant: he eats a meal at the Blue Dog Tavern.

At first, he thought Emma would kick him out for it, but now, she often comes and sits with him for a few minutes or sends him a drink from her office. He always sits in Ashley’s section and lets her talk about her growing belly even if he knows little about pregnancy, and he spends at least an hour eating and watching all the people around him.

It’s a hell of a lot better than the twenty-four-hour diners with sticky floors and bad coffee.

Killian shoves his keys in his pocket and pushes open the door to the Blue Dog. Marina greets him, telling him to seat himself anywhere in Ashely’s section, so he goes to his favorite booth and settles down. He can’t see the television from it, so it’s the perfect spot to completely escape from the world with no risk of his past showing up right before his eyes.

He may be feeling better, may be able to have a drink or too at night without wanting to have five more, but he knows he’s possibly only one bad day from it all coming undone, the thread unraveling faster than he can wind it back up.

“Tea or coffee today, Killian?” Ashley asks, notepad in hand.

“Tea, I think, but not the blasted stuff you gave me last time.”

She laughs and writes down his drink order. “Do you know what you want to eat already or should I come back?”

He hands her the menu. “The daily special and a side salad.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back with that as soon as possible.”

“No need to rush,” he says, smiling. “Is - ”

“She’s filling out orders for next week, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Ashley winks before walking away, and Killian wonders what the hell everyone in this restaurant thinks of him and Emma. It must be peculiar, but if he’s picked up anything from Emma, it’s that she likely doesn’t share much about her personal life with her employees. She surely won’t tell him that he’s the man she’s sleeping with for the summer, but they might pick up on that on their own.

The food here is good, but it’s not every day good.

He’s finished his salad and half of his sandwich when she comes out from the back. Today, she’s already in the black dress she wears to The Oaks, and her hair is pushed back into a ponytail. She looks exhausted, and unfortunately, the reason has nothing to do with him.

“I only have a second to say hi,” she says, sliding into the booth and grabbing a roll from the basket, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. “We are having an issue with our fish orders, and it’s an absolute nightmare.”

“That sounds like I won’t be ordering any fish this week.”

Emma takes another bite of her bread. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Do you want to come to my place tonight? I’m off at ten.”

“Sure.” He picks at the bread on his sandwich. “Though, the last time I was at your place, that damn crab pillow ended up in the bed, and I didn’t appreciate that.”

Her nose scrunches with her laugh. “I hate that thing too, but Ariel loves it.”

“You live in that house the entire year. Why don’t you redecorate it for your taste?”

Her shoulders tense, and she stops chewing before slowly starting again. He already knows this is going to be his personal question of the day. Sometimes she forgets about it and lets the conversation flow freely, but when he hits a nerve, she’s more on her guard.

He gets it. He can be the same way.

“Personal question,” she says, and he knows her better than he should. “And I’ve redone my bedroom and little bits in the kitchen and living room, but I don’t know. I guess I keep it how the Fishers have it because it’s their home. There are memories there, and I don’t want to take any of those away for when I do eventually get another place. It’s....it’s good to have a family home with memories.”

Killian arches his brow, but Emma looks away, picking at the roll again. He never really had a family home, not after his mum died and his dad became obsessed with using Killian’s football skills for his own fortune, but he likes that sentiment.

A family home with memories. Good ones. That would be the dream.

“What about you?” she asks, changing the subject before he can press further. “Aren’t you excited to get back to your place where all the stuff is yours? You’re living in a place that’s not your own, so I’m sure you’re ready to get back to your family.”

She doesn’t mean anything by it, but her words cut. He’s here because he lost the one person in his family who he was closest to, but he doesn’t want to talk about that, not now. This is supposed to be a good time. It isn’t supposed to be about dark histories.

“I’m enjoying my time here,” he answers honestly. “There’s this woman who is an absolute spitfire, and she’s been occupying most of my time. I’ve been, well, metaphorically tied up in bed too much to think of returning home.”

“Ha, ha,” she monotones with a roll of her eyes. “That’s not what I - ”

“Hi!”

They both turn, and Emma’s friend Mary Margaret is standing there, bouncing back and forth on her toes. “Hi, Marg,” Emma says. “You’re early.”

“I know. I got finished tutoring early, so I thought I’d drop by. I didn’t know you’d have...other company.”

“Nice to see you again,” Killian says, nodding at Mary Margaret.

“Yeah, nice to see you.” Mary Margaret seems hesitant, like she didn’t meet him weeks ago at dinner, and he wonders just how much she knows about his arrangement with Emma. From what he’s learned, they seem close, but he also knows Ruby is Emma’s more...accepting friend. “How are you?”

“I’m good, love. Just badgering Emma at work. I’m surprised she hasn’t kicked me out yet.”

“Annoy me a little too much, and I will.” Her ankle hooks with his under the table, and Killian bites his lip to keep from smiling too much. “So, what’s up, Marg? Why’d you want to drop by? Have you heard of this thing called phones?”

Mary Margaret chuckles before sliding into the booth next to Emma. Emma’s ankle unhooks from his, and he tucks his feet under the booth. “So, you know how David wants to have that big barbecue for all of our friends and neighbors?”

“Yeah, you guys do it every year because you’re insane.”

“Anyway,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, “we were wondering if we could get the Blue Dog to cater some of the sides. I know you guys don’t cater, but we could pay extra. Please.”

“You do know there are restaurants who do cater who could handle this?”

“Yes, but we love the food here. Killian gets it, right?”

“Uh, yes,” he mumbles, not sure what he’s supposed to say. From Emma’s death glare, he knows he’s chosen incorrectly. Bloody hell. “I love it.”

“Exactly,” Mary Margaret says. “We’ll pay extra. Promise. In tips so the staff can get it instead of the owners.”

Emma sighs and sinks into the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. “I need to know the order at least two weeks ahead of time, and it’s going to take me some time to figure out how much you guys need to pay.”

“Ahhhh, perfect!” Mary Margaret hugs Emma before sliding out of the booth. “You’re the best! I can’t wait to call David! Oh, and Killian, you should come too. It’s on August 14th. We’d love to have you there.”

Killian scratches his ear and nods, flashing her a tight smile. He doesn’t think Emma would welcome him at a party full of her friends, so he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable no matter how nice it might be to be in a large group of people.

“He’ll be there,” Emma says, surprising him, and he feels her toe tap his shin. “If he can make it, of course. You know, he has a very busy social calendar.”

“I wonder why that is, darling.” He winks, making Emma smile, and he taps his toes into hers right back. “I’ve heard you keep pretty busy as well.”

Emma’s mouth gapes before closing, and her green eyes widen, lashes nearly hitting against her brows. “Ass.”

“Well, I know you like - ”

“Okay.” Mary Margaret claps her hands together. “I’ve got to go. Emma, I’ll send you the menu after I talk to David tonight. And Killian, we really would love to have you there.”

“I’ll see,” he says as he fights to keep from smiling too widely. “May I recommend the cheddar bites for the menu. They’ll kill you, but you’ll enjoy it.”

“I have never once seen you get the cheddar bites,” Emma scoffs.

He leans over the table, pressing his chin in his hand and smirking the way he knows she likes. She tells him he’s obnoxious when he does it, but sometimes he can see past that hard shell exterior. “I’m full of surprises, darling.”

“That you are, Jones. That you are.”

-/-

-/-

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#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Soulmate September

Series Summary- a collection of one shots exploring different ships and au concepts. The list I created and am following can be found here.

Day Three: A Storm of Stars

 Summary: Soul tattoos don’t fill in until the other person knows without a doubt that their partner is the one, when everything they are become so ingrained in each other’s lives that their souls become entwined. For Virgil and Logan, this doesn’t happen until well after they’ve been married. When the moments do arrive however, they both know they could never be happier.

Warnings: none, If there are any please let me know!

Ships: Analogical (Virgil x Logan)

Prompt: Tattoo that becomes colorful once you meet soulmate

WC: 2645

AO3

Logan’s eyes snapped open as a loud crack of thunder shook the house, rain pelting against the roof and making the tiles creak. His popping joints added to the symphony as he stretched his way into a sitting position. Reaching over to the bedside drawer he fumbled a bit before finding the small remote and clicking on the web of fairy lights strung in the far corner, immediately bathing the room in a pleasant blue glow. He flipped his pillow over to the cool side and took a second to fluff the other pillow a bit, moving it over to be closer to his and smoothing the bedsheets. 

The motions were automatic after so many years of practice, going back to he and Virgil’s first sleepover when they were still guaranteed a juicebox and cookies after school. It had stormed then too, Logan waking up to find his bed crowded with a shaking Virgil and his trusty stuffed tiger, who though was quite courageous had realized she was no match for a storm and had convinced her charge to seek shelter with Logan instead. Smiling softly at the memory Logan settled down to wait. He knew as his husband had grown older he wasn’t afraid of storms anymore so much as his anxiety ran with endless possibilities of what they could do to them or the house- which Logan was often inclined to agree with but played his role of devil’s advocate for the sake of Virgil’s well-being.

Right as he was beginning to wonder if he should leave to go and collect Virgil, the floorboards in front of his door squeaked in protest. A moment later a figure bulky with sweatpants and a hoodie slouched into the room, quickly shutting the door behind him and practically diving into the bed and under the blankets. The bed springs creaked along with the roof tiles as they both fidgeted and fussed trying to get comfortable, Logan biting back a small laugh as Virgil nosed his way underneath his chin. His soft hair tickled Logan’s lips as he pressed a kiss to the top of his head and wrapped his arms around him. Finally they were still, Virgil’s breathing slowly matching his own as he made sure to take deep calming breaths.

The rain was already quieting, the storm moving on and leaving the two night owls to their bubble of peaceful warmth. Logan readjusted slightly as Virgil snuggled in further, hoodie sleeves riding up as he snaked his arms around his waist in an attempt to pull them closer. Logan did laugh at this, planting another kiss firmly on the other’s forehead.

“I think if you squeezed any tighter we’d fuse, stormcloud. How are we supposed to compose an email when our absence excuse would be cuddling too hard?”

“No such thing,’” Virgil mumbled. “I’ll cuddle you as hard as I want and they’re just gonna haftadealwibit.”

The last half of the sentence trailed off into near indecipherable gibberish but Logan understood well enough. “You are exceptionally adorable when you’re tired. As much as I hate that storms cause you anxiety, I'm glad that nothing else has changed.”

He grinned as the side of his neck where Virgil’s face was pressed against warmed and quietly congratulated himself through the disappointment that he couldn’t currently see Virgil’s crimson face. ‘Still got it’ he thought to himself as he wiggled a bit to try and find a comfortable spot where Virgil’s rather bony arms weren’t poking into his ribs, failing miserably until he managed a sigh. “I’m sorry stormcloud, I’m getting a bit of a cramp. Why don’t you lay on top of me instead; that’s comfortable for you as well isn’t it?”

Humming in confirmation, Virgil leaned back and let Logan flip onto his back. A moment later he let out a small groan of surprise as Virgil flopped solidly onto him, burrowing into his chest and holding Logan tight by his sides. Smiling, he brought the blankets up over them both and carefully tucked them in, bringing his arms out and resting them on Virgil’s shoulders to make sure it didn’t slide off. 

“Thank you for always doing this.” Logan scrunched his brow at the frustrated tone in Virgil’s voice. “And don’t you dare say ‘why wouldn’t I’ because you always ask and I always say it’s because I’m too old to be afraid of storms and then you logic your way around me because I’m too tired to argue. This is just something I always thought I’d grow out of.”

“Sometimes we grow out of fears, sometimes not. The ones that linger aren’t something you can help or should blame yourself for.” Getting no response other than a frustrated huff, Logan continued, beginning to hum and rub soothing circles on his back. “Whether the fear is rational or not- and whether or not the threat is real- I will always be here to protect and support you however you need. Seeing as I’m not exactly in the best shape for fighting crime or fending off rabid dogs, comforting you through a storm is something that I love that I’m able to do. And I will continue to love doing it because I love you and would rather you be here with me seeking comfort than by yourself too stubborn to ask for help.”

“Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“You’re making it really hard to be edgy and self-deprecating right now.”

“Heaven forbid.”

Virgil snorted, knocking the top of his head gently into Logan’s chin until Logan sighed in mock exasperation, craning his neck to kiss him softly on the forehead so he’d settle back down. As he laid his head back down onto his chest a warm, tingling sensation spread from underneath Virgil’s cheek and covered his collar bone and part of his shoulder. Gasping he nudged the other up, poking more insistantly when the stubborn emo refused to disentangle himself. Ignoring Virgil’s confused look as he made to pull off his shirt he practically whipped it across the room and placed a hand to his soul mark, eyes shining as he took in the sight. 

His mark had always looked so odd to him, big blobs of shapes over his right shoulder and collar bone with jagged black scars streaking from them and down his chest. He could never even begin to picture what it could be, though a friend suggested once that it might be a warped forest of some sort, doubtful as his tone had been. Instead, his warm fingers traced over jagged streaks of lightning, such a bright purple they nearly glowed in the dark. The blobs above them had filled in with every shade of gray he had ever seen, broken occasionally by shadows of purple and blue where the lightning was. It was unexpectedly beautiful, his vision blurring with tears as he realized what this meant.

“I always knew.” He looked up as Virgil spoke in a hushed whisper. “I always- but you just felt so safe and you never...you always make me feel better about it and so safe and I guess-”

Logan opened his arms and Virgil gratefully dove back into them, catching his cheek with a kiss on the way down. They resettled quickly, the rain nothing more than a gentle patter against the roof letting them rest easy. Cracking an eye open, Logan strained to look down as Virgil laughed and held him tighter.

“Of all the things that keep me up at night, I’m so glad I was right about this.”

Logan smiled and hugged him closer in turn. “I agree.”

----- -----

Virgil sat up slowly, blanket falling from his shoulders and pooling around his waist as he struggled to cross his legs in the tangle. After a minute of failing miserably he huffed and flopped back, kicking both legs up as far as they would go while catching the blanket on the bottom of his feet and then kicking forward violently to dislodge them. Unfortunately the trick failed, landing more fabric between his legs and scrunching his pants uncomfortably in the process. Scissoring his legs just twisted everything around more and by the time he was halfway through attempting bicycles the situation was hopeless enough he considered just going back to sleep and dealing with it when he woke up. He had closed his eyes to do just that when he heard a muffled snort from the doorway, picking his head up to peer at Logan through squinted eyelids.

“Would you like some assistance?” Logan asked while making a half-hearted attempt to school his features.

Huffing, Virgil flopped his head back onto the pillows. “Clearly I have everything under control.”

“Falsehood. Your wiggling was very impressive but the blankets quite obviously won in the end. Was falling back to sleep after a ten hour nap and a failed battle the plan from the start?”

“No one likes a smartass Lo.”

“And yet your love for me persists.” Smiling lightly, Logan made his way to the side of the bed and climbed on, swinging his legs up and over Virgil’s stomach and plopped down gently with his hands splayed over his chest. Grunting out pseudo complaints Virgil reached up and took both of the hands in his own, giving each a kiss in turn before settling them back just below his collarbones. The sight of Logan blushing- bright enough to be visible even in the dim room- was one he would never grow tired of.

“Illogical as it may be.” He agreed. “Is that why you love your darling husband? I’m your most difficult logic puzzle that’s guaranteed to last a lifetime?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “No, that’s absurd. I love my husband because a pain in the ass though he may be- he’s a constant I find myself unable to live without.”

Feeling his own face heating up Virgil longed for his hoodie to hide in, especially once Logan’s expression turned smug from rendering him speechless. “Logan, it’s much too early for you to be this smooth.”

“Virgil, my love, it’s seven in the evening.”

Virgil blinked. “Wow. you weren’t kidding when you said ten hour nap.”

“I never kid. It’s important to be one hundo percent, one hundo percent of the time.”

“Who gave you that one?”

“Patton.”

“Yeah, maybe don’t trust the dad-friend for flashcards, starlight.’

Flushing slightly, Logan disentangled their fingers and rolled off the bed. “Duly noted. Now please get up, we have plans.”

“We do- ah!” Virgil found himself face down in his pillow, having flipped around with Logan’s rather aggressive flourish of snapping the blankets out from around his legs. Remembering that they had, in fact, had plans for the night, Virgil rolled out of bed as quickly as he could with apologies already hot on his tongue. “Logan I’m so sorry I thought that was tomorrow and I had stayed up late for stupid reasons and I hope we aren’t running late do I have time to change-”

“Virgil, breathe.” Logan cupped a hand to his cheek and gently ran a thumb under his eye. “I assure you we have plenty of time and I’m very glad you got the sleep you did. I would have liked you up earlier only to see your lovely face and to make sure your sleep schedule wasn’t ruined. But if you slept that long you must have needed it, and I certainly am not going to fault you for that.”

Closing his eyes, Virgil took a breath and held it for a second before breathing out slowly. Logan’s hand left his cheek and he caught himself leaning forward to chase the warmth, his resulting blush filling that void for the time being. 

“Do what you need and then come in the kitchen; I made fried noodles.”

More awake now than ever Virgil hurried to the bathroom. Logan’s cooking was the best he had ever had and he’d be damned if he was late for noodles.

-----

A cool breeze rustled through the thick grass and flipped over the corner of the blanket Logan and Virgil had set up an hour before. Sputtering, Virgil flipped it back from his face, spitting bits of dandelion fluff out of his mouth in the process while pointedly ignoring Logan’s snicker. He pushed his hoodie closer to the corner to prevent further mishap and snuggled closer to his husband for warmth, head resting comfortably on one arm with his other wrapped around Logan’s shoulders. 

Logan lay on his side with his head on his shoulder, the bottom of his cheek pressed into the still black soulmark that traced a shapeless blob from the top of his elbow to the nape of his neck. Soulmarks filled in based on the other soulmates feelings- when they truly felt like they had found the one. Of course that was a romantic conspiracy for the most part and to Virgil it seemed to go against the entire idea of fate. If you could choose your own, then what was the point of the marks? 

Choosing not to think about it for the time being, he continued staring up at the sky. The night was clear and this far out not much light pollution tainted their view of everything the night had to offer. Stars glittered for miles with barely there colorful space dust in between if you squinted. Logan had told him what it actually was once- something about it being high temperature nebula gas absorbing starlight- Logan had explained it much better in the past.

Logan always explained everything better.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Logan remarked.

“I’m sorry- just thinking.” 

“Mm, don’t be sorry.”

They laid in silence for a few more minutes before Virgil decided to speak up. “They always make me feel really small- stars I mean- and I know I am small compared to everything but all that just leads to...existential dread I guess. Seeing everything laid out, it’s beautiful, but it’s also a bit daunting.”

“Virgil, if you’re uncomfortable-”

“Lemme finish first before you do the sweet thing you do where you overanalyze everything for the sake of everyone else’s comfort.” Seeing Logan smile and roll his eyes he continued. “I always feel small looking at them, but it never matters because you make me feel big. Like I could take on the entire world even when the anxiety’s being a bitch.”

He felt Logan smile against his arm...and then it started to tingle. Tiny pinpricks raced up and down his arms from his shoulder to his neck and he quickly disentangled himself and started blindly slapping at his mark to get whatever bugs off that had decided to ruin the moment. Noticing Logan had his mouth covered with his eyes wide in shock staring at his arm he quickly looked down and gasped with his own.

His unsightly black blob of a soulmark, which he had long ago stopped trying to guess at the shape of, was now a glittering galaxy. Striking blue and dark purple swirled in intricate patterns behind stars that shined so brightly on his skin he would swear they had been plucked from the night sky and flicked onto him. The tingling finally stopped, the whole field seeming to hold its breath along with the both of them before Logan finally broke the silence with a hoarse whisper.

“In an entire universe I found you.” Snapping his head up, Virgil saw tears gathering in his husband’s eyes. “I was sure I already knew but- I’m so happy I found you.”

Laughing wetly Virgil dove forward, knocking them both over and half in the grass but neither could bring themselves to care. Under the stars, with Virgil himself wrapped in a galaxy, he had never been so happy to have an impossibly small space in Logan’s arms to call his own.

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#false writes #sander sides #soulmate september #ts soulmate september #virgil sanders #logan sanders #analogical #my witing

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH90

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 90: Return to the Village of Dusk (I)

[Player Qi Leren has completed the task “The Queen’s Inheritance”. Task completion is 150%.]

[A reward of 200 survival days is given; For capturing the Devil of Slaughter’s avatar a reward of 100 survival days is given; The total number of survival days awarded is 300 days.]

[Data synchronization countdown, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, synchronization completed.]

　　

　　&&&

　　

The aroma of coffee wafted through the office, and Celia, the chief person in charge of the Court’s headquarters in the Underground Ant City, held her forehead after listening to Qi Leren’s report, and gave a long sigh: "Fortunately, it was you, otherwise the Illusionist would be in trouble, and perhaps the whole Underground Ant City would have become a vassal of Utopia."

The Illusionist snorted coldly, but instead of making sarcastic remarks, he looked at Qi Leren and Ning Zhou sincerely and said, "I owe you one favor... The bastard Prophet must have known something would happen! He didn't even mention it to me!"

Qi Leren knew that this was true. With the Prophet's skill of foreseeing the future, he probably knew that the Illusionist would encounter danger when he went on this business trip, but it could still be avoided.

The Illusionist snorted again, and began to gush out how much his teacher had cheated his three students.

"Want to drink some? A little bitter?" Seeing that Ning Zhou hadn't been talking, sitting beside him silently, Qi Leren took the coffee and poked his arm with his elbow.

Ning Zhou looked at the coffee that had been passed to him, lowered his head and took a sip from Qi Leren’s hand: "It's too bitter."

Qi Leren took another sip: "It is a bit."

If there were no other people here, Qi Leren would have the urge to kiss Ning Zhou, and then flirt with him: Look, it would be sweet to kiss.

In the "Queen’s Inheritance" task, the two people were so blessed that they generally began to understand their hearts. The original estrangement melted quickly after their two kisses, and they suddenly realized that the boundaries between lovers were different from those of friends. Just like now, the two people sitting in Celia's office actually hooked their hands like nobody was watching, and distributed dog food* with their love.

*{E/N: PDA}

"Ahem, let’s continue to get down to business. When are you going back to the Village of Dusk? How will you deal with the captured Devil of Slaughter?" Celia felt the expanding "lovers' field" in the air and struggled to bring the atmosphere back to business before she suffocated.

"I handed over the Devil of Slaughter’s avatar to Ning Zhou." Qi Leren pursed his lips. His half-field had just taken shape. He was worried that the Devil of Slaughter could break out of the half-field, so he simply handed him over to Ning Zhou, who was more reliable. "As for returning to the Village of Dusk... We have to delay for a few days. We have to wait for Aya's inheritance ceremony to be completed, and she invited us to watch the ceremony."

The new Dragon Ant Queen had been born, and the next step would be to hold a grand ceremony for her by her household, announcing to the residents of the whole Underground Ant City and even the whole Nightmare World that there was a strong new field-level person here.

"It seems that the position of the new Queen will be more inclined to us, which is a good thing," Celia said.

"Come on, people don't even know which direction the door to the Court opens. She’s just an ordinary little girl. Maybe in the future she’ll look towards the Devil of Fraud at and follow him." The Illusionist said with a look of disdain.

When he heard the Devil of Fraud’s name, Qi Leren suddenly remembered his agreement with Su He.

Now, he had been promoted to a half-field. If he found the laptop again, he would have to hand over the computer loaded with the Nightmare Game to Su He… Although the contract at that time hadn't really taken effect because of his "cheating", how could he explain it to Su He?

Then don't explain it, Qi Leren thought. Anyway, the remaining survival days gained just now are enough, so don't do a copy for a while, and study hard for a while. He really had too many things to learn, especially the knowledge related to half-fields and fields.

But after this trip back, Chen Baiqi would certainly be surprised. Qi Leren imagined her surprised expression, and his heart was full of joy.

After going back, he should also prepare the ring for the marriage proposal. Ning Zhou's birthday was on the Village of Dusk’s founding day, and he was going to propose marriage on that day. Imagining Ning Zhou's surprise, his heart was even more excited.

Qi Leren couldn't help smirking, and received Ning Zhou's worried eyes and the Illusionist's disdainful sneer.

Celia tried to find a topic to save the atmosphere: "Illusionist, before you went to the Dragon Ant Queen’s royal palace, you went to the underground casino. What did you do?"

"Nothing, I saw someone on the road who looked like a fugitive I’d seen before. Oh, you should pay attention to that underground casino. At that time, I was in a hurry to go to the royal palace, so I didn't search carefully. That person is very similar to the remnants of the Slaughter Secret Society who escaped from the Village of Dusk, called Kathleen," The illusionist said.

"I see. Don't worry, Mrs. Kathleen has been arrested," Qi Leren said with a smile and looked at Ning Zhou.

Ning Zhou gave him a smile back, which was a rare response for a person with few other expressions.

Illusionist sitting on the side: So angry! A pair of gay men show their love in front of me like no one's watching! Can't stand it!

　　

　　&&&

　　

"Your Majesty's hair is really good, black and thick, and it looks good when combed," said the Dragon Ant Queen’s maid as she ran a comb through her hair.

Aya looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin was still brown. She had cried the night before because she learned that the Valentine tribe had been exterminated, and there were red ring lines around her eyes. She had seen her appearance in the water many times, but reflected in this luxurious bejeweled dressing mirror, she seemed to be different from the past.

What was the difference? Was it the precious earrings that adorned her earlobe? Was it her complicated and gorgeous extravagant dress? Or the scepter that belonged to the Queen in her hand?

After stripping away these things that she didn't deserve, was she still the same as before?

No, she wasn’t.

Aya was still the same Aya, an illiterate girl from a lonely tribe, but in this short bout of ups and downs she had experienced, she had learned many things, such as faith, sacrifice, and responsibility.

But there was still only more and more that she would have to learn.

She was destined to bid farewell to worldly happiness, and her joys and sorrows were no longer her own. Everyone expected her to lead them on the correct road. This responsibility was great and arduous, which was enough to make a girl who was only 18 years old feel fear—because what she saw was the thorns on the road ahead, not the wealth brought to her by power.

She was eager to seize something and give herself more courage to fight against this cruel world.

"Serena," Aya called her name.

The maid lowered her eyes and asked respectfully, "What is Your Majesty's order?"

"Can you help me find a female officer who knows the Canon? I want to learn." Aya smiled shyly. "I don't know how to read many words."

The maid asked, slightly surprised, "Do you know about the Devil of Destruction?"

Aya showed some confusion: "You mean Lord Ning Zhou?"

"It was the previous one. The previous Queen swore allegiance to him," the maid answered.

"Oh, I don't know much about this." Although Aya has some memories from the Dragon Ant Queens of past dynasties, it is more about strength, and she knew little about many things. "What happened to him?"

"Once, rumors of his secret love with the Holy See’s Holy Nun were circulating throughout the Underworld, which were true. Later, he led the demon army to attack the human world, and the battle ended with the Holy Nun killing him." The maid told her the story of that year.

Aya was stupefied. Like every girl, she was filled with infinite curiosity and regret for this tragic love story: "Then why did he attack the human world? If he hadn't done this, they may not have had such a tragedy."

The maid smiled, "Your Majesty, you don't know the power of Destruction. The farther you go on this road, the more you lose yourself. Those who chase power at all costs will eventually become power itself. The love in the world is profound, but when you step into the field, the love, hate, and hatred of mortals should no longer be your shackles, and you will be destined to break away from all living beings and become a god on high. On that day, are Order and Destruction really good or evil for a god?"

Aya seemed to understand, and she murmured, "But if the price of power is to make the people you love and the people who love you so miserable, why should people pursue it?"

"Because power is greater than love, Your Majesty. In those days, the Destroyer and the Holy Nun loved each other so much. You didn't see it with your own eyes, but we all saw it. It was like their love was burning up the world. He believed in the Holy See. Before he became the Devil, he thoroughly studied everything about the Holy See. It can be said that he was a divine person with faith and love. However, such a person still couldn't resist the force of destruction. In the end, he opened the road to the human world, did something that he would not do before, and then died at the hands of the person he loved."

Tears welled up in Aya's eyes, and she choked and asked, "Couldn't his love for the Holy Nun allow him to overcome destruction?"

The maid smiled and shook her head gently: "No one can do that."

"So... what about Ning Zhou?" Aya even forgot to address him. She missed them, and felt such great anxiety at how she could hardly imagine their future.

"...Speaking of it, Lord Ning Zhou is still the child of the Devil of Destruction and the Holy Nun." The maid sighed lightly and told the news she had just received from the Devil of Evil. "He has true loyalty and deep affection. When I saw him incarnate into the magic dragon, I seemed to see that one from more than twenty years ago."

Tears fell from the eyes of the Queen dressed in extravagant clothes, and the maid quickly wiped them for her. She comforted softly: "Your Majesty, the ceremony is about to begin. Don't cry, it is not necessary."

"Yes, it won't be like that." Aya choked with tears. "They will be fine, and together forever."

The young Queen really wanted her maid to smile, but she didn't say any more. She just followed her words and whispered, "Yes, they will be fine, and together forever."

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[wisewidow]

Gunshot Roses

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

SUMMARY: Her bite burns more than the poppies in my bullet wound sting.

I spent ninety-two hours waiting for a knock, ever since the phone call. Natasha was always so persuasive, sly with a snake's tongue, but she never used her fangs on me. I never felt poisoned until she called me saying to not trust Tony anymore. And even then her words bled into me like honey.

And before I came back to my senses she was gone.

Tony sat down with me the next day and urged me to cut her off, explained about how she'd betrayed them in Germany and was now on the run with Steve, Sam and Wanda. He warned me this would happen. They'd come looking for her, find her through her weaknesses. He offered me protection, and I was so inclined to take it.

"Don't trust Tony," she'd said, and I'd listened. "I'm coming back for you."

I was brought in to the CIA's office in New York. I was easy to find as soon as Tony had no choice but to relinquish my location, Nat and I's apartment, for the sake of keeping himself and Pepper safe. I don't blame him. Nat would do the same for me.

Nat would do the same for me.

I told them everything about our past because I knew I had to give them something true so they believed me when I honestly said I didn't know where she could have gone to hide, but I think everyone in the questioning room knew I was holding back the safehouses and fake identities I did know of. They couldn't prosecute me since I wasn't an Avenger, or an enhanced individual.

There was nothing they could do to me. Legally, at least.

The masked men came the following night. I wasn't sure who they worked for, no agency or government was off the table now that the Black Widow wasn't protected by her hero status. They could even have been petty thugs. Who was I to know? Natasha never wanted me in her world. I wouldn't have known her enemies.

"I'm going to ask you again," the one with the yellow teeth hissed, a thick needle pointed at my throat. "Where is the Widow?"

"She left me," I hiss, choking on my own coughs. "She left me, I don't know."

The injection isn't done lightly. It finds the vein in my neck and bites, so I scream at the pain. The woman grabs me by my hair and drags me to the bathroom.

By the time she forces me in the bathtub and cold water rains down on me, the world has turned fuzzy and sharp. I can see her eyes are blue, even in the dark, and they hurt to look at. Her hair looks more yellow than blonde. And then like a camera struggling to focus, the world becomes blurry and dark. She asks me the same questions. Where is she? Where is Natalia?

I see her in my mind. She's so close I can feel her heart beating against mine, but then a loud shot tears her away from me as my mind turns its attention to the gaping hole in my leg. I don't cry or scream, nor do I sob or shout. The blood turns to blossoming roses around my wound, the prettiest shades of red. Another series of loud bangs sound out and this time I don't flinch because I am not affected by them.

There are people shouting from the living room. The blonde woman aims her gun at my other leg. Bouquets of poppies shoot out of my calf, but they tear through my skin and this time I do cry a little, because poppies are known for not living long at all, and somehow I feel like my time is almost up.

"You want me to shoot her pretty little head next? Come on!"

"I'm running out of red flowers," I mutter, dazed.

"Get away from her," comes her voice.

I start laughing as I recognise it. Natasha, my guardian devil. "Oh," I giggle to the blonde woman, feeling my eyelids begin to shut, "you've got her now."

When I wake up, I see a familiar face I'd missed dearly. I notice him first, kind chocolate eyes but one swollen shut, a cut on his cheek, blood on his shirt. But he's smiling. I breathe a little easier and then observe my surroundings, coming to the conclusion that we're in a warehouse stocked to its metaphorical teeth with weapons, and I'm lying on a mattress with no sheet on the floor. Sam asks me if I'm okay, and I politely request that he takes the blankets off of me. I can't move my legs. I don't want to know what else is paralyzed.

He tucks them at my feet and begins to explain what happened in Germany, and Siberia, and how Steve broke them out of the Raft and then went with the Prince of Wakanda to his home with Bucky, a place he wouldn't be a danger to anyone again. Or himself.

"Where—" I wince and then refuse to say anything more.

Sam glances to a figure in the corner, who I recognise to be Wanda. She walks over hesitantly and kneels before me. "(Y/N), may I?"

I nod.

I feel her poking around my mind, cautious and gentle, and I notice the pain seep out of my body along with her strange power. I still refuse to speak.

"She wants to know where Natasha is," Wanda translates. "And then she wants to sleep."

Sam and her share a cautious look. Irritated, I repeat my inquiries in my head so harshly that the telepathic girl jumps in fright.

Sam sighs. "One of the men who attacked you escaped. The rest are dead. She promised not to kill this one, but Wanda's pretty sure she's lying."

"Good," I rasp. Then I close my eyes and drift off.

I stay at the safehouse for the next week, slowly recovering. I don't speak much, but Wanda seems fine with that and Sam chooses to focus on treating the two bullet wounds in my legs. Natasha still hasn't returned. Steve is arriving today.

There's not much to do beside lie down when you can't walk and there's no entertainment other than the dusty books stored away in a cabinet that Wanda had found while trying to exterminate a cockroach with her powers. I guess Natasha had supplied it, because it's in Russian. It's a Neil Gaiman, I think. I have it on me at all times so I can run my hands over the sentences she'd highlighted and scribbled in, the pages she'd dog-eared.

It's lonely. And frustrating. And I'm starting to hate her for her poison. They took my legs, my dignity, my home, my access to a fucking Netflix account, but who did I really have to blame for that?

I sit and seethe for another two days.

"(Y/N)," Wanda mutters, gently shaking me awake. "She's here."

I bite my lip and she helps me sit up. When Natasha finally walks in, I'm too exhausted to feel any type of emotion.

"No one's seen you for days," is all I can manage. My voice hurts from not using it.

She looks at her feet. Her long, wispy red hair has been chopped short and bleached to a near white. She's wearing a simple pair of dark jeans, plain tee and green bomber jacket. There's not a speck of blood on her clothes, not a weapon in view, not a hair out of place. But I've seen her back from a mission and bleeding and in need of a shower, and even then she never looked this vulnerable.

"Did you kill them?" I ask. "All of them?"

A simple nod.

I breathe out slowly. "Good."

"I was on my way to you the day you went with the CIA. I had to wait another day because I knew they were watching you. I had no idea they would come in and . . ." She looks at my legs.

"I won't be doing any cartwheels anytime soon," I retort dryly.

"You can't even touch your toes," she says with a small smile.

I let out a wet laugh and then rush to brush away any stray tears. "I'm so mad at you, Red."

"I know," she says softly. "I took away your choice when I took you here instead of the hospital. Tony would have protected you, you could have started over somewhere fresh, lived a normal life. But they're looking for you now."

"I know," I reassure her. "Sam and Wanda haven't told me, but I guessed it. And yeah, I'm a little pissed off that I didn't get the option of choosing, but it's not like I would have chosen to leave you."

Natasha shakes her head. "I wouldn't have let you. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. I hate that it did. If I could go back to Germany, I would . . . I would choose to stay with you at home."

"And watch your friends go down?" I shake my head. "Maybe I'm not the one who's too attached."

"Oh, you definitely are. You literally can't move right now."

"Bite me, Romanoff."

"Come and get me."

The next day, I do find the strength to yell at her until my voice goes raw. And the same time next year, we're still together.

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