#what kind of hero am I when they shut the gates in my face

[napitali]

So... you're telling me I can't travel between Izuhara and Toyotama without fast travel?

Watch me

#ghost of tsushima #yes i am salty #what kind of hero am I when they shut the gates in my face #gates of the castle I'VE got back #and then I'm left yelling LET ME IN and jumping off the cliffs #like some not honorable moron #so... we're swimming through the ocean

[sulky-valkyrie]

another merrill prompt: a moment of kindness, merrill & anders.

Oops, this got long. Also, accidental new Merrill headcanon dropped. for @dadrunkwriting

set in my longfic where the HoF followed Anders to Kirkwall, but no one there knows that's who she is. Also Karl is alive BECAUSE I SAID SO.

~~~

Tabris wasn’t back yet.  That was reasonable.  You didn’t just walk under the Waking Sea for a quick dinner at Soldier’s Peak then pop back over to Kirkwall in a day or two.  It was perfectly normal for her to be gone this long.  He still hated it.  It still ate at him.  Karl had pushed him out of the clinic to brood in the sunshine that morning, and he found himself sitting on the steps to Garrett’s house.

“The frog kissed dogshit you doing here?”

Ah, Hawke.  He had such a way with words.  “Karl said I was wearing a rut on the flooring.”

“That floor’s already crap, he made the right call.”  He was hoisted up to his feet before he could react.  “Merrill wants flowers, so you’re gonna come with us.”

Shit shit shit, not good.  “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than-”

“Shut up, we’re going to pick flowers.  Nature is good for you or some shit.  I grew up on a farm, and I’m perfect.”

He tugged at the arm now caught in a hand practically the size of his whole damned face.  “Is that a new meaning of the word, or am I just that uneducated?”

“Yep.”  Garrett was not a man to be denied and continued to lead Anders through the streets of Lowtown and out the nearest city gate.  Where Merrill was waiting and chatting with Isabela, sitting on an abandoned stack of shipping crates.  Maybe she won’t recognize me?  Or remember my name?  

The blood mage hopped off the stack of crates she’d been perched on and looked at him with perplexed wide eyes.  “Anders?  What are you doing in Kirkwall again?”

Shit.  “Um, hi.  It’s . . . complicated?”

Hawke glanced back and forth between them.  “Fuck me, when in Meredith’s hairy armpit did you meet?”

“Oh yes, he and the Hero of Ferelden visited about a year ago with . . . oh dear, what was his name?”  She tapped her chin.  “The other shem?”

“Nate, but -”

She bounced up to him, almost vibrating in her excitement.  “How are they doing?  And did all that the Keeper and I -”

“It’s fine!”  He practically shouted it, then shook his head.  “Sorry.  Uh.  Merrill.  It’s . . . nice to see you again but I - I left.”

The elf frowned.  “That doesn’t seem like something Tabris would -”

“Look, can we please talk about something else?”  he asked desperately.  “I - if you want to catch up later, I can - we’ll figure something out but I -”

She reached over and touched his hand sympathetically.  “Oh no, I’ve upset you - did something bad happen?  No, forget I asked that.  Are you - is everyone okay?  No, that’s bad too, and now I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”

He shook his head again.  “It’s fine, you didn’t know.  Just - I don’t -”

Hawke pushed him into Merrill’s arms.  “Just fuckin’ shut up and hug it out, you beanpole.”   

“But I -”

“Don't care, just fix it.”  He stalked off, catching Isabela by the arm as he did.  “I’m gonna go shout at some lizards.”  

“Garrett, I want the gossip!” she whined as he dragged her off.

“Gossip with my pants, Bels.”

Merrill watched them go, still hesitantly holding the other mage in a tentative hug.  “What in Thedas does that mean?”

“Pretty sure it’s a sex joke - he’s got a knack for them,” he snorted.  “Worse than me, which is impressive.”

“Putting her mouth - ohhhhhhhh!”  She giggled, then frowned.  “But what does that have to do with lizards?”

“No idea.”

She let go of his waist and took a few steps back.  “I’m sorry I -”

He glanced around for somewhere to sit, then sighed.  “It’s okay, Merrill.  Really.  I know you mean well.”  

“Did your spirit friend find his way home?”  She asked suddenly.

He gave her a flat look.  “You didn’t hear about that from Hawke?”

She arched an eyebrow.  “He talks a lot, but he rarely says anything.  I can see why he and Varric get along so well.  Co-bullshitters.”

“Something like that.”  He stared up at the sky.  “It didn’t work.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.  Did he - can I ask what happened?”

He felt his pulse pounding in his ears, his breath speeding up, his chest prickling along the scar from the shit job he’d done healing where the sword had gone through him.  “Templars.”

“The ones I’ve met were very rude.”  She bit at her lip.  “Just because I was an elf too, not even because I was a mage.”

He rubbed at the scar.  “Good.”  He paused.  “Good they didn’t notice you were a mage, I mean.  Shitty they were bastards, but, well, you know.”

She nodded.  "I'm just a filthy little elf, not worth noticing except for them to shoo me away.  But you, you're the healer of Darktown!  How do you avoid them?"

How honest did he want to be?  Justice already was getting itchy from his lies about Tabris.  "My friend is . . .we merged.  Justice is part of me, and . . . it's not going well.  He wants to help so much and I-" he covered his mouth to shut himself up.  Bad enough to think it, worse to say it.  Justice still had trouble parsing out thoughts that weren't directed at him, so if he just . . .didn't think too hard about it, maybe they wouldn't hurt each other as often.  Or Karl.

She put her hand on his shoulder and steered him off the road, behind the trees.  "Can I talk to him?"

"You're not going to bind him, are you?" he asked warily.

"Of course not, you don't practice blood magic on your friends."  Her brow furrowed.  "Unless it's the only way to save them, I suppose.  Like I did for Tabris."

"But he's not your friend, you've never met."

"But you are, right, lethallen?"  She smiled gently.  "And I don’t think you'd take in just any spirit."

"I am no demon."  Justice bubbled up before Anders could even think to stop him.

The blood mage cocked her head at him like he’d informed her the sky was blue, or water was wet.  "Of course not."

Justice slumped against the nearest tree.  "But I do . . . make mistakes.  This world, I thought I understood enough, but, in a living breathing being, it is so much more than I was prepared for.  Our merge endangers us both.   I cannot seem to stop hurting him, and he cannot seem to stop doing it in return."

Merrill reached for his chin, tilted him to look at her.  She felt strange and oily, but not physically.  Likely something to do with her blood magic.  It held a kind of music, but not the high sweet chiming of lyrium, or the dissonant thrum of darkspawn; it thudded and rumbled like a drum.  Or a heartbeat.  It chanted of promises and bargains, of vengeance and sorrow.  The spirit wanted to cover his ears, but the noise was everywhere, pressing against him, pulsing through him until he . . .what could he do?  Nothing.  There was nothing to fight here, only a tiny little blood mage who had no idea the power she could wield.

Or perhaps she did.  He shrank back.  "Come no closer."

She smiled sadly.  "You heard it, didnt you?"

He nodded as he tried to take deep breaths.  Breaking contact with her had helped, but the demon that followed her was still near.  Still lurking.  "Why show me this?  Why consort with demons?"

"Remorse is just a spirit, like any other.  She's my friend and companion, but still dangerous.  As are you.  As is Anders.  As am I."  She spread her arms wide.  "Friendship isn't enough, Justice.  You have to trust him to understand the mortal world better than you do.  And he has to trust that your questions are genuine.  You have to work together.  Both of you."

"But, the singing . . ."  Anders started, as Justice reeled and sank back down to safety and quiet.  "How can you stand it?"

"You make new music together.  For yourself, for your spirit."  She stood up and brushed herself off.  "The Dalish have had to remake their culture from scraps so many times, but we never stopped singing."

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #fanfic writing #anders #justice #merrill #prompt fills

[hrtiu]

i couldn’t find anything written for these two online so i thought i’d give it a shot! this is katy x shang-chi. what should their ship name be? i vote for shaunty. continue if you love friends-to-lovers 🥰

For Katy, the weirdest part about coming home after nearly dying and saving the world from a soul-sucking monster was realizing that she needed to find a new job.

“You could always apply to be an archery instructor at that place in Golden Gate Park,” Shaun said, looking over her shoulder at her laptop.

“Yeah, I don’t think my three days of experience will look very good on the resume,” Katy said, balancing the laptop on her thighs as she sat cross-legged on his bed.

“You could always put, ‘fired the shot that saved the universe,’” Shaun said. He leaned just a little too far into Katy’s space for comfort. “What should matter are results, right?”

“Ha ha,” Katy said, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t bother to tell him she’d already inquired with the place and they weren’t hiring.

It had been like this since they’d gotten back from Ta Lo. Just… a little off. How was she supposed to act around her friend after going through an experience like this? How was she supposed to act after discovering a whole new side to someone she’d thought she knew so well? How was she supposed to breathe around Shaun now that she knew what he looked like with his shirt off?

Katy caught Shaun’s eye in the mirror of her laptop screen and swallowed, slamming the laptop shut before she or it combusted. It was all getting to be a bit much.

“Is everything alright?” Shaun asked from somewhere behind her.

Katy nodded, Shaun’s garage studio suddenly stifling despite the constant San Francisco temperature of 60 degrees outside. “Yeah, I’m just… I think I’ll maybe look again tomorrow.”

Shaun moved around the back of his bed and sat next to Katy, his thigh touching her knee. “Come on, Katy. What’s up? It couldn’t possibly be any weirder than the stuff I’ve told you recently.”

“Plenty of room at the Hotel California…” Katy started humming, her hand tapping against her leg in time to the music.

Shaun grabbed her hand and tugged, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Come on, you know that only works on idiots.”

“Well then it should have worked on you.”

Shaun frowned, then rested his other hand on top of the one he was already holding, his thumb sliding soothingly back and forth across her skin. “Seriously, Katy. Are you alright?”

Katy bit her lip and looked down at their connected hands. “It’s this!” she burst out, jerking her chin towards their hands. “Since when did we do this?”

Shaun let go of her hand and scooted away immediately, leaving a good foot of distance between them on the bed. Hurt lit his eyes. “Maybe since we almost died together?” he said defensively. “But you could have just told me you were uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

“No, wait. Shaun!” Katy fumbled over her words. “It’s not uncomfortable, really. Or well, it is, but it’s not a bad kind of uncomfortable. It’s just weird because I’ve never felt awkward around you before. But now I do and I don’t know what to do about it or what’s changed or even if you’ve noticed it or not.”

“You feel awkward around me?”

“Yeah! And you seem totally fine which is… great for me,” Katy said, her neck heating. This sucked. She hoped she’d be able to get over this soon so she could go back to singing karaoke late into the night without worrying if she was going to make a pass at him when she was drunk.

“I’m fine because it’s you!” he said. “I’ve known you for forever! What am I doing that’s making you uncomfortable, because I can stop.”

Katy cast a sidelong glance at him, her eyes tracing up the exquisitely-defined muscles of his forearms. I wonder if I could get him to take his shirt off again, she thought longingly. “You could eat a few Ho Hos with a side of pizza, I guess.”

His forehead crinkled in confusion, which drew attention to his eyes, which then led her down to his lips. Ok, maybe there was no leading going on, and Katy had just decided to look there herself.

“Look, normally I’m pretty good at interpreting Katy,” Shaun said, “But I think I might need a little help today.”

I could help you out of your clothes. Woah. That thought had better not come out of her mouth.

Katy jumped to her feet and turned from Shaun, her eyes struggling to find something else to focus on—anything else. “It’s fine, alright. I’m just being weird because I realized you’re hot and now it’s hard to stop thinking about it.”

“Woah! I’m hot?”

“Shut up, you know you are.” Katy moved over to the garage door and turned back to him, confident she could face him with some distance between them.

“No, I don’t! You used to call me shrimp cracker back in high school!”

“Yeah, well, all those shrimp decided to start swimming in the formation of an eight-pack on your torso, so…”

Shaun walked over to her, a grin spreading across his face. “All those times you made fun of me in gym class, and look at you now.”

He was getting too close, and Katy backed along the garage door away from him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Hey, I think I deserve to bask a little in your admiration,” Shaun said, still advancing on her with a smirk she knew was just teasing.

“Shut up, Shaun,” she said, taking one more step behind her.

Her foot caught on the backpack she’d tossed carelessly by the door, and just like that she was going down. Then Shaun grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, just barely managing to keep her from dropping like a bag of rice.

One of his hands gripped her wrist while the other wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against him. Her nose was only an inch or two from his, and she could see her own reflection in his eyes. She stopped breathing.

Shaun’s eyes widened, and his fingers twitched nervously at her waist. “Oh,” he said, voice quiet and surprised. “Yeah, this is weird.”

Katy’s heart dropped into her stomach, and it was only at that moment that she realized how far gone she already was. Well, that was that.

She dropped her eyes, but there was nowhere to look but him, so she fixed her gaze on the zipper of the coat he always wore.  There was a stain right around the hem. He should probably get a new coat now that he was important and all.

The hand holding her wrist dropped, and suddenly his warm palm was pressed against her cheek, lifting her head up. She looked back into his eyes and found a familiar warmth there. It was unquestioning friendship and loyalty. It was love.

“It’s a good thing I like weird,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Katy wrapped her arms around him, pulling him harder against her and finally—finally—getting to feel those muscles. When she’d privately fantasized about this moment over the past few days, she’d always worried it might feel strange or wrong—like kissing her brother. But it turned out she’d worried for nothing. Shaun’s hands on her hips felt right, and his lips moved against her mouth in a way that made her knees week. No, this was definitely not like kissing her hot, super hero brother.

After a few minutes Shaun pulled away, his expression dazed but smiling. “Ok, I take it back,” he said. “Not weird at all.”

Katy smirked up at him. “I guess I wasn’t trying hard enough.” Her phone chimed her text alert and she jumped, nearly forgetting it was in her back pocket. “Oh, damn, I forgot I told mom I’d be home to help her restock.”

“I can come with,” Shaun said, his hand moving experimentally up and down her waist.

“Sure.” A thought occurred to Katy and she stopped typing mid-text to her mom. She looked up at Shaun, her eyes wide. “Shaun. Waipo is going to be so psyched.”

#shang-chi #shang-chi spoilers #shang-chi x katy #shang-chi katy #i think this is the first fic written for them??? #i hope other people like them too <3 #simu liu #awkwafina #shaunty

[howlingday]

"Hey, Renny?"

"Mm?" Ren didn't turn from his position of cutting potatoes for tonight's meal. His childhood friend, Nora was tapping two meat tenderizers together, pretending they were lovers. She did this often in the stone kitchen, especially when the other servants were elsewhere in the castle.

"Do you think Jauney is happy?"

Ren blinked, then set down the knife. He turned to face her. Nora was sitting on the ground, wearing her black Ursa pelt over her shoulders, two meat tenderizers in her calloused hands. "What do you mean, Nora?"

"I mean, ever since Pyrrha," Nora made an uncomfortable face, "you know, Jauney has been really grumpy. Our fights aren't as fun anymore, he doesn't laugh at my jokes, and he's been especially angry at the people at his royal court."

Ren sighed. "Lord Arc has been under a lot of stress, Nora. He is the lord of these lands, and he doesn't have as much time to enjoy himself since winter is due in only a few months."

"Hm..." Nora tapped her chin in thought. "What if we buy him a whore?"

Ren blinked, then returned to his potatoes. "...No."

"Well, I'm stumped!" Nora stood as she exclaimed. "He has all this stress, but he can't get it out. It's not healthy!"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Nora. The harvest festival will be soon, Lord Arc will find have fun, and he will go back to his usual self." Ren grabbed the good potato slices from the cutting board and placed them in the pot of water. He slid the rest into a separate bowl with his knife.

Nora set the meat tenderizers on the stone counter. "Okay, but if he's still grouchy after the festival, I'm buying him the best whore lien can buy!"

"You're going to buy who what?"

Ren froze in place as the familiar voice spoke. He turned, facing the lord if this castle and his employer. He looked the same as he did when they first met; deep, blue eyes, under a mop of shaggy, golden hair and above a chin of golden stubble, and wearing a black Beowolf hide over his shoulders, hiding his muscular.

"Oh, hi, Jauney!" Nora jumped with joy.

"L-Lord Arc!" Ren gave a deep bow, hiding his blush from being embarrassed. "What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe this honor?"

Jaune passed a glance between the two, silently judging them. He then smirked, reminding Ren that, though he was his lord, he was also a cherished friend. "What's this about buying a whore?"

Ren's face continued to flare. How much of the conversation did he hear? Ren lifted his head to face his lord, and saw his amused grin. Ren sighed before speaking once more. "We were just discussing our shared concern for your well-being, Lord Arc. Nora was simply providing a solution for your stress."

"By buying me a whore?"

"Yes!" Nora proudly exclaimed.

"N-No, my lord!" Ren countered.

Jaune simply laughed. "So which is it? Am I getting a whore or not?"

"I-" Ren choked out.

"Lord Arc," came a cry from another room, "are you here, sire?!"

Jaune sighed. "Sounds like more bad news. Before I leave, what do you think it might be?"

Nora answered before Ren could speak. "Maybe one of those creeps are coming for a visit again."

"Now, Nora," Jaune chided, "just because Queen Salem's Inner Circle are unlike us, it doesn't mean that they are to be treated any less than us."

"But they are creepy! Especially that stinger-guy!"

Jaune was silent for a moment of thought. "I suppose you're not wrong there."

"Perhaps, Lord Arc, the whores have caught wind of our plans?" Ren asked with a small smile.

Jaune barked a laugh. "Maybe they did!" He sighed before stepping towards the exit. "I'll go see about the shouting." He suddenly stopped a few steps from the door. "Oh, but before I leave, what is tonight's supper?"

"Tonight, you are having chicken stew with carrots, potatoes, and onions." Ren answered, filled with the confidence fitting of the Lord Arc's personal cook.

"Sounds good! Nora, are you coming with?"

"On my way, Jauney!" Nora skipped to Ren and kissed his cheek. "Bye, Renny! Jauney and I are gonna go get bad news!" Nora then skipped out of the kitchen, following her lord.

Ren sighed and returned to his task. One day, someone's going to have a problem with Nora's casual attitude. Until then, however, Ren would mind to his cooking.

Jaune made his way to the main hall, where the shouting was coming from. He walked in and found his messenger, Russel open his mouth to shout once more, only to shut it upon seeing his lord. The young man was wearing an undecorated black Grimm pelt, a sign showing that though he was a member of lord Arc's defense, he had yet to prove himself worthy of any notable position.

"Yeah, I heard you. Are we under attack?"

"Have the whores caught wind?" Nora asked as she stepped in.

"I- what?" Russel asked in confusion. He then shook his head. "No, my lord, I have just recieved word of a small force on their way to the castle."

"How small?" Jaune asked.

"Just three; a man and two women."

Nora scoffed. "Just two women? Please! I'm ten times worth any woman!"

"Y-Yes, but there's more."

"More?" Jaune asked.

"Yes, my lord. You see, the woman leading them is described as a raven-haired maiden in a red dress."

Jaune clenched his teeth, and felt his breath grow shallower. "What color were here eyes?"

Russel swallowed the lump in his throat before answering. "From whatever men survived their encounter with her, described her as a witch with amber eyes."

"Jaune-"

"Nora," Jaune interrupted, "alert the rest of the castle. I want everyone ready for whatever happens next."

Nora nodded. "Yes, my lord!" Russel paled further. When dame Nora, the most crass of Jaune's closest charges and his right hand, spoke formally to lord Arc, he knew the danger was real.

"Russel," Jaune spoke, breaking the messenger out of his stupor. "What did you mean by, 'whatever men survived their encounter'?"

Cinder yawned as she passed through the hamlet on her steed. The black beast bellowed smoke from it's ember-lit maw as it trudged forward. Emerald glanced between her lady and the people who cowered in their houses. Mercury grinned with delight as he watched people flinched at meeting his gaze.

When he saw a pretty girl, his grin shifted to a wide, predatory smile. They would weep at the sight of this, hiding behind their husbands, fathers, and brothers with the same amount of fear. He chuckled every time.

"Mercury," Cinder spoke, "what do you think you're doing?" She didn't meet his eyes when he looked up. She faced forward, her face as indifferent as it was when they entered the hamlet.

"I'm just having fun." He defended.

"Your 'fun' is upsetting our beast. Continue," her gaze finally met his, amber eyes alight with wrath, "and I will have my fun with you." Mercury flinched and faced forward. "Besides, you'll have plenty of time for fun once we reach Arc's hovel."

"Does he know we're coming, ma'am?" Emerald asked.

"I have sent more than enough messages to ensure that he will greet us personally."

"And if he doesn't?"

Cinder looked around. Every door was shut. Every window filled with at least one person. Every home with a family as small as two people or as big as four generations. She smiled.

"Then I'll just have to send a bigger message."

Nora stood outside the gates, the cold autumn wind biting her skin. She liked this, though. It reminded her that she was hardy, tougher than the supposed "ladies" who would rather hide and let someone else fight their battles.

She looked up and saw gray clouds combining, gathering together to choke out whatever blue and light remained in the sky. It was going to rain soon, but again, she didn't care. If she became sick, she would just power through it, like she did all things. Plus, Ren would wait on her, hand and foot, as he always did before. She smiled at the thought.

The sound of running footsteps returned her focus to the road leading to the castle. Another messenger showed up, this time with singed clothes. What was his name again? Duck?

"Reports from the nearby village; two-"

"Women and one man are approaching the castle." Nora interrupted. "Yeah, we heard."

"The woman leading them was also riding a black monster we've never seen before! What do we do?"

Nora looked him up and down. He was pudgy, kind of short compared to Ren and Jaune. He wore an unmarked Grimm pelt like the other one, except his was burnt, and slightly smoldering. She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Go inside, get cleaned up, and get ready to fight."

"Yes, dame!" He rushed past her after giving a salute. She hated formality, especially getting them.

It has been three years since the day she "earned" her title. She remembers because it was given to her by the Black Queen herself as a reward for turning her back on everything she cared for. Two nights after she and Jaune surrendered to her after that monster murdered her best friend, Pyrrha.

Nora pulled out a spyglass and peered down the road. No one was approaching. Nora began grinding her teeth. She put away the spyglass and turned towards the castle.

"Looking for someone?"

Nora turned towards the voice. The voice of the murderer from that night. Atop a Grimm twice her size, sat Lady Cinder Fall in her red dress with golden accents. She had a wry smile on her face, like a tyrant out of a fairy tale after telling them their hero had died. Like she had after slaughtering her friends.

"No." Nora answered, glaring at the murderer. "I was looking for something, and then you showed up."

"Referring to a lady as a thing?" The assassin to Cinder's right said. "Sounds like treason if you ask me."

"No one asked you. Besides, what I was going to ask you was, 'how's your knees?' You know, after I broke them?" Mercury stepped forward, but a snap of Cinder's fingers brought him to heel.

The woman stepped forward instead. "We request-"

"Demand, Emerald." Cinder corrected.

"-Demand an audience with Lord Jaune Arc. Is he available?"

Nora eyed the woman carefully. She didn't remember seeing her. Was she there that night, or did she join after that? "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Emerald repeated.

"Uh-huh."

Cinder slid from her steed and stepped towards Nora. "There's no need to be rude." She checked her fingernails. "After all, we're all on the same side, right? We both pledged our loyalty to Queen Salem, no?" She lowered her head to be level with Nora's, smiling. "I mean, unless you feel another example should be made."

"Like burning more of our messengers?"

"Like burning another champion."

Nora reeled back a fist. Mercury crouched like a wound spring, while Emerald drew her twin, curved blades. As the Grimm began salivating a glowing red liquid from it's maw, Nora swung forward.

And Cinder kept smiling.

"Lady Fall!" A voice called from behind, stopping Nora from connecting her punch. Nora turned and saw Jaune walking out from the castle gates, arms wide open and a smile on his face. "I wish you had contacted sooner! The castle is an absolute mess, and there's only enough food for one helping for the four of us."

Cinder stepped around Nora and approached Jaune with the same gesture. Nora watched as they hugged. "I do apologize, Lord Arc, but our matter was so urgent, it had to be done without much warning. Why, I recieved the news before the crow of this morning's rooster!" The two shared a laugh. "And don't worry about dinner, we won't be long."

Jaune wrapped an arm around Cinder's shoulder and guided her inside. "And send you home on empty stomachs? Oh, no! I insist! Come, my cook was preparing a delicious chicken stew."

"Can you stew a chicken, Lord Arc?"

"I can't, but my cook can!" The laughter echoed from inside.

"Don't wait up." Mercury taunted as he stepped past. Emerald followed quietly. Nora eyed the Grimm as it stood there. She turned and walked inside.

She hated formalities, but she hated this even more.

Lady Cinder Fall, protege and student of Black Queen Salem, was impressed by the dinner. The dining hall itself, though not as large as her majesty's, was certainly large enough to house an army. And based on the large number of occupants currently eating before her, it did.

Cinder sat at a long table next to Lord Arc, her other side occupied by Emerald and Mercury, and Lord Arc's side occupied by his two lackeys, the girl from outside and some burly meathead he never met. In front of her were rows of soldiers, messengers, guards, and castle staff eating from their plates and bowls.

"More wine?" The young man in a green robe asked, holding a bottle of red wine. He looked as young as Lord Arc, and had a pink strip of hair in his bangs.

"No, thank you." Cinder presented a soft smile.

"I'll have some!" Mercury said, shaking his empty glass.

Cinder rolled her eyes and turned to Lord Arc. He sat quietly, looking out to his subjects with smile. His glass and bowl were empty, save for a few drops remaining of his wine and soup. "Lord Arc," Cinder began, immediately getting his attention, "regarding the important business we must discuss."

"Oh, of course. But can it wait until after dinner?" Lord Arc asked. "It's like my father once said; 'politics only aid indigestion.' And considering this is urgent news from her majesty herself, it could only be something political, right?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Her majesty, Black Queen Salem, has tasked me to deliver a message for you."

"Oh? And what might this message entail?"

"Queen Salem requests to know your intentions as Lord of the eastern coast."

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand the question." Lord Arc grew tense, she could tell. She could also see how close his protectors were listening in. "When Queen Salem graced me with the task of acting as lord of Vale's eastern coast, I thought I was to simply act as she would have me."

"Yes, but she's curious as to your endgame. Surely, you don't intend to simply live the rest of your life alone with no legacy; no songs of great deeds left to outlast you twice over?"

"...Lady Fall, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm just not ready for your proposal to wed."

Cinder laughed. It was fake, but she tried to make it sound genuine. "Oh no, Lord Arc! This isn't a marriage proposal. But her majesty is concerned you may not be... up to the task."

"Is this a question of my loyalty?"

"Perhaps," she smirked, "but I feel a test is more appropriate."

The sound of liquid splashing suddenly caught Lord Arc's attention. He stood over Cinder and he gritted his teeth. Wearing her smile, she turned to watch as Mercury poured a third bottle of wine onto the servant's head. His hair was soaked and matted as he continued to bow.

"Damn, out again." Mercury said in a bored tone. "What was this wine called again?"

"The Rouge Rogue, sir." The servant replied. "Aged for twenty years from the-"

"Boring!" Mercury cracked the bottle over the servant's head. He fell with a thump, the bottle shattering and cutting his scalp.

"REN!" The girl screamed as she rose, unknowingly signaling the rest of the castle to not only rise as well, but rise with weapons in their hands. The soldiers and guards rose with swords and axes, while the servants, both too young to speak clearly and too old to stand without a cane, held forks and knives in their hands. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SONUVA-!"

"SILENCE!"

Everyone froze in place and stared as Lord Arc, master of this castle, roared his prominence. His face was red with rage, but his hands, held aloft, were stiff. The crowd was silent, save for Mercury, who just laughed. Jaune stepped from the table and approached him.

"Clean that up."

"Is this guy serious?" Mercury said. "I'm an agent of Black Queen Salem, the most powerful creature who ever lived, and he thinks he can give me orders?" He then spit on Lord Arc's face. "Touch me, and I'll burn this whole damn castle to the ground. Hell, might have some fun doing it, too!"

Lord Arc turned towards Cinder. She continued to smile. "Don't look at me, Lord Arc. It's as he says; he's an agent of Salem. Harming him will have consequences from her majesty herself."

Lord Arc faced Mercury once more. "Is that true? You serve only Salem?"

"Pfft!" Mercury scoffed. "No shit, dumbass! I don't serve 'Lady' Cinder, or you! The only person I answer to is Black Queen Salem herself."

"I see. That will make this so much easier."

"Make what easier?"

"This." Lord Arc backhanded Mercury and sent him sprawling to the ground. He spit out a tooth as he got to his hands and knees. "Apologize."

"Y-You can't hit me!" Mercury staggered to his feet. "I serve-!"

Lord Arc backhanded him again, this time sending him over the table. The servant named Ren stood by the table and watched silently, his hand covering his bleeding scalp. Lord Arc glanced to him. "Take some servants and return to the kitchen. Have your wounds tended."

"Y-Yes, my lord!" The wounded servant signaled to the other servants and five of then set down their utensils to before rushing to tend to his wounds.

Lord Arc returned his attention to Mercury. "Apologize." Mercury murmured as he rose to his knees. "Apologize." Lord Arc repeated sternly.

Mercury Black kneeled before Lord Jaune Arc, his head bowed. "I am sorry, my lord. I repent and beg that you forgive me."

"You are a murderer and coward. You attacked my castle, murdered my subjects, and aided in the assassination of my fiancee. I can't remember how many times I hit you that night, but it was never enough to make you stop. And now you come to my home again to commit the same crimes, only to bend your knee at only two strikes."

Cinder's smile had grown to a predatory grin as she watched Lord Arc pass judgement on Mercury. Her keen eyes saw what led to this moment as well. This was what she came here to see.

"Mercury Black, in your path of bloodshed to your current standing as an agent of the Black Queen, you have proven that you have only grown more cowardly and pathetic in your services." Lord Arc grabbed Mercury by his hair. "Return to Salem, and tell her of your failures. Only then will you be forgiven." He then pushed Mercury away, tears streaming down the assassin's face. He looked to Cinder. "I believe it would be best for you to leave."

"Must we, though?" Cinder replied. "You would send is back in the middle of the night, storm clouds brewing above as we speak, with only myself and Emerald capable of fending for ourselves?"

Lord Arc held a pained face of guilt. Good. That will make things much easier.

Jaune stood on his balcony and watched as the storm clouds rolled across the sky. As Lady- No, as Cinder predicted, the sky was black, with no moon or stars to shine. Thunder bellowed in the distance as lightning flashed in the clouds. No rain, though.

He sighed and looked to his land. Everything was dark, so he could not see far, but what he could see pained him. He saw the tree where he would spend his summer days napping. The same tree where he met her.

He stepped away from the balcony and into his chambers. He walked to his bed and glanced at his weapon to it's side. He nodded to it's presence and sat on his bed. He replayed the night's events in his head.

He started from checking on his longtime friend in the kitchen. His wounds were cleaned and treated. All that was left was for time to heal. When Nora stomped in full of rage, Ren calmed her as best as he could. He felt guilty allowing his friends to suffer as they had, even when Ren noticed and told him not to.

Before that, he had to see to his guest's quarters. Mercury had not yet broken from his adjustment, which Jaune felt neither pity nor shame. Perhaps the punishment will be enough to change him for the better. Cinder and her fellow female companion aided in bringing him to their room. What was her name? She was so quiet at dinner, but she was close enough to Cinder to sit next to her at dinner.

Regardless, Cinder stated the quarters were satisfactory for the night. Once confident in their comfort, Jaune exited to allow them to rest. He didn't care for their company, but as Lord of the castle, he would serve only to anger his queen by leaving her inner circle to fend for themselves in the storm and darkness.

A knock on his chamber door awoke him from his reminiscing. He hurried to the door and opened it, finding an unexpected visitor.

"G-Good evening, Lord Arc." The young woman of green hair from before spoke nervously in her white nightgown. Perhaps his display earlier had frightened her, or maybe his very presence simply put her on edge. Nonetheless, he greeted her kindly.

"Good evening," he replied. "I apologize, but I don't believe I caught your name."

"My name is Emerald. Emerald Sustrai, Lord Arc." She was nervous. Though, with Summer's End so close, it would not be surprising that she was cold as well. "I wished to have a word with you."

"This couldn't wait until morning? It's late, and it has been a long day for us both, I'm sure."

"Yes, but I wished to discuss what happened today with you, if you don't mind." Jaune looked around the corners, seeing no guards. Only torches lit along the walls. "May I come in?"

Jaune rubbed his chin, and felt stubble. He hummed to himself a little at the feeling. Had it really been so long since he last shaved. He then sighed, remembering his guest, and stepped aside, gesturing with an arm for her to enter. As she entered, Jaune caught a faint scent of lavender from her. He hummed once more, then shut the door.

"What did you want to talk about?" Jaune asked as casually as possible. It would be best to keep her at ease. "Your trip, your mission, or-"

"I wanted to ask about your semblance."

Jaune blinked. "My semblance?"

"Y-Yes. You used your semblance on Merc earlier, and I wanted to know how it worked."

"To find a weakness?" Jaune asked with caution. He stepped towards his bed, not revealing his back to her once.

"No! It's just..." Emerald gulped. Was she sent to spy on him?

"Just what?" Jaune repeated. "The only times people want to know about the abilities of another is to either gloat their superiority, or to exploit a weakness from a gullible opponent."

"W-What if I told you mine? Just to make us even?" Jaune seated himself on his bed. He then waved for Emerald to continue with his hand. Emerald sighed and held out her hand. Her eyes focused on it. Suddenly, as though from nowhere, a flower grew from her palm. It was a small lavender, in size and shape, but it casted no shadow as Jaune watched. Emerald stepped forward and help the delicate plant in front him. Jaune tried to pluck it, but it died in his fingers, fading away as he touched it.

"Illusion." Jaune stated. "Your semblance tricks a foe with an illusion you desire them to see." He chuckled. "It's certainly impressive, but judging by your breathing, it requires a lot of concentration to maintain."

"And... what of yours, Lord Arc?" She said, still catching her breath. "That was... no illusion... that made Merc bow to you."

"Supremacy." Jaune answered. "When I strike an opponent's aura, their will ebbs away, eventually forcing them to submit to me. Depending on how strong one's will is, I will either have to hit them once, or multiple times."

Emerald gulped. "I... I see."

"Now that I've answered your question, I have a question for you." Jaune stood, his frame towering over Emerald, his blue eyes squinting. "What are you doing in my room so late in the night, Emerald Sustrai?"

Emerald didn't speak. She didn't dare look in his eyes. Was her plan found out? It was supposed to be a simple in and out reconnaissance mission. All she had to do was get information on Lord Arc's semblance and report back to Cinder. She wasn't prepared to fight; she left her weapons in her room, concerned she wouldn't have been able to hide them from the man. Now, she was vulnerable.

"Are you going to answer me?" Emerald remained frozen, like a rabbit in a tiger's cage. "Would you like for me to answer for you? Nod if you do."

Emerald wanted to shake her head, if only to be given more time to think of a lie. But she didn't. Like a fool, she nodded.

Lord Arc circled around her. "I'll bet you thought you were clever. Sneaking in, taking what you came for, and then retreating to celebrate your conquest." He stopped in front of her. "But you made one mistake in coming here." Emerald shut her eyes, expecting the worst.

She heard the bed squeak. "I'm just not in the mood." Emerald opened her eyes and saw Lord Arc lounging back on his bed. "Don't get me wrong; you're certainly beautiful, and on almost any other night, I would have ravaged you until all I could think was lavender, but I'm just not interested."

Emerald stood there, blinking. "Er, so you're saying I'm here to...?"

"Are you not a whore?"

Emerald's cheeks flushed. "Wh- No!" She didn't mean to scream, but she couldn't control herself due to the indignity of it. True, she is a liar, a thief, and, in some instances, a murderer, but never a streetwalker. "I'm not a whore!"

Lord Arc sat up. "Then why are you here?"

Emerald cursed herself. Her pride got the better of her. She coughed into her fist as she spoke again. "W-What I mean is, I don't think of myself as a whore. I prefer the term... escort."

Lord Arc's cheeks flushed. "Oh, I am so sorry! I... I had always heard it spoken as- W-Well, in any case, I humbly apologize."

Emerald saw an opportunity. "W-Well, you should! I can't believe your friends paid me so well to 'entertain' you, only for you to insult me!" She turned her back to him and stepped towards the chamber door.

"Wait," Lord Arc called out, "before you go, allow me to apologize in full." Lord Arc reached into a location she didn't see and heard him walk behind her with a jingle in his hands. He placed a hand on her left shoulder and moved his right hand to in front of her, a hefty bag of coins in his palm. "I hope you can forgive me for my rudeness."

Emerald took the coins. "Hm, I'll consider it." She then kissed his cheek. "But only because you're so kind." She then stepped out of his chambers and down the hall, sashaying her behind for show, certain his eyes were on her until she turned the corner. She then sighed in relief.

"This better be worth the trouble." She whispered to no one.

#rwby #lie ren #nora valkyrie #jaune arc #rwby au #lord arc au #cinder fall #mercury black #emerald sustrai

[whumperooni]

two in the morning and i’m all yours

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Tags/Warnings: tw toxic relationship, public fingering, drinking and drug mention, degradation, possessive behavior, daddy kink, fingers in moufs, reader is kind of a bimbo, mentions of punishment/trained behavior, drool, slight puking mention (just briefly, nothing graphic and not described in any detail- it’s all in the past)

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I, uh, have never ridden a train before. But I’ve ridden the subway! So I’m just going to slightly modify the request to subway rather than train;;;; And I skimped out on fucking, but hopefully this is tasty enough to make up for it ♡

✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤✤

Two in the morning and all is quiet.

It’s quiet as Dabi yanks you into the station and it’s quiet as he makes you hop the gate. His snicker when your clumsy, drunken feet stumble over one another is quiet and your whine against his chest is quiet, too.

The terminal is a ghost town as he hauls you through it- empty, dingy, washed over in a sickly green light that makes you feel so disconnected from the world above. It’s like a horror movie, almost, but you couldn’t ever be really scared of a vaguely spooky subway station- you face actual horrors in your life every day; you’ve got crooks for friends, bloodthirsty debtors haunting your every step, ravenous heroes looking to snatch you up just to get to the League, and a monster for a boyfriend.

All that is much, much scarier than any silly subway station.

And Dabi is the scariest of it all- thrilling, frightening, vicious, nasty.

A hum slips from you- dazed and faint- and you twine your fingers through Dabi’s, smile sleepily when his hand holds yours tight.

You like the way he holds your hand as if he’s terrified you’ll try to run away from him. You like how he crushes your palm and squishes your fingers together until they’re aching for a good few hours after. It feels like you’re precious somehow- though you know it’s a twisted way to be treated.

He just wants to keep you his is all. He just wants to make sure you won’t- can’t- ever leave him.

Not that you want to. Not that the thought of doing so could ever enter your giddy, empty head.

Dabi pulls you into a car and you giggle when he yanks you to sit down on his lap, curl your fingers into shirt and peer around curiously. It’s empty in here- just like the station- and your fuzzy mind can’t help but wonder if you really did happen to stumble upon a ghost town.

Ghost town? Ghost station? Ghost subway? Ghost...

Oh, whatever.

Another giggle as Dabi grips your waist and you smile up at him- eyes so heavy and cheeks flushed, your lashes fluttering as he digs his thumbs into deep circles along your hips.

“Are we goin’ back to the hideout?”

Slurred, a little whiny- Dabi huffs at the question and his grip on you tightens as he pulls you closer. You can’t help a small shiver when his hands wander lower and you pout when he huffs again, when he moves a hand away to take his cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

“Where the fuck else would we be goin’?”

You don’t know- a hotel? Another party? Some isolated little house to break into and sleep the night away?

A shrug from you and Dabi clicks his tongue, snaps his fingers and lights his cigarette with a pretty blue flame. He takes a draw and breathes smoke out into your face and he laughs when you whine, when you squirm on his lap.

"Dabi, you're so mean."

"Oh, I'm mean now? You didn't think I was so mean earlier when I was bashin' in that fucker's face for ya."

Your cheeks flare at the memory and Dabi sneers whenever you bite your lip- gloating, smug, undeniably arrogant over the way your muddy eyes get just that much more hazy at the recollection.

It was some perv- some handsy guy with too much coke up his nose, too much whiskey in his system. He had cornered you when Dabi had went to the bathroom, had grabbed onto you and laughed at your stuttered panic, had tried to run his hands up your skirt. He’d been dumb enough not to keep an eye out for Dabi and god when Dabi had come to find you, he had melted that jerk’s face with a flaming punch.

You can still smell the stink of burning skin. You can still feel the ache in your wrist when Dabi had squeezed onto it tight with a snarl.

A shiver runs through you and you squirm on Dabi’s lap, swallow and dig your teeth deeper into your lip when he runs those piercing eyes of his over you.

“You know, princess,” he drawls, “you never thanked me for that.”

You didn’t? You could have sworn you had...

“I- I’m sorry, Dabi,” you mumble- meek, genuinely apologetic and genuinely upset that you weren’t a good little girl that had thanked him like you should have. “Thank you, Dabi. Thank you for savin’ me.”

A snort, something smug in his eyes, and Dabi takes a draw of his cigarette, blows the smoke out through his nose. You’d almost giggle at it if it weren’t for the way his fingers dig deep enough into your skin that you’re left whimpering instead.

“You’re losin’ those good manners of yours, sweetheart,” he huffs. “Am I gonna have to teach you a lesson?”

A- a lesson? Oh, no no no- not a lesson.

Dabi’s lessons are so cruel. Making you kneel on concrete with a bar of soap jammed in your mouth until you’re sobbing and gagging, puking up bile. Spanking you with a flaming hand until you can’t sit down for a good month. Fucking you in the bar right in front of the League, making you cry out your sins while they watch him scorch his palm prints into your waist.

They’re so cruel.

But you never forget your lessons. You’re always so good after them- so well behaved for him.

Another whimper and you shake your head quickly, get your drunken mind spinning from the desperation. You press up against him and you curl your fingers tight into his shirt, try and fail to keep your lips from wobbling and your eyes from glistening.

“N- no, daddy, please,” you whine, plead. “I- I’m a good girl. I’m sorry- I promise!”

Dabi scoffs, cigarette bobbing in his mouth, and he runs his hand down to your thigh, pushes it up until he can poke his spindly fingers against your panties.

“Yeah? Then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Wet? You’re...are you really wet?

Your eyes widen and you’re left gasping whenever he nudges your panties to the side, when a skinny digit runs along your slit.

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he sneers. “What kinda good girl is this fuckin’ drenched on the subway?”

“D- Daddy-”

Fingers plunge into your mouth and your words get cut off in a gurgle, a garbled whine slips from you as they push down on your tongue, as his rings scrape against the roof of your mouth, as you taste yourself.

Oh- oh you really are wet.

A whimper trembles out around his digits and Dabi’s sneer grows as he plunges his fingers deeper into your mouth.

“Such a little slut,” he mocks. “A bad little girl with a sopping little cunt.”

No! No! You’re not bad! You’re not!

Tears well up in your eyes and drench your lashes faster than they usually do- how can they not when you’re drunk and ashamed? How can they not when Dabi’s fingers jam down so deep in your throat that his knuckles are past your teeth?

You gag- still trying to plead even as you do- and Dabi takes a draw from his cigarette, stabs it out on the empty seat next to him without even looking.

“Oh, baby, you’re just so fuckin’ hopeless, aren’t ya?” he taunts- so sickly fake with his sympathy, with the hollow sweetness in his voice. “You can’t help it, huh? Can’t help being wet for daddy.”

No, you can’t help it. You really, really can’t. Not with the way he’s practically trained you to need him. Not with the way he has you so tightly wrapped around his finger.

You whimper, again, as you try to shake your head and you make yourself gag even harder as you do, make yourself drip tears all down your cheeks and onto your lap.

“Da- Da- Daddy...”

It’s so garbled and pathetic, so hopelessly pitiful. Dabi’s eyes go half-shut as you try to gurgle out your drunken apologies and he clicks his tongue as drool drips down his wrist.

“Messy little skank,” he huffs- this time truly fond in his own rough way. That makes it better, a little, and you sniffle whenever he pulls his fingers from your mouth, cough and spill spit all over you as you try to catch your breath.

Dabi dips his drool drenched fingers under your skirt and you gasp, mewl as they plunge into your cunt, moan so loud it echoes through the empty car whenever he curls his digits deep inside of you.

“Daddy, please!”

A snort, a scoff- Dabi’s lips twist into a smirk right as his wrist does and you collapse against his chest, tremble with a little sob.

“Oh, angel,” he hums, “are you begging me to fuck ya right here? On the subway? Where anyone could get on and see you creaming on my cock?”

Yes? No? You don’t know.

It’s so hard to think with the liquor in your veins. It’s so hard to think with the way his fingers brush against your sweet spot with each curl, each pump he gives them.

It’s so hard to think when Dabi’s disciplined you to go absolutely dumb at just the simplest of touches.

You whimper and a hot huff of air brushes against your cheek, his free hand reaches until he can grab you by the hair, yank your head back until you’re forced to look at him through your bleary eyes.

“I asked you a question, princess,” he drawls- words sharp with a threat, eyes narrowing as you whimper once more.

“I- I- Daddy, I’m sorry...”

Slurred, stupid- at least it has his face flickering into something amused. His fingers still curl tighter in your hair, though, and you sniffle as your cunt clenches around him, as your hips try to stutter against his hand.

“Daddy, please! I want- I want it...”

Dabi snorts and you whine as his fingers slip from you, as he brings them up to his lips and gives them a lick. They’re so shiny even in the dingy light of the subway and seeing those glossy digits has your pussy throbbing, your cheeks flaring, a whimpering mewl crawling out from your throat.

“‘Course you want it,” he drawls, swiping his fingers down your shirt. “But you ain’t going to get it.”

What? But that’s not fair!

Your mouth flies open and tears drip down your cheeks as you try to protest, but Dabi grabs onto your jaw before you can speak so much as a word and he squeezes your face tight, sneers at the squeak that leaves you.

“Maybe at the hideout,” he taunts. “Maybe if you’re a good little girl and show me how thankful you are that I didn’t let that asshole fuck your dumb ass.”

He would have- he wouldn’t have...would he?

A sob from you and Dabi huffs, something softens in his expressions as you warble out a “no, please, ‘m yours” to him in a drunken, pleading whimper. A click of his tongue and his grip on your face loosens before he gives your cheek a wet little smack, before he rolls his eyes at you.

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbles. “As if I’d let anyone fuck my girl.”

His girl...his girl. That’s right- you’re his girl.

You sniffle, still tangled up in your upset, and Dabi clicks his tongue again before shaking his head.

“So pathetic,” he snorts. “Fuckin’ dumb, pretty thing.”

This time when you whimper it’s misty eyed and pleased, full of undying need and accompanied by trembling lips, a rock of your hips. Dabi scoffs, softly, and his hands grip your waist, force you to stillness.

“Be good for daddy,” he tells you- orders you. “Or you won’t get fuckin’ nothin’ but a whuppin’ when we get home.”

You don’t- you don’t want a whuppin’. You can be good.

Sniffling once more, you nod and rest yourself against his chest, nuzzle into his neck with a shuddering little mewl.

“I’ll be good, daddy,” you promise- soft, sincere, words just whiny enough to make him huff. “I promise.”

“That’s my girl.”

A snap of fingers, a deep inhale, the scent of a freshly lit cigarette. You melt into Dabi as he smokes and you close your eyes, let yourself be rocked into something content and almost peaceful by the gentle swaying of the subway car- a smile on your lips and tears drying on your cheeks, your cunt throbbing with more and more need with each passing stop.

#dabi x reader #rooni's shit #guh guh why are titles so damn hard

[lavenderwhore444]

So imagine this the reader is a hero and shigaraki is a villain of course anyways shiggy falls head over heels for the reader and always tries to get there attention while the reader does find shigaraki cute but he’s being a pain in the ass always destroying things and making messes, reader kidnapped him and  Using him as a fuck toy ( of course our little  pervert is enjoying this ) anyways the reader straight up tells him if he behaves and start doing good things he’ll get rewarded and actually get to cum, long story short tahts how shigaraki stopped being a villain and destroying things

If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q

Anon, I am excited to say that all of your requests are done and I'm soooooo excited

InteractiveFics

Masterlist

This feeds my saviour complex 🤤

Warnings: edging, blowjob, Shiggy cums in your mouth, lol, fingering (female), vaginal sex, porn (filming), Tomura wasn't as submissive as I planned and pretty much doms you in the end 😞. He's kinda subby at the beginning tho. THIS COULD’VE BEEN SO MUCH BETTER IM MAD. If this gets 1,000 notes, I'll rewrite it 😏 I never say shit like that but yolo ig.

I love you all and hope you eat food and drink some water.

“Shiggy why the actual fuck are we here? It’s the middle of nowhere and that hero y/n’s base is here, ” Dabi complained.

“Shut up. I’m your boss, ” he said, giddy with excitement.

He was so excited to see you: your cool quirk and costume, your pretty voice and face. Plus you’d pay attention to him. You both fought close range, so he’d be able to get a good look at you. He'd get to admire how beautiful you looked up close. The last time he saw you, he swore you were blushing at him. It wasn't like him to flirt with heroes. That was Dabi’s thing, but he couldn't resist.

“Dabi burn that down, ” he ordered.

“Yes boss, ” he muttered, setting the building ablaze.

It was the sixth time in two weeks blue flames were seen from out your window. You sighed, stretched and walked towards the burning building.

“Again?!” you said, saving the last of the people inside.

“I just couldn't resist, ” Tomura smiled, “I missed you y/n if you’d just give me your number, we wouldn't have to do this, ”

“In your dreams, creep, ” you scoffed.

“You're so mean to me, “ he pouted, letting you dodge his punch on purpose.

“God fucking damn it Shigaraki. Stop burning my shit down!” you yelled in frustration.

“Then go out with me. Then I'll quit burning things down. Please y/n? I promise, ” he said.

You groaned, “no, Shigaraki, I won't go out with you, ”

“I love it when you say my name, ” he sighed, “you have such a pretty voice y/n, ”

You slapped him on the back, tripping him with your other foot.

“Just get out of here, ” you said.

“Fine, fine, but i’ll be back for you my love!” he called as he stumbled into the warp gate.

You smiled to yourself. Shigaraki was kind of cute, but he always made such a mess. It was a shame, really.

A bruise-covered Tomura stumbled upstairs. Normally he’d be mad that an enemy marked up his avatar but they were your bruises. Proof that you had touched him with those gorgeous hands. He shrugged off his coat to find a note stuck to it.

‘xxx-xxx-xxxx’

It was your number. You gave him your number. He practically skipped downstairs. He slid into the seat beside Dabi and waved the note in his face.

“She gave me her number, ” Shigaraki bragged.

“Ha, funny story, ” Dabi deadpanned, lighting a cigarette.

“Whatever, I don't need you to believe me, ” he said.

He walked upstairs and sat on the bed to make a contact for you. He put you as ‘y/n <3’ with his favorite picture of you. The picture was from your very first fight. You and All Might were smiling at the camera. He had bought photoshop for two reasons, the first to get All Might out of the picture and second, so he could enhance the photo of you. He ran a finger over your digital face.

“So pretty, ” he whispered, “my pretty y/n, ”

Shigaraki finally worked up the courage to text you.

I knew you'd give in eventually y/n

ᵈᵉˡⁱᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ

He put his phone down and started playing his game. Before he knew it, hours had gone by. He checked his phone.

I knew you'd give in eventually y/n

ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ

Whatever come see me

I'm not dumb y/n this is a trap

I thought you liked me

ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ

I promise it’s not a trap

And I never thought I'd say this but I do like you Shigaraki

Even if you make a mess of the city

Every

Fucking

Day

Get over here before I change my mind creep

📍 y/n sent their location 📍

Fine

ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ

Shigaraki gave Kurogiri the adress.

“Here. Now, ” he ordered, putting on his artist's gloves.

The warp gate opened, and he took a shaky breath before stepping through. He entered your living room, it was surprisingly cozy, and you had lit a fire. You weren't in the room, so he sent you another text.

I'm here

ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ

He heard you open the door and walk in.

“Hey creep, ” you said.

You sat in front of him on the couch.

“You can sit but if you want to keep standing there like an idiot go ahead, ” you said.

He scoffed, “the real idiot is the person who let a villain walk into her house after sending him her location, ”

“Touche, ” you responded, “but I know you'd never hurt me. The city and everyone else is fair game apparently,”

“Just let go of the whole destroying cities thing, ” he said, putting an arm around you, “I was just doing it to impress you, ”

“The only thing that was impressive is all the extra hours I had to put in, ” you snapped.

The room fell silent.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, but you do really stress me out, Shigaraki, ” you sighed, “so I guess it’s only fair that you help me relax, ”

You straddle his lap, putting your hands in his hair

“You're going to live here from now on and pay off your debt to me, Shiggy. And if you're good, you'll even get a reward, ” you said, tapping your finger on his nose.

“What do you mean rela- oh, ” he said, realizing what you meant.

“You don't have to if you don't want to, baby, ” you said, kissing his forehead, “you'd never hurt me, and I'd never hurt you, ”

You wiggled your hips in his lap, “although something tells me you want this as much as I do, Shiggy, ”

“Yeah whatever, ” he mumbled, embarrassed, “go ahead, ”

“You sure?” You asked, nuzzling the side of his neck.

The only time you touched people as a pro-hero was if you were fighting them or saving them. Having Shigaraki here was so nice. He was rubbing your back and holding you. Despite being with a villain, you felt so safe.

“I'm sure, y/n, ” Shigaraki said.

He moved your face in front of his and kissed you. Neither of you had much experience when it came to kissing or romance in general. You were too busy fighting each other. All things considered, your first kiss was pretty good. You never thought you'd have a villain in your house, let alone on your lips. He rubbed his hands up and down your waist.

“Use me however you want y/n you deserve it, baby. I trust you, ” he mumbled against your lips.

It didn't take long for the two of you to strip, shoving your tongues into each other a mouths. Shigaraki didn't really know what to do. He mostly learned from porn. He just kind of rubbed your cunt smiling when you jumped as he found your clit. He learned quickly, rubbing it harshly as you whined into his mouth. He found your hole after a while, pressing a finger in. One didn't really do anything for you so he pressed in another one confused that it wasn't causing the reaction he wanted.

He started wiggling his fingers around until he felt an extra squishy part inside of you and rubbed it, causing you to start moaning again. He brought his other hand to your clit, letting you hump his hand.

“Shigaraki, ” you whined, “please don't stop, ”

“Not gonna stop, baby, ” he said, “don’t worry, ”

You didn't expect him to get you to cum his first try, but soon, you were feeling the pleasure intensify until it broke, ripping through your body.

“No more baby, ” you groaned, “too much, ”

He pulled his hands away and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you for letting me touch you like that y/n, ” he said.

“Its time for me to return the favor, ” you smiled knowing exactly what you wanted.

You lowered yourself onto him, adjusting as he groaned at the feeling of you around him. You felt so warm and wet, so tight around him. He bucked into you when you finally started bouncing. His nails dug into your hips. You decided to rile him up.

“Gonna make you cum so hard, baby, ” you said, nearly giggling, “gonna make you feel so good,”

You reached down to your clit, throwing your head back. His size made it quite easy to get yourself off, and before you knew it, you were right on the edge. You pushed yourself to cum as fast as possible, moaning and whimpering.

“So close baby, ” he groaned as your orgasm finished.

“Too bad, ” you said getting off of him, “did you really think you deserve to cum? After all the trouble you caused? You're gonna have to work for it Tomura Shigaraki, ”

“What the hell, ” he said, “that's not fucking fair. I made you cum twice, isn't that enough?”

“After all the shit you've done? No, no, no, baby, the only way you're gonna get to cum is if you start cleaning up your fucking messes. We’re going out tonight to help clean up that building you burnt up, ”

“No the fuck we’re not. I'm leaving. Fuck you, ” he said.

“Ah ah ah, ” you said, grabbing his phone and pressing two buttons, “kurogiri can't send any warp gates, and your quirk is neutralized. Plus, I'm keeping this phone, ”

He was livid. Maybe you were the real villain here.

“Dont look so sad baby, if you work hard enough, you could cum in the next couple of days. Until then, you're mine to fuck whenever and however I want, ” you said.

He scoffed, “I'm a villain y/n I'm not gonna let everyone see me acting like a fucking hero, ”

“Have fun being edged every day then, and no, you're not allowed to get yourself off. I can't trust you not to, so you're forcing me to tie you up. If only you would come to help your wonderful girlfriend who's just trying to help you have a better life, ” you said.

“Girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“Mhm, ” you said, “I like you, Shigaraki don't you remember? And you asked me out yesterday, ”

He stood there dumbfounded.

“Come on. I'm tired let's get to bed, ” you said, taking his hand.

You walked into the bathroom with him.

“Here I got you pajamas and a toothbrush. Do you need anything else?” you asked.

“No I'm good. Thanks, ” he said.

“No problem baby, ” you said, ruffling his hair.

You brushed your teeth and put on pajamas. You caught him by surprise and tied his hands together.

“Hey what the hell?” he said.

“Shiggy, I told you I couldn’t trust you to be a good boy. You forced my hand, ” you said, leading him to bed.

You both laid down, and you pulled him into your chest, cuddling him close.

“Mmm, good night Shiggy, ” you said.

“Fuck you y/n...goodnight, ” he grumbled.

You giggled and kissed the top of his head. Over the next few weeks, Shigaraki became more and more irritable. It was so annoying to be pushed to the edge every day just to watch you take his orgasm away.

“Fine!” he yelled, on the sixth week of his stay “fine! I'll clean up all the buildings Dabi burned down yesterday! Just let me cum y/n, baby, just let me cum, ” he begged.

You smiled and hugged him tightly, “oh Shiggy, I knew you'd give in and help me! I'm so proud of you. C’mon let's go right now and you can cum after. Any way you want baby, ”

To everyone's surprise, Shigaraki did a great job of cleaning up the building in record time. However, he did threaten everyone at least five times until you shot him a look to make him utter a ‘sorry.’ he had earned his phone back after that since he did such a good job.

He got his shit rocked that night, cumming until he was shaking and crying. Begging you for more.

“Please y/n please let me cum again, m-more I want more, ” he begged.

“Tell me how much you want it baby. Tell me how bad you need to cum, ” you said, taking him in your mouth again.

“Please, ” he cried, “please y/n I need it so bad, ”

You spent hours fucking him, fucking him even though you were over stimulated to the point of tears.

Meanwhile, the league was falling apart without him and disappearing almost completely. It was no secret that people were looking for him, but he was with other heroes all the time. They had no chance at getting him back.

‘So this is what it’s all about,’ he thought, ‘sure y/n is getting paid but not for this. Y/n cleans up and helps people for free. She never gets paid when she's helping behind the scenes. Neither do her friends. Maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe I was right about heroes when I was a kid, ‘

“Y/n, ” he said one night, “I want to get my license. I want to be a real hero, just like I wanted when I was a kid. I was wrong. I was wrong about all of this, ”

You smiled and kissed him hard, “I knew you'd come around, Tomura. You deserve a special reward, baby, ”

He grinned, “what did you have in mind?”

“Mmm, how would you like to show the entire world that I'm all yours?” you asked.

“Id fucking love that y/n, ” he said.

You kissed him. It was messy and loving. He left hickeys all over your neck, snapping picture after picture.

“You want to take a few of me a sucking your cock? Want a fucking video for everyone to see? Let everyone know I suck your cock? Yeah, do you want that baby?” you teased, settling between his legs.

“Do you when have to ask?” he said grabbing your hair on a ponytail, “go on baby, don't be shy, ”

He had his phone in his hand as you licked a long strip up his shaft.

“Tell them who you belong to, baby, ” he groaned.

“You, ” you said, sucking on the head of Shigaraki’s cock making him moan, “I belong to you, Shiggy, I'm yours baby, ”

“That's right, ” he whispered.

You started bobbing your head as he moved more hair out of your face zooming in on you.

“Smile for the camera baby, ” he teased.

You smiled around his cock as best you could while still sucking him off. He kept the camera trained on your face as he shoved you down the rest of the way, causing you to gag. He whispered out a quiet ‘fuck’ as you struggled around him.

“Oh fuck, ” he groaned, using your mouth, “almost there, baby, keep taking my cock come on you can do it y/n, ”

You sucked harder trying to use your tongue as much as you could. You felt him pull you so your mouth was around his tip cumming in your mouth instead of your throat.

“Show them, baby, ” he said, zooming in on your mouth, “show them all the cum you took, ”

You opened your mouth, some dribbling down your chin.

“Swallow sweetie, ” he cooed.

You swallowed and opened your mouth again to show that it was empty.

He chuckled, “good job baby, ” he said petting your hair.

He stopped the video watching some of it through.

“Good job y/n you're a natural, ” he smirked.

You giggled and kissed his inner thigh.

“Lay down on your back on the bed for me, baby, ” he said, walking with you to the bedroom.

He ran his hand over your body, squeezing your tits and thighs.

“So pretty baby, ” Shigaraki whispered, panning the phone up your body.

You giggled, spreading your legs for him.

“God y/n look at that baby. So fucking wet for me. Just for me, ” he said

He ran a finger through the wetness between your legs. Once Shigaraki’s finger was coated, he brought it up to your mouth, getting a good view of your face as you sucked it clean. He laughed and dragged the finger back down your body to push it into you. He quickly added a second finger and working you up until you were moaning and moving against him frantically.

“Right there, ” you moaned, “please Shiggy I'm gonna, ”

“Go on, baby, let them see you cum for me, babe, ” he urged, bumping your clit with his thumb.

Your legs started shaking as you got louder, letting go around his fingers for the whole world to see. Thinking about that, everyone seeing a pro-hero brought to her knees by the most powerful ex villain.

“Want you inside, ” you muttered, “want you inside me, please Shiggy, ”

He smirked and lined you up, rubbing his cock against you before sliding in as your back arched.

“Shiggy, ” you whined, “baby please move, please fuck me, ”

“Sure princess, ” he snickered.

He got a good angle and started to thrust slowly. You whimpered, gripping the sheets as he began to speed up, listening to your moans and the squelch of your cunt as he plunged into you. He began to speed up, alternating between your face as you got lost in pleasure and the way his cunt hugged his cock. Shigaraki kept up a steady pace for a while before throwing it all away to fuck you ruthlessly, letting your tits bounce for the camera as you became more and more desperate for release.

“Shigaraki, ” you cried, “I need to cum, baby. Please, ”

He brought a finger down to your clit, rubbing slow circles that increased in speed slowly until he was rubbing it ruthlessly. Your moans only got louder as you bucked against him.

“I'm gonna cum, ” you whispered.

“Louder, baby, ” he said, starting to lose control.

“I'm gonna cum!” you cried.

“Do it, baby. Come on, let them see you lose control, let them see what I fucking do to you. Cum for me y/n.”

Your back arched, eyes rolled back as you let out a loud broken moan. Shigaraki moaned as he zoomed in on your face, contorted in pleasure.

“Fuck baby I'm gonna cum. Gonna cum inside of you baby girl, ” he grunted getting faster.

He let out a long moan as he halted inside of you, letting his cock shoot cum inside of you. He stayed still, panting before pulling out slowly. He let the camera focus on the sticky white liquid oozing out of you.

“Fuck, ” he whispered.

He dipped his finger into you and had you lick the cum off of it.

“I love you, ” he whispered, bracing himself for rejection.

“I love you too, ” you said, pulling him into a kiss with the phone forgotten.

The video was stopped as he pulled you close to him. Shigaraki held you to his chest, rubbing circles on your back.

“Guess what I'm drawing, ” he said, tracing a heart on your back.

“A flower?” you guessed.

“Nope, ” he said, kissing the top of your head, “a heart, ”

He grabbed his phone again, posting the videos.

“There we go, ” he whispered, “now they'll know you're all mine,”

#shigaraki fluff #shigaraki smut #tomura smut #tenko smut #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tenko #tomura shiragaki #shigaraki tomura #tomura fluff #tomura x reader #mha tomura #tomura imagine #villain to hero

[fanmoose12]

Yo moose! Can I request this prompt? well I'm kinda stuck between two similar ideas so it's up to you to pick: Hanji surviving 132 and giving a speech to public about the shit she personally had to go through and it gets emotional, or things are canon (sadly) and Levi's the one to give a speech about what he went through with her. IN GENERAL I JUST WANT THE WORLD TO RECOGNIZE THE FACT THAT HANJI'S THE ONE WHO SAVED THE FUCKING WORLD (or at least what was left of it oof lemme ignore extra pages)

@agoldenheartedsnkfan my beloved 💕 sorry for the delay!!! but i hope you enjoy this little thing! i missed writing your prompts <3

---

Levi wasn't going home, not quite.

Home is where the heart is, but his heart was long gone, sacrificed for the future of the humanity.

And despite being away from his motherland for almost a decade now, Levi hadn't missed the place. It was hard to miss familiar cafes and bars when the people he used to visit them with were already dead.

Still, something stirred inside him at the sight of the streets he walked through so often. Now, however, he wasn't able to walk like he had used to. Now he could only roll on his wheelchair, all the while cursing the genius who decided that a brick road was a good idea for the central street.

He certainly wasn't the same man he had been before. He wasn't a thief from the Underground, wasn't humanity's strongest soldier. Now he was an old man, broken by the years of fighting and bleeding.

Continuing to move forward, Levi passed a cafe he used to frequent, the one with the delicious pancakes and a table in the corner that could fit all members of his, Hange's and Mike's squads; a bar where they sang lewd songs and picked fights with the military police; gardens that Hangs loved visiting so much; a bookshop that Erwin loved to walk around, with Hange animatedly talking his ear off; a clothing store where Levi used to buy cravats for himself and shirts for Hange.

Each place had a special meaning for him, each one was connected with a dear memory. But without his friends, there was no reason to visit these places again. Walking through them all by himself would only make pain inside feel that much sharper.

Levi turned the corner and breath was promptly knocked out of his lungs. He didn't think he'd ever see this particular building ever again.

But there it was, Survey Corps Headquarters. It certainly changed.

The emblem was a little different and the amount of soldiers was that much bigger.

Figures there would be an influx of new recruits after everything that happened. Levi could only hope that these ones wouldn't turn out to be as bloodthirsty as the ones he and Hange had to deal with.

As Levi slowly rolled closer to the building that now seemed that much grander than before, he was noticed by a group of soldiers, who stood by the gates, sharing a cigarette.

Most of them didn't pay much attention to him, one soldier grimaced as he looked at his scared face, another scoffed and turned away. Only one of them, the one in the center, had realised who Levi truly was. His bright eyes widened swiftly and suddenly. Levi swallowed heavily. It seemed like he wouldn't be able to leave unnoticed.

"It's you!" the soldier ran up to him, already breathless. "It's you, right? Captain Levi? The hero of the Battle of Earth and Heaven?"

The hero part was a large overstatement.

"I've been here if that's what you're blabbering about. Now if you excuse me..."

"Levi Ackerman?" the rest of the soldiers joined their comrade, surrounding Levi. "One of Paradis' biggest traitors?"

Levi was going to leave. Logically, he knew that he had no other sane choice. But, goddamn it, he had enough of these fuckers back in his days. He was so not going to tolerate them and their shit.

"I am traitor?" he husked, his eye flashing. "None of you would be here if it wasn't for me and other traitors. So shut your stupid mouthes."

"You helped to kill Eren Yeager."

"And saved the rest of the world in the process."

"You killed a hero," one of the soldiers stubbornly repeated. "And saved our enemies."

"What else could you expect," the other soldier scoffed. "From the Captain who served under Commander Crazy."

Oh. Levi didn't feel that in a long time. That ugly, burning feeling that spread through his veins like a wave. He thought he had left it behind, alongside with his blades. But apparently there still existed idiots who managed to make him see red with just a couple of words.

Back in his days, Levi would have kicked the asshole in the stomach, knocking breath out of him. He'd punch him in the face, leaving him with the black eye. He'd twist his arm to make him scream and beg for mercy. He'd knock him down and step on his palm, waiting for the bastard to apologize.

Now, he wasn't as strong, wasn't as skilled. But he still had some tricks up his sleeve.

Before another stupid word left the fucker's mouth, Levi pushed his wheelchair forward, rolling on the soldier's foot. The soldier yelped and attempted to get away. Levi didn't allow him to.

"Now listen to me, you little shit," he pulled the man down by the collar of his shirt. "Commander Hange Zoe was the best person this shitty island had ever seen. She sacrificed everything for idiots like you. And if it weren't for her selflessness, if it weren't for her kindness and intellect, this island would have been fucked more times than you can count. Who do you think have designed that shiny uniform you wear? Or the weapons that all of you are so ready to wield?"

"Commander Zoe?" one of the soldiers whispered, his head lowered in shame.

"Learn some respect, you fuckers," Levi glowered, letting go of the poor idiot. "Or I'll knock it into you. You wouldn't want for others to know that you had your asses kicked by a disabled old man? If not, then get the fuck out of my sight. And if I hear the words crazy or traitor in the one sentence with the name Hange Zoe, you'll be sorry you've ever learnt to talk."

Luckily, the bastards didn't need much convincing after that. All of them scattered around, one of them visibly limping.

"What a bunch of losers," Levi sighed, willing his clenched fists to relax. The anger didn't leave him, but now another feeling appeared, the one that always visited him whenever he spoke or thought of Hange.

Fuck, a decade had passed, and that wound was still as fresh as ever. Would it ever stop hurting? Levi wasn't sure.

"Hope you've enjoyed that little spectacle," he muttered under his breath, his eyes aimed at the sky. "I bet you're ecstatic at all the compliments I just threw your way. Perhaps, I should have done it sooner," he said, his voice thick with feeling. "Repeated them more often."

But was the point of thinking about it now, when all he had left was his broken heart and a feeble hope that Hange was still watching him?

Although... all things considered, Levi hoped that Hange had missed this little trip of his. He certainly wished he wouldn't have come here.

Home is where the heart is. Levi could only hope that one day, it'd become true for him as well.

#things are canon (sadly) #yeah I FELT THAT #levihan

[after-witch]

Big City (Yandere Shigaraki x Reader)

Title: Big City [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re about to leave for a new university in a new city in a new country. Your friend doesn’t seem pleased. You agree to meet up before you leave in the hopes of keeping your friendship alive.

For request: hi can I request one with maybe yandere dabi or shigaraki (upto you) with a darling who almost barks at them when they get kindapped cause they were about to get into their dream college and were about to fulfill their lifelong dream and now because of the situation its ruined. Like they worked so hard all their life for it. How would they react?

Word Count: 2000-ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping

You mindlessly check your messages for what feels like the tenth time in the last hour, despite knowing what you'd find: no response from Tomura. It was... unusual. A little worrying. But mostly, it was frustrating. You had too much on your plate to deal with managing his moods right now, or managing anything but arranging your flight and your luggage and confirming your schedule for the upcoming university semester.

To say that Tomura had been unusually quiet and unresponsive since you gave him the news would be an understatement. You didn't think it would matter that much. Your friendship was purely online, anyway; he'd shut down the idea of meeting in person, saying he was too shy about his appearance. But you didn't mind. 

You gamed, you texted, you send each other screenshots of people saying ridiculous things online. You talked over the phone about, well, everything. Truthfully, he was your closest friend, though that wasn't saying much. Your family wasn't in the picture, and you found it hard to get close to anyone, found it hard to open up to others.

So when you immediately called him after reading your acceptance letter, gushing about the news, his lack of a response was... deflating. But, you chalked it up to Tomura being... Tomura. Sometimes he got moody or seemed to get annoyed by ordinary things. He gave you a 2-day silent treatment for boasting about getting the autograph of your favorite hero. But you had learned how to navigate his moods for the most part, but it was hard to manage anything when he wouldn't even respond.

You're about to close the app when a message suddenly pops up:

Hey. Sry I haven't been talking. Kind of going through stuff. Since your leaving.... can we meet in person before you go? Just lunch. I'll pay. (Maybe)

Your fingers shake a little above the screen. A first meeting? Now? Right before you leave? You think back to your late night gaming sessions, your conversations, the closeness you feel between you and think--why not?

*You're And...  yes. (NOT MAYBE) Where do you want to go?

**

You lean your back against the brick of the shopping complex and pull out your phone. Tomura had named the time, the place--and asked if you could meet up behind the complex where it would be empty. You agreed, of course. You know that he's shy. Maybe he wanted to meet you without crowds around first. He's a few minutes late so you pull up your messages, thumbing through them without much thought. You're bored. You switch over to your email and recheck your flight schedule, the gate times, the rules and luggage limitations. You've read them a thousand times but each reread brings you closer to a much longed-for reality: an overseas university with a stellar reputation and a practical guarantee of a job in the field after graduation. Sometimes you could hardly believe it.

You're contemplating taking a selfie when a voice suddenly speaks from behind you, distinct and firm.

"Finally."

Before you can turn, before you can think, you feel a sudden grip on your arm--and everything goes black.

**

You wake up some time later. Your head feels fuzzy, your vision slightly off, like you've been napping too hard. Maybe you have, you think, as your vision clears. But you're not in your stripped down bed in your packed-up apartment. 

You blink and blink and take in a bedroom that you've never seen. It's messy, wrappers, cans, paper plates strewn about. The air smells stale. You look down and realize you're sitting on a mattress on the floor. Your hand slips into your pocket for your phone, but it’s not there. Shit. 

Your back is pressed up against the wall which is perfectly fine, because it's then that you see someone sitting on the other end of the mattress.

You jerk back with a start, but there's nowhere to go. The person--a man, you quickly note--is sitting with their legs crossed. Their face is obscured by a dark hoodie and messy hair and you don't even think before you shout out the first words which spring to mind:

"What the fuck?"

The figure gives a chuckle, dry and short. "Sorry. Had to do it this way. Guess you're not used to Kurogiri's quirk, huh."

His voice makes you feel strange. It sounds familiar. It's something you've heard before. On TV, maybe or--oh. Oh.

"Tomura?" The query comes out high-pitched, almost whining. You're in disbelief. It has to be--

Tomura, and his reaction seals it, it definitely is Tomura, practically giggles as he breaths out a sigh. It's an odd sound coming from an imposing figure, but is it really an imposing figure if it's your friend?

He raises his face and the hoodie shifts downward. Your eyes are drawn to his lips, chapped and a bit scabbed over. You want to cringe when he pulls his lower lip back to bite on some of the dry skin.

"Tomura," you say, letting out shaky breaths of your own as the reality of where you are and what's going on begins to seep in, "Tomura, what’s going on? Did I pass out in the parking lot?" He brought you here, maybe. Maybe the blackness was you blacking out and hitting the pavement and that's why your head feels funny and Tomura just brought you to his house because he's so shy that he didn't want to get the attention of the staff at the shop or the police or any random passerby on the street who for some reason didn’t see him dragging you along or--

Your thoughts still race as he snorts. He relaxes a little, his shoulders slumping as he scooches a little closer on the mattress.

"You seriously don't recognize my face?"

You feel your own face scrunch in confusion. Of course you don't recognize his face. Tomura never sent you pictures. He said he was too shy. And, you don't mean to be mean, but you can kind of see why, because--oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

You get it. And he gets that you get it, because he's got this sort of sour smirk on his face as you inwardly ask yourself what in the flying fuck was going on with your life if a notorious villain secretly befriended you then kidnapped you then brought you to his bedroom of all places.

"I don't..." The fuzzy feeling is back as your neck begins to ache and you swear a migraine is coming on. "I don't..." You don't finish, you can't finish.

"You don't what," he spits out, annoyed and frustrated and whereas before his frustration was something for you to manage and recede with silly pictures or playful chiding, for the first time it makes you nervous and you shrink your shoulders in.

"I don't--I'm not," you finally say, you finally do spit out, "I'm not anyone important. I don't know if you're looking for a ransom or... whatever it is you want, but you know I don't have anyone who will pay it."

He scratches at his scalp and sighs, and you recognize in the tone that he's calmed down, somewhat. At least you have that going for you, sitting in the apparent bedroom of a villain. Speaking of--you eye his hands. He follows your look and shoves them in his pockets before speaking.

"You were leaving." He looks away and itches his cheek. "Going to some fancy foreign school. What would you even need that shit for, anyway?"

You stare at him. This feels like a conversation that could have been had, say... over text, not after kidnapping you from behind a cafe.

"It's my dream. I told you about it all the time. I worked my ass off to get a spot at that school."

The numbness of anxiety has begin to edge away and you cross your arms. You don't want to look scared. Or mad. You try to look normal, you try to think normally, because if there's any way you're going to get out of this situation, you have to remain calm. 

You try to imagine that it's 3 am and you're talking on the phone, having an argument, a testy patch of friendship. But it's hard to ignore that he's a villain who brought you here for some unknown reason; a villain who got you to trust him (but why?) and talk to him (but why?) and fuck, how many private things had you told him in the middle of the night? So many texts and emails and late night conversations.

It suddenly dawns on you that you don't know how long you were out. You have a plane to catch and luggage to finish and you're here instead. You take a breath in the hopes of further steadying your nerves. You look at Tomura, who has been watching you for the past minute with an impassive, hard-to-reach expression. 

He doesn't seem to be... threatening. He didn't try to hurt you or threaten to hurt you. Maybe, maybe this was a case of... you know how things can be online. How people can get obsessively attached. Maybe he thought you were dating. Maybe he had a crush and didn't express it and years of isolation made it impossible for him to just y'know, talk to you like a normal person. He's awkward and shy and inappropriate and okay, okay, okay. You can work with this.  You've had your fair share of online... situations. Like most people. You just have to deal with them with delicacy.

You breathe. You smile, a little. And you scooch just a bit closer to Tomura, whose eyes widen in surprise at your movements.

"So... Tomura?" Your voice is soft and placating and oh so very chill. The kind of voice you've used with him before, when he was being a grumpy ass-hat pissed off about losing to you in his favorite game.

"Yeah--Yeah?" He says, clearing his throat. You want to smile harder because you think oh, good, I've got him here.

You mimic his earlier movement and give your hair a little ruffle, a little scratch. "I guess we can just order delivery for lunch, huh? I have to be home by eight, so I can get my stuff together for my flight tomorrow." You give your lip a little gnaw, in a gesture that probably felt cuter in concept than execution. "Oh! Since I can stay a little later, we can totally game while we eat, right? I owe you a rematch for last time."

Saying all this, being so sweet and kind, acting like nothing has changed, feels really, really surreal. But you push through it because the best course of action with guys like these is to placate them and get them to let you go on your way, then ghost like hell once you're out of their reach. And what better way to ghost than to move to a completely different country?

He stares at you for a moment. You think he must have been expecting you to cry or yell or scream or call him a creeper. Which he probably is, but he doesn't need to know that you think that. At least not until you're safe. You see a quirk of a smile before he flat out begins to laugh. It's a hard laugh, a wheezing laugh, one that has him slapping his thigh. Your skin feels light and numb and your body begins to shake a little in uncertainty and anxiety and just a bit  of anger.

And you can't help it, you have a mouth, you really do--

"What the hell is so funny!"

His laugh tapers off and he wipes a bit of drool from his lips (ew) before regarding you with an expression that seems wild and strange and definitely not the response you were expecting.

"Why would you need to catch a flight? You're not going anywhere."

His answer sends an instant ice-cold knot to your stomach. You huff out a breath. Maybe you can still salvage this, maybe.

“C’mon, Tomura.” Keep saying his name, you think. These types of people like it when you acknowledge them. “Don’t be silly. We’ll still talk and game everyday like we always do, and--”

Before you can think he’s suddenly right up against you, his arm pressed up practically against your ear as he looms over you, keeping you pinned to the wall. His eyes look manic and he’s smiling and it’s not a nice smile, but one full of hidden intentions that make your stomach drop and drop and drop.

“Don’t worry. We are going to talk and game everyday. As long as you’re good, anyway.”

You ignore the implications in his words--what does he mean good?--and try to argue, try to reason.

“But… the school… my degree…” You look up so you can blink away tears. You hate crying. “You know what it means to me. It’s my dream,” you whisper. He’s supposed to be your friend, why can’t he see that?

You instinctively begin to shake as you feel a finger pet your cheek. It’s supposed to be soothing, you think, but all you feel is icy anxiety and fear overtaking your nerves. He practically coos at you as he continues, his rough knuckle scratching you.

“Don’t worry. You can always think of a new dream.”

#yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere #tomura shigaraki x reader #afterwitch writes

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging. 

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here. 

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story. 

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield​, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me. 

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this. 

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk. 

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’” 

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.” 

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.” 

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?” 

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly. 

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?” 

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?” 

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.” 

“You’re on.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp. 

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks. 

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.” 

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.” 

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red. 

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type. 

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path. 

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat. 

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers. 

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.” 

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.” 

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?” 

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise. 

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.” 

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat. 

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily. 

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down. 

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back. 

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple. 

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.” 

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms. 

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own. 

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin. 

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve. 

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.” 

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head. 

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?” 

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him. 

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.” 

She’s not fucking kidding about that part. 

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan. 

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear. 

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up. 

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle. 

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.” 

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily. 

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.” 

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word. 

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles. 

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.” 

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?” 

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?” 

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now. 

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this. 

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair. 

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question. 

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.” 

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?” 

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.” 

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart. 

“Poughkeepsie.” 

“Gesundheit.” 

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.” 

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I trust you.” 

“Really?” 

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.” 

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.   

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”  

“I’m not.” 

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.” 

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.” 

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.” 

“Tryna be a tough guy?” 

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.” 

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…” 

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.” 

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something. 

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark. 

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close. 

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest. 

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless. 

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human. 

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick. 

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks. 

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.” 

“Tell me what you want, Faith.” 

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm. 

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…” 

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”  

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains. 

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone. 

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent. 

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly. 

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it. 

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?” 

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.” 

“Faith.” 

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.” 

“What do you think I want from you?” 

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?” 

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.” 

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button. 

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue. 

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?” 

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.” 

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.” 

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?” 

“What do you want?” 

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.” 

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *  

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely. 

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. 

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter. 

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?” 

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.” 

“It does. I picked the lock.” 

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly. 

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins. 

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.” 

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable. 

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away. 

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks. 

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.” 

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.” 

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up. 

“Faith?” 

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?” 

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling. 

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting. 

“Sammy?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line. 

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs. 

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?” 

“No, I’m busy.” 

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream. 

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in. 

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?” 

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand. 

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.” 

There’s a long, weighted pause. 

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.” 

“Faith…” 

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.” 

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?” 

“Dorchester.” 

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms. 

“Good girl.” 

“Well?” 

“Be patient.” 

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily. 

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.” 

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles. 

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt. 

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing. 

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans. 

“Harder,” she grits out. 

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs. 

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him. 

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?” 

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?” 

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake. 

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him. 

“Need you,” she pants. “More.” 

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet. 

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place. 

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” 

“What did I say?” 

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain. 

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke. 

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table. 

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —” 

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries. 

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out. 

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too. 

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists. 

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.” 

“Anything you want.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge. 

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks. 

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.” 

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?” 

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.” 

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.” 

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…” 

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth. 

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer. 

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his. 

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.” 

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.” 

“At your service.” 

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy. 

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there. 

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time. 

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability. 

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *  

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this. 

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief. 

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy. 

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic. 

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine. 

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll. 

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp. 

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers. 

“Little bit. I like it.” 

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that. 

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead. 

This feels like a form of worship. 

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers. 

“More?” she murmurs. 

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit. 

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.” 

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes. 

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time. 

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight. 

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.” 

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.” 

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers. 

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths. 

“Gorgeous like this.” 

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“ 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.” 

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows. 

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too. 

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her. 

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back. 

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.  

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful. 

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?” 

“Yeah.” 

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here. 

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand. 

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles. 

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?” 

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed. 

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.” 

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress. 

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.  

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops. 

“You know how to get back from here?” 

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising. 

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.” 

“If things were different —” 

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.” 

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ” 

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?” 

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”  

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go. 

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.” 

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong. 

.

.

.

#1kclassicrockchallenge #sam winchester fic #sam winchester #faith lehane #btvs #spn #supernatural #spn x btvs #supernatural x buffy the vampire slayer #crossover fic #sam winchester x faith lehane

[thelittlepoetprincess]

ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴᴏᴜꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ [Dabi x Reader]

Author's Note: I personally am not a fan of Lizard king here but go off. This took a long ass time to write not to mention proofread and edit. No idea if I'm making another part to this. Also, a lot of this is therapy wagon material. If you want to be tagged in these just say so.

Warnings: Fluff for a bit, Implied depression, mild spoilers, light mental manipulation, degrading, power play, oral sex(F receiving), hate sex, death mentions, arson, and physical abuse.

Summary: You chose your job over Dabi, and then severely regret it once he survives.

The numbness of grief was overwhelming, even more so when the one you were grieving was your lover. You settled onto the sofa, watching the news drone on about the recent death of Villian Dabi, confirmed now to be Touya Todoroki. You'd turn off the TV and lie on your back, not needing the extraneous details of his death. After all, you killed him.

The memory of it haunted you like ghosts dancing in your memories: the heated warmth of his palms that threatened to burn you but never did, the way he always wore worn down leather or rough worn down jackets, everything about him attracted you and only made his death hit you harder.

You were a lesser-known hero with a restoration quirk, able to numb large areas and heal minor wounds while still using it in large quantities. You'd met Dabi while out on a mission to recover a kidnapped hero, and you couldn't keep your hands off his wounds. Not like he'd let you after he felt your gentle touch ease his pain for once.

Six months, it only took six months for the bad boy to entangle himself into your life. He snuck into your old apartment all the time, made you comfortable, and he'd break down in front of you. He was a surprisingly affectionate lover, despite his many flaws. You'd feel something in your throw blanket, shaking it loose to find the leather jacket he always wore.

The navy blue leather faded slightly and burnt in specific areas where he couldn't control his flames.

You felt the fresh hot tears welling up behind your eyes as you clutched the jacket to your chest. It was much larger than you since Dabi was slightly taller, so your face nuzzled into where his neck would be. It still smelled of cigarettes and burnt flesh, the scent you grew to love so much.

You took a deep inhale, the tears starting to flow as you replayed your shared memories, unable to help the grief overwhelming you. Suddenly, you had no energy nor will to do anything except sleep, even moving was deemed too much to handle. The scent of your boyfriend lulled you to sleep, though it'd be one of the last times it'd do so.

Dabi wrapped his hands around your waist before hoisting you high in the air while the wind blew at your hair in the flowy white lace dress you wore. The undetailed field of wildflowers went on far beyond your sight as he twirled you around before falling on his back with you. You'd both be laughing in the hazy daze of love before sharing a loving kiss as the gentle grass blades tickled your skin.

You felt a leathery hand touch the skin of your cheek, the thick smell of cigarette smoke tickling your nose and making you sneeze before you gently smacked away the hand. You hear a deep, raspy chuckle before the person mysteriously pulls the coat on you like a blanket.

"Little hero, do you love me?" You'd mumble a yes subconsciously, something saddeningly familiar about whoever it was looming over your sleeping form. "Ha, cute. . ." You heard something about leaving and the door shut with a click, leaving you to sleep once again.

Your peaceful sleep is dreadfully short as your friends came in, yanking you from the grasp of sleep with their tumultuous noise.

You quickly hid the jacket, sleepily rubbing at your eyes as they opened your curtains and turned on the TV. It droned on about the agency you worked at and fire. However, you didn't have the energy nor will to care since you planned on quitting anyway.

They droned on about how you'd slept for two days straight and needed to get out, and you agreed. Maybe it would take your mind off of Dabi and the arsenic incident, also the five missed calls from your agency from two days ago. You'd shower and change, pulling your hair back out of your face for the first time for days.

The curls were dry against your fingers so you oiled your hands and massaged them into the brown mass you called hair, plucking it out to its full shape. You pulled on the black and blue dress, noticing how the dress hugged your hips a bit then flowed out to your mid-thigh. Perhaps you've gained a bit of weight these past 2 months.

Tired bags were under your eyes from sleeping for so long. After some light makeup, you left with them to the carnival. 

Lights illuminated the dark navy blue sky as you got dragged about, the fun temporarily blinding you from the sadness overwhelming you. They led you into the Maze of Mirrors, their bodies contorting and bending around you confusedly while you searched for them until they disappeared. Their goofy laughter faded into an eerie silence with only your echoing footsteps left to fill the silence. You froze as you smelled a familiar scent: burnt flesh and cigarette smoke.

His chuckles were all around you as you saw the flashes of black and navy blue in the mirrors before he was suddenly standing in front of you.

He was pissed, you knew that snarky glare anywhere. It made you nervous as he closed the distance between the two of you without speaking a word until he backed you against the cold glass. He gently pressed himself against you, giving you no real way to escape him with his arms on both sides of your head. "Dabi-" "Shh, I don't wanna hear it. At least not here, too many people. They're already looking for me since I disappeared. We aren't safe, come on." He didn't ask as he hoisted you over his shoulders to carry you out the back exit.

He seemed gentle while he carried you, he wasn't rough at all. The heat you felt radiating from his palms as he held said otherwise as you worriedly fretted about him burning a hole in your clothes. Though you felt some relief knowing he wasn't dead: he was your love after all. You knew what was coming to you for feeding him arsenic wasn't going to be a gentle, loving reunion of star-crossed lovers. Dabi wasn't that kind of guy.

He made it back to your new apartment after knocking out the security guard at the gate and threw you onto the bed. He'd seemed to get angrier as he got closer to your apartment. Your hair messily fell around your face to make a curly halo around it. He was on top of you before you could attempt to sit up, his warm breath huffing down the side of your neck.

"Now what the fuck were you thinking, huh? An arsenic cupcake? You really wanna get rid of me that badly you snake." He seethed, and you felt the familiar feeling of your wrists being burnt by his flames. You cry out in pain, squirming under his grip with tears in your eyes.

"Oh you're crying, now you're crying. How do you think I felt getting sick and finding out my girlfriend poisoned me?" He'd growl out, as you stopped squirming and sucked it up. He was right, you deserved this. You tried to kill him, and all he'd done was be beside you and attempt to be somewhat of a lover to you. You looked up to him, his blue eyes lacking any gentleness or affection. It was hate, resentment, and importantly: lust.

That's when it hit you that you were a stress reliever for him. Everything that he kept pent up he always let it out on you, and for about a month now he hasn't had it. You'd reach out, gently tracing your fingers along his scars using your quirk to calm him and watch his eyes soften as he quite literally melted under your touch. He'd land on top of you, caging you underneath him with his arms, he exhaled a strained snarl before snatching your hands from his skin.

You couldn't help wincing once you felt the familiar burning sensation of Dabi's quirk in action yet again as the blue flames licked against your skin, at least it wasn't a third-degree this time.

"It was you, wasn't it? My agency, they called then it went up in flames." He didn't answer but you knew the answer by the way he buried into the side of your neck. He always did that when you accused him and he was guilty. You'd chuckle to yourself but yelp when you felt his teeth against the soft skin of your neck, suckling your skin.

You'd squirm as a familiar heat settled itself in the pit of your stomach. He huffed as he finally moved away from the purple bruise he left on your skin. His lips trailed down until he reached your exposed collarbone, chuckling before tracing his hands against your caramel skin sending chills down your spine. He'd kiss, lovingly at that, along the caramel curve of your breasts.

He'd yank you to the edge of the bed, moving between your legs with a focused look in his glimmering eyes. "Dabi, are you mad at me?" He'd chuckle before you'd feel a burn against your thighs while sinking his teeth into the soft plushness of your inner thigh. "Oh darling, I'm fucking furious." The sweet name rolled off his tongue, making you quiver when paired with his teasing licks over your soaked panties.

He paid no attention to your face, his main focus being on the slickness accumulating from your dripping hole. His hands traced up over the stretch marks gently decorating your skin so beautifully before burning off the panties, his tongue grazing the soaked slit before sliding his tongue up to your neglected clit. His mouth was warm and wet against your sensitive bud, making it grow under his expert tongue his suckling sent waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body, and core. The entire room felt hot, and it wasn't helping wherever his hands traced left heated burn trails. You'd run your fingers into hair, yanking it to where his tongue pressed against your hole. "Dabi, please I want it. . ."

"Shut it, I'm still pissed at you." He'd yank your arms away again, pressing his tongue into your hole. Your flavor flooded his tongue, making him lick and devour you hungrily. Your eyes rolled back, your hips subconsciously bucking against his tongue as it buried into your wet hole. Ecstasy, that's all you could describe the feeling at this moment. The waves of heat that swallowed you and threatened to keep you at this moment while your climax built up in that tight ball. You panted like a bitch in heat, your legs trembling as your fingers intertwined in his black hair. "Dabi, I'm. . . .I'm-!"

"Shut up, loud-ass slut. Come if you wanna come so bad!" 

He'd say before continuing to devour you, his tongue digging into your spot just enough to send you tottering over the edge in waves of heat. You'd throw your head back, sending your curls flying wildly behind you as you rode out your orgasm and Dabi's face. Your legs closed around his head like a vice, keeping his tongue in your hole while he drank you greedily. He moaned into your nether lips, finally able to pull away with an exasperated breath.

His lips and chin were a mess of your nectar and saliva, but a smirk was on his face now. He'd notice his jacket hidden poorly, but laugh as he moved to take it and pull it on. He'd once again hoist you over his shoulder, humming as he slid his fingers along the walls setting them ablaze. "Dabi-?! What are you doing?! My apartment!" "I let you have too much freedom last time, but don't worry. I'll make it so that I'm the only one you can lean on. Then you'll never leave again." 

He'd laugh as he carried you away, ignoring your cries and pleas while the building went up in flames along with everything you'd known up until now. His sick, twisted laughter filled your ears before you felt a hard force against your head, the inky blackness flooding your senses and knocking you out.

#bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi lemon #Dabi #dabi smut #dabi my hero academia #bnha #dabi x reader #dabi fluff

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXX

February 11, 2278.

Ten fifteen in the evening.

I loaded my shotgun and watched the rear, gunfire bursting as the tin cans yelled. This was supposed to be a stealth operation. If only DeLoria hadn’t tripped on that one guard…

Truth be told, this was an absolutely fucking stupid plan. Taking away a comatose patient from the Citadel isn’t the brightest idea DeLoria and I came up with, but we had no other choice. Whatever secret about Percy that Dr. Li wanted us to protect, it seemed important. Seeing how Lyons figured out that she’s a living atomic weapon, I understand her.

DeLoria looks goddamn constipated as he helped me push the gurney with my partner in tow, secured with leather straps so she wouldn’t fly off. In the front, Fawkes soaks up most of the damage.

Of course we had a Plan B if the stealthy approach didn’t work. Thank fuck Fawkes is willing to cooperate, too. This wasn’t the first time we worked together to help Percy out of the tight spot. Then again, Percy got us out of our predicaments first. Knowing her, when she wakes up, she’ll scold us for risking ourselves for her, and for coming up with this awful plan.

Too bad. She can’t stop us now.

“Charon, what now? I only brought a pistol,” Butch yelps, narrowly missing fire.

“We’re gonna let Fawkes soak up the brunt of the gunfire, and we keep pressing forward and watch his six,” I grunted in return.

“Shit, this is a bad idea man! What if they hit Percy?”

“That’s why we’re fucking here to shield her! Are you scared of a little gunfire, DeLoria?!”

The younger man gulped and kept pushing. Our group kept pushing forward, already at the courtyard. How we managed to pull this off is beyond me. I expected to be dead right now.

“Hold your fire!”

Whoever issued the command is old, judging from their voice. Almost immediately, the tin cans stopped shooting.

“Father, what’s the meaning of this?” a more feminine voice called out. “They’re kidnapping a comatose patient! An honorary member of the Lyons Pride! I-”

“Sarah, please, enough. I’ll talk to them,” the Elder says, emerging from the crowd.

Another one of the tin cans interrupts. “Elder, they let in a Super Mutant in Citadel grounds! We-”

The old man gives the soldier a stern gaze, and he backs off. Coming face to face with Fawkes, the elder looks up, a neutral expression on his face.

“Please explain the meaning of this.”

DeLoria rushes over from the rear, facing the old man. “We’re getting our friend out of here! Clearly you assholes haven’t been doing her any good, so we’re transferring her to another hospital.”

“Another hospital?” the younger Lyons interrupts. “Listen kid, the Citadel is one of the few places on the Wasteland equipped to handle Zhou’s injuries.” Armor clinking, she marches towards the greaser, a livid expression on her face.

“What makes you think that whatever ‘hospital’ you’ll be transferring her to is equipped to help her, huh?”

A shouting match erupts between those two. Before things get ugly, Elder Lyons intervenes again, placing himself in front of the greaser and his daughter. Grumbling, I reach out and pull DeLoria back.

“I’ll take it from here,” I griped, and shoved past Sarah Lyons. I came face to face with the Elder, and I folded my arms.

“Before she left, Dr. Li told us she doesn’t think that whatever tests you’re running on Percy isn’t for her best interests. Percy trusted that doctor, so I trust her.”

Blondie scoffs, about to go off on us again, but she stops in her tracks, looking at something, or someone, behind us.

“Then, why don’t you ask Zhou herself, if she wants to stay here or not?”

My eyes widen, and I turn around and see Percy, sitting up on the bed, her restraints loose. I checked again, and no, they weren’t loosened. They were pulled away from the bed, and she’s gripping the leather straps.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Percy,” I mumble, taking slow, tentative steps towards her.

She’s looking blankly ahead, eyes glassy. No. Oh no.

What the fuck is happening?

Rough and calloused, my fingers brush against her arm, and her eyes flick towards me. “Percy? Are you there?”

Letting go of the leather strap, her small hand grips mine, and she exhales sharply, panic rousing within her. Through her hospital gown, I see a sickly green glow pulsing below her throat, at her chest.

Barreling her way through, Sarah Lyons points a minigun at my partner, ready to fire.

“Everyone, get back! She’s going to blow!”

“No!” I screamed at her, and instinct kicking in, I scoop Percy’s frail body in my arms and started to run to the exit.

“Move, fucking move aside!”

My lungs are burning as I run through the Citadel gates, Percy still pressed to my chest, unnaturally warm to the touch. Fawkes is following closely behind, footsteps pounding.

Away from the people, I gently laid Percy to the ground, the green glow emanating from her searing now, and covered her body with mine. If I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go holding her.

Screwing my eyes shut, I wait for the inevitable.

Instead, I was pulled aside, and Fawkes crouches over Percy’s body, careful not to crush her.

A bright, blinding light flashes from Percy’s body, and Fawkes covers her completely. Her body erupts, heat and energy bursting outwards, and Fawkes just absorbed all that. I watched the explosion barely made a dent on the mutant’s thick skin, and the mushroom cloud that billows towards the dark sky.

He pulls back, and Percy lies there, hospital gown in tatters.

I rushed to her side, checking for breathing, and felt my heart drop as I heard none.

“We need a medic, get a medic!” I snarl at the bystanders who witnessed the entire ordeal. After the initial shock has worn off, DeLoria weaves through the crowd and runs towards us, kneeling beside Percy.

“Shit man, shit! She’s not breathing, she needs CPR, oh my fucking God I don’t remember how to do it,” he babbles, tears pooling at the edge of his eyes.

Gnashing my teeth, I try to remember whatever first aid I learned from observing Percy in the past. I pulled away Percy’s hospital gown, and with my palms together, I pressed between her nipples, pumping and hearing her ribs crack underneath her skin.

I tilt her head, pinch her nose, press my ruined lips against hers, and blow. Twice.

Then, I go back into giving her chest compressions, and I look over my shoulder. I must’ve looked so feral at that moment.

“Where the fuck’s that medic?!”

I turned back to my partner, and after another set of compressions, I breathed into her again.

“Percy, remember what you told me when you got captured by the Enclave, huh?!” I rasped, gritting my teeth.

“Well, it’s your goddamn turn to listen to me now!”

January 14, 2278.

Fingers clacking on the keyboard, Percy hacked away at the terminal. Once given access, she terminates the hostile creatures in the other holding cells. I wince as I watch one particularly screwed up creature burst into flame, high pitched, inhuman squeals coming out of its… mouth?

Jesus Christ. I don’t want to think about it, ugh.

Then, Percy selects another command in the console, and the doors hiss open.

My partner turned around, footsteps urgent, and I followed her closely behind. Fawkes emerges from his cell, carefully, like an animal let loose from a trap, and he turns to us, towering us both.

“Thank you,” he boomed, and though his voice sounded rough, I felt his gratitude for Percy. “As promised, I will retrieve the GECK for you. This is a debt I am most happy to pay, my friends. Follow me!”

Percy smiles and nods, and she turns to me, looking over her shoulder with a pleased expression.

“See Charon? He isn’t bad at all,” she starts, and I only grumble in response. Percy senses the apprehension that lingered in me, and chuckles.

“To be frank Charon, the first time I met you in Underworld, I might have felt the same thing,” she says, and I look down with a questioning look.

“Dad told me to judge other people by what they looked like, but even then, I felt kind of uneasy around you. Then I heard you beat up Patchwork, and I was really angry for a while.”

I gulped. I never thought about what she thinks of me during that time. It was an entirely different reality back then; her thoughts, or anyone else’s, didn’t matter. Only Ahzrukhal’s did.

“But what Tulip said to me about you being Ahzrukhal’s employee really challenged my perspective. Getting back at you would only end in me getting hurt. You were at Ahzrukhal’s mercy as much as Patchwork was.”

“So is that why you bought my contract back then? You felt sorry?”

“No. I felt your frustration at being powerless. So, I bought your contract to create an opportunity to seize that back. Of course it wasn’t easy after that,” Percy chuckles sheepishly, and I sigh, remembering all the times I struggled with the contract’s hold over me.

But it’s gone, right?

No sense in dwelling over that.

“So, where were you going with this, Percy?”

“Give Fawkes a chance.”

I stop in my tracks, feeling guilty as hell. All this time, all I thought about is Percy, and myself. Meanwhile, she tries to consider everyone around her.

“Fine, Angel, I will.”

I felt a light jab on my ribs; Percy elbowed it playfully. “Whatever, big guy.”

“I don’t think that nickname suits me anymore, Percy. We’ve got a bigger guy now,” I tease her, pointing at Fawkes, who’s taking our conversation in stride as he pummeled a dumb mutie in our way.

“Nah. Fawkes doesn’t need a nickname anymore.  You’re my big guy,” Percy teases back.

Is this flirting? Is Percy flirting with me? Goddammit. If I had more skin left on my cheeks, I would have blushed.

I almost ran into Fawkes when he stopped walking. I look to the right, and see the sickly green glow of the irradiated room that the GECK is in.

“Alright. You better not enter, human. This radiation is lethal to you. Stay here, and I will fulfill my end of the bargain,” he grunts, and my partner nods at him.

“Thank you, Fawkes.”

“No. Thank you, human.”

He turns around, and enters the room. On her tiptoes, Percy watches him inside through the window, while I keep watch, guarding her six just in case. Soon after, Fawkes returns carrying a briefcase.

That’s the GECK? What the hell?

“You got it!” Percy exclaims, taking the briefcase off of the super mutant’s hands gingerly. “Again, thank you so much Fawkes. You wouldn’t believe how important this is to us.”

“It’s my pleasure, Percy. Now, I believe this is farewell.”

Farewell?

I turn to Percy and see her somber expression. Good grief, don’t tell me she’s already getting attached to him. This happened with the Big Town kids too.

“Farewell? Fawkes, why don’t you come with us?”

Okay. Okay, I am definitely accepting that Fawkes indeed is good and that I shouldn’t judge him because of him being a super mutant, or metahuman, but this? Had Percy gone mad? Travelling with him could get us killed!

Before I can open my mouth and say something that might possibly anger her, Fawkes already took care of the problem.

“Sorry, I’m afraid a Super Mutant wouldn’t be welcome in the places you frequent.”

“But you said it yourself, you’re a metahuman! You’re different from the other mutants we-”

“All I would do is cause you undue attention and probably get you killed,” Fawkes interrupts, a tinge of sorrow in his grating voice.

“I- you’re right,” Percy sighs, relenting.

“Take care of yourself, friend.”

And with that, we parted ways.

I can tell Percy is sad by the slump in her shoulders. As much as it pains me to see her like this, it’s for the better. The Brotherhood can barely tolerate my presence. Fawkes? They’d shoot him on sight. It’s definitely for his safety too.

“Do you think we’ll see him again, Charon?”

“I don’t think we’ll see him anytime soon.”

“I’m worried.”

“Worry about yourself, angel. Have you seen him? He pummeled that other mutie no problem, like a kid throwing a teddy bear.”

“I guess you’re right. I- Charon, get down.”

Out of instinct, I listen to her. Percy pulls up her PipBoy, and a worried expression is etched on her features. “So many red dots… Charon, I think we’re about to encounter a huge group of muties.”

“Should we go back and get Fawkes?”

Gripping her rifle, she checks the magazine, then she pats at the ammo pouches on her waist. I proceed to check my own ammunition too. Just two boxes of shotgun shells left, and a grenade; the same grenade Percy gave me when she first hired me. I haven’t used it yet, after all these months.

We’re running low on ammo.

“No, no. Stay low. We’ll sneak out of here,” Percy tells me, and she crouches low, the helmet of her stealth suit protracting over her face, then her suit’s stealth mechanism activates. All I can see is a faint silver-white outline.

“I’ll scout ahead. If I raise a fist, move to my location.”

I nod, and she proceeds.

Cautiously, Percy moves through the hall. My grip on my shotgun remains steady, watching her inch slowly but surely to the open area ahead.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

A pulse grenade drops from the ceiling.

It felt like time slowed all around us. Percy sees the grenade landing near her foot, and turns around, movement abrupt, her helmet retracting from her head and revealing her panicked gaze. Her eyes are wide in terror, lips trembling as she yelled at me.

“Charon!”

My feet are ready to take me to her, but what she screamed before the grenade fried her suit’s systems and took her down made me freeze in my spot.

“I order you to live!”

The pulse grenade burst, and so did the walls of the vault. The rubble flew at Percy, who was falling backwards, her helmet thumping against the metal flooring as she hit the ground. Losing consciousness, the GECK escapes her grasp, and skitters a few feet away from her.

From the newly formed hole in the wall, a man emerges. Colonel Autumn. I thought that asshole was dead!

The Enclave is here.

Heart in my throat, I didn’t know what to do. At that moment, I forgot the contract was gone. I turned around, and obeyed, fleeing from the scene with Percy’s words echoing in my head.

“Charon! I order you to live!”

“I order you to live!”

“Live!”

Live.

#lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #fallout charon #charon fallout #fallout 3 charon #charon fallout 3 #fawkes #fallout fawkes #fawkes fallout #fallout 3 fawkes #fawkes fallout 3 #butch deloria #fallout 3 #FO3 #charon x lone wanderer #oc: percy zhou #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout fanfic #writers on tumblr

[jimlingss]

Ducklings & Dimples 2

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 58% Fluff, 20% Adventure, 20% Action, 2% Angst, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: After your adventures with Yoongi, you head home to face your family and the duties you've run from. A year has passed since. But you never anticipated meeting him again with his fiancée.

The country of Pegan is one you’ve never had the opportunity to venture into. It was a place that you teetered on, scaling the border, poking your head into one or two of the small villages just to sell in before you were on your way. But you had heard lots about it in his letters. You just never thought you would be visiting it in such a way. Ten round towers form a protective barrier around the elegant castle and are connected by firm walls made of gray stone. Refined windows are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern. Beyond the gates are well kept gardens with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes that decorate the outside of the castle. The castle itself has clearly been around for at least a thousand years, but it doesn't seem like it will collapse any time soon. “Back straight. You’re slouching, Taehyung,” your mother barks to your youngest brother and sharply inhales when Jin purposely bumps into him with his broad shoulders, telltale signs he’s trying to instigate more bickering. “Stop that right now, young man. You’re supposed to set an example as the eldest.” “I wasn’t even doing anything!” Jin protests to no avail. Taehyung’s mouth curls as he jumps on the opportunity to berate his older brother, “You’re twenty six. You should act like it.” Seokjin’s mouth drops open. “How dare you bring my age into this.” “Can you guys please shut your mouths for one second?” Lia is exasperated and glares. “People are staring at us.” “Now, now, children.” Your dad clears his throat and brushes off his shoulders. “Let’s not give your mother a hard time and argue in front of the Duchess’ castle.” Your mother holds in her sigh temporarily and makes it to your sister, smoothing out her dress that’s been wrinkled from the carriage ride. “Hair in place, darling.” Then she makes it to the end of the line and looks at you. Your eyes meet hers and you anticipate nagging. Perhaps an insult of how strands of hair have fallen from your updo and around your eyes. Or how you should get rid of that frown off your face before she singes it off. But to your surprise, your mother merely smiles and swivels around. “Shall we enter?” She’s trying — you can see it and it’s an effort you appreciate. Your entire family climbs the marble steps leading up to the grand doors already open with folks filtering inside. It was the Duchess of Pegan’s birthday, a week long affair and evidently, a huge celebration. Much too extravagant for your own tastes, but it’s not like your opinion matters. “Kaela, Elden!” The man in the foyer comes over with a golden chalice and his wife trails after him. Immediately, your mother curtsies along with your sister and you dip down after a delayed second, momentarily forgetting the manners drilled into your brain. “Duke and Duchess Fesan. It’s a pleasure.” “Oh please, don’t be a stranger. It’s been too long!” The older man has silver, short hair that almost fully covers his thin, lived-in face. But his eyes are fond as if he has seen many good things in his lifetime. Fesan Winsor is a duke, brother to the king that runs Pegan. You only know such facts after the relentless history lessons with your overbearing tutor. He gives a light embrace to your mother and father, nods his head towards you and Lia, and shakes Seokjin’s hand. “Why, you’ve grown to be such a strapping, young man. Handsome, indeed. The last I’ve seen of you, you were but a wee boy.” “Thank you.” Jin practically beams over the praise and you and Taehyung roll your eyes. “Are you looking to get married any time soon?” His irises sparkle. “Do you have someone in mind, your grace?” The Duke barks out laughing at the witty quip and your mother audibly sighs. “Seokjin’s much too deep in finishing his studies to be considering marriage, unfortunately. And a bit too immature to handle the responsibilities of such a thing.” “Oh you never know about children,” Duchess Jacquelyn laughs boisterously. “They always grow up faster than we realize.” The Duchess is in a lavish dress that looks like it’s about to swallow her whole, flashy to the maximum and heavy diamonds are wrapped around her neck. It makes you wonder if it aches. Her golden hair is stark with a bit of gray, yet she is bright eyed and overly friendly as she squeezes the living daylights out of Lia and then you. It’s unusual how she has no respect for personal boundaries or what’s mannerly for a high-class lady that she is. There’s small talk made between your father and the Duke, but as the Duchess pulls away from you, her face lights up as if she recalls something. “Wait a moment! You are Y/N, correct?” “Uh, yes. I am, madam.” “Then you were the one who defeated that vicious dragon from the North with Yoongi, weren’t you?! Why your tale of bravery is infamous!” She grasps your hands with an excited smile. You swallow hard, not sure how you feel about being viewed as a hero when you’re not. But you don’t say anything for fear of having to explain. It’s not like you told your own family the true story. “Yes, what an amazing feat,” Duke Winsor marvels. “You must be very prideful to have such a hero in the family.” Your mother is visibly pleased while your dad plops a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N is indeed turning out to be the best sorcerer in our family.” “You would be too if you studied more,” Taehyung mutters to Lia and nudges her while she glares at him. “What about you, Mr. I’m-too-tired-to-practice-magic.” “Children,” your mother’s voice is full of scolding but a pleasant smile is placed on her features. It’s frightening and jarring how different her expression can be from what comes out of her mouth. “Oh, you must be so eager to see your old friend.” The Duchess turns over her shoulder. “Yoongi was here just a moment ago.” You nod stiffly, tight-lipped. “I’ll make sure to send my greetings to him later.” The middle-aged folks continue talking as you and the rest of your siblings stand there like stone statues that are decorating the castle. But as you look around the crowds, fearing the worst, you feel Jin poke you. “Was that the guy you were sending letters to every day?” he asks, referring to what Duchess Jacquelyn said. “Shut it.” Taehyung raises his brows with an amused smile, but no one speaks. It’s become a sensitive topic but always has been — you’ve never let any of them see your letters and you threw a big fuss on several occasions when Lia tried to sneak peaks. Now you regret it. Why did you spend so much time doing such petty, futile things. Eventually, you’re granted mercy when the Duke and Duchess continue welcoming new arrivals and everyone disperses for drinks. And unlike what they said, you’re not eager to see your old ‘friend’ at all. You’re trying to steer clear of him. “What are you doing standing here in the corner?” Your mother finds you reclusive with a flute of ale. It’s not the most sophisticated drink, but does enough to put you more at ease. Though, much to your dismay, she pries the glass out of your grip. “You should be socializing! Making connections. Like your brother!” She turns and you see Taehyung by the refreshment table with a younger girl who looks visibly uncomfortable. He barks out in deafening laughter, startling a few other guests and your mother sighs while you hold back a smile. “Maybe not quite like him.” “Is there something you want to say, mom?” It’s not like her to be so vague and to encourage you to talk to others. She’s always been apprehensive about you mingling, assuming you’re trying to scam them — which you usually are, so her caution isn’t unreasonable. “There’s a divine soul sorcerer,” she announces and instantly, you groan. “Of course there is.” “Don’t give me that look. You haven’t even spoken to him yet.” Unlike how you receive your magic from a legendary phoenix, divine soul sorcerers are blessed individuals who have a connection to divine beings. Whether they align with an ancient prophecy or their ancestor is an angel. They’re undoubtedly someone who could match the status of your family. You’re starting to suspect the reason your mother even came all the way over here was to get you to meet him. “Fine, I’ll talk to him,” you say, just to get her off your back. Your mother’s wrinkles crease when she smiles. “Good to hear. Now that’s one less issue off my plate— “ “I think Taehyung’s trying to impress that girl,” you interrupt, tilting your body over to the youngest who’s about to set the tablecloth on fire. Your mother practically swears underneath her breath and goes marching over without bidding you farewell. There’s a faint smile on your features and as a Halfling waiter passes, you grab a glass of manycherries wine. You release a long exhale, feeling your eyes bags deepen as exhaustion sets into you. Your eyes flicker to the fire roaring underneath the mantle. The rose and orange flames glow against your cheeks. Your fingers. And incidentally, it grows stronger. You feel the fire envelop you. The chatter of the room simmers down as you focus on the crackle and pop of the inferno. But unfortunately, it doesn’t last long. Not with the shrill voices close to you— “It’s a surprise, no? Even the Duke’s fiftieth birthday wasn’t as extravagant as this. All five houses are here and they even extended the invitations to families beyond Pegan.” “Well perhaps they had a good season or maybe one of the houses expanded their territory and we just haven’t heard about it yet. The Duke and Duchess looks after the entire territory and all the faction houses. It’s only natural they benefit from any changes, right?” “Don’t you two know?” “Know what?” “The reason this celebration is lavish….is because it’s practically an engagement party in disguise.” You exhale out of your nose, downing the glass of wine and when you finish, you see a familiar face in the midst. It’s a slender half-Elf with long blonde hair that’s half tied up and reaches to his ribs. Yorril. You remember his name after beating his ass with Yoongi in Bogsburrough a year ago. The memory causes the corner of your mouth to tug in a smirk. He sees you too and immediately turns away, walking off with his eyes wide. There are lots of people from different factions here, but you don’t know any of their names and don’t care to. Though out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a tall man in a white cape fluttering behind with his eyes focused right on you — undoubtedly the divine sorcerer your mother was referring to by his blinding aura — and you take Yorril’s inspiration and walk away as well. You drop your glass on a nearby table and zip into the dark hallway without looking back. You’re not sure where you’re going, merely winding down the corridors. But eventually your steps slow. Goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm. It feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s someone creeping. That there’s a presence behind you. But before you can turn around to discern what it is, a husky timbre makes you halt. “...alright?” At once your body seizes, freezing in its stop. Your blood runs warmer and your back meets the stone wall. There’s a sliver of light coming from the parted door inches away and you pull your orb out from the secret pocket you sewn into your dress. Gripping the object, you channel your magic and cast clairvoyance. The hearing sensor is placed behind the door. “Thank you, Yoongi.” It’s an unfamiliar soft-spoken voice. You hear his hum. “You’re welcome.” “I’m sorry. I know there’s a lot of people out there. I didn’t think my mother would invite so many people. It’s usually not like her to do this and—” “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind as much as you think I do.” “Really?” “I can’t say I enjoy it, but it’s not so bad every so often.” You swallow hard, feeling your heart clog your throat. Though before you can hear another thing, a hand plops down on your shoulder. And you nearly shriek in surprise. Out of all people, you turn to find dad wearing a mischievous smile that Taehyung and Seokjin inherited, and he nudges his chin to the door. “Your mother wouldn’t like you eavesdropping, you know. Come on, let’s go back.” You nod, following after him. The two of you return to the main room and step out into the terrace, away from the crowd. “There’s plenty of other men out there, Y/N.” “I know,” you mutter without looking at him, unable to help sulking. The older man smiles, having an inkling of why you’ve been so quiet. “It’s okay for you to be upset. Everything’s a process of trial and error. And it’s something that’ll come and go in due time.” You sigh lightly, trying to muster a smile that never really comes. “You want me to meet that divine soul sorcerer like mom, don’t you?” “Heavens no.” Your dad pats you on the back as you look out into the gardens. “I just want the best for my daughter.” You meet his eye and he grins. It’s moments like these that you’re glad you came home. “Elden!” The pair of you turn around as an older woman with cat-like eyes and a piercing stare steps out onto the terrace, her slender black dress sparkling like the stars. “My goodness, it’s been ages!” “Hyoyeon.” Your dad gives a laugh. “You haven’t aged a day!” They come to an embrace and she pulls away. “Oh, you’re too kind. Have you met my son yet?” Your worst nightmare emerges. Yoongi is dressed in a black tunic, pants, boots and a black velvet cape draped over his left side. He looks less like a knight on a quest and more like a prince. But one thing that hasn’t changed is his duckling-like hair. Strands of pale yellow that stand out. His eyes immediately center on you in surprise. As if he wasn’t expecting you here. And of course he wasn’t. You hated functions and celebrations like these, but once you heard the rumours, you couldn’t help but beg to come. Or maybe he’s giving you that expression because of how odd you look. You suppose he’s never seen you in anything other than braids and that peasant dress that you used to disguise yourself in. Now, your mother wouldn’t catch you dead in attire like that. But with him comes the Duke’s daughter, Fesan Klarinda, the Marquise of Pegan. She’s petite with spiral curls and dimples dotted in each side of her cheek. She’s the epitome of delicate. Instantly, the girl looks between you and Yoongi, realizing that your gazes are locked into one another’s. “Y/N.” He breathes it out and something swells inside your throat to hear him call your name. It’s hard to keep your face blank and impassive. Yoongi’s mother glances at him and then you. “You know each other?” “She was my partner during my adventure.” “She helped you defeat the dragon? Y/N from the great Phoenix family?” his mother gasps and nudges him. With her teeth gritted, she mutters, “Why didn’t you tell me that? Had I known….” Your dad’s laugh cuts through the suffocating tension. “Such a small world indeed. But I’m glad to finally meet the man who protected my daughter. Congratulations on your engagement, son.” “It’s nice to meet you,” Yoongi’s fiancée says with a demure smile and you give a curtsy without uttering a word. “Is your eldest son here, Hyoyeon?” “Oh, Hoseok unfortunately couldn’t make it to the occasion. He’s busy studying arcane magic in a monk temple in Baldur's Gate. So I only have my youngest with me today.” “Not at all! Education is of the utmost priority for the children.” While they speak, Klarinda clears her throat. “There must be a lot to catch up on since you and Yoongi are fairly close, I heard.” “Yes, he is a great friend to me, my lady.” Yoongi’s eye twitches, but you pay no mind. You don’t speak a single word to him and while it’s terribly awkward, you seize the opportunity to leave. “I find myself a bit parched. If you'll excuse me.” You get away as quickly as you can while grabbing fistfuls of your heavy dress, feeling more strands falling out of your updo. But being out of his presence doesn’t mean you’ve escaped. You feel the weight of Yoongi’s intent gaze on you all night, from across the room to the table. You’re barely able to survive dinner and the food’s not at all charred enough to your tastes. You’re beginning to regret coming here. Even when you knew you had to see it for yourself. “Excuse me. I believe you are Lady Y/N, right?” After dinner, the divine soul sorcerer finally corners you at a moment when your guard is down, having been too focused on Yoongi. The man has silver hair neatly coiffured, but the colour isn’t from age nor is it lackluster. It matches his cape and white attire. Undoubtedly, the sorcerer has an otherworldly appearance. He’s handsome and practically radiant to that of an angel’s. And he draws attention, causing girls to turn their heads and swoon for him. You can only imagine his power and it’s no wonder your mother has insisted that you meet him. But you are far from being impressed. “You are?” “Allow me to introduce myself! I am Jinha, a favoured soul sorcerer. Son of the magnificent Concordia House here in Pegan. My ancestor was the chosen one of the Goddess Mystra.” His palm opens and he glances at your hand. But you don’t entertain the idea of him kissing your knuckles, so he retracts his arm after an awkward moment. He clears his throat. “You look absolutely ravishing. The most beautiful person at this party aside from myself of course,” he quips. You deadpan, “Thanks.” “Are you enjoying the party?” Hardly. “I am.” “Have you tried any of the crab-stuffed lobster tail yet—?” “I much prefer the wine.” You grab a glass from the tray of a stubby butler passing by and you down half of it. When you lower the glass, you find that he’s still there, smirking like an idiot. While this relationship would be textbook perfect, you hate sorcerers. You are one, have three siblings that are, spent your childhood surrounded by them. So you know best how arrogant and entitled sorcerers can be. You bet he spends his free time looking in the mirror. Plus, there’s already enough magic in you for two people. “I happened to speak to your mother earlier, Lady Y/N.” “Did you?” “She said you’ve been traveling before. I have been traveling across the lands myself, so we have quite a bit in common.” “Yes,” you answer in a monotone and then your eyes light up as you spin around on your heel to him. “Actually, she might’ve not told you but I run a business.” “A business?” “I’m a business woman. It’s gotten a bit pushed to the side since I’ve gotten home, but maybe I should start it back up again.” “What kind of business is it?” Jinha stands straighter as if to show how capable he is. “I would love to help.” “Would you?” A feigned coy smile comes across your face and you lean in to graze his shoulder. “I have quite a bit of valuables collected and a lot of ancient potions I sell. All from my travels. You’re actually very fortunate since I have one with me. Would you like to buy one? I’ll be willing to give it to you at a reduced price of ten gold pieces.” Since the first time you’ve arrived, you feel energy return to you. But then much to your dismay, the damned sorcerer apologizes— “I don’t actually have any gold on me right now.” “How about your ring.” You point downward, never breaking eye contact. “This is once in a lifetime opportunity.” Either your skills are rusty or he’s denser than a rock because your persuasions don’t get through. “I would never dare to give you such a worthless ring, Lady Y/N! With so many shiny valuables practically overflowing out of the hundreds of rooms at my enormous manor, you deserve something much more precious. Perhaps we could arrange a time when you could come visit my massive estate.” You audible sigh, not even trying to hide it. For the next ten minutes, the sorcerer bores you with speech about himself, his family, how he personally knows the Duke, how he’s expanding his manor to have two more gardens and five more fountains, and how delicious the crab-stuffed lobster tail is. You barely manage to escape, simply excusing yourself to find your sister. But as you turn the corner, away from prying eyes and ears, you grip your orb in your pocket and channel your arcane magic. You cast disguise self and at once, you take the form of the stubby butler from earlier. A foot shorter, larger, and white tailcoat with black breeches. Your empty glass even turns into a tray and you strut down the corridor with your head held high. You’re going to leave. Out the front door. Never to return. Coming here was a mistake — and confronting Yoongi isn’t something you think you have in you. You’re better suited to having no real relationships, no commitment, no attachments. Merely traveling around and scamming others is what you do best. After all, things were easier back then when you had no direction. There was less emotional turmoil. Fewer obligations. Fewer consequences. But regrets are a little too late, so in the heat of the moment, you throw away your hard-earned compromise with your mother and decide to run. Yet, before you can even think of launching yourself out the open arched window, your eyes grow wide at the man at the end of the hall. Yellow strands of hair catch your attention first. Then it’s the sleepy eyes. The tender features. Immediately, you pull your gaze away from him and stare ahead. It’s not too hard to make yourself unsuspicious when you’re disguised as a butler and Yoongi seems to pay no mind to you either. He merely walks past and you breathe a sigh of relief. But then strong arms wrap around your waist and your back meets a firm chest. The spell breaks. He saw right through you. Right through your illusion. Yoongi’s soft exhale causes goosebumps to rise all over your arms. “Thank god, it’s you. I was worried that it was really the butler.” His timbre is huskier than you remember. You stumble out of his embrace and turn around. “I apologize, sir. I wasn’t trying to create any trouble. ” “Sir?” Yoongi’s brows furrow, deep enough that it looks like it hurts. Neither of you say anything for a long moment as he stares at you and you divert your vision, preferring to admire how smooth the white pillars of the castle look. Then, his hand suddenly reaches out to graze the loose strands of hair that have fallen from your updo. It’s a gentle gesture and he quietly comments, “Your hair’s gotten longer.” But you don’t react. “How have you been?” he asks faintly. “Fine.” You keep your reply curt and short. Distant. “Congratulations on your engagement, sir.” “Y/N.” He sounds annoyed. “Let me explain—” But when you finally meet his gaze, your eyes are painfully stinging and his voice tapers off. You curse underneath your breath, having tried so hard to keep yourself together. Yet the effort to prevent humiliation is being swept down the drain, so you grab fistfuls of your dress and march away. “Y/N!” Yoongi doesn’t chase after you. You snivel violently, doing all you can to not let tears shed. You fail to watch where you’re going and you run into your older sister. “Where have you…..are you okay?” Lia looks down at you, her eyes wide at your state. You merely shake your head and her lips pout as she pulls you in. She doesn’t need to ask. “It’s okay. There, there. No one’s going to hurt you.” She’s wrong. You’ve already been hurt. // Min Yoongi is a bastard. You’ve sorely underestimated his abilities. He manipulates emotions better than you can, but you’re more so angry at yourself for misinterpreting memories. For allowing your imagination to take its course. After all, it’s easier to transform your hurt into anger than reveling in sorrow. You’ve never been the type to be passive. The morning after the banquet, there are tournaments out on the East field. You’re seated at the rows near the Duke and Duchess with the rest of your family. Taehyung is watching intently while Seokjin prefers to wave to girls seated a few seats down much to your mother’s dismay. You’re sitting beside Lia who has her parasol to shield the sun away and is fanning herself to keep sweat from her face. She hasn’t teased you about last night, not when it looked serious enough. But she hasn’t pried either, even though you know eventually she will. Curiosity has always been a fault in your family — second to recklessness. You watch as two men below fight, one with a bow and the other with a mace. You don’t recognize them, merely knowing they’re from different factions. And that they seem to be taking their hatred out on each other. “Ooh.” Taehyung sharply inhales when the Elf with the mace slashes the Half-Elf holding the bow. “That looks like it hurts.” The Half-Elf surrenders and the Halfling referee calls an end to the match. “It’s so hot out,” Lia pants and wipes her forehead with a handkerchief. “Since when did you care about sweating or not?” you ask, lolling your head to the side. She clicks her tongue. “Tch. Don’t you know how many potential suitors are here? I have to look my best. You should too.” “Can I leave?” you ask your mother, tilting yourself to her. Seokjin whirls his head around. “I second that.” “Absolutely not,” she hisses and glances over her shoulder, making sure that the Duke and Duchess aren’t listening. “We are honoured guests and it would be very rude.” “At least wait until the intermission,” your father adds with a charming smile. With that said, you sit back and try to get comfortable. From below, the Halfling referee steps up to his podium and announces through a cone, “For our next match, on the right is Jinha, divine sorcerer from the House of Concordia. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” Your breath hitches in your throat. Immediately, Lia nudges you. “Who’s that?” Her eyes are pinpointed to the obnoxious man from last night who emerges while sweeping his hair back, his golden staff carried in his grasps. But you’re preoccupied with the other man. Someone with pastel yellow hair. Even from far away, it’s all too stark against his heavy armour. And you swear he’s looking right at you. Or maybe not. It could be for his fiancée who’s diagonal to where you are. That would make more sense. You damn yourself for being delusional again. “So that’s him?” Taehyung turns to you, asking, “The one you sent letters to?” “I never did such a thing,” you mutter. The Halfling shouts at the top of his lungs and the match begins. Yoongi grips his rapier in his hands and closes the distance. He hits twice, slamming down the blade onto Jinha with narrowed eyes and then surges forward for a critical hit. His accuracy and precision has become more refined since the last time you saw him fight. Yet, Jinha never bumbles or falls to his knees in spite of the brutality. He tightens his grip on his staff, jaw clamping down. He casts burning hands. His fingers spread and a thin sheet of flames shoots forth from his outstretched fingertips. It causes Yoongi to stumble back and the sorcerer turns his head, flashing a bright grin towards the rows, undoubtedly for you. But you aren’t fazed — not when you’re at the edge of your seat, gaze placed on Yoongi. Lia, on the other hand, is the one who’s impressed. Her jaw draws open, a soft gasp befalling her lips as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Across the field, your eyes lock into Yoongi’s. And then he’s moving again, blade slashing thrice. Jinha surrenders. “I should challenge you!” Taehyung suddenly breaks both you and Lia’s trance with his loud and startling voice, looking directly at Seokjin with a rectangular grin. “Do you want to fight?” “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” A wide smile spreads into your older brother’s face. “Do you think you could take me on?” Taehyung’s already rolling up his sleeves. “You’re just going to have to wait and s—” Your mother immediately pulls him down with the force of gravity itself. Her eyes pierce into your siblings. “Absolutely not! I won’t have any of my children fighting and hurting themselves!” The Halfling referee turns. “Does anyone want to challenge the victor of this mat—” You stand. “I do!” Your mother is absolutely mortified. Your father is taken aback. Taehyung is already smiling with a murmured ‘awesome’ while both Seokjin and Lia are visibly amused. There’s little your parents can do too when the Duchess starts clapping and hollering for you to enter the field and the Duke wishes you luck, citing that he’s excited to see the true capabilities of your household. “For our next match on the right is Y/N, phoenix sorcerer from the Kim Phoenix Household. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” From the distance, no one can hear the two of you. No one can discern the way Yoongi’s looking at you. How he’s deflated, sword drooping by his side, his form not at all ready. “I’m not going to fight you,” Yoongi declares with the furrow of his brows. You scoff. “Then you’re weak.” Gripping your spellcasting focus, your blazing red and orange swirling orb, you channel your magic and cast fireball. A bright streak flashes from your pointing finger towards him, blossoming with a low roar into an explosion of flames. But it misses when he nimbly dodges out of the range. The spectators cheer, on the edge of their seats. Yoongi, realizing that you’re not conceding, moves towards you. He grips his rapier and hits twice, bringing his blade down to slash. You sharply inhale, but keep your feet rooted into the ground and as he raises his arm for the third time, it slips. The weapon falls to the ground. “Pick it up,” you spit at him in Elvish, straightening out your spine again. Gasping, you cast Melf’s Minute Meteors and six tiny meteors manifest. They float in the air and orbit you until you send both of them towards him. It misses, exploding on the ground instead. Yoongi grabs his sword, but when he hits you, it’s weak. It barely skims you. Doesn’t even break through skin. And he drops his rapier again. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” This time, the shout isn’t coming from you but from Duchess Jacquelyn who’s crazed as she grips the banister and cackles maniacally. The Duke stares at her in discomfort at how wrapped up she is and Yoongi’s fiancée, Klarinda, shakes her head. “Mom.” You have no plans of surrendering. Even if you drop dead here. You cast fireball again and this time, the blossoming roar of the flames consumes Yoongi. You hear him cry out in agony and you send two meteors orbiting you his way. One misses, but the other one explodes on his chest. Yoongi’s teeth clenches. His knuckles turn white. But before he surges forward with his rapier, the smoke dissipates and he sees you. Tears in your eyes. The trembling of your bottom lip. The quivering of your entire frame. And no one hears when you softly curse him— “Bastard.” Yoongi drops his sword into the dirt. “I forfeit.” At once, Klarinda races down the rows, grabbing fistfuls of her dress. “Excuse me, pardon me!” She races down the field undignified, but to resume to her fiancé’s side. She searches his expression. “A-Are you alright, Yoongi? I can heal you.” She casts cure wounds and presses her palms to his pectorals over his armour. And after she does so, she looks between you and Yoongi. But by that time, you’ve long grabbed your own dress and marched off the field, leaving the two lovers behind. At the exact same moment, a ghostly presence fades from the open arched window on the fourth floor, their eyes having been pinpointed on your figure for the entirety of the match. // There’s someone watching you. You can tell with the way goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm, hairs on the back of your neck lifted, how there’s a sudden weight of someone’s stare on your shoulders. It feels like there’s someone creeping, a presence behind you. Your heel pivots. “Yoon—” But it isn’t him or any of your siblings. A translucent force tries to push itself into your body, causing your words to choke in your throat, your weakened knees to stumble back. Your lungs wither and your throat dries as the remaining air inside you wheezes out. But you resist. With all the strength left inside of you. You use your remaining energy to prevent the force from taking control, from entering and intruding. And in the next moment, it slips out and flounders in front of you. What would be a terrified shriek ends up as coughs as you gasp for air. “W-What in the holy fuck—” It’s a ghost. A chubby man in white sleeping silks, his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, but his form translucent and feet floating inches off the cobblestone hall. Your seething fire running through your blood flares. It seeps out and magically wreathes around you as your eyes glow as hot coals. You lift your finger to him, threatening to attack and he steps back. “Hold on there! Don’t be hasty!” the ghost spits in panic. “I sincerely apologize for my blunder!” “Who are you?! What were you trying to do to me?!” “My name is Leo and I just wanted to borrow your body for a bit! You see...I have some unfinished business.” There’s an extended silence. Then you lower your arm and the fire drawn back into you. Your stare is unwavering and Leo musters a smile on his thin lips, wrinkles around his eyes creasing. “In hindsight, I should have asked. I apologize for intruding.” You scoff, guard still up. “What’s your unfinished business?” “Ah, I would like to see the sunrise one last time.” The ghost turns to glance out the window. “Someone once tried to banish me away, so now I’m in a quite unstable form. I am only able to venture in this realm when it is day or night when time itself is stable. I disappear every time there is a sunset or sunrise.” Your brow lifts. “So you’ve been haunting this castle?” “Well, I can’t leave if I have unfinished business.” Leo smiles at you, eyes almost hopeful. “Whoever tried to banish you should’ve done it properly,” you deadpan. Getting rid of this ghost could be your birthday present to the Duchess. “I don’t know the banishment spell unfortunately. But my older brother does.” You start to march down the hall, but the ghost follows after you frantically. “Please don’t banish me! I beg of you! Please!” It’s an opportunity and you seize it. Your feet halt and you twist to him with a smirk growing. “Then what will you offer me?” “Offer you?” “As payment.” Your arms cross. “We can strike a fair deal. If you want to borrow my body, I’ll let you. But only if you can give me gold.” The ghost bursts out in hearty laughter that streams from his chest. “I don’t have anything to my name anymore, dear sorcerer. Certainly not gold. I’m dead!” Your face morphs into impassivity, lips drawn into a tight line. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Yet, he still follows relentlessly, floating to your left and to your side, eyes plastered onto your profile. “Oh, but can’t you offer me even half a day out of the kindness of thy own heart? Surely you must feel pity for a ghost like me that’s forced to wander this castle with no end. I will leave when my business is complete, that I can assure.” “Why don’t you go bother someone else?” “But you are special.” At that, your steps slow and he smiles again. “You know magic well and it reminds me of a certain someone.” “Who?” He hums and frowns. “I can’t seem to remember.” You scoff. After years of your business, of persuasion and deception, you can tell he’s not being entirely truthful. But before you can press on and coax the ghost’s true intentions out, there’s a noisy interruption. “Y/N!” Taehyung approaches with his mouth lopsided. “Who are you talking to?” You turn to your side, but the middle-aged ghost has vanished in thin air. “It was a ghost.” “What?” He looks at you as if you’ve gone crazy and maybe you have. “There aren’t ghosts here. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “I came to tell you that mom’s looking for you.” At your exaggerated sigh, Taehyung grins. “Trust me, it’s a lot worse than what you think.” He’s right. Your mother’s caught wind that a few youngsters are going boating and of course, she has to push her children into the private affair. You’re largely unamused, not a fan of being stuck in large bodies of water, even if it’s just a lake. “You have to go.” The moment she sharply enunciates the word, she pulls on the strings on your back laced bodice with all her might and you choke on air. “How else are you going to get married?” She doesn’t see you roll your eyes in the mirror. “My plan isn’t to get married.” “Well you never know what might happen. Keep an open mind.” Somehow, she thinks marriage will quell her troublesome daughters, especially you. But you can’t blame her for holding such an idea. At this point, she’s trying everything she can. “It’s time to be a little more ladylike after the whole tournament fiasco.” In the meanwhile, Lia is sitting in the corner, amused. She has a frilly, puffed up skirt of her own, a shade of light pink and on top of her head, a giant hat with flowers. She’s always been the prettier one. But as you turn to the mirror in your own blue summer dress your mother’s putting you in, you find that you aren’t half bad. Your mother knows you tend to get yourself dirty and that you don’t particularly enjoy being dressed up, so your attire is much less obnoxious and more subtle. It’s proof she’s thought about you. Eventually, your eyes drift off of your reflection to the flames dancing in the fireplace. You stare at the crimson light it gives, the way the subtle smoke that rises from it, curling towards the chimney. “There we are.” Your mother secures the last pins in your hair and smooths out your skirt. “Not too shabby, darling,” she says with a smile as if satisfied from her own work. You wonder what’s the point of trying. It’s not like anyone will be enamoured with you. The person who matters the most after all has already been taken. “You look absolutely beautiful this fine afternoon, Lady Y/N.” Your trance shatters and you look at the man blankly. “Jinha.” “Dare I say, you may be more lovely than you were last night!” He grins and you answer him in silence. You allow the noise of the surroundings to respond instead — the cawing of the birds, the sloshing of the water on the edge of the grass, your brothers laughing as the boats bump into the pier. The only mercy given to him is when Lia quite literally bumps into you and clears her throat loudly. “Ahem. Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” The sorcerer’s smile widens. “Excuse me, but you are?” “I am Lia, Y/N’s older sister. But I’m not that much older. Only by two years. I’m turning twenty four.” You’ve never seen Lia flounder so much. It’s amusing to behold. “Oh, I knew Y/N had a sister, but I would’ve thought you were the younger sister,” Jinha says smoothly and her expression lights up even further. He takes her hand, placing a kiss upon her knuckles and you’re glad she’s taken his attention. Heaven knows you aren’t interested. But as you’re about to walk away, your line of sight falls to a familiar girl with dimples. Klarinda, the Duke’s daughter, is wearing a brimmed hat and her expensive silk skirt flutters with her. If she’s here then where’s— Yoongi’s staring right at you. As if he’s a predator and you’re merely the prey. Immediately, you return to Lia being overly flirtatious with Jinha. It’s bearable for a few minutes until you join your brothers who are horsing around and threatening to push one another into the lake. But out of the corner of your eye, you watch Yoongi and look away when your eyes meet. You know he’s watching you too. You try your best to stay focused on your surroundings. The strangers around were from different families and factions, civil with each other when they’re on the Duke’s grounds. At most, they send glares to their enemies. So you allow the polite, peaceful chatter to engulf you before everyone slowly gets onto the boats to row out and enjoy the lake. “Finally!” Taehyung suddenly twists around, holding a rope in hand. “I got it untied!” Jin facepalms himself. “You idiot! You’re supposed to untie the rope after everyone’s gotten in!” “What?” “Not to worry!” Jinha announces with a grin and nimbly hops inside the boat before it drifts too far off the pier. He holds out his hand for Lia and she gladly takes it with a giggle, being guided in. You watch at a loss for words as the boat gets farther and farther. Still, the divine sorcerer boldly holds out his hand for you. “Lady Y/N!” You hesitate. The boat is already full with four people and you’re not sure if it’s worth jumping in and potentially getting pulled into the lake. But suddenly, before you can make a decision, your waist is pulled back by strong arms. “It’s okay. She can come with me. There’s one left.” “Yoongi!” your gasp is sharp and you look up at him. But he remains unfazed. Your siblings have their brows raised. But by then, they’ve already drifted off and Taehyung wordlessly rows away. You don’t have time to react or object — not when Yoongi’s grabbed your hand and you stumble after him. The last rowboat rocks back and forth violently and you drop into a seated position on the seat before you can fall in. It takes three seconds. The rope is untied and Yoongi rows away from the pier. You notice his fiancée meters away in her own boat, sitting closely with girls chatting and giggling together. Yet, she pays no mind to her friends. Instead, she stares at the two of you. “Shouldn’t you be with her?” Yoongi follows your line of sight and mumbles, “It’s fine.” You’re stuck with him. Yoongi rows where no one else does and you watch the water cascade back. The soft sloshing fills the background as it gets quiet and much too uncomfortable. Yoongi’s husky timbre breaks the tension. “How have you been?” “Well, I’ve just been trapped in my house ever since I’ve returned, but things are great.” Your voice drips of venomous sarcasm, but when you lift your eyes, his gaze locks into yours. The blonde man wears a somber expression, his irises darkening and you sigh, speaking at a quieter volume. “I actually worked out a deal with my parents. As long as I behave and don’t tarnish my family name, I can do as I please. There’s more freedom than before. But it’s a work in progress full of compromise. If I want to leave, I’ll have to write a plan so they know where I’m headed. I just haven’t decided what I want to do next.” Your muttering gets quiet and your face hardens. “Obviously, you’re doing well.” Yoongi stops rowing. He allows the boat to drift. “The engagement was set up by my mother.” “Oh please, Yoongi.” Your eyes roll and you cross your arms, ready for his excuses that you knew were coming. “It was arranged. For all I know, I haven’t proposed to anyone yet.” “That doesn’t change that fact that you’re an engaged man!” Your teeth grit. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to go off with her and have a bunch of kids and a big family together, so congratu-fucking-lations.” It’s unbearable. There’s nowhere you can run. He’s truly trapped you here to confront one another. “And when were you planning to tell me? All those letters and you didn’t mention it once!” Your eyes sting painfully as your vision floods, overwhelmed with emotion. You feel blindsighted. “I thought I wouldn’t have to tell you at all. I was going to take care of it. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” “You really think it’s easy to call off an engagement with the Duke’s daughter?!” you spit and he takes your onslaught of anger. The pain is visible on your visage. “If I didn’t come, were you going to tell me when you got to the altar? Or after you got back from the honeymoon? I...I feel like an idiot.” “I’m sorry.” Staggering exhales pull from your lungs after your tangent and silence fills the large distance between the pair of you. Yet, Yoongi’s gaze is too tender for you to bear. “My biggest regret is not kissing you that night,” he murmurs. “Or rather, not asking you to come with me.” “It’s too late.” “It isn’t.” “What are you going to do, Yoongi?” “I’m going to call it off.” “How?” “I’ll try.” His voice is low, eyes half-lidded. “Then what?” you spit in exasperation. “What reason would you have to call it off? It’s a great arrangement! A beneficial marri—” “I want to marry you.” The inside of your chest stutters. Your breath catches in your throat. Warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace. Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man, blunt but never honest with his feelings. That trait has bred so many uncertainties within you. But in this moment, you feel his sincerity. You can see it, how hard he’s tried to reach you, to tell you his intentions. It reminds you of that night in Rutherglen. The festival and fireworks, when you were so close to one another, when you would’ve gone anywhere with him. “You’re an idiot, Min Yoongi.” You stand. “I don’t feel like talking to idiots.” You pull your orb from your pocket and cast shape water. The waves rise and it splashes him. Yoongi’s yellow hair is soaked along with the entire side of his head. His visage washes over into impassivity, akin to a glare. But you don’t dwell, palms laying flat in the air as you manipulate the water and push the boat back to shore. The minute you get to the pier, you pull yourself up. “I learnt more spells other than fire magic since our fight with the Remorhaz,” you add, “if you even remember that.” You know it’s unfair, but you rush away before he can discern how in a few words, he’s given you hope. The very hope that you know can easily break your heart again. // It’s been less than two full days, but it feels like an eternity. You’re slouched over an open arched window, elbow propped on the stone with your chin rested in your hand. The valleys of Pegan are out in the distance behind the fogged clouds, countless adventures and creatures out there for you to discover and explore. But you find yourself rooted in your place, a sense of uneasiness and yearning preventing you from leaving. At sounds of quacking, your eyes drift from the scenery to the first floor. By the staircase is a white duck with an orange beak trotting along with a row of pale yellow, baby ducklings behind her. They follow their mother religiously, teetering from side to side, trying not to get too curious of the world around them and a smile graces your lips. “Are ducklings your favourite animal, sorcerer?” Your spine straightens in shock and the wandering ghost, Leo, grins at you. Your hand presses to your chest as you steady your breath. “Are you trying to scare me to death?!” “Of course not! That would be defeating the purpose. I can’t borrow your body if you’re dead like I am,” he chortles, arms behind his back as he floats from your right side to your left. “I wanted to merely apologize for this morning. I didn’t mean to be so invasive or startle you.” You glare at him, not yet accepting his apology. He continues nonetheless— “Also, I want you to help me.” You snort unattractively, having known he had other purposes in approaching you again. “Unless you agree to my deal, the answer is no.” “Please,” Leo pleads. “I can’t move on.” You push yourself off the wall and walk away. He follows after you, even after you quicken your steps. “Why can’t you possess someone else’s body and watch your stupid sunrise?” “That is not my greatest desire.” The ghost comes in front of you and you halt in fear of him entering your body. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful to you, dear sorcerer.” Your brow lifts, waiting patiently and Leo swallows hard. “I await another lost soul and I wish to depart this world together with them. I can’t move on without them.” Your frustration makes your voice shrill. “It’s not only you who has problems, alright? I can’t even fix mine! What makes me think I can fix yours?!” As your annoyance boils over, you start running. It’s useless to try to elude a ghost who can’t get tired, but you try anyway. “Sorcerer!” And without looking, you turn the corner and collide with another body. “Woah!” Jin steadies you before the two of you can topple over. “Why are you not looking at where you’re going?” Lia is with him and regards you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” You glance over your shoulder. The ghost never comes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter in a sigh. “Mom’s looking for you again.” “What is it this time?” The words come out in a tired exhale. Your older brother shrugs. “Might have to do with tonight’s dinner.” “Hey, Y/N.” Suddenly, Lia takes your hands. “Tell me honestly, do you like Jinha?” “No.” You warily eye her, not sure where she’s going with this. The corner of Jin’s mouth curls. “Why? You like him?” “Well, if she doesn’t like him, she should give him to me,” Lia mumbles, then quickly turns to you. “Of course, if you do, then by all means, our sisterhood is my top priority….” You pull your hand away from her. “I don’t like him, Lia. But he’s not mine to give away either. You can do whatever you want.” Your sister’s eyes twinkle with a kind of enthusiasm that makes you scoff with a smile. Jin’s mouth is quirked as well, but his curiosity has been piqued and he doesn’t hesitate to ask— “It’s because of him, isn’t it? He’s the reason you’re not interested. The youngest son of the Min faction. What was his name?” “Yoongi.” If possible, Lia’s features light up further and she steps forward, cornering you. “What happened on that boat ride, Y/N? It seemed like you were having a really intense talk.” “It was nothing,” you murmur. “He practically pulled you into the boat with him. I mean, did his fiancée mind?” In the midst of the interrogation, Jin shifts to you, eyes unwavering. “You started sending him letters the minute you got back, but now he’s engaged and he happens to pull you aside like that— What really happened on your adventure together?” Millpass, Bogsburrough, Rutherglen. The memories seep back into you. The fireworks and festival, the night at the roadside tavern, fighting together at the underground market. The way he rushed in front of you in the face of the white dragon, how the two of you sat on the hill and watched the sunset together. It’s overwhelming. “Who is he to you?” “I said nothing!” you lie and push past them, stomping in the other direction to get away from your overbearing siblings. “Hey!” Lia shouts after you. “Mom’s still calling you!” You ignore them, turning the corner then down the staircase lest the wandering ghost plagues you again or you run into Taehyung, your mother or father. For good measure, you depart outside without any direction but merely feeling the soft grass underneath your boots. You’re about to turn yourself invisible for a moment of peace or disguise yourself as a maid to escape, but with your unfortunate luck that’s been bestowed to you since you arrived, you run into dimples before you get the chance. A petite figure with spiral curls and an evening dress of modesty. Her brown eyes sparkle as your eyes lock with one another’s. With half a mind and all the etiquette training that had been slammed into you at childhood, you curtsy. “Hello.” “Good evening.” Klarinda smiles at you without a trace of malice. “What a coincidence meeting you here. I was about to head to my greenhouse.” “Yes.” You stiffly nod. “If you’ll excuse me…” But before you can march off, she twirls around. “Would you like to join me?” It’s an open space. The gardens seem to stretch on for miles, plant walls that border the perimeter. In the center of it all is a structure made of glass. The ceilings are high to let in sunlight and there are rows and benches of potted plants and flowers. “Some of these I grow simply because they’re beautiful. But a lot of these herbs have medicinal purposes.” “You’re a cleric, aren’t you, my lady?” “I am, like my mother. And you don’t have to address me by such formal titles. A friend of Yoongi’s is a friend of mine.” The girl smiles. “Klarinda is fine.” You nod and she quietly hums a song as she waters flowers. You follow after her until a particular plant catches your eye — verdant leafs, yellow petals and plump berries. “It’s a sunberry plant,” Klarinda says when she notices your curiosity. “Would you like to try one?” The Duke’s daughter happily plucks one off and holds it out in front of you. The second your teeth bites down, the sweetness explodes into your cheek. She giggles at your reaction. “Good, right? My dad likes to come in here and eat them when they’re in season, so they’re always gone.” “Good enough to sell. You should cast a protection or barrier spell on them.” “I should.” She grins, dimples dotted on both sides of her face. “But between you and me, I actually don't mind so much. It makes me happy that he enjoys something from my garden, even if he has to sneak in.” Most of your first impressions aren’t wrong. Within minutes of conversation, you can figure out if a customer is going to chase you down and try to fight you or might come back at a latter time to buy more. And you can tell her innocence isn’t a feigned facade. The Marquise is endearing enough that you like her for it. For a moment, you almost feel envious of Yoongi. But they’re undoubtedly a good match. A stoic, strong knight capable of shielding away a virtuous maiden who knows nothing of the world, but is kind and generous to a fault. It’s a portrait perfect couple. “This place is really beautiful.” You force yourself away from the thoughts that form a lump in your throat. “Thank you. It can get lonely though.” You hum, supposing a vast yet empty estate would do that to someone. “Don’t people from Pegan visit often?” “They do. They mostly arrive for business. I used to play with all kinds of children from the different factions, especially during holidays. But they can be……” “A bit much?” Klarinda laughs. “Yes! Some might say crazy or competitive, but much is a good word too.” You grin. “I’ve barely gotten to know how the factions work, but I can already tell. Some of them are so conceited.” Her eyes sparkle. “Like Jinha?” “Yes!” She giggles, her dimples creased deeper and her teeth shown in the light. Like this, she’s less of a proper and demure lady, niece to the king, and more like a girl you would’ve known on your travels. “He can be quite a gentleman, but he has an arrogant nature.” “My sister likes him, but I’m not sure why. Personally, I think she could do better. Then again, they wouldn't be bad together.” With the divine sorcerer’s willing-to-please nature and Lia’s incessant demands and high maintenance personality, it might work out better than intended. “I’m envious that you have so many siblings,” Klarinda says with a tender smile and you’re caught in surprise. You didn’t know it was possible she could be envious of you when you were envious of her in so many ways. “I’m an only child, so I’ve often wondered what it would’ve been like to have an older brother or younger sister. There’s nothing that beats family after all.” “You’re not missing out on much, trust me. Siblings can be quite annoying.” She laughs again. “Still, I think it would’ve been nice to belong to a bigger family.” A comfortable silence simmers as you follow after her and she moves to prune a plant. You break the quiet. “Actually, I was away from my family for quite a while. For a number of years.” “I thought you went adventuring for one year?” You shake your head. “They told everyone I went to go study arcane magic, but it isn’t true. I ran away and was gone for three.” Klarinda looks at you with a gentle expression, recognizing your solemnity. “What matters is that you’re here with them now.” You nod. “I don’t regret coming home. I’m glad I didn’t have to return when there was a funeral of my parents.” “Even if they’re overbearing?” she asks with a tiny smile. “Even if they’re overbearing,” you confirm. “You met Yoongi during your travels, right?” Immediately, you freeze, but she focuses on her plant, only stealing a simple glance at you. “He told me a lot about you from day one.” “Is that so?” “The engagement was a surprise to the both of us,” she murmurs, placing her shears down. “It happened less than a month ago. Suddenly my mother sat me down and told me about the arrangement. It was strange considering she had never spoken to me about it before and she’s never been one to make such an agreement. Anyway, a few minutes after I met Yoongi, he spoke about you. Rather fondly.” “Really?” You plaster on a polite smile. “Well, I’m flattered. He’s a great friend.” “Is he sincerely a friend to you?” Klarinda asks. Her gaze is piercing and you raise your guard. She’s going to threaten you — you know it. But you weren’t the one who made the decision and you don’t want any part of it. It doesn’t involve you. It never will. Having learnt from the best, your face becomes blank. “I am very happy that he’s finally engaged. He’s always been very popular, so settling down just seems right for him.” At once, the cleric grips her necklace. Against your will, she casts an enchantment spell and a fifteen foot radius sphere sweeps out from her. It keeps you inside. A zone of truth that prevents lies. “I’m sorry. But I need to know.” She looks at you solemnly. “Do you like Yoongi?” You cuss in Elvish underneath your breath. You can’t be deceptive, but you can still be evasive in your responses as long as it remains within the boundaries of the truth. “It’s not like I dislike him.” “Please be honest with me.” She searches your expression earnestly, pleading with you. Being with Yoongi has made you soft. You’re used to protecting your vulnerabilities until the end, but the truth spills from you as if it’s been dying to be said— “I’m in love with him.” The spell dissipates. Klarinda smiles. “Then I’ll call off the engagement.” “What?” “They can’t force me to do anything and I’d rather keep two great friends than having an unwilling husband for the rest of my life.” Her dimples crease. “I wouldn’t want that for him, myself or you.” “Wait! J-Just because I feel a certain way doesn’t mean he does or even that the engagement should be called off! This...this is something you should talk about with him, not me.” Her smile becomes sweeter. “Isn’t it obvious?” You blink at her. “Yoongi loves you too. What’s more that needs to be said?” The girl is so certain as if the answer has never been clearer. She’s a hopeless romantic. Utterly so. Someone who believes that love prevails above all and suddenly, you want to give into that urge as well. But before either of you can move, there’s a rumble beneath your feet. The ground itself tilts. Klarinda catches herself on the bench and you find your own balance. The pair of you tear your eyes away from one another to the roaring noise. The castle is shaking in its foundation. She notices the smoke that’s rising in the air. “Is...that fire?” Your eyes widen and you rush over, instincts screaming. The girl trails behind you and you pull yourself inside. There’s fire eating at the walls and you take your orb out, focusing your magic to snuff out the flames. To the best of your abilities, you extinguish it. Klarinda stays with you, using her own magic to try to aid you. “Sorcerer!” In the midst of the pandemonium, a familiar voice and form comes from the walls. Leo, the ghost, floats to your side. “I need your help. You must come with me. Please!” Klarinda’s eyes widen. But you don’t notice. “Don’t you see what’s going on?! I can’t help you!” The ghost vanishes. There is smoke filling the halls, flooding the corridors and you cover your mouth with the sleeve of your dress, coughing into it. Members from different factions are rushing past with their own weapons and shields, swords gripped or magic at their fingertips. There’s shouting above the chaos, but you don’t know what’s going on. Not until you enter the main room and find your mother and Taehyung. “Mom!” There’s a dracolich in the center of the circular room, towering high enough to graze the dome ceiling. It’s a monster — once a dragon until it became undead. Now what’s left of it is bones instead of flesh and blood, open eye sockets and decayed wings. But instead of being buried underneath the ground or burnt to ash, it’s come back to life, roaring and whipping its tail to a group of terrified, screaming wizards. There are several death knights as well. Decayed bodies with rotting flesh and pinpoints of light in place of eyes. They’re undead warriors who have revived, having once been rangers and barbarians until they fell. And one of them lunges at Taehyung until your mother casts finger of death, causing it searing pain and making it drop to its knees. Three rays of fire shoot past her, firing onto the death knight. She turns her head. “Y/N!” “Where’s Jin and Lia?” “They went to go find your father. He’s with the Duke!” Another death knight comes running forward with an axe and Taehyung screams before splashing a bubble of acid on it. A beat later, your mother’s grasp on her wand tightens and she sends a frigid beam of blue-white light streak on the monster. A coldness sweeps through the room and you follow up with casting firebolt. The monster has slowed down, barely staggering and obviously wounded. Yet, it tries to swing and misses Taehyung by a long shot. “Not bad,” you comment. “Hey, I’ve improved a lot since the last time you saw me fight!” A rectangular grin is plastered on Taehyung’s face. But the conversation is cut short by the dragonlich’s tail. He jumps away before he’s attacked and joins the other side where a paladin is fighting another monster. “Go!” Your mother shouts. “It’s too dangerous!” “I’m not leaving!” You don’t know where these undead creatures came from, how they even came alive again, or who revived them. There’s no time to think and in the midst of the anarchy, you’re trapped. Sheer seconds as you realize you’re about to be struck, but you’re unable to do anything. You merely brace for the impact. But the monster drops dead in front of you. Yoongi pulls his rapier out in one smooth tug, the silver blade slicing through the air. You gasp for air and he immediately engulfs you in an embrace. The man with the light blonde strands of hair holds you tight as your breath steadies and you savour his warmth. There are no words spoken, nothing that needs to be said that can’t be translated through his desperate yet affectionate gesture. “Sorcerer.” The moment can’t last long when you’re interrupted by the ghost. It floats to you and Yoongi is on guard, lifting the tip of his weapon. But you place a hand on his arm and he eases. “Listen to me.” You’re calm enough to finally pay attention, to hopefully be given answers. And answers are what he offers you. “There is a lich where the old castle resides. You must find the phylactery and destroy it before things become worse.” “A lich?!” Liches are among the worst creatures of humanity — undead spellcasters of great power. They’re creatures who traded in their souls for a chance to exist forever. There are untold treachery and blasphemies they’ve done just to become what they are. But they’re given immortality unless someone destroys their phylactery, an object that stores their life essences. Before you can ask any more questions, the ghost dissipates in thin air. Klarinda, who noticed the transparent form, runs to you. She grabs your hands and searches your expression. “What did the ghost say?!” “T-There’s a lich in the old castle!” “I know where that is!” The Dragonlich roars deafeningly as a warlock casts hold monster and it becomes paralyzed. At the same time, Yoongi pierces a death knight that was barreling towards you. You turn to your mother who gives a glance and she doesn’t even take a moment of hesitation. “Go!” She trusts your decisions — her gaze tells you that. Klarinda nods and Yoongi takes your hand. The two of you follow after her as she twists through the halls. “How did you come in contact with that ghost, Y/N?” “I don’t know. He was the one who approached me after the tournament and he’s been bothering me since yesterday.” Klarinda turns down the hall. “Do you know who that ghost is?” “He told me his name is Leo.” “He’s King Lionel,” she says and your brows raise. Yoongi doesn’t appear surprised either. He wears a solemn expression, having recognized him as well. “There was a section of his life in my history textbook of Pegan. This place used to be his castle.” You’re baffled, completely rendered speechless. She continues, “There was a rebellion a thousand years ago. This whole place burnt down, but it was rebuilt during my grandfather’s generation.” “Were there ever mentions of a lich? Or someone who traded their soul?” Yoongi shakes his head. “No.” “He never had a wife. But there were rumours that he had a mistress. A wizard from far away lands.” Your eyes meet Klarinda’s. “His kingdom was taken down before they could get married.” “But why now?” You’re running out of breath as she climbs a staircase. “If this...mistress traded in her soul a thousand years ago, why is she trying to revive dragons and knights now?” “It isn’t just now,” Klarinda murmurs, her brows drawn into a tight furrow and jaw clenched. “Members of the royal family in Pegan have gone missing for generations. They’ve always swept it under the carpet and kept it a secret, but I think I’m about to find out the reason.” The three of you turn another corner, but come to a grinding halt when you see a flailing lady. “Mother!” Duchess Jacquelyn is in the middle of the corridor, wearing a bountiful and extravagant gown while her arms are full of jewelry boxes, dangling strings of pearls and diamonds. One string slips from the pile and rolls on the cobblestone to your friend’s feet. “D-Darling! What a surprise! What’s going on? The noise has been startling me!” Klarinda steps forward. “What are you doing?” “T-This?! Nothing! I was just re-organizing! Yes. Reorganizing.” “That’s grandmother’s ring.” She points, eyes narrowed in. “You’ve never brought it out since her funeral.” “Well...sometimes change is needed, sweetheart.” They stare at one another while you exchange looks with Yoongi. There is a pregnant silence, tangible tension that’s suffocating. Then you notice how Duchess Jacquelyn slips her hand to her side and something glistens in your eyes, blinding your vision. Your mouth draws open. “You’re not my mother!” — “Watch out!” The dagger strikes her. Klarinda cries as the back of her right hand is sliced. Yet she grabs the opportunity and grips her necklace, her spellcasting object. The girl’s left hand comes out and she holds her mother’s double by the wrist, casting inflict wound. The creature screams horrifically in sheer agony. “What did you do to her?! Where is she?!” You grip your orb, casting scorching ray. One beam of fire hits it and it screeches. A moment later, Yoongi lifts his rapier and strikes it twice, causing the monster to stumble onto its back. Its weapon clacks out of reach. Klarinda grabs the dagger and holds the creature to the floor. She presses the blade to its throat. All traces of her kindness and mercy have dissipated in the face of her rage. “Where is she?!” “O-Okay! Okay! I surrender!” It puts up its hands and shifts. The form of the creature is no longer the beautiful, middle-aged Duchess but a tall, elven gray-skinned humanoid. Its face is formless and eyes are pale and bulging. Its voice croaks, “I’m a doppelganger! I didn’t have a choice! The lich made me do it!” “My mother!” Klarinda shrieks and you lower yourself, squeezing her shoulder and she eases. Tears have filled her eyes, but when she glances at you, she’s able to compose herself. “She’s dead. Her soul’s been consumed.” Klarinda breaks down into sobs. You wrap an arm around her and she lets up on the doppelganger, but Yoongi makes sure to keep his foot down on its shoulder. “We have to get it.” She wipes at her tears, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “We have to kill that lich, Y/N!” “We will,” you promise her. “We will.” Seconds later, you see Jinha come forward and he rushes over trying to get a grasp of the situation. “Can you take care of this?” you ask and he easily agrees. “O-Of course, lady Y/N.” He binds up the doppelganger and Klarinda casts cure wounds on herself, healing her gash. She takes your hand afterwards and you hold it. Yet, even as her frame shakes, there’s determination in her steps. A type of anger that has solidified her resolve and given her courage. “This is the passageway.” She pushes open a small stone door to reveal a crawl space after Yoongi helped push a bookshelf to the side in the corner of the library. “I found it as a kid, but I never went in too far. The servants found me and they tried to cover it up.” The three of you crawl through before it opens up and Yoongi helps you down onto the landing. There is consuming darkness until Klarinda casts light onto the dagger she has and you ignite a flame to dance into your hand. The empty void is collected with cobwebs, spiders and eyes of bats staring back at you, quietly observing your forms. Each of your steps echo and a cloud of dust emerges. You move slowly, scared that the steps of the staircase winding downwards will collapse under your weight. But you’re able to look around, at the crumbling paintings, the fragmented pillar pieces, the stone walls with scorched markings, and the ancient statues long lost and eaten by time itself. Never would you have guessed that the basement of the castle held all of this. That they had rebuilt themselves on top of what was once the castle of the entire kingdom of Pegan. You can imagine what this would’ve been like a thousand years ago. Children running with servants scolding them, advisors walking by King Lionel’s side, his lover waiting for him. Then you envision the screams, the devouring fire. You can see the charred marks along the banister. You can almost hear it, but you quickly shake it off before you can become frightened. “Destroying the phylactery is the only way we can get rid of the lich without it coming back, but how will we know where it is or what it is?” It could be any object in any room. You turn with the flickering fire in your palm, looking all around you. It’s endless. “If that monster is down here, there has to be a reason,” Yoongi offers, standing by your side. “It could’ve moved anywhere but it might be protecting its phylactery.” “I know where it is.” There’s a low voice and a familiar ghost descends in front of you with a saddened smile. “Your highness.” Klarinda bows her head. But you remain still, even after knowing his identity. King Lionel looks at you with his brows knitted together. “I am sorry for deceiving you, dear sorcerer. Or rather, holding the truth from you. I feared you would have denied my request had I been forthright about it. In hindsight, I could’ve prevented the devastation that has wrecked this place. Had I only known….” “Do you know where the lich is? Or where the phylactery is?” “It is in the last place where I perished.” The King smiles. “In our chambers.” He turns, floating away and Klarinda follows. You and Yoongi trail behind her and when you feel the back of his hand grazing against yours, you grasp it. Yoongi looks at you and you release your held sigh. “Why is it that we always find ourselves in adventures like these?” “You mean these life or death scenarios?” The corner of his mouth curls and he squeezes your hand. “We always manage. But you should’ve told me that you were talking to a ghost.” “I don’t think we were on speaking terms until recently, duckling.” Yoongi grins at the nostalgic nickname, the one you used to start each letter, and your own smile is tinged with sadness. You don’t know if either of you will live. If the pair of you have it in you to be an actual hero and defeat the greatest monster. And as these doubts fill you, so do the regrets that you harbour for not hearing him out, for not trusting in him. With such little time, you wonder if this is it. If this will be your last opportunity. Your steps slow. “Yoongi. I—” “How dare you enter my lair?!” There’s a snarling voice resounding above and instantly, the ghost of King Lionel vanishes. Klarinda turns behind her and looks at you and Yoongi. The hall has ended with a crumbling stone door in front of her. “Leave!” The voice shrieks deafeningly into multiple layers. “Leave!” You nod at her and she pushes the door open. The dust billows out, sweeping in front of your forms. The fire in your hand smothers and the strong gust of wind pulls through your hair. You can’t open your eyes, so you shield yourself away. Yoongi feels his grasp on you loosen. Your touch fades away from him. He shouts after you until his throat is raw, but it’s to no avail. He scrambles blindly until he’s able to open his eyes and finds himself in an empty void of darkness. “I know your greatest fear.” There’s a whisper in his ear and he jolts, turning around while drawing his rapier. But there’s nothing there, not even a shapeless figure. “Min Yoongi. I have read your thoughts.” “I have read your mind,” a second voice crackles to his left. The right snicker. “Your greatest fear is betrayal of your loved one.” “Whether that would be no longer sharing your affections.” “Or choosing another person to be with.” “Get out of my head,” he commands from deep within his stomach, his impassivity ruined by the furrow of his brows. But Yoongi feels a cold breath on the nape of his neck. “A lick of poison from her would destroy you for good.” Fire. You see it in front of you as you’re collapsed on the floor. The orange and rose glow are illuminated on your face. You’re sitting so close it seems to lick at your cheeks. Yet you’re brought into a lull as you listen to the crackle and pop, as you allow the smoke to fill your senses. You’re brought in a trance as you watch the fire burn a house down, a quaint home with a picket white fence and large windows with pink curtains. “Your greatest strength is your greatest fear.” There’s a murmur in your ear. It’s unrecognizable. “I know,” you mumble. “You are afraid of one day no longer being able to control the flames that seethes to be unleashed.” “But repress it no longer, dear,” the left voice seductively whispers, hissing softly. “Worry no longer.” “Your magic is incredible and oozes from you.” — “Give into it.” — “Allow it freedom.” “What….about...Yoongi?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from the fire into the darkness. You stand back on your feet, finding balance again. “No.” There’s a sharp inhale to your right. “Leave him.” You scoff automatically, the idea so utterly ridiculous that it’s unfathomable. “I’m not going to do that. I finally found someone that doesn’t find me annoying….” “You could be powerful.” The more it talks, the more you’re coming to your senses. “I already am powerful!” You twist around, dispelling away the hallucination of the burning house with the flicker of your hand. “And I already know how to control my powers! You think I’m some kind of amateur sorcerer?! It doesn’t control me. I control it!” Again, you ignite a fire in your hand and narrow your eyes. In the distance, you catch strands of pale yellow. And you run after him. The voices scream for you to stop, but you fight against the magic that threatens to pull you back. The moment you smother out the flame, you leap at Yoongi. Your arms are thrown around him in an embrace and immediately, his hands wrap around you. Yoongi stumbles back with an infectious smile expanding into his cheeks. The spell dissipates and you find yourself back in the underground remains of the ancient castle. “Don’t let go of my hand again, brat.” “I’m sorry,” you mumble against his neck. Suddenly, there’s a piercing scream that ricochets through the air — one belonging to only Klarinda. You pull away from Yoongi, eyes locked into one another and he sets you down. Your fingers interlace and you follow the sound, turning down the hall once more and entering through the large double-doors to the decaying chambers. A frame of a bed sits in the wide expanse of the room, grayed cloth ripped and drifting over the canopy. Ash and soot sits in a layer on the floorboards, the wardrobe and vanity along the back wall destroyed. There’s a large painting on the wall, but the faces of the couple have been torn and scratched by bleeding fingernails. Your eyes sweep the room within seconds before landing on Klarinda who’s been blighted. She’s fallen over and you come to cover her with your body as you look upon the lich. It’s angular and skeletal with withering flesh stretched tightly across visible bones, dressed in regal finery, reddened drapes that once was vibrant. Yoongi’s knuckles turn white at his grip and he runs towards the creature. He misses, but hits on his second try, slashing it across. He surges forward, yet it does little to the lich that still stands. “Foolish children,” she hisses and grips the blade of Yoongi’s rapier, rendering him immobile. “You aren’t heroes. Your recklessness will bring forth your death. I will not spare you from the choices you have made.” You cast immolation and flames wreathe the lich. She lets go of Yoongi’s weapon and the light of your magic is so bright that you’re forced to look away. At the same time, Klarinda cures her wounds and slowly comes to her feet again. “Do you really think you could defeat me?!” The lich’s snarling voice booms across the room. Pinpoints of crimson light burn in the empty sockets of where her eyes were before they rotted away. She glides forward as if floating on water and a sphere of poisonous gas billows to all corners of the room. “Yoongi!” You cover your mouth with your hand and the yellow-green fog obscures your view. You hear the clanking of metal where he hits the lich and you feel your vision blurring from the poison. But as you narrow your eyes, you’re able to make out the faint shadow of the lich’s form. And a thin green ray springs from your pointing finger in the spell disintegrate, allowing you to hear it’s deafening shriek. You give permission for your phoenix magic to unleash and you’re magically twined in swirling fire, eyes glowing as hot coals. Your flesh sheds bright light into the fog. Behind you, Klarinda murmurs words of restoration and you feel yourself being healed from the poison. The lich is toying with you. You know it. The moment you stepped into here, it could’ve immediately killed any of you with a single word, but instead, it chose to manifest those hallucinations and slowly suffocate the three of you in this poison. The lich glides towards you, but is stopped by Yoongi. Before you can pull him out of the way, she lifts her finger, and he drops to his knees. He screams from the sheer agony that courses up his body. “Yoongi!” The lich casts detect thoughts on him, probing his brain, tearing apart bits and pieces of it. It hums and muses, “How selfless yet foolish. Even in this much pain, you are still thinking about how much you love her.” Yoongi grits his teeth, bumbling upwards to his feet and strikes the monster thrice. The force is enough that she staggers back and tense silence fills the air. You steal the opportunity and come forward next to Yoongi. Your palms press towards the monster to cast fireball, but the roar of the flames never comes. The lich has counterspelled it. Klarinda cries and runs forward with her dagger. “You killed my mother!” “And her soul was delicious to consume,” she snarls and grabs her blade, tossing it aside as if it were a toy. “Yours will be too!” Klarinda sobs as something catches the corner eye. But there’s no chance — not when the lich takes your spell of choice and magic blooms out of her thin fingertips. Fire blossoms from her flesh, thundering out in the force of her rage. You immediately turn to hug Yoongi, arms embracing his body to protect him. But when his hands reach to the back of your neck and he presses your face to his shoulder, you’re not sure who’s protecting who. Yet, the fire never reaches you. Even when it rumbles through the room and the ruins of the ancient castle. Even when the walls begin to crack further and fragments of the ceiling dust down. Even when scorching flames has filled every corner of the space. You raise your head, finding that the ghost of King Lionel is facing the lich. One of his last fragments of magic has been channeled into an aura of life spell, shielding the three of you away. “Enough, Karlis,” he calls out to her softly. “You have done enough harm.” “I thought I banished you!” she snarls out, crouched over as the pinpoints of red lights of her eyes glare at him. “I won’t leave without you.” “Why?!” The voice is jarring to your ears. “The girl you knew is long gone!” Neither of them notice Klarinda who staggers upwards towards the vanity in the corner, struggling to grab her dagger along the way. “Even so, I won’t leave her behind again. I won’t leave you behind. So come with me, Karlis. Leave your anger behind and come with me.” His arm outstretched but the monster cackles horrifically. “Foolish, man! I will not stop until I have destroyed the bloodline that ruined us.” “No one ruined us. It was I who ruled poorly, and you who chose to give up your soul and walk down this path by your lonesome in the wake of your grief. Karlis.” “Never!” she screeches and a gust of wind pushes him away. Then the lich screeches in torment. Klarinda digs the dagger’s blade into the heart shaped necklace on the vanity — the phylactery that holds the life force of the lich. She plunges the weapon several times until her arm strains, until the dagger’s curved against the vanity’s surface, until it slips from her trembling hand and she tosses it aside in the midst of tears. The lich’s bones collide against the floor. Her screams are audible around the room and the red clothing flutters in the air as it drops. You look away with Yoongi, but King Lionel gazes at her until the last moment. Gone. After centuries of terrorizing Pegan’s royal family, just like that. // The sunbeams pierce the sky in pastel shades, painting the clouds in watercolour hues. It breaks away the darkness of the night and the stars of the horizon. Klarinda is silent as she looks onward from the open arched window with her arms behind her back. But you know it’s not her. She’s been possessed by King Lionel, having granted his wish and allowed him to borrow her body. “My last duties as a King have been complete,” he murmurs in her voice. “My business is finished now that I know she hasn’t been left behind.” He turns to you and Yoongi with a dimpled smile. “Thank you. Sorcerer. Knight. Without your help, I wouldn’t have been able to free her from her own treachery.” “It’s not like you gave us much of a choice,” you mumble half-heartedly and he chuckles. “I guess I didn’t. I’m also sorry I’m not able to give you gold or any semblance of a reward when you have bestowed to me such a great favour.” “Having our lives is enough,” Yoongi says, bowing his head and you scoff lightly. The ghosts’ eyes twinkle as he looks at him and then to you. “You really do remind me of her,” he says. “But more strong-willed and self-assured. Something she had greatly missed and led her to her demise.” A sigh releases from him. “The world is blessed to have such great heroes.” The pair of you exchange expressions. “I’m not so sure about that….” You still don’t feel like heroes — he was the one who protected you and Klarinda was the one who destroyed the phylactery. Both you and Yoongi barely did anything other than waltz in there without a plan. In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea but there wasn’t really enough time to figure out battle tactics. Or at least that’s the excuse you’re going to hang onto. The ghost gives an all-knowing smile and turns to the horizon. “My time is here. Thank you for your help, heroes.” Within three seconds, he dissipated from her. Klarinda stumbles and is steadied by Yoongi. She smiles, thanking him before gazing at the pair of you. Two dimples are marked in each corner of her cheeks.

The chaos has come and gone. The moment the lich’s life source was destroyed, the monsters no longer swarmed and spawned on the grounds. The place is no longer haunted either. It’s finally what it looks like — simply, a castle. You came here to find the truth and to confront Yoongi — you never expected to encounter a ghost and a lich. It’s a wonder how it’s possible trouble can find you in so many ways no matter where you go. “Aren’t you cold?” A husky voice pipes up behind you and you’re brought out of your trance. Pale yellow hair joins your side, reminding you of ducklings. It’s still dawn, but you’re at the bottom steps of the garden's gazebo instead of seeking refuge on a soft bed. It was the only way you could get some peace and quiet from your siblings. “I’m never cold.” You turn to him, a fire flickering in your palm. Yoongi tenderly smiles. “How did speaking to Duke Fesan go?” “He’s bedridden, but he’ll make it. He wasn't too badly injured. But he’s grieving with his daughter.” You nod. “And your mother and father?” “They’re fine. A little shocked, but they’re using the opportunity to boast about me. A lot.” A laugh bubbles out of you. “Well, it’s not like they have no reason to. You’re amazing, Yoongi,” you breathe it out with a second thought, as if it were factual and you don’t notice his gaze on you. “How about your own family?” “They’re fine. My sister’s well enough to flirt with Jinha and my brothers are bickering loud enough to give my mom a headache,” you say and he hums. “But we’re leaving in a few hours. They already called the carriage for the afternoon.” “You’re heading back home?” You nod wordlessly. The tension is suffocating. You decide to break it, turning to him while masking a smile. “How was breaking the...other news to the Duke?” “Easier than one would expect. Klarinda asked to call off the wedding and the Duke said it was the doppelganger’s arrangement anyway. It was trying to amass as much wealth for itself as it could.” “That’s good.” “It is.” “Get that sorted and out of the way.” You steal a glance at Yoongi pathetically to find he has an impassive expression and is blankly looking onward. After a moment, he yawns tiredly and then his eyes flicker to you. Instantly, you divert your vision elsewhere, not noticing his smile. “You know,” he says, “the Duke thought it would be unfair to me. Even though it’s going to be called off, everyone already knows about the arrangement. It might be an opportunity for gossip to be made towards the Min faction.” “And what did you say?” “I said that I already had someone else in mind from the start.” Your eyes meet. Pools of deep brown locked into yours. Strands of his blonde hair nearly pricking into his lashes. And it’s an intimate moment as your voice quiets. “Did you really mean what you said on that boat ride. About regretting not asking me to come with you?” The man exhales, “Every day.” “A wedding with me would be awful,” you murmur, barely coherent. You feel how warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace, and for once, it’s not because of the magical fire inside your blood. “My mom would have to have a whole show and if you thought having three siblings was a lot, wait until you meet my cousins and extended family. They multiplied like damn rabbits.” Yoongi tries to put on a stoic face but fails. His grin is all too gummy. “I don’t mind. You haven’t met my brother yet, but he’s just as overbearing. And if anything, my mother would be ecstatic. She loves noble titles, so she’d hit it off with your mother.” “I still want that great big house.” “I would like one too.” “If you haven’t noticed, I really like my food burnt to a crisp like a fiend.” “I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “I always liked my meat especially cooked anyways.” “I’m a con artis—” “No matter what you say, I won’t change my mind, Y/N.” Yoongi’s brow cocks, challenging you straight on, albeit more gingerly than you’ve ever witnessed. “Your persuasions won’t work.” “Yoongi…” “You still owe me that refund.” What? He grins mischievously and you roll your eyes, having no idea why he’s bringing this up and ruining the moment. “Are you serious?” “Very. You scammed me over a year ago and I expect a full repayment. Also, I happen to collect interest. It’s a hefty, hefty interest fee.” “Okay.” You play along. “What do I owe you now?” You’re not sure what to expect. You’re never sure when it comes to him considering he’s so hard to read. But your breath hitches as he lowers himself to one knee and looks up at you with his tender features relaxed into the softest expression. He pulls something out of his pocket. “Nothing. It’ll be me who will owe you, if you would so graciously choose to spend your life with me—” You throw your arms around Yoongi. The both of you collapse onto the soft bed of grass and you giggle infectiously, pulling yourself up from him. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I really thought that for the rest of your life, you were just going to send me letters.” Yoongi grins a gummy smile. His arms wrap around your body and he reaches up to finally capture your lips on his. The two of you kiss each other, making up for the moments where you should’ve done it sooner. It’s sweet, but less than innocent with how eager it is. You only manage to pull away when out of the corner of your eye, you catch curtains shifting from upstairs. “Nosy, aren’t they,” Yoongi laughs. At the left window, your family is crowding around. Taehyung and Lia are shoving each other to get a look, Seokjin has his palms pressed against the glass, your father is grinning while your mother is absolutely astounded. At the right, both of Yoongi’s parents are peeking out owlishly. You see different members of the faction watching in both horror and confusion, having not yet heard of the news that the engagement is broken and assuming that they’re catching him in the midst of a scandal. But more importantly, you see Klarinda smiling infectiously at the top of the tower with her dad coming to look too. “Exciting, isn’t it?” Yoongi teases, “With so many guests watching.” “Is it so hard to get some damn privacy? This is why I prefer being on the move,” you whine and cast invisibility on the both of you. Yoongi laughs, closing the distance to kiss you again.

[Epilogue] “What if this is a trap.” “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.” There’s a house in the middle of the peaceful suburbs, placed in the middle of the street in a row of other homes. Built with bricks covered in render and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly asymmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the structure has two floors. More importantly, they swear they see the curtains shift on the left side. The two young adventurers step up on the wooden porch, facing the oak double doors. “Do we just….knock?” “I guess.” His fist raps against the surface while she braces herself for an attack. The door swings open. She hitches her breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens. Instead, they see you. In a simple, brown dress and your hair braided in an updo with loose strands framing your full features. Your eyes glisten, giving a smile and the door widens. “Good afternoon! You children look so tired! Come in, come in!” The pair of them exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes their breath — cozy maple and fresh flowers at the entrance way, mementos on a shelf near the open staircase with a magical pull to them. It’s clear that the owners of this house have made it their own. They can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury. “My name is Y/N,” you announce, with a light twinkle in your irises. “And I am a servant girl to the lord and lady of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?” “I-I am Park Jimin. It’s said that there’s a great and powerful sorcerer who lives here and a dark knight who’s been to Shadowfell.” “They’ve defeated dragons and liches before,” the girl beside him adds, brows furrowed as she regards you with a healthy amount of suspicion. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m afraid they’re not here at the moment. They went out to do some bidding, so you might have to wait a few hours until they return,” you inform and the two of them look at one another. “Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for them?” “We have received a prophecy and were sent by Mirla Nistar.” Jimin steps forward. “When lightning strikes twice, a man of darkness shall usher forth a country's doom and the end of wealth. We have reason to suspect that this man is the demon lord, Abraxas, who is trying to rise from Shadowfell.” You hum. “Alright. I’ll let them know as soon as they get back. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!” But suddenly, the dimpled boy feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and his partner turns to him. “Jimin?” He looks off at you and she follows his line of sight. Before she can ask you what you just did, you slip something out of your pocket. In one split second— “Potion?” You hold up the stoppered bottle with the milky liquid sloshing inside. “You have a headache, don’t you? I know it when I see it! Must be from your long travels! Nothing like a rejuvenating potion to feel better.” “I..I’m alright.” Jimin lowers his hand. “Nonsense. You don’t want to miss this chance!” you emphasize. “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime. You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions!” “How much?” the skeptical girl slowly asks and you know you have it in the bag. “Ten gold pieces.” Your eyes glimmer. She digs into her satchel. But then— “What’s with the ruckus?” A rounded face and sleepy features lug down the stairs. He runs a hand through his baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead, having just woken up from a long nap. “Who are these people?” “They’re adventurers trying to defeat some demon punk—” “Demon lord,” the boy tries to correct. “—who’s apparently coming back to wreak havoc and steal children.” “Close enough,” he sighs. Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgment, his expression impassive. Then his eyes dart at them and the potion in your hand. He points. “Are you trying to sell them that?” The corner of your mouth curls. “Maybe.” “Poor folks,” he exhales, utterly ruining your business transaction and not remorseful at all for it. “You’re going to get us into trouble one day.” You scoff. “When haven’t I gotten us into trouble. It’s not new news now.” Your husband grins and comes to sling an arm around your shoulder. He kisses you shamelessly in front of the two strangers, yet it’s a soft and tender gesture. It makes you smile against him. Suddenly, the door shuts behind them and the surrounding warm candlelight ignites. It billows a dim luminescence into the warm home that you’ve both made your own, glowing against the numerous mementos on the shelf that display the many years of your travels and journeys. Yoongi hugs you to his side and you quirk your head onto his shoulder with a sly smile. The adventurers finally come to recognize who the people in front of them are. And the pair of you turn to them. “What was it that you needed again?”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #bts adventure #yoongi as the stoic knight #and OC as the angry phoenix sorcerer lol #FINALLY AN END TO THE SERIES :D #hope you guys enjoy it #this is gonna be one of those ones that you're gonna need to read the original before the sequel lol #i think it's a hard one to understand without reading the one before

[fandomscombine]

The Hargreeves Kerfuffle Part 2: Family Reunion

The Hargreeves Kerfuffle Part 2: Family Reunion

The Hargreeves siblings x Hargreeves!Reader (Familial Relationship)

BG: The Reader is Number Eight. It follows how you fit into the structure of Season 1 and the family dynamic of the siblings.

This part follows the collapse of The Umbrella Academy during their youth and having the family back together after years apart for the very first time.

I have mashed up the information and some events from both the comics and the tv series. So a heads up for readers who haven’t read the comics, it was hinted in S2 but in the very beginning of the comics, it’s canon that Reginald is indeed an Alien.

The series will consist of 10 parts. Where the reader would have a focused interaction with each sibling. (Eg. After this part, it would be Luther x Reader, then Diego x Reader and so on! –Yes Ben is included)

WC: 4786 (never had I written so much for one part before!)

Contains: Angst. Death- Reginald and Ben (so not exactly a spoiler, but while writing Ben’s scene had my eyes water a bit.) Crap childhood and the Hargreeves being a mess.

A/N: You guys are literally the best! Reading your replies and comments about how much you enjoyed part 1 and are looking forward to the rest of the series, really warms my heart!

>>GENERAL MASTERLIST<<

>>THE HARGREEVES KERFUFFLE SERIES MASTERLIST<<

READ: [PART 1]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

~

March 21, 2019.  

Never had you thought that you would be back here, looking up the gates of The Umbrella Academy, 13 years later.

There was and still is so much pain associated with this building, this entity, this identity of The Umbrella Academy. That you hadn’t seen it coming- well not exactly completely blind to it. Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ upbringing of children-your siblings, your childhood- had always been shit but you had never come close to imaging it to be as emotionally and mentally damaging as it did.

Children at aged 7 finding out they had powers was great. To a kid, it was a dream come true to be a real-life superhero. It all started out as fun and games but soon, training started to be competitions to outshine your siblings-your competitors whist being told to work together at the same time. It was quite a hard concept to grasp as a young kid, but in order to get any attention and praise from a distant father, a kid would do anything.

By the age of 9, the superhero team of ‘The Umbrella Academy’ was officially announced to the world. The group consisted of the 7 Hargreeves children, publicly known as: Spaceboy, The Kraken, The Rumor, The Séance, The Boy, The Horror, and Foresight.

An 8th child with seemingly no superpower, had been secretly tucked away, hidden from the world and too, distanced away from her own siblings. It was though Vanya Hargreeves didn’t exist.

You did try your best to spend time with Vanya and keep the Sunday sister bonding time with her, but with all your training and missions, combined with all her violin lessons and some other private lessons she often go on with in long periods of time - though she wouldn’t mention what they were- there was absolutely no time to be in each other’s presence, so soon you along with the rest of your siblings slip away from Vanya.

At age 10 was a big year for the Hargreeves siblings, they had kind of successfully protected the city of Paris from the chaos of the Eiffel Tower being a spaceship- yes it did flew away but at least the people were saved- The mission became world wide news and soon every move they made caught the public’s eye. With this led to more intense training and additional etiquette workshops to better the group’s public image.

Reginald being a helicopter parent took a toll on the children, who had coped in their own ways. Luther taking the role of ‘leader’ to heart, Diego with his never ending hero complex, Allison using her power to get whatever she wanted, Klaus fell into the world of drugs and alcohol, Five-the rebel who thinks he’s smarter than everyone even dad, Ben into the world of video games, Vanya became ever more quiet and more to herself, and you-a yes person to dad who calls you his most valuable asset that has ever crossed his path, never wanting to let him down.

Things really started to get out of hand at the ripe old age of 13. Breakfast had been a mess, Five had a massive argument with dad and stormed out of the house. You ran after him, caught his coat just as he passed the gate- the very gate you are standing in front of now.

‘FIVE! WAIT!’

‘WHAT?’ He turned, looking angrier as ever.

‘Please don’t leave.’ You place your hand on his shoulder- damn when did he become taller than you? ‘You both can talk this out. Rationalized things out’ You pleaded.

He shook your hand away. ‘Talk? REALLY Y/N? You think good old dad would dare listen to someone younger than him? TO HIS OWN CHILDREN?’ He snorted. ‘You are daft y/n. I thought you were smarter than this-‘ Five sighed. ‘But a guess you are too much of a daddy’s girl to see things clearly.’

‘I know you didn’t mean that’ You stammered, not letting the tears fall. ‘that’s just your anger talking.’

‘oh but I do mean it. Now if you’d excuse me, I have to get going to prove dad wrong.’

Five makes a step forward but you blocked his way

‘GET OUT OF THE WAY Y/N’ He pushes you. ‘I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE ANYMORE.’

As you fell to the ground, you see him blip away.

That was the last time anyone had seen Number Five and his final words still haunts you to this day.

‘get out of the way y/n! i don’t want to see your face anymore.’

To make matters worst from having a sibling disappear and to never come back was to have another sibling lose his life.

The media was quick to publish the news. It was all the tabloid and news outlets seem to care about. The headline would vary but all in all still carry the same heart-breaking news. Be it from ‘The Horror dies in mission.’ , ‘The Umbrella Academy loses the life of another of its members.’ to ‘RIP to teen superhero Ben Hargreeves aka The Horror.’

Oh Ben, dear Ben. Why must he be taken away? You thought. Why?

The mission was meticulously planned and prepared for. You were sure to have extracted all the information on what was to go down and what the villains’ moves were from your vision.

You had memorized that every aspect of that dream- you had 2 weeks to prepare. Everyone was supposed to be safe, but why wasn’t Ben?

Why didn’t reality play out as to what you foresaw? You had never slipped up before. Why had the one time you did cost you the life of your beloved brother? Why?

While sobbing your eyes out onto Ben’s grave, a memory of what seemed so long ago came rushing back.

~

>>‘I’m sorry y/n.’ He said leaning on your door frame.

‘Ben!’ You exclaimed. ‘I’m so glad you’re back up and running!’

Ben was caught off guard. ‘You—You’re not mad at me?’

‘Why would I be mad at you?’ You questioned, genuinely confused at your brother’s words.

‘Cause, Cause I almost got you killed. I am a monster.’

You sat up straight at those words, your ribs hurt a bit at the sudden movement, but you didn’t care. Your brother was blaming himself for something he couldn’t have controlled.

‘NO BEN!’

Ben jumped from your sudden outburst.

You motioned for him to come closer.

‘Ben…’ looking into his eyes. ‘Ben you are no monster.’

‘But—’

‘uuh uh I’m not done’ You held his hand in yours. ‘You are no monster what happened then was an accident, nobody knew, heck nobody expected powers to just show up. It was beyond anyone’s control. It took us by surprise.’

His shoulders relaxed.

‘It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened.’

He gave you a bone crushing hug. ‘Thank you y/n. You don’t know how guilty I was feeling.’ Voice muffled by your shoulder, which is now wet with his tears. ‘I kept thinking about the pain I caused you and I wasn’t allowed to leave my room even when I begged dad to see you and say sorry. y/n’

‘Shhh shhh’ Rubbing his back. ‘It’s alright Ben. What’s important is that we’re all here now. Alive, Safe and sound.’. <<

~

‘I’m sorry Ben…’ You choked out.

‘I’m so sorry Benny…’ Wiping his gravestone of your tears. ‘I—I got you killed. I am a monster. I am THE monster.’ You hiccupped. ‘It is MY job to keep everyone same, to do the reconnaissance, to ensure that everyone in the frontline is safe. It is my power to foresee what could go wrong, to avoid disastrous mistakes. And….and I failed, Ben. I failed. I failed you, dad, The Umbrella Academy.’

‘I miss you Ben so much…’ You lie down with an arm across the lawn. Picturing that is was him you’re hugging, that he is really there.’ more than your annoyingly sweet ass could ever believe. I wish you were here Ben, safe and sound. And if you could hear me Ben, I wish you could forgive me.’

Your eyes slowly fall shut from the emotional guilt you’re feeling but a warm breeze passes through like a warm embrace lightening the heavy burden within.

A soft whisper of reassurance and familiar words brings you to peaceful rest.

‘I forgive you y/n. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened.’

You stirred from your sleep as you felt yourself lifted from the ground.

‘Careful Diego! You might wake her up.’ You hear Klaus say.

All this trauma, stress and was just too much to handle by minors and as quickly as all your powers came, the same goes for the people who left.

Klaus was the first to leave the academy at age 16, who choose to be self-checked at a rehab centre, stating that that was a way healthier environment then this shithole that was ‘home’.  Who could blame him? Especially when you yourself were planning to leave.

As much as you wanted to get up and leave in the dead of night, you can’t. You don’t have the heart to leave your remaining siblings behind. No, not in this environment. If you were to leave, you wanted them to go with you, to at least know they would have a good life ahead.

Under Reginald’s watchful eye, it would take time to sort the plan out, but it would be worth it.

And you know just the person to talk to.

‘Heyya Diego.’

‘You’re up to something y/n/n and I don’t want to be in any part of it.’ He says without glancing your way. ‘Not after the pineapple incident.’ Diego’s eyes finally landing on you.

Rolling your eyes, you chuckled. ‘Oh come on Diegs! That was years ago! It was just a childish prank—’

Diego gives you the finger.

‘-Oi! It is not MY fault what Luther did to you; besides you were supposed to take the EAST stairwell, NOT the West.’ You say matter of factly, shaking your head. ‘Ughh no, we are getting out of topic. Diego, I need your help and you have to promise not to tell anyone-’

‘You’re devising a getaway plan, aren’t you?’

Your brows scrunched together. ‘How’d you—’

‘I’m not blind y/n, I recognised the look of someone who too is planning to escape.’

You raise a brow. ‘Too?’

‘Yes, Too.’ Diego edges closer to you. ‘Now, why don’t we save the trouble of potentially ruining each other’s individual schemes and join forces. Team up. More brainpower. And whatnot. Deal?’ Offering his pinky out.

You ignored the outstretched gesture. ‘What happened to being a lone wolf huh?  I thought that was your thing now?’ You countered.

‘Like a said y/n, the more brainpower, the higher the success.’ He explained. ‘Say, we do manage to get out or perhaps just leave, like Klaus. Where would we go? Where would you? Hmm?’

‘I… I…’ You honestly don’t know.

‘Exactly. That’s why we team up and once we’re out of here. We stick together for a while till we get back on our feet and figure out what we want then go our separate ways.’

You nod, digesting his words. It seems like a solid plan with ample flexibility before deciding on what to do with your life after. But….

‘Okay…..’

‘Okay!’

‘…On one condition. It would not only you and me. We’ll try to get to convince the others to come along too.’

‘What?! y/n no, that’s too many people on the plan-‘

‘More brainpower, higher the success. Your words Diego. Not mine.’ You retaliated. ‘Besides, we can’t just leave everyone here. It’s miserable here. They’re family Diego.’

‘Fine we’ll tell Luther and Allison.’

‘Everyone, Diego.’ You stared him down. ‘And that includes Vanya. No buts.’

‘Ugh.Fine.’ He points a finger towards your face. ‘We tell Luther, Allison AND Vanya. But I swear y/n if anyone of them rats us out or backs out of the plan. We leave them behind. No pity if they choose to stay in this shithole of a house. They are old enough to make their own decision and to face the consequences.’ He leans back to the bed’s headboard. ‘That’s my final offer. Deal?’

‘Deal.’ You interlock your fingers, sealing the pinky promise.

It was easy to get Vanya on board, as she was the child that received the crappiest treatment from dad. Allison was hesitant at first but after convincing her the real world had so much more to give compared to that of the imaginary perfect bubble she created for herself here in the academy with the use of her power, she was on board.

Luther that ever loyal ‘leader’ of the academy would never dare cross dad, the idea wouldn’t have even crossed his mind. Diego had failed to make him see reason and so have you. Luther only came around to be a part of the escape because Allison had agreed to it.

It took almost 6 months. The time has come. You all had saved up enough money to rent a loft apartment downtown and pooled enough to last at least 3 months on your own.

At 1:00 am.  All the remaining 5 Hargreeves are to ready with their backpacks to sneak out in groups, boys and girls, and meet at the rendezvous point, Giddy’s Doughnuts. There, a van would be available for them to drive to the apartment.

The boys were to go first, as to let Diego deactivate the security features of the house while Luther stands guard.

It was only supposed to take 15 minutes tops, it was 20 minutes past now. Something was wrong.

Deciding as a team to check up on the boys, you, Allison and Vanya head down to the foyer.

Upon arrival, you see Luther with his hands covering Diego’s face, Diego who seem limp as a log.

‘Luther what’s going on?’ Allison’s voice rang out beside you.

‘I’m sorry….’ He looks down unto the unconscious Diego in his arms. ‘I just… I just couldn’t.’

‘Number Eight! How could you! How could all of you! Three! Seven!’

The room seemed to turn colder by the sound of the voice. You turn and see Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

‘Dad…’

‘YOU ARE ALL A DISGRACE.’ Reginald spitted.

‘But dad!’ Luther pleaded. ‘I was the one who informed you about their plan!’

‘ENOUGH! NO MORE OF THIS FOOLISHNESS, BACK TO BED---’

‘That’s right NO MORE dad!’ Shouted Allison. She glances at dad then at Luther. A frown etched her face as she commanded. ‘I heard a rumor that you couldn’t move your legs.’

The effect was immediate. The lower half of Reginald and Luther stayed still as a rock while they tried their best to break free. But alas, Allison had the upper hand. ‘I heard a rumor you let us go freely.’ At once, both men calmed down.

And to add insult to injury. Allison focused on Reginald and rumoured ‘And you would leave Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves, Y/n Hargreeves and Allison Hargreeves alone.’

Luther’s betrayal felt like a stab in the back.

Moving on and creating a new life from the ground up for oneself was hard but having your siblings with you had definitely made it easier.

It took a while to get the hang of things, being 4 young adults with nothing. You missed Mom and Pogo, but you knew that they, like Luther would stick with Dad.

Vanya was the first to take up stack, she provided the finance to pay rent and groceries with the salary she would get from her violin performances at the local theatre. Soon Allison would also chip in from the money she received from her acting gigs.

Diego showed interest into joining the police academy while you wanted to get away from the lifestyle as much as possible, opted to move across the country and pursue tertiary education-because that was what normal 18-year-old do right? For once you want to be ordinary and what better way than experience what student life is all about.

Though there is one teensy detail that was hindering your application. You were home-schooled by your robot mom. There weren’t report cards or grades that any university would accept. Even if there were, you wouldn’t want to go back to that dreadful house.

 Both not wanting to lose your newfound passion, you and Diego had an enormous favour to ask.

‘NO not a chance!’ Allison crossed her arms.  ‘It’s unethical!’

‘Yes we know-‘ you replied.

‘But it’s the only way.’ Diego reasoned. ‘It’s not fair for y/n and I to not be able to follow our dreams and to finally FINALLY move on with our lives, Ally. While you and Vanya get to live out yours.’

You nodded along. ‘We ask you just this one thing and we’re out of your hair.’

Allison looked between you two as if to decided whether it would be worth it. ‘Fine, just this once.’  She sighs. ’And this doesn’t get out kapeesh?’ pointing her finger.

‘kapeesh.’

~

‘I’m gonna miss you so much!’ Vanya admitted.

You pulled both your sisters into a hug. ‘I’m miss you gals more!’

Allison wipes her tears away. ‘Don’t forget us okay? Remember we’re only a text away.’

‘Tell Diego that I’m gonna miss kicking his butt when he come back from his officer training, ye?’

~

Over the years you hadn’t lost touch with your family. It’s been a while since you’ve all together physically, but you do video chat every once and a while and you have a general tab on each of your siblings. Vanya is currently the 3rd chair violin at her orchestra, Diego had channelled his inner batman and believe to be a vigilante keeping the streets and public safe.

As for Klaus, Diego had told you that he hasn’t managed to keep off his ~happy place~ and had seen him in and out of nightclubs.

Allison….Well who wouldn’t know about what she’s up to. A-list celebrity with numerous critically acclaimed movies to her name, one half of Hollywood’s hottest couple and amazing role model for mothers. Ahh Claire that sweet angel, who says that you’re her favourite aunt, that smile of hers melts your heart.

The last you’ve seen of Luther is when his journey to the moon has been televised a couple of years ago. There’s been no news since.

 The rattling of the gate brings you back to the present.

‘AH yes, Miss.y/n. He has been expecting you.’

‘Pogo!’ You exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

‘So I’m not to late then? Where’s mom?’

‘Grace is with Sir Reginald, my dear.’ Pogo leads you up the stairs.

Looking around, everything is as pristine as usual. ‘I see that nothing’s change’ You noted.

‘Yes, well I was asked to keep it as it always was.’

He opens the door to Reginald’s quarters. There on the bed was dad, looking sickly pale but still alive unlike to what you had seen in your vision.

Beside him wiping away the sweat on his forehead was mom. ‘Oh, my dear y/n I’m glad you could join us.’ She says as if years hadn’t gone by without your presence.

You reach the foot of the bed. ‘Dad…’ you begin.

But Reginald cuts you off. ‘Number Eight. Glad to see that logical and curious side of yours overrides that irrational emotive side.’ His voice weak yet still holds its signature condescending tone. ‘It is your disposition to the voice of reason and mysteries of the unknown that led you here, despite your supposed hatred towards me-‘

‘There’s no grey area, I do hate you.’

He waved his hand to dismiss your interruption.

‘As I was saying, it is of this reason- your control over the impulsiveness that is apparent to all of your siblings who lack control- is why you are my favourite.’

You scoffed.

‘It is true, my dear y/n.’

‘Oh please. You only see me as a “valuable asset”. Remember?’

Reginald nods. ‘I do, but I believe the exact words were “You would do great things Number Eight. To see into the future is a valuable asset to have indeed”. Thus, implying that your ability is the asset not you.’

‘Sure, just rub it in don’t you.’ Rolling your eyes.

‘I hope that you do too remember that also in my own words that you were and still are “the cleverest of the bunch”.’

‘So why am I here, you’re clearly not dead.’ You looked at him again.  You’ve never seen your dad so fragile ever. ‘….yet. So there must be something to do with that. Perhaps find your killer?’

On the bedside table, you took note of the cup of tea and medication. Your brain is in super speed, running through ideas on what could have cause him to be so sickly.

‘It could be your meds…..’ You look up. ‘Mom who else has access to Dad’s medication?’

‘Just us dear, Pogo and I.’

‘Number Eight there is no killer. I am dying because of old age, it is quite normal for-‘

‘NO No but the mortality rate is 350 years for the species of—’

‘Ah!’ Reginald’s face showed of surprise which slowly turned into cunningest. ‘so, you know then’ He chuckled.

‘Yes.’

‘Since when?’ He asked genuinely curious.

‘When we first showed signs of powers, some of your notes were written in a language I did not recognised.’ You recalled. ‘So, I did some digging, it took a while but when I found about the secret safe under this very bed and what it contained. Everything became clearer.’

‘Very good. Y/n. Nobody knew about the safe expect myself.’ He looked over at Pogo. ‘Did you know of it?’

‘No, Sir.’ Pogo admitted. ‘Not until now.’

‘Very well indeed. You knew all this time, yet you didn’t say anything. Why?’

‘Because it didn’t matter.’ You shrugged. ‘The only thing that matter in this household was our powers.’

‘Did the others-‘

‘No, they didn’t know. I hadn’t told a soul. It is not my secret to share.’

‘And soon it will be yours.’

‘What?’

‘Number Eight, it is without a doubt my time here is limited. Perhaps as little as an hour.’

Never had you seen someone talk about their death like this. You shiver at the thought.

‘By the fact that you are here now and had seen a vision of me dead means that the block I had place on you to prevent you peering into events regarding me is failing. Failing as my health is.’

You want to be angry. How dare he supress your power. But you stand still as a rock by his confession. ‘why?’ A soft whisper was all you could muster. ‘why?’

‘Because I had to keep my real identity a secret. To prevent you from exposing me.’ He coughed. ‘But turns out, you hadn’t need to use your powers to know that, as what you’ve told me.’ He looked at you with watering eyes. ‘You found that all on your own, yet you did not disclose anything.’ He reached out for your hand to which you accept. ‘For which I am delighted that at least I can say that I have one child, a daughter to be proud of.’

A daughter to be proud of.

You would like to think that you are strong and independent. And those are true. But that small child that all that wanted was to experience a parent’s love and affection. That emotional support of that small child which you thought you had successfully tucked away came clawing its way back to the surface.

‘y/n’ You had almost missed it, wiping away your tears, you leaned closer.

‘Listen carefully….’ Your dad’s chest was barely moving. It was a struggle for him to get the following words out. ‘The end is near, get the others ……and save…..the…..tttiiiimmm’

You never head what came next. Sir Reginald Hargreeves is dead.

Under the setting sun, Reginald looked at peace.

~

A half moon shines brightly above the house. It had been 3 days and 7 Hours since it happened.

Exhaustion is starting to catch up with you but there is still so much to do.

News channels had broadcasted the breaking news of your father’s death.

You had personally called your siblings to deliver the news, they are to arrive tomorrow for the funeral at noon.  

Luther who had been expecting to relay dad his daily report status on the space radio, cussed at you in anger-those were the first words you heard in 12 years- calmed down and said that he will be there in 3 days, in time for the funeral.

‘Sweetie, I brought you some tea.’

‘Thanks mom.’ You take a sip. ‘Hey mom did you think you’re gonna be alright now that you know…. That dad is gone?’

She runs her fingers to your hair. ‘I’m gonna be fine dear, I am stronger than you know.’

You smile at her. You just can’t help but to think what’s gonna happen to her now that your dad is gone. Pushing that thought away-like she said, I am stronger than you know.

 ‘Now, why don’t we get you to bed.’ She cuts you off before you can say a word. ‘Uh uh. You have done so much already. You need rest especially with the funeral in 9 hours. Pogo and I can handle the remaining task.’

‘Thanks again mom.’

She tucks you into bed. ‘Good night y/n/n. Sweet Dreams.’ She kisses the top of your head. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too mom.’ As she leaves your room, you realised that you didn’t want to be alone. ‘Mom…’ You called out, almost childlike.

‘Yes dear.’ Grace makes her way back in.

‘Well you stay with me? Sing to me until I fall asleep?’

‘Ofcourse dear.’ She smiles, pulling up a chair beside your bed.

The lull of your mother’s voice sends you to sleep with the memories of the childhood before power. When everything was simple. When there was love in this household.

~

You awoke to sounds of screams and flashes of blue light. You hurry to your window, it shows the courtyard, a ball of blue chaos small black figures.

You pull on your jacket and ran downstairs, the clock in the foyer shows 11:37am. Crap you overslept! But that means…..that the figures you saw were your siblings. There are early….that’s new.

You arrived in the courtyard just as you see Klaus throws a fire extinguisher at the blue light.

‘What are you doing?!’ Shouted Luther.

‘What is that gonna do?’ Allison questioned.

‘I don’t know!!’ Klaus turned around ‘Do you have a better idea?—Oh hey y/n! Nice to see you!’ He ran over and gave you a tight hug. ‘What a family reunion ehh?’

Before you could reply, the ball of blue gave out a crackle of electricity.

‘Everyone get behind me!’ Luther pushes in front of everyone.

‘Yeah! Get behind us.’ Diego chimed in, pushing Vanya closer to you.

Vanya ignores Diego, trying to get a better look herself. ‘It looks like something is coming through!’

The ball of light exploded, the sudden burst of energy was blinding that you had to cover your eyes.

Then nothing, total darkness.

THUD. You heard Vanya scream.

‘Argh!’

The blue chaos had expelled something….someone.

Luther was the first to speak. ‘Who’s there?’

‘Show yourself!’ said Diego.

As a collective group, you walked towards the mystery person.

Your eyes go wide with shock. No it can’t be, it’s impossible. You must be seeing things.

‘Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?’ wondered Klaus.

Klaus looked around and saw that everyone showed that same face of disbelief. Pleased to know that it wasn’t the drugs, he snickered. ‘Now THIS! THIS IS WHAT I CALL A FAMILY REUNION.’

Little Five who didn’t seem to have aged a day since you last saw him,

It’s been years but seeing him looking like he did back when you last saw him, you recall the last words he had shouted at you.

‘get out of the way y/n! i don’t want to see your face anymore.’

Five looks down at himself drowned in tattered oversize clothes, wining. ‘SHIT!’

Something is wrong, something is very wrong and you know it.

No way was this all a coincidence for your father to warn you about some impending doom and have Five to reappear 17 years later. It must be related somehow…What’s next you thought……For Ben to come back to life too?

END OF PART 2

READ: [PART 1]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]

Taglist [All]: @gruffle1

Taglist [TUA]:@herecomesthesun1969 @alabaster1223 @ultraviolet-m @winterierwriter @lordofthunderthr @grapesauze @xbarrjallenx @white-wolf-buckaroo @yoheyyosup @infinitystones2018 @94seun @buckynatlarry @thegirlwholikestomanythings @just-some-stars @97yrm @2cuteforyourlies @e-bendy @criminallyhamilton @aqarath @change-the-world-someday @sambucky8 @spankin-soda @big-galaxy-chaos @cosmichellfire

Feel free to tell me to you want to be tagged for the series or for all/any other of my fics.

Would love to hear your opinion on the series so far too!

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy imagine #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagines #fandomscombine writes #luther hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #reginald hargreeves

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Two

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.) 

Taglist: @dragonballluver 

Warning: Semi-smut, dirty talking, etc.

Previous chapter 

Demetria removed her coat, throwing it over her arm as Bruce spoke to the host. She could feel the eyes of other patrons glancing over at her as they leaned over to whisper to one another. She flashed a small smile, hoping they’d get the hint that either a.) she was well aware of their staring and felt deeply uncomfortable by it or b.) she was just waiting for her fiancé to finish up talking so they could sit and eat. 

She then felt Bruce take her hand, her eyes shifting to him. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for the host?” she asked. 

“They know where we’ll be.” 

He led her through the restaurant, eyes of other patrons following their every move. Demetria pulled back her lips as she quickened her pace a bit to walk by her fiancé’s side. 

“Rachel, fancy that.” 

Demetria looked over to find Rachel and Harvey sitting at a table. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Harvey.

“Yeah Bruce,” Rachel responded ever so cooly. “Fancy that.” She stood up and hugged Demetria. “Good to see you as always.”

“You too and I love this dress,” Demetria said, taking a step back to admire it. She then turned to Harvey.  “I see you changed your shirt after your soy sauce debacle.” She turned to Rachel. “I tell him several times not to open the damn packet with his teeth--.” 

“He doesn’t listen,” Rachel finished, nodding her head. She turned to Bruce. “Bruce, this is Harvey Dent.” 

Harvey got up and shook Bruce’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“You as well. I’ve heard a lot about you from Rachel and Demetria.” 

“Demetria’s told me a lot about you.” 

“Well I certainly hope not everything,”Bruce laughed. “What do you say we push some tables together?” 

“I don’t know if they’ll let us,” Harvey responded.

“Oh they should,” Bruce assured, motioning to the waiter. “I own the place.”

Demetria whipped her head. “You own what now?” 

Bruce smirked at her. “I told you it was a surprise.” 

After the waiters moved the tables together, Bruce took the seat next to Rachel while Demetria took the seat beside Harvey.

“So Demetria, Harvey introduced me to your mom over the phone,” Rachel spoke up. “She sounds like she’s over the moon about the engagement.” 

Demetria nodded. “She’s flooding my emails with ideas for the wedding decor when we haven’t even set a date.” 

“Bruce, have you met Olivia?” Harvey brought up, taking a sip of water. 

“I did,” Bruce nodded. “When she came up to the city for the weekend a few months back.” 

“How’d you guys manage that?” Harvey asked Demetria. 

“We had dinner at my place,” Demetria answered. 

“Oh, you mean you ordered take out?” 

Demetria shot Harvey a glare. “It was from a nice restaurant.” 

He smirked. “I’m sure she had a lot to say about it.” 

“She actually loved it.” 

“What did she think of Gotham City?” Rachel asked. 

“She has her reservations, but really she’s just nervous because of all the crimes and whatnot. She keeps asking me if this is a place I wanna raise kids in.” 

“Well I was raised here and I turned out ok,” Bruce remarked.

Demetria smiled at him, patting his leg with her hand. 

“Is Wayne Manor in the city limits?” Harvey questioned. 

Bruce let out a wry laugh. “The Palisades? Sure. You know, as our new DA, you might want to figure out where your jurisdiction ends.” 

Harvey sat back in his chair as Demetria, uncomfortable at the scene that was playing out in front of her, changed the subject. “If anything, she’s just weirded out by Batman and how, as she puts it, Gotham City looks up to a guy in a mask.” 

“Gotham City is proud of an ordinary citizen standing up for what’s right,” Harvey defended. 

“But who appointed the Batman,” Bruce joked. 

“We did,” Harvey answered. “All of us who stood by and let scum take control of our city. When their enemies were at the gates, the Romans would suspend democracy and appoint one man to protect the city and it wasn’t considered an honor, it was considered a public service.” 

Rachel leaned toward him. “Harvey, the last man that they appointed to protect the republic was named Caesar and he never gave up his power.” 

“Ok fine. You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” 

“I actually find him fascinating,” Demetria spoke up.

“What do you mean?” Harvey questioned.

“Think about it, most people who do heroic things do it because deep down, they secretly want to feel good about themselves, right?  Everyone wants to achieve some sort of glory, even if they don’t want to admit. Here comes this guy who’s actually going out and making some sort of a difference, and he's doing it without giving out who he really is.” 

“Well he’s giving some sort of an identity,” Bruce corrected. “He just works under a different name.” 

“But still, it’s someone who is actually going out there and is taking care of the problem without abusing their power like most police officers do,” Demetria went on. “He doesn’t even give any kind of hint to who he is. He could be anybody. I mean, even Harvey, you could...” She paused, before waving her hand. “Actually, you couldn’t be the Batman. You got your ass beat in intramural football in college too many times.” 

Rachel nearly choked on her drink, excusing herself as she tried to fight back laughter. Bruce smirked, eyes down on the ground. 

Harvey tilted his head. “Hey, while we’re on the topic of embarrassing college memories, remember the time I walked in on you and that guy from Student Government at that party senior year?” 

Demetria’s eyes widened while Bruce lifted his head up, intrigued. “I’d like to hear more about that.” 

“It was a one time thing,” she said, clenching her teeth.

“Look, whoever the Batman is he doesn’t want to do this for the rest of his life,” Harvey continued. “How could he? Batman is looking for someone to take up his mantle.”

“And you think that person could be you?” Demetria asked. 

He shrugged. “If I’m up to it.” 

She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you honestly think Batman is gonna come up to you and say, ‘Hey, I don’t wanna do this anymore so can you handle this?’” 

“Not like that no.” 

“Then how the hell do you know what he wants?” 

“At the end of the day, no one wants the sole responsibility of carrying the safety of the entire city on their shoulder.” 

“Except you, and to be fair, that’s what makes you a great District Attorney.”

Harvey and Demetria exchanged smiles. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night, Dem.” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “I have my moments.” 

“Well I’m sold, Dent,” Bruce chimed in. “I’m gonna throw you a fundraiser.” 

Demetria whipped her head to Bruce. “You’re what?” 

“That’s nice of you, Bruce,” Harvey chuckled. “But I’m not up for reelection for three years.” 

Bruce shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. One fundraiser with my pals, you’ll never need another cent.” 

“It’s a kind gesture-.” 

“You can also think of it as a thank you for bringing my future wife to Gotham,” Bruce cut him off, looking to Demetria. “Without your persistence, I wouldn’t have found her.” 

She smiled as he took her hand in hers. 

“I guess I can’t say no then,” Harvey remarked. 

_________________________________________________________________

Back at the penthouse, Bruce undid his tie as Demetria sat on the edge of the bed kicking off her heels.

“So, you’re really gonna throw a fundraiser for Harvey?” she asked. 

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Yeah. Why?”

 “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great you support him and the offer is so generous but...I mean, you just met the guy.” 

“I think he deserves one,” he shrugged.   

“But why now? Like he said, he’s not up for re-election for another three years.”

He put his tie in the drawer. “I think he’s what the city needs so why not garner future votes to keep him in office?” He turned to her. “Besides, it gives me an excuse to show off my gorgeous fiancé.”   

Demetria blushed as she tried reaching for the zipper on the back of her dress, struggling to latch on to the zipper. “Well, I’m sure your support will really...” She grunted. “Can you please help me?” 

Bruce went over to her and slowly zipped down the back. Demetria inhaled sharply, the cool breeze slowly hitting her bare back.

She glanced over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips. “Thank you.” 

When she went to step away, Bruce quickly grabbed her and tossed her on the bed, before climbing on top of her.

“Jesus, you could warn me next time,” Demetria giggled. “Not all of us spend our nights training like you do.” 

“But it’s so much more fun to surprise you.” 

His lips hovered over hers as she cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand.

“Tell me, did the guy from Student Government turn you on like I do?” Bruce whispered.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, her cheeks flushing. She threw her hands over her face. “I’m gonna kill Harvey for telling you that.” 

Bruce moved his lips to her neck. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Demetria lifted her head up, removing her hands from her face. “I don’t remember! It was years ago!”

“I bet he didn’t make you cum like I do.” 

She made a face, pretending to think about it. “Well now that you bring it up, I think he did.” 

Bruce pulled back, fighting the playful smile on his lips “Wow.” 

She pointed a finger at him. “You started it!” 

“So that’s how we’re gonna do this..” 

“Are you going to fuck me or not because I don’t remember him taking this long to-.” 

Bruce shut her up by crashing his lip onto hers. He made damn sure she was gonna scream his name loud enough for the kid from Student Government to hear wherever he was.

_____________________________________________________________

She woke up to find herself alone in bed, curled up on her side as the sating sheets wrapped tightly around her nude body. She sighed and laid on her back, knowing Bruce was probably training at the gym.

As much as she loved him and was proud of him for being so dedicated, she wished some nights she could wake up and find him still there, still holding her. She wanted to see the way the moonlight reflected off his body as they went off in one of their deep talks.

But he was dedicated to what he did and she respected that. 

She grabbed her glass of water from the nightstand to find it empty. Tossing, the sheets off her, she made her way to the set of drawers Bruce bought for her and grabbed a pair of black yoga shorts and her old Gotham University hoodie. 

She then walked into the kitchen area and quietly filled her cup with water from the kitchen sink. Turning off the water after filling up, she took a quick sip before looking over her shoulder at the twinkling lights from other building lights. 

She wandered outside, gently closing the door behind her. Setting her glass on the ledge, she leaned over the railing and gazed as the city in front of her. 

While she never cared about Bruce luxurious lifestyle, she did love how his balcony had the best view of the city. She could get used to spending some quiet nights out here.

It was a fact that Gotham was its most dangerous during the nighttime, which Demetria found to be waste because in the right light, like the one she was currently looking at, the city could be absolutely breath taking at night. 

“You should be inside.”

She jumped, her arm flinging and knocking over the glass of water on the ground. 

“Fuck me,” she whispered. She then turned to her side to find Batman standing there. Her mouth hung open a jar, as she took in the sight before her. “Wow...”

“What?” His voice was rough, calloused, and almost hushed. 

“You’re just...bigger than I thought.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You’re also a lot more intimidating in person.” 

“I scare you?” 

She chuckled nervously. “Well, considering you show up and beat the shit out of people, I mean yeah. You are.” 

Silence fell as she waited for him to respond. “So are you gonna beat me up or...?” she joked, half-heartedly. 

Once again, no response. Her smile fell as she nodded her head awkwardly. “You’re not much for conversations, are you?” 

He didn’t respond, again. She pulled back her lips. “Well then, I’m going to get a broom and clean up the glass.” 

She went to turn around when she heard, “You’re the billionaire’s wife.” 

She turned to face him. “He has a name and so do I.” She paused. “Also, I’m his fiancé.” 

“But you’re going to be his wife.” 

“If you don’t kill me tonight, then yeah.” 

He made one step toward, causing her heart to drop to her stomach. She took a couple steps back. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he told her. 

“Then can you tell me why you’re here so I can go about my life and you can go take out some member of the mafia?” 

“Your life is valuable. Stay inside.” 

He then grabbed the railing and jumped off, Demetria leaning over to watch him soar off into the night. 

Running her hand through her hair, she let out a long sigh. “Jesus fucking christ.” 

She went inside and quietly went back inside to grab a broom and the garbage can. 

She cleaned up the glass, throwing the pieces in the garbage can. Putting the broom back in the kitchen closet and the garbage can away, she went back into the bedroom and closed the door. She turned on her bedside lamp and grabbed the remote, turning on the TV, settling on an old episode of “I Love Lucy.” 

_________________________________________________________

Bruce entered the apartment quietly, as though not to wake anyone. He quickly glanced over to find Demetria was no longer out on the balcony, a small wave of relief crashing over him. 

He’d made a promise to himself to keep Demetria away from Batman as best as he could; however, between the constant coverage the press was giving her and the copycats and the mob and their affiliates running around at night, he had to do what he could to protect her. 

He entered their bedroom to find the TV on and Demetria lying awake in bed. 

“What’re you doing up?” he asked, laying his gym bag on the floor. 

She pulled her knees to her chest. “If I told you, you’d think I was crazy.” 

He got into the bed and wrapped an arm around her. “Try me.” 

She sighed. “I met Batman.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Really?”

“I was out on the balcony and he just showed up and, I don’t know, he just...he was strange.” 

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” 

 “No, no, no. He just told me I should stay inside because I’m apparently valuable.” She leaned her head against Bruce’s chest and sighed. “God, this city’s so fucking weird.” 

He chuckled. “It’s not all that bad.”

Her fingers gingerly ran through his hair lazily. “How was your workout? Any more injuries?” 

“It was fine and no, not a scratch on me.” 

“And last night’s scratches? They’re ok?” 

“Perfectly so.” His smile softened. “Thank you.” 

“For what?”  “For being you. For taking care of me.” 

She smiled. “Happy to help.”

“What would I do without you?”

She lifted her head up. “Fuck half the Moscow ballet?”

Bruce shook his head, laughter escaping his lips. “I love you, Demetria.”

“I love you too, Bruce.”

He kissed her forehead before turning his eyes to the TV. “ ‘I Love Lucy’?” 

“I couldn’t go back to sleep.” 

She reached over for the remote on the bed when Bruce grabbed it first. He turned up the volume a bit, pulling Demetria closer to him. She threw one arm over him as they watched the show together.

Bruce knew his days as Batman would eventually end and when they did, he couldn’t wait to spend a normal night curled up with his wife watching a mindless show. 

Those days were coming soon, at he least hoped they would. 

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman fanfic #batman #bruce wayne x reader #christian bale #christian bale x reader #bruce waye #the dark knight fanfiction #the dark knight #the joker #tdk trilogy #tdk #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne smut #batman x reader

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part X

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 3,387

Note: This is the end of S2! Thank you for reading <3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

“Are you out of your mind?” Cersei peevishly protested. You heavily sighed. “You just want to prove yourself, and impress that northerner friend of yours-“ You cut her off.

“I don’t need to prove anything.” She rolled her eyes.

“So what do you want to earn from it? You’ll stay in the Red Keep with the other highborn ladies. End of this conversation.” You pressed your lips, not pushing harder cause the result would be the same. If you are in the same place Sansa is when this starts then you can keep an eye on her in case things go sideways for your brother’s army.

You stormed out of her chambers. Cersei might not hold the same affection she does for your brothers and sister but she doesn’t want you to die, in her own strange way she cares, not that she knows how to show it.

The bells rang, the troops were ready, Joffrey had the stupid idea of attacking the Starks now that they were distracted. He came to his senses thanks to you, he finally kind of admitted you are were right. And that that wasn’t a prudent decision.

Truth be told, you were afraid, afraid for your family safety, this is war, nothing less, you were always so self-confident, you believed the good would persevere, the strongest and largest forces would win, the smartest. You can be so wrong about that fact... Tonight a lot of people will die fighting for his own King, and just because your brother is a bastard. You might as well be one too, but you are not, you are Y/N Baratheon.

The Throne Room was lit by great flaming braziers. “I see you changed your mind.” Tyrion asserted.

“My mother is very convincing.” You jested. “Actually, I pondered it through, Sansa needs me, she’d be devastated if some plucky soldier manages to drive an ax through my heart.”

“You can’t die before confessing your feelings to your lady.” He playfully remarked. She and Shae arrived, they slightly bowed.

“Lady Sansa and Sheila.” He said in purpose.

“Shae.” She corrected him.

“Shae, yes.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned half surprised, you didn’t expect to see her until you were on the Keep.

“King Joffrey sent me to see him off, my Princess, my Lord. And you? I thought-“

“I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled broadly, acknowledging you will stay by her side.

“Sansa, come here.” Joffrey called for her. Shae and your uncle discreetly said goodbye to one another.

“Be safe. You are my favorite uncle.”

“I know.” He winked.

“Some of those boys will never come back.” Sansa didn’t take her eyes off the group of men heading outside.

“Joffrey will. The worst always live.” She emotionless said. Shae frowned, a bit worried you’d be angry about that, you couldn’t care less.

At the Meagor’s holdfast you sat next to little Tommen. You took a few seconds to stare at him, what a fine, decent, and handsome prince he was, unlike Joffrey, he deserves to live, he deserves the very best of the world and more. Across the room, Sansa and Shae were talking to each other. Occasionally you glanced at her.

“I don’t want us to die, Y/N.” Your baby brother said.

“We are not. I promise you, my little lion. Your big sister is here to protect you.” You squeezed his hand.

“I’m glad Myrcella is not here.”

“So am I.” Though you missed her every single day since she left King’s Landing, you knew she was safe, you were grateful that uncle Tyrion sent her away in time.

Suddenly you heard your mother’s voice calling for the Stark girl. She shyly stood in front of her. Perhaps Sansa was scared that Cersei would be angry to see her show devotion for you, she thought she might get scolded for staring at her daughter in a lingering way.

“I was wondering where our little dove has flown. You look pale, child. Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes.”

“Fitting, isn’t it? The men will bleed out there and you will bleed here. Pour Lady Sansa some wine.”

“I’m not thirsty, your grace.”

“So? I didn’t offer you water. Pour my daughter wine too.” The handmaid gave you the cups, you didn’t want to drink to be honest, just gave it a small sip, Sansa repeated your act. “I’m glad you didn’t insist on nonsense, my dear. War is no place for someone like you.” You scowled.

“That’s not the reason I’m not there.” Sansa saw you tensing, she changed the subject once you took another gulp of wine.

“What is he doing here?” Referring to the man that beheaded her father.

“Ser Ilyn? He’s here to defend us. When the axes smashes down those doors, you might be glad to have him.”

“I have my sword right here.” You grasped the cold weapon, resting in the armchair.

“After all that Jaime and Robert taught you you’ll be able to protect us all.” She scoffed. You waved off her comment.

“The lads caught a groom and two maids trying to sneak away with a stolen horse and some gold cups.” Ser Mandon Moore informed.

“The battle’s first traitors. Have Ser Ilyn see to them. Put their heads on spikes outside the stables as a warning.” She commanded him. “The only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. Remember that if you ever hope to become a queen.”

“That’s a wrong understatement. Make them love you, not despise you.” You stated, not doubting of your words.

“You would definitively be a weak queen, my love.”

Everyone could already notice the Queen Regent was tipsy, maybe even drunk. She didn’t bring to care. Tommen fell asleep an hour ago, you didn’t want to let your guard down, in case you needed to run.

“Come, darling. Step closer. I know I’ve been hard on you. Lately it seems like you want to die. I can be a pain on your neck, but I can’t lose you, Y/N, I can’t.” She kinda sought to appease.

“It’s alright, mom. I’m still in one piece.”

“I have never been an example for you to follow.” You couldn’t get to the light all the faults she has had since you were a toddler, however, it wasn’t the time, nor was she in a position to talk about it.

“You can always start over.” It’s all you said back.

“She is very pretty, isn’t she?” You fixed your eyes on Sansa, she was holding hands with the other ladies, sitting in a circle on the floor. Some would say it was too obvious, your mother being one of them. You didn’t get to answer cause she was calling her once again.

“What are you doing?” Cersei asked, well knowing.

“Praying.” She plainly said.

“You’re perfect, aren’t you? Praying, what are you praying for?”

“For the gods to have mercy on us all.”

“Oh, on us all?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Even me?”

“Of course, your grace.” You just listened to their conversation.

“Even Joffrey?”

“Joffrey is my-“

“Oh, shut up, you little fool. Praying for the gods to have mercy on us all. The gods have no mercy. That’s why they are gods. My father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother had just died. I didn’t really understand the concept of death, the finality of it. I thought that if I prayed hard enough the gods would return her to me. I was four.”

“Your father doesn’t believe in the gods?”

“He believes in them, he just doesn’t likes them very much. Y/N prays as well. But it’s okay as long as she knows who the real saviors are. Here.” She threw her a small pillow. “Another for her.”

“She doesn’t want to keep drinking, mother.” You spoke.

“Is that true, little dove?”

“I-I-“ Cersei was harassing her, the stutter gave her away, and you were growing weary of your mother’s behavior.

“You are just as frightened as this flock of hens. I should have been born a man. I rather face a thousand swords than to be shut up inside.”

“That was my intent too.” You objected.

“My daughter is gorgeous, don’t you think so? And she desires to spoil that face of hers out there.”

“Yes, your grace, she looks a lot like you.”

“Not the hair. These women. It was expected of me to ask them here. As it will be of you if you ever become Joffrey’s queen. If my wretched brother should somehow prevail, these hens will return to their cocks and crow of how my courage inspired them, lifted their spirits.”

“And if the city should fall?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The Keep should hold for a time, if it were anyone else outside those gates I might hope for a private audience, but this is Stannis Baratheon. I’d have a better chance seducing his horse.” Sansa remained quiet. “Have I shocked you, little dove? Tears aren’t a woman’s only weapon. The best one’s between your legs. Learn how to use it. Do you have any notion of what happens when a city is sacked? No, you wouldn’t. If the city falls, these fine women should be in for a bit of a rape. Half of them will have bastards in their bellies come the morning. You’ll be glad of your red flower then. When a man’s blood is up, anything with tits looks good. A precious thing like you will look very, very good. A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten.” Cersei was tormenting Sansa because she wanted to bother you, upset you, and she achieved it, the uncomfortable look on the redhead's face was evident. She drank deeply from her glass.

“No one is going to rape Lady Sansa.” You promised, you wouldn’t let them get near her.

“Her hero will protect her. Yes. You, my sweet, sweet, silly daughter.” Cersei mocked, and Sansa flushed.

Cersei continued to tell Sansa stories about Jaime and her when they were children, you tried to distract yourself with your baby brother, you prayed for your uncle to succeed, for this to be over soon. You did not keep drinking, you were getting fond of wine, even ale. Now was not the moment to fill your veins with alcohol.

The Queen Regent apparently got curious about the foreign handmaiden, she didn’t act nervous, not even a bit, she asked her to tell a story, when Shae was about to begin Lancel burst in shouting at Cersei. He reported Tyrion’s destruction of the fleet and the landing of Stannis’s troops. She ordered him to fetch Joffrey inside.

“Your grace, what? The King’s presence is good for the morale.” He quibbled.

“Bring him back to his chambers now.”

“Not here?”

“With the women and children? Do you want him to be mocked as a coward for the rest of his life?”

“He is a coward.” You said out loud. She gave you a withering stare.

“Silence, Y/N.”

“Now, Ser Lancel.” He left, unconvinced. “Little dove, the real reason Ser Ilyn is here is for us. Stannis may take the city and the throne but he will not take us alive.”

The Lannister boy returned, he told the gold cloaks lost all heart when they saw Joffrey leaving. Cersei took both Tommen’s and your hand and rushed you off to the exit. Sansa tried to follow your gaze.

“What are you doing?” You baffling questioned.

“Buying us some time.”

“You can’t leave, these ladies-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You got out of her grip.

“Are you coming back with her?” Your silence was the answer.

“Y/N, don’t go. I’m scared and if you are not with me-“ Tommen pleaded.

“My brave little lion. You are going to be just fine. You are very strong, just like father. I’ll be with you soon I promise.” You kissed his forehead. You didn’t look up to meet Cersei’s infuriated glare, you ran to Sansa’s room, where she must likely be.

You could never leave her behind. She was all that matters, Tommen will be safe with Cersei, she will defend him till her last breath. Something inside you told you uncle Stannis won’t be sitting on the throne tonight.

“...you won’t hurt me.” Sandor got there first, it was very odd, he seemed untroubled, under the circumstances of the battle. Sansa was relieved to see you.

“Of course he won’t.”

“No, princess, I won’t hurt her.” Sansa was holding the doll Ned gave her when they first arrived at King’s Landing.

“Why are you here?”

“Your big brother is a cunt. I won’t spend any other second of my life protecting a cunt. I wish you both good fortune, you might survive.” He walked out, leaving you alone with the northerner.

“Y/N... you came back. You must go with the Queen and the Prince.” You shook your head, taking her hand.

“No. My place is with you. I shall protect you and keep you from any harm. Remember, I’m not going anywhere.” She buried her face in your neck, the embrace was full of warmth. You laid in her bed, she gently placed her head on your chest. You were certain she could hear your shaky heartbeat, not for the war, nor for the fear but because of having her this close, you might as well confess your love right now, you don’t even know for sure if there is going to be a tomorrow.

She lifted her face, her eyes were dark, yours were too, there was only one thing you were dying to do. You softly caressed her cheek, your breaths became heavier, she closed her eyes and leaned closer, you sealed the kiss, her lips were oh so very thin, they were also edgy, a brief seconds later that changed, she deepened into it, melting your heart and body. Her hands resting in the back of your head and yours on her waist.

You smiled before the kiss ended, it felt like hours. You hope this is your last first kiss, with the woman you love. The bells rang again, you knew it was a sound of victory, you could tell the difference. Uncle Tyrion prevailed, you won.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Since the first day you came into my life.” You mumbled in Sansa’s ear.

“I can’t even put into words all the things you make me feel with just being around. You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known, and even that is an understatement.” She stuck her arm around you.

“You intoxicate my soul with your precious blue eyes, my lady.” You said in a playful, sweet tone.

“Is that a good thing?” You giggled.

“Yes, yes it is.” You stayed in the cozy bed for another while. This felt so good that a part of you didn’t believe it was actually happening.

A couple of days passed since the victory. Uncle Tyrion was unconscious. You hoped he’d wake up soon. Now you were all gathered on the Throne Room, you stood next to Lord Varys.

Joffrey proclaimed your grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the new Hand of the King, and the savior of the city. He also awarded Lord Baelish with the Castle of Harrenhal for brokering the alliance between House Lannister and House Tyrell.

Loras was called to step forward, he knelt before the throne. It was so good to see him again.

“If your family would ask anything of me, ask it, and it shall be yours.” Joffrey stated.

“Your grace, my sister Margaery, her husband was taken from us before. She remains innocent.” You could notice he was still grieving for Renly, you knew him too well. “I would ask you to find it in your heart to do us the great honor of joining our houses.” You weren’t utterly surprised by this request, Margaery has always dreamt of being Queen. Still, you found Sansa’s unreadable expression from atop de gallery. This was swelling news.

“...For the good of the realm, your councilors beg you to set Sansa Stark aside.” Your mother finished saying.

“I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my people, but I took a holy vow.”

“I have consulted with the High Septon and he assures me that the crimes of the Starks against the realm free you from any promise you have made to them in the sight of the gods.” Maester Pycelll concluded.

“The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart. Ser Loras, I will gladly wed your sweet sister. You will be my queen and I will love you from this day until my last day.” You were beyond happy for this but also you couldn’t help feel bad for Margaery, she was one of your best friends, you cared for her and now she is the one who will live hell with your brother. That is what she really wants, she’ll know how to handle it, you hope, maybe he’ll truly love her, in his odd own way. Your northerner lady was finally free from that horrendous engagement.

“Thank you for coming. You saved us, Loras. I’ll be forever in your debt.” You gave Loras a big hug, he reciprocated.

“You are like my little sister. If I can help I’ll always will.”

“I’m sorry about Renly.” He ducked his head.

“He was your uncle, Y/N. I am sorry too.”

“Y/N! It feels like it’s been ages, right? Always a pleasure to see you.” Margaery approached you and her brother.

“I can say the same. Congratulations on your betrothal to Joffrey, my lady.” She grinned widely.

“I don’t know him very well but if he is anything like you then I’ll be very happy.” You returned the polite smile. You better warn her, not today though.

“I’ve missed you so much. One of these days we should assemble and chat.”

“Absolutely.” You excused yourself, leaving Loras and Margaery a bit confused for your sudden departure. They shared a complicit gaze.

“Lady Sansa.” Littlefinger bowed and turned around. You don’t like him being near her, you waited until he disappeared into the crowd before addressing the Stark girl.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look with that southern hairstyle? It suits you perfectly.” She blushed.

“Have I told you you are the cutest girl in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond?” You chuckled. She smiled, it was an unburden one that you haven’t seen in a while. “Things will get better or worse from now on?”

“Don’t stress about the future, my lady. Live in the present and make the most of it.” You tenderly said.

“With you.”

“Yes, if it is with someone else I’ll get jealous.” You winked at her.

Only Varys, Podrick the squire, and Shae came to visit Tyrion. You of course went to check on him too, he did all the hard work, he defended the city when Joffrey fled the battlefield. Still, he didn’t even mention him.

“...The histories won’t mention you, but we will not forget.” Lord Varys assured your uncle.

“How are you feeling?” You entered the room.

“A Kingsguard almost split me in two. I am now the monster the world has always said I am.”

“No. You were amazing. You didn’t back down. You fought bravely to defend the ones you love. I won’t forget either.”

“Thanks, my dear Y/N. I wouldn’t let those bastards get to you. Is your lady okay?”

“She is. We will have to catch up, but that will be at another time. You need to rest to fully recover. Let’s don’t keep your lady waiting.” You alluded to Shae. At least he has various people who love him just the way he is.

In the next couple of weeks your relationship with Sansa evolved, you became closer, letting your feeling flow out without any shame, you love her in secret from Cersei and Joffrey, and the others who wouldn’t accept it, who would do anything to tear you apart. Things had changed, but for the better.

#game of thrones fic #got #sansa stark x reader #sansa x reader #sansa x fem baratheon reader #house baratheon #baratheon reader #game of thrones x reader

[writer-and-artist27]

Chaldean Master Vy (Character Profile)

Roughly inspired by @panyum​’s enthusiasm for my most recent artwork, it’s about time I divulge more on the Mastersona/main protagonist of Passing Days, Vy. Here we go.

Name: Vy

Age: 17-18 (beginning of Part 1), 19-20 (by Lostbelt 3)

Gender: Cis-female

Orientation: Asexual/Demisexual (questioning) and Demiromantic

Closest Servants: Mash Kyrielight (Level 80), Arturia Pendragon (Level 100), Achilles (Level 100), Marie Antoinette (Level 80), Robin Hood (Level 100), Archer EMIYA (Level 80), Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (Lancer - Level 70), Medea (Level 70), Chevalier D’eon (Level 80), Sieg (Level 80), Chiron (Level 80), Scathach-Skadi (Level 90), Sitonai (Level 90), Ereshkigal (Level 90), Ruler Martha (Level 80), Katsushika Hokusai (Level 90).

Notable Facts: 

In another place, Vy would have lost her life in a car crash and reincarnated into another world as a civilian pianist, but in FGO’s timeline, she was scouted by Chaldea before she could start her second quarter in college. Chaldea had noticed her family lineage having some kind of Mystic aspects through a blood test she had taken for a yearly checkup before donating blood to a local blood drive. It resulted in them reaching out to her for an “extracurricular volunteer opportunity” that no college student could refuse. Vy would accept, albeit with her parents encouraging her, not realizing it would later lead her to becoming the main Chaldean Master in the Grand Order. 

Vy went into Chaldea thinking she’d be a medical assistant from her resume stating her interest in science and medicine, only to find herself drafted into the Rayshift training that the FGO protagonist went through in canon as a result of her impressive stamina (thanks to biking miles around their home in America with her parents when growing up), tiring herself from all the shifting to the point of nearly dozing off in one of Chaldea’s hallways if not for Mash.

The “Mystic” part of Vy’s blood that drew Chaldea’s attention was something Vy’s parents nor grandparents were actually aware of, no thanks to how all grew up in poverty in Vietnam before coming to America and later, Japan, but it is actually from one of Vy’s ancestors coming in contact with a mage from the Mage’s Association. No one really knows what exactly happened between said ancestor and that mage, but it seems to explain Vy’s uncanny luck in getting some of the bigger names in the Throne of Heroes before confronting Goetia, including Arjuna, Minamoto no Raikou, and Achilles by the dawn of Camelot. Her luck has definitely made the Crypters scratch their heads, since Vy had used a nearly Fully Ascended Scathach-Skadi to take down Kadoc before having reached Scandinavia. 

Vy adores Mash a lot, both from how earnest Mash is and her eagerness to learn about everything of the outside world past Chaldea’s blizzards. Dr. Roman at one point commented that they looked like sisters, just once, and Vy latched onto Mash as a surrogate little sister since, being conscientious of Mash’s health whenever they Rayshift together. 

Since Vy’s family took her on a lot of cross-country road trips when growing up, including visiting national parks such as Yosemite and Zion to hike and sight-see, one of Vy’s goals when going into the Grand Order is making sure Mash gets to experience all nature has to offer one day like she did, wanting to introduce her to her parents when the fighting is all over. She has jokingly asked Dr. Roman and Da Vinci for adoption papers for her parents to sign for Mash.

When starting in Singularity F, Vy was initially scared of paving the way to Humanity’s salvation, but sucked it up once Mash saved her. At that moment, one of the thoughts running through her head was, “Mash is fighting so hard, so why can’t I?!” Since then, Vy has made quite the distinct image of herself when fighting with her Servants, being a no-nonsense leader who can and will sarcastically snark at anyone, including Kiara and BB of all people, when they are opposing her. To allies, she is both understanding and empathic, usually not asking any imposing questions and issuing orders only when emergencies call for it. 

Anyone who tries to “bed” her will spark a loud and angry reaction, since Vy is not interested in any sexual relations and instead is still loyal to her family and friends that were left to the dust by Goetia and later the Foreign God. Expect some cursing too. 

Vy’s romantic orientation is why Agartha is an untouched subject amongst all the Servants when bringing in new faces, because when Dahut in Drake’s body proposed rape to her outright during the Pseudo-Singularity, Vy’s reaction was basically, “I AM ACE, YOU JERK! SEX IS NOT FOR ME, CONSENT MATTERS, SO SHUT UP AND FIGHT ALREADY! IF NOT, I WILL KILL YOU WITH A RUSTY SPOON MYSELF, GODDAMMIT!” It’s another reason why Fergus and some of the other romantically inclined Servants such as Kiyohime and Elizabeth Bathory have kept their distance since, because Vy’s rage point back then was that unsettling. Robin Hood doesn’t bring up the subject of picking up girls in front of her anymore. D’Eon and Astolfo both have tried to keep Vy away from thinking about Dahut since.

The first Servants Vy ever summoned in the Grand Order was Lancer Diarmuid, Medea, and Chevalier d’Eon. The first 4-stars she ever summoned after them was Marie Antoinette and Archer EMIYA, so because of this and a lot of other things, all five Servants still find themselves in the occasional team because Vy grew that attached to them.

Her only Grailed Servants so far are Saber Arturia Pendragon, Rider Achilles, and Archer Robin Hood, both because they were there when fighting opponents such as the Lion King, Tiamat, and the Alter Egos in SERAPH, and how she loved all three of them for their legends even before coming to Chaldea. 

When Vy first got a Holy Grail, she tried to give it to Mash as thanks for Mash protecting her for so long, but because of Mash’s status as a designer baby and Demi-Servant, she wasn’t able to take it. Instead, Mash still finds herself at the front lines team Vy has for mixed enemy battles, since Vy can’t find it in her to leave Mash behind. 

Some of the Servants who have been with Vy longer find themselves getting a nickname for Vy to call out to just them, all because Vy sees them as part of her family and wants to be good to them. Robin Hood is a prominent example, where she calls him “big Robin” as a way to boost his confidence about being a Heroic Spirit, and in turn, he calls her “little sparrow.” Marie Antoinette is sometimes called “my Queen,” and some of the more younger Servants such as Illya and Miyu are called with the “-chan” honorific or “baby sis.” Mash never got a nickname simply because to Vy, “Mash is Mash, and I love your name.” There were many “awww”s. 

It’s because of how she affectionately considers a majority of her Servants family that a lot of them tone down their arguments and bad qualities in her presence, simply because she’s there. An example is how during Babylonia, Vy had answered at the Underworld’s gates, “Ereshkigal is more beautiful!” to Ishtar’s face, both because she had summoned Ereshkigal long before entering Babylonia and that she had known Eresh longer. Eresh, who hadn’t Rayshifted to the Singularity at the time, could be found later hiding her red face in her hands as Da Vinci laughed out loud. Dr. Roman meanwhile had looked like he had swallowed a lemon at the time because of how blatantly Vy had put down Ishtar, and Ishtar barely reacted. Vy’s only reasoning afterwards was, “I did not appreciate being made into a makeshift cushion in our first meeting, Ishtar, thank you very little.” 

There were a lot of times during Singularities where Vy, feeling bad for Dr. Roman being a butt-monkey of jokes, brought home a souvenir or two for the good doctor to take part in some of the better moments of the Grand Order. One such souvenir was a butter cake slice from Siduri in Babylonia, because he expressed wanting to eat it one night and she carefully preserved it with Mash to give it to him before confronting “Solomon” in the Temple of Time. It’s because of this that she dearly misses him, having found him as another surrogate father when he’d call her in for daily check-ups and talks over how Mash was doing.

When the Lostbelts happened, Vy started working a lot harder to raise her Servants and the morale of the rest of Chaldea’s staff, resulting in her gaining eyebags from losing sleep over too many Golden Apples and farming quests. Most of the Servants are all at Final Ascension and Max Level at the cost of this and QP, but it’s helped in making the Crypters lose some of their momentum. 

Hope this helps in giving some nice insight and lore!

#mastersona Vy #passing days #long text post #character profile #oc things #fate grand order #vy plays fate grand order #writer thoughts #vy says something #tw: rape mention #tw: long post