#I wish I could express my displeasure at this loss in a way that matters

[roach-witch]

UGH.

I end this game annoyed at the commentators and bummed at the loss but

❤️❤️❤️❤️ thank u Söderberg you did so well

[h1mmel]

shattered swords continuation chapter one: 白露為霜

this is a fan-made continuation of the shattered swords vn originally posted to ao3, but i've decided to delete my ao3 account and wanted to share it here instead! i tried to stay true to the original's lore but i also added my own headcanons and bits and pieces to the mix. this is the first chapter, and there will be more chapters posted eventually in the future! please leave me feedback if you enjoy it <3

--

“Your mother is dead.”

These were the words that Sushang heard but didn't hear, as if they'd been spoken in a language she didn't understand. Her brain processed it in slow motion, trying to rationalize what she was hearing in a way that wasn’t about to shatter her world apart.

But the eyes of her Master displayed no hint that she spoke anything but the truth; her somber expression nearly same look of calm, yet utmost seriousness that it rarely deviated from. However, a slight, rare look of displeasure and another emotion she could not identify curled at the woman’s upper lip.

And then reality hit Sushang as if she’d been struck by a carriage pulled by racing horses.

Her breath left her lungs in one fell swoop and she sucked in an empty gasp, struggling for air. Eyes quickly blurred with tears could only see the outline of her master’s shape now. Anger and loss and fear raced through her mind, afraid of the reality she was facing more than anything else. Sushang tried once, and then twice, to take in another breath, but her chest was constricted and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were being crushed and she couldn’t breathe. Everything was starting to spin, and she clung to the figure that hugged her- her master was hugging her?- as if it were the the only thing keeping her grounded on earth.

Flashes of memories drifted through her hazy mind as if she were watching them on replay. She saw Mother and Father arguing, and she saw her master’s carefully manicured nails sweep across the surface of the Xuanyuan Sword as if she were familiarizing herself with an old friend again. She saw the cold eyes of Eagle as he slapped her across the face without remorse, and she cried not because of the pain, but because her mother had never prepared her for the sort of cruelty that might come from the world.

The last memory that drifted past was probably the oldest, a practically toddler Sushang swinging around a practice sword much too big for her when she lost her balance and found a scrape upon her knee after falling. The pain wasn’t notable enough to remember, but what was notable was instead the memory of crying in her mother's arms after the fact. Sushang held on to the memory of her embrace for as long as she could until the memory spiraled away and she realized it was her master holding her instead.

Lingshuang’s embrace wasn’t quite as warm or emotional or comforting as her mother’s, but Sushang buried her face in the older woman’s shoulder nonetheless. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying; her throat was hoarse, and her eyes felt puffy and swollen.

“Master…” Sushang finally mumbled, hugging her a little tighter. “Please, stay.”

Cheng Lingshuang didn’t object. However, her voice broke the brief silence that followed.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

-

Ma Feima made his intention clear that he was leaving as soon as the sun rose, but he hardly expected the child to wish to speak with him again. He’d beaten her and her Rakshasa friend within an inch of their lives- though the latter injuries were not technically his fault. Then, he'd came to deliver the news of her mother’s death immediately after he woke, so he surmised he was not exactly on her good terms.

So, while collecting his belongings, he was surprised to hear footsteps belonging to someone very obviously too small to be his senior disciple.

Feima had no reason to wish to speak with Sushang; he’d already talked with Lingshuang earlier and addressed the matter Mei requested they talk about. And, for as much as he’d have loved a rematch with the young girl, he bet her master might kill him for real if he hurt her beloved disciple one more time.

“That silly girl,” Lingshuang had remarked about Sushang during their private conversation. “What she lacks in smarts, she makes up for in bravery.”

But this Sushang was no longer the confident young girl he’d fought against a few days prior. Her eyes were slightly puffy around the edges, and the spring in her step was dulled. Clothes meant for traversing the sandscape had been replaced with a casual robe, and her massive belt meant for carrying an equally massive sword was nowhere to be seen.

“I forgot your name, but I want to talk to you,” Sushang called out.

He had no reason to humor the girl, but the man turned to face her regardless. Now that they were up close and no longer in combat, he could see the resemblance to Suyi in her face and stance.

He hated to admit it, but her face with the remainder of tear-stains blotching her eyes was eerily resembling of her mother whenever in their childhood, she would lose a spar to Yanqing and sneak off to cry afterwards. After a stern warning from Lingshuang, Yanqing had started let her win a couple of times. He would never let a girl beat him normally, but Suyi’s tears were genuine, unlike other girls who might cry to get their way, and he couldn’t help but feel bad making her upset over something so trivial.

But Sushang wasn’t crying over a lost spar or other childhood incident. She'd lost the most important person in her life, at the age he was when his own master had been killed by his own and Lingshuang’s hands.

It was ironic that Lingshuang, the one of them to have dealt the killing blow and carry Hua’s blood on her hands, was now the only one with hands gentle enough to raise a child.

“How do you think she’ll take the news?” Feima had asked Lingshuang a bit worriedly.

“Extremely poorly.” the cold-eyed woman had replied. “I’ve raised her for the last ten years, but that doesn't mean her and her mother weren’t close.”

Feima was hardly the person to offer comfort, but maybe comfort wasn’t what she was looking for. Thus, the man sat down on a crate near Lingshuang’s small shack of a house, patting the surface next to him as an invitation for the child to sit down.

“We’ll talk.”

The short girl struggled to get up on the crate beside him, something he’d overlooked as he’d forgotten about her injuries that still ailed her as well as her height (or lack of, rather). However, she managed her way to sitting after a moment.

“Master told me everything. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn’t realize you were Suyi’s daughter,” the man admitted, quite awkwardly as he was unsure how to word his statement without offending her. “I only recognized you as your master’s disciple due to your fighting style.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. You’d have been horrible at consoling me.” Sushang voiced Feima’s thoughts out loud as if she read his mind.

“You’re right,” a light chuckle came from the man. “But, I never knew your master to be an empathetic person… are you truly feeling alright?”

“No.” Sushang admitted. “But Master helped me. People think she’s emotionless, but she’s all soft inside… just doesn’t show it,” the young girl smiled slightly sadly. “She always shares whatever she’s thinking without a second thought, but never what she’s feeling. But she’s hurt too, you know.”

Sushang was speaking the truth; Lingshuang and Suyi had once been close in the past, during their days as the Phoenix’s disciples. But those days were long past, and Suyi had left Lingshuang to raise her daughter who wielded the same sword they’d shared during childhood.

“Did your master inform you of all that’s taken place, or only the details about your mother’s death?” Feima decided to touch on the subject that he was sure was still raw like an open wound.

“...Yes.” Sushang took a moment to respond. “To some degree. She said that my Grand-Master is still alive, and that my mother altered my Master’s memories using her sword- MY sword.”

“The second disciple, Su Mei, told me she believes that our master is the one who murdered Qin Suyi. After seeing what was left of your family estate, I can’t help but agree that it's a kind of devastation she’d be capable of.”

“Do you… honestly think my Grand-Master would have killed my mom? You and Master both knew her, was she really that kind of person?” Sushang’s voice was betrayed with a slight waver, but she managed to keep herself together.

“Su Mei thinks so. She said a person can change a lot in twenty years.”

“But the person you knew wouldn’t have,” Sushang inferred, and was surprised when Feima did not deny her suspicions.

“I don’t doubt Su Mei’s opinion. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“Not very helpful-” Sushang puffed her lip out as if she were pouting for a moment. “But I have some more stuff I wanna ask you.”

“Such as?”

“My mom’s Blade Sanction. Did you ever see her use it?”

“Qin Suyi's Ebonstyle- I did bear witness to your mother in combat a couple of times, but she rarely made use of her Xuanyuan sword's ability. From what I and the other disciples knew, she could create mirages to confuse her opponents.”

“And how did it work?” the child asked, curiosity eminent in her eyes.

“I’m not quite sure, but I have a guess,” with a wave of his hand, Ma Feima grasped his own sword from previously empty air as if it had been beside him the whole time, the red and black blade erupting from nothingness in a radiant gaze of pink and purple colors which quickly faded.

“My sword, Chi Jueying, creates mirages as well- but they trick the eyes. During my fight with your master, I used it to create many copies of myself- none of which were enough to confuse her, of course. That woman is much too observant.”

“My master beat you?” Sushang had a giddy smile.

“Of course she did. She’s Chi Yuan’s strongest disciple, after all.”

At the mention of her Grand-Master, Sushang perked up intently, listening to Feima’s words closely and speaking no more.

“Anyways, while Suyi’s sword seemed similar to mine in the way that it also created mirages, I believe hers worked by directly confusing the mind, unlike mine which only affects one’s sight. In the way she could confuse her opponent's mind, she could likely subtly alter or add memories to an unsuspecting foe– or friend.”

“I see,” Sushang nodded. “Thanks for explaining it. Master was pretty angry and didn't do a good job of telling me things that made sense.”

“I’m impressed you managed to talk your way out of being kicked out of her house.”

“Kicked out of her house?!” Sushang’s eyes widened; this was obviously news to her. “Why would she do that?!”

“Huh?” Ma Feima’s eyebrows furrowed together. The woman earlier had seemed so serious when she had remarked such. Perhaps… had she been joking? Such a thing seemed a very inappropriate thing to joke about, but of course, this was Cheng Lingshuang. Social rules weren't exactly something the woman obeyed.

“Oh, never mind. I must have misunderstood.” Ma Feima brushed it off with a wave of his hand, dismissing his own sword in the process.

“Wait, bring the sword back! I wanna talk more about Blade Sanction!”

“As much as I’d like to, I’m not exactly a welcome guest at your Master’s home. I’ll leave the teaching to the proper teacher.”

The conversation ended soon on that note, and Feima left soon after giving a quite laughably brief goodbye to the younger girl, who did not protest any longer. He did not attempt to re-enter the house to say farewell to Sushang’s master or check on the condition of the unconscious Rakshasa.

-

The Rakshasa man dreamt of a beautiful nightscape, walking alongside a woman dressed in a robe of white. This woman had hair the color of fresh snow which spilled over pristine shoulders and down her back, and a bright smile paired with sparkling blue eyes.

On this woman’s other side walked a “man” who bore his own appearance- nearly identical to himself spare for the uncharacteristic smile which tugged at zeir lips.

“Void Archives-” the Rakshasa spoke aloud, eyes narrowing slightly. “Please do not use my resemblance without asking.”

“Hush, you’re disturbing Kallen,” the other person replied, using zeir arm to catch the young woman’s and slow her to a halt as well. She looked a bit confused as she looked between the man and the cube who mimicked him, but seemed unfazed of the fact that they shared the same face.

“Otto, Inanis, what’s wrong?” Kallen’s voice was gentle, but melodic, like that of a songbird. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s laughable to call yourself by a human name when you’re anything but such,” The Rakshasa– Otto himself laughed as if to prove his own point.

“Humans can’t come back from the dead,” the other responded. “So, if Kallen were to come back, what would she be then?” Zeir eyes narrowed.

“How would she be different from me?”

“Because Kallen has human values, of course. She values life and has a good heart.” Otto was sure of his words.

“Oh, so it's you who’s hardly human, Otto,” Void Archives brushed a finger across the collar of the Rakshasa's coat in order to maintain his attention. “Am I wrong?”

“Inanis, stop saying foolish things. We’ll be late to see the sunset if we dawdle any longer!” Kallen pursed her lips together in frustration, obviously not quite understanding the conversation between the man and his mimicked form.

“Of course. Let’s be going,” Void Archives replied with a smile. Otto wishes to follow the two of them as he watched them walk away, but he found his feet rooted to the ground as the dream began to swirl away from his control. The last thing he remembered seeing was Archive’s hand on Kallen’s shoulder, and his own lingering rush of jealousy as he watched zeir display of affection towards a woman zey’d never even met.

-

The Rakshasa man awoke with a gasp and was immediately greeted with a splitting pain in his chest and right arm. Eyelids fluttered as he groaned, trying to move but only worsening his condition.

“You’re awake?” an unfamiliar female voice startled him, and his body tensed. Through blurry vision, he could make out the image of a woman with white hair who leaned over where he laid, and for half a moment he held on to the brief hope that he had died and been reunited with Kallen in heaven.

But Otto Apocalypse would not see heaven, and the woman beside him was not Kallen. She had addressed him speaking Chinese, not German, and her white hair was much too neatly styled; which he came to realize as her features slowly came into focus.

He then realized that he should give some sort of response to her question, acknowledging that he was indeed awake. However, his “yes, I am,” came out sounding more like “yesh… I hngnnhm…”

“If you try and move, don’t move your arm. It's burnt to a crisp,” the strange woman addressed him bluntly. “You’re lucky to have woken in the first place.”

Finally, once he managed to regain his words, the Rakshasa decided to start with the most important question.

“What’s happened?”

“The sixth disciple brought you and my own disciple to my doorstep, neither in very good shape. Sushang has already gone outside to speak with that man.”

So Sushang was alright. After he’d seen her body collapse lifelessly among the sands, he’d feared the worst despite the odd swordsman’s promise that he would not kill her.

“And you are?” His second question.

“Lingshuang,” the voice coldly replied. “That child’s master. But oddly enough, she couldn’t tell me your name.”

“It’s Otto Apocalypse,” he couldn't contain a weak laugh that came out more like a wheeze. “She… couldn’t pronounce it. You may call me the Rakshasa as she does.”

“Rakshasa,” Lingshuang repeated, the tone of her voice unreadable.

Now that the Rakshasa’s sense of vision and balance had both returned to somewhat of their normal states, the man managed to pull himself into somewhat of a more comfortable position propped up against the pillows, albeit not without a pained wheeze. He tried not to think about the way his right arm dragged uselessly beside him when he moved.

“How bad is it?” he managed to ask.

“Bad. I was surprised to find you still breathing when I saw the state you were in.”

“Senior-”

“Who are you calling Senior?” the younger woman replied, lowering herself to his level and making unblinking eye contact which he found to be slightly intimidating. “Don’t address me as if we’re acquainted. I don’t care if you and my disciple have become friends; there’s no need to call me as such.”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Then, miss-”

“Lingshuang is acceptable.” She interrupted him bluntly. “Now, let’s skip the formalities; take off your clothes.”

The Rakshasa froze. “Ah… why?”

“In order to heal your wounds,” the woman replied. “My silly disciple requested I instill you with Qi energy in order for your demonic artes to heal your body properly. In addition, I’m quite curious what tricks someone from the western world might be capable of.”

The Rakshasa hesitated briefly. “I hate to disappoint, but I know no demonic artes; simply a healing practice which only works under certain circumstances.”

Lingshuang showed no visible reaction to his words. “I’m still curious. Now, strip.”

It was difficult to remove what remained of his clothes with only one functioning arm, but the Rakshasa made do and lifted away fabric to reveal burned flesh. The swordsmaster beside him did not flinch away at the sight of his arm as he’d expected she might, instead watching him with her same unreadable expression. It was worse than he thought; blackened flesh left no trace of ordinary skin and instead exposed muscle and bone in some places. He expected it to be painful peeling the bandages away, but felt no sensation at all; likely due to the nerves having been completely burnt away, he realized.

It was hardly recognizable as an arm anymore. The Rakshasa tried his best not to be sick at the sight.

Once the bandages were gone, he made much easier work of the rest of his clothes. The man noticed he wasn’t wearing his outfit he’d traveled in anymore, meaning someone had already changed his clothes once while he slept. He wondered if this was the work of Sushang’s master, or if the older man whom had attacked them and then apparently returned them both to Lingshuang.

“Don’t be shy,” the woman wasn’t oblivious to the way he was uncomfortable bare under her gaze, wearing nothing but his underwear. “I feel no attraction towards men; I simply want to see what I’m working with.”

“About my arm-”

“It’s worse than I thought,” the woman remarked nonchalantly, leaning to get a closer look. “I hope your method of self-healing doesn’t require use of both hands.”

“I can make it work,” the Rakshasa gritted his teeth together, watching as the younger woman placed an outstretched palm against his bare chest and began the transfer of Honkai energy. It started off slowly, a burning sensation filling his lungs with every breath he took as a flow of the corruptive strength began to restore his vitality. This alone wouldn’t heal his wounds, but if he restored enough energy to call upon Void Archives, there was a chance the accursed cube would be able to heal his injuries completely through the use of the Abyss Flower’s mimicry. At least, that’s what the Rakshasa hoped.

However, the flow of energy was not painless, and the man gripped the sheets of the bed he laid upon with his good hand as rough breaths became ragged. He hated to show such weakness in front of the unfamiliar woman, so he did his best to keep his expression neutral despite the agony each breath of air brought with it.

Finally, Lingshuang seemed satisfied with the amount of energy she had transferred to him, and stood up after dusting her hands.

“That’s all I have to grant for now without exhausting myself. I hope it’ll be enough.”

After struggling his way into a sitting position, the Rakshasa called upon the slumbering cube whom had been ignored until now. Immediately, he felt the power of Void Archives answer to his call, surrounding him with a familiar golden energy which pulsed with its own life.

Golden tendrils spiraled around the Rakshasa’s good hand, forming the appearance of the lance (or umbrella, rather- as Sushang had called it) out of thin air. He held it firmly for a moment, admiring the black and white blade and feeling Lingshuang’s curious gaze upon him without even looking up.

The sensation of being healed by Abyss Flower was unique in its oddity, the man feeling little pain but instead a tingling numbness that spread across his charred skin as if it had been dipped in soothing oil. He could feel his internal strength sapping as his body’s vitality restored itself, destroyed skin mending before his eyes and burns turning once again into ordinary human flesh.

Lingshuang watched, transfixed as the strange foreign man repaired his own body which was previously at the point of scarring beyond repair, blackened skin becoming healthy again before her eyes. She looked to the man’s face expecting an expression of pain, but saw only exhaustion in his eyes, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Whatever power he’s using requires the use of Qi energy, but doesn’t seem to hardly harm him in the process. How intriguing.

Eventually, the Rakshasa’s hands grew too weak to grasp the lance any longer, and it dropped into his lap before dissolving into a wave of golden sparks, which dissipated in midair.

And yet, Lingshuang’s expression betrayed little of her interest, despite her words. “I’m impressed.”

The Rakshasa did not hear these words, however, as his eyes were glossed over and no longer seeing the world around him. Barely a moment passed after the lance vanished that they rolled back into his head and he fell limp against the pillows and blankets beneath him, head lolling to the side slightly. Lingshuang lifted a hand to his neck to find his pulse, then swept his bangs from his forehead to check his temperature, satisfied when she found both normal. He was merely exhausted.

Sushang chose this perfect moment to re-enter the small house, greeted with the sight of an unconscious and barely clothed Rakshasa lying next to the form of her master. Eyes blotchy with tears were quickly covered by her hands.

“He’s naked!”

“He’s healed.” Lingshuang remarked.

“Where are his clothes?!”

“He took them off so I could transfer him Qi energy, like you requested.”

“Master!” Sushang protested, waving her hands frantically with eyes still closed. “Put them back on, please!”

Lingshuang did not wish to spare the effort to put his pants back on, so she opted to cover the man’s sleeping form with a blanket for modesty instead.

“He’s decent now. You can open your eyes.”

“I-i-is he okay?” taking cautious steps forward, Sushang made her way to stand before the older man who laid in her bed.

The older, unconscious, half naked man who laid in her bed, splayed out pathetically across the sheets.

“Did he wake up?” she added on, noticing his state.

“He did. Quite an odd man.” Lingshuang affirmed, not taking her eyes off him. “But, as you said, he had a way of healing himself. It drained his own energy and he lost consciousness because of it, but wasn’t harmed in the process.”

“Did his arm heal all the way?” cautiously, Sushang tugged at the blanket ever so slightly to reveal the top of the Rakshasa’s shoulder. Blackened skin was no longer covering his side as it previously had, instead replaced with healthy flesh.

“I like him much more than your mother’s husband.” Lingshuang said without filter. “He’s distinctly older than both me or your mother, but still, a responsible father figure nonetheless. I trust him to continue traveling with you.”

The Rakshasa, being like her dad?! At first, Sushang mentally turned up her nose at the idea of being parented by such an unemotional man, but then glanced down at him again. The man who refused to show weakness to a point of keeping his hair from blowing in the wind via his strange magic was now unconscious from injuries he’d received protecting her.

“I told you he could heal himself! Did he use his weird umbrella thing again?”

“Umbrella?” Lingshuang quirked an eyebrow. “He summoned a lance, which recovered his wounds in the span of a minute’s time. It was impressive even to my eyes.”

“Well, whatever it was, he used it on me too! I got all hurt fighting that Eagle guy, and I was worried I wouldn't be able to make it back, but then he whips out his magic parasol and boom! No more injuries!” Sushang gestured with her hands as if to drive in her point. “Oh yeah, Horse guy left, by the way. Said he had things to attend to.”

"I told him to leave once he was finished with his business, our house isn't meant for entertaining guests.” Lingshuang affirmed. “We already have an extra body to care for as is.”

“An extra two bodies,” Sushang added on, not forgetting the coffin they’d left outside. It had felt odd to bring a stranger's corpse into the house, so Lingshuang had found a place for it under cover outdoors instead.

“The second body is not a problem of ours; it does not take up one of our beds, nor require food. The first one, however…” Sushang’s master narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at the blonde-haired man, and the girl did not catch on to the fact that the older woman was joking in her words.

"That’s right! Where am I going to sleep tonight?!” Sushang exclaimed, turning about as if searching for a solution. She’d feel bad pushing the Rakshasa man onto the floor again as she had earlier, even if his wounds were now healed.

"In my bed?” Lingshuang replied.

“Then where will you sleep?!”

“In my bed.”

The younger girl narrowed her eyes. “And when I kick you in the middle of the night while sleeping…? Or steal away the blankets?”

“You’ll be punished accordingly.”

Sushang yet again did not realize that her master was joking, and felt a shiver run down her spine. However, it was a fate not near as worse as sharing a bed with the unconscious Rakshasa.

“I promise I won’t! I’ll sleep as still as a dead man!”

“If you don’t, you’ll find yourself in that coffin too come morning.” Sushang would have been genuinely afraid had it not been for the smile that rose to her master’s lips as she said this.

As the day went on, Sushang tried to keep her mind occupied, but it was hard to do when her master was hardly much of a conversation partner, and only other person she might talk to was currently out cold. No matter how many times she prodded the Rakshasa’s cheek or called out to him, the man would not stir, to her own irritation.

Sushang was uninterested in dinner, to her master’s concern, but the woman didn’t push her to eat. The girl was still sore and it hurt to move around a lot, so by the time the sun began to creep down the horizon and cast an orange glow of sunset along the distant sands, Sushang was flopped across her master’s bed and ready for sleep. Lingshuang said little to her as she helped her braid her hair for bed so that it wouldn’t get tangled, and helped her change into sleeping clothes when the girl found it too difficult to get up again.

Moving Sushang to her own side of the bed so that Lingshuang could make room for herself proved to be a difficult task, but the older woman was strong despite her height.

Lingshuang was not oblivious to Sushang’s helplessness, and was not the kind of person to let her thoughts sit idly by.

“Are you feeling alright, Sushang?”

A muffled voice came in reply, as the young woman had her face buried in the pillows currently.

"Mm… everyth’nn hurts…”

Lingshuang’s eyes narrowed slightly, as she hadn’t recalled Sushang complaining earlier in the day. “How long has it been this bad?”

Sushang didn't reply right away. “...dunno…”

“Sushang,” the older woman’s voice came, a little more persistent this time. “Is it something medicine can help?”

Lingshuang’s question seemed odd at first, but it took Sushang a moment to realize she was asking to figure out whether or not the girl was complaining about her injuries ailing her, or her heart hurting from loss. It was just her Master’s weird way of stepping around talking about emotions, which Sushang didn’t mind, as she knew how blunt the older woman could be with her words sometimes.

“No.” Sushang finally replied. While it was true that she was sore especially around her shoulder and it was painful to move, Lingshuang had already done all she could to treat her injuries and the next best cure to them was time spent resting.

“Come here, then.” Lingshuang laid down beside the girl now, having dimmed their lantern in order for them to sleep. Sushang didn’t understand what she was asking and awkwardly shuffled herself a little closer, but strong arms pulled her tightly against the woman’s chest.

Her master said nothing as she held Sushang like this, pressing her into the crook of her shoulder with a force that was only slightly less than uncomfortable. The younger girl welcomed the grip that she normally would have squirmed away from, feeling a bit safer with something weighing her down.

It was Lingshuang’s odd way of comforting Sushang while also dealing with her own grief, holding her like this. In the past her disciple had noticed the woman doing a similar thing with her Xuanyuan Sword when she thought nobody was looking; merely gripping it to her chest as if she were mourning something lost and afraid the sword would disappear. When Sushang would cry, she’d hold her in a similar manner in her arms until she’d calmed down. It wasn’t an effective way of talking about emotions, but for Lingshuang, it was still an effective way of releasing them.

Sushang couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she nestled into the woman’s arms until sleep took her away.

The next morning when Li Sushang awoke, she found herself splayed uncharacteristically across the sheets beside her master. She’d had a restless sleep, if the state of the bedding was any clue in the matter, and a resonant soreness remained within her body.

Lingshuang was awake beside her, having already risen; sitting atop the bed with her legs folded and eyes closed. Sushang, not wanting to speak for risk of disturbing her master’s deep meditation, did not speak- instead letting out an audible exhale of breath to test if her master was currently listening or aware of her surroundings.

The pale-haired woman showed no reaction.

Despite the pain she was in, Sushang managed herself up into a sitting position mirroring that of the older woman’s. She let her eyes flutter closed and tried her best to regulate her breathing. However, with the pain her injuries brought, it was difficult for her to focus upon reciting Blade Swara without finding herself surrounded by ripples of distraction.

Her vain attempts were eventually interrupted by her master’s voice.

"You need to tend to your physical state before attempting to clear your mind,” the woman stated, and Sushang felt a hand brush scattered bangs free from her eyes before they fluttered open again.

"Master-” Sushang’s voice was slightly raspy from disuse over the course of the night. “Good morning.”

The older woman’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. “I need to tend to your wounds again now that the sun has risen. Are you in pain?”

Sushang was hesitant to admit it, but she nodded.

“Rest for a moment. I’ll return soon,” and with that, Lingshuang had risen from the bed and left to the other room.

Now left alone in her thoughts, Sushang settled down to a more comfortable position atop the bed and bundled herself within the blankets. Soon, the older woman returned to the room with a warm towel and some fresh changes of bandages. Gentle fingers loosened the ties of Sushang's sleeping robe, pulling the clothing down to reveal a blossoming splay of bruises covering her left shoulder. The young girl winced at the sight despite the light touch causing no pain, and the air between them remained wordless until her master broke the silence.

“He set the bone back into place, but was not kind in doing so. Men do not have a gentle touch,” there was a rare anger barely audible in the woman's voice.

“It’s sore,” Sushang murmured.

“As I’d expect. You should refrain from use of this arm for some time,” Lingshuang’s reply came coldly. “There are more bruises to your sternum and torso as well… just what did you do to provoke that man?” she asked it not as a question as much as a rhetorical statement, but Sushang still replied.

“Nothing! Me and the Rakshasa were traveling alone just fine by ourselves and did nothing wrong!”

“Don’t be offended by his actions,” Lingshuang soothed her. “He is a man of many battles, and little reasons behind them.”

“I’m not offended! I’m just-” Sushang pursed her lips. “...first, he challenges me for no reason, then comes to tell you my mom died? Nobody taught him to be soft with a girl’s feelings!”

“I tried to,” the young girl nearly missed the slip of slight amusement in Lingshuang’s words. The warm cloth pressed up against the bruises to sooth them, and the young girl sharply inhaled, eyelids fluttering. Sushang did not make a single sound while her master cleaned and re-bandaged the rest of her injuries, most of which were smaller cuts and scratches.

“Next, we’ll head outside- you need a bath.” Lingshuang stated rather matter-of-factly.

“But, the Rakshasa-”

“...has not woken yet, so don’t let him concern you.”

"Okay,” Sushang gave in, and accepted her master’s hand to help her free from bed.

[aimeelouart]

Repurposing a bit of server freewriting for part 2 of purring!Cloud (Saving Subject C AU). Lil’ bit of whump, lil’ bit of hurt/comfort, and lovely fluffy cuddles

Also doubles as a preview if we end up going in a certain direction, but tbh I doubt it. Either way, spoiler free.

--

Cloud held pressure across his stomach, grimacing as the pain came and went in throbbing waves. He’d already pulled the shrapnel out so his body wouldn’t seal around it. Now it was just a matter of staying still and keeping pressure on until it closed enough for him to safely move.

His chest was doing the fucking thing (he refused to put a name to it) but he couldn’t make it stop, which didn’t make any sense. Didn’t cats only...do the thing when they were happy? Why was it happening to him now? 

Fuck, at least the SOLDIERs weren’t around to hear it.

“Cloud!”

The call was still fairly distant. Cloud loosed an involuntary, irritated grunt at the sound. Shit, they were persistent. Maybe that wasn’t surprising. He had run off and destroyed Shinra property at the first available opportunity. With any luck, his hiding space would work until the hole in his side closed and he could make a proper escape. It didn’t have to be long. Just...long enough.

Gaia, he was starting to feel lightheaded. He cracked an eye open and checked the size of the blood puddle spreading from his side. It was much wider than he’d hoped. He might be in more trouble than he thought.

“There you are.”

Cloud breathed out a heartfelt “fuck” as Sephiroth’s voice reached him. Grimacing, he tilted his head enough to see the silver-haired demon kneeling and peering into the dark space beneath the broken lift Cloud was using for cover. He snarled at the man, but it was half-hearted at best. Even if he somehow found the strength to take up his commandeered knives again, he was too weak to run, never mind fight.

He’d miscalculated, and how he was going to pay for it.

But…

But.

Sephiroth didn’t sound angry when he dropped down onto his stomach and slid as far into the narrow space as he could. “Cloud, where are you hurt?” He sounded…concerned, alarmed, maybe even a little bit…afraid? “Cloud?”

“Fuck off,” Cloud slurred, confused. His sight was starting to gray a little bit around the edges. A real pang of concern shot through him. Had he missed an exit wound?

Sephiroth snorted a little, disbelieving. “Even when you are bleeding out, you still…” He reached, but even his long arm wasn’t quite enough to snag Cloud’s shirt. “Cloud, can you move toward me? Just a little bit.”

He hunkered down into himself, trying to apply more pressure. The pain was fading, and he still couldn’t make the stupid rumbling stop. “No.”

“I can’t help you unless you move a little bit, Cloud.”

“Fuck off,” he repeated, eyes starting to slide shut.

Another voice. “Seph?”

“He’s here. I can’t reach him.”

Cloud’s eyes shut all the way.

“Let me try. Here, Angeal, take my coat for a second.”

The voices were starting to sound like they were coming from underwater. Cloud felt, distantly, that this was definitely the point at which he should have been outright alarmed. He’d missed something. Probably an exit wound on his back, based on the blood loss. He’d be fine, even if they left him where he was, but they weren’t going to do that. He wished he had the strength to grab one of his knives.

“Cloud, sweetheart, can you say something?”

He found the will to say “fuck off” a third time. It sounded like “f’k ov.”

Genesis—that was Genesis—snorted. “Okay. Okay, I’ve…” Fingers snagged the edge of his sleeve. “…got you! I’ve got you, come on.” He pulled, sliding Cloud across the blood-slicked ground until he could grab an arm, and then Cloud was dragged from the safety of his hiding space and out into the light. Alarms were still going off in the distance. He smirked weakly.

“Shit, kiddo,” someone breathed as he was rolled onto his back. He couldn’t quite find the strength to keep his hand over the wound and it fell limply to the ground. “Did you⁠—is this a shrapnel wound? Cloud, did you pull it out?”

Duh, he thought, unable to articulate his disdain.

“Later, Genesis,” someone else said. Large, strong hands provided the compression Cloud wasn’t able to any more.

“I need to see his back. Get the shirt off.”

His shirt was cut off as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He was shifted, then propped up across someone as two more hands pressed down on either side of his torso. Magic flooded his body, sealing the path carved through his flesh. The gray retreated a little as another flood of magical energy compensated for his blood loss until his body could make up the difference. 

And, finally, the stupid purring stopped. He really, really hated that it seemed to be involuntary.

Cloud was shifted again, wrapped up in something primarily leather and then picked up like a swaddled infant. Fucking rude, he thought, struggling to drag his leaden eyelids up. A vaguely silver blur hovered above his face. He tried to object, but what came out of his mouth was closer to a grumpy kitten growl than articulated displeasure.

“Hush,” someone said. It might have been the silver blur. A water bottle was pressed against his lips and since he wasn’t completely self destructive, he drank.

“Little idiot. What was your plan, hmm? To bleed out under there?”

That was probably Genesis. Out of pure spite, Cloud managed to spit out a “yeah” in response.

A frustrated noise. A tired sigh. A rumbling, half-stifled laugh against his ear.

“Stop antagonizing him,” someone said. A hand passed over his face, brushing his staggering eyelids down. Tired, he let them stay closed. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about appropriate responses to severe bodily harm later.”

And Cloud was...increasingly confused. It was hard to think, drained and cold and barely hanging on to consciousness, but none of this was what should have been happening. They were threatening...scoldings? No one was angry. He’d destroyed a massive amount of Shinra property, practically spat in their faces, and somehow no one was angry.

He shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chill.

--

Cloud’s little stunt had scared the hell out of them. It wasn’t that they didn’t care that he’d demolished Shinra property and made their job fending off the Turks much, much more difficult—they did—but when they’d started searching, they really had thought it would be a tiny, lifeless body they found. Any anger and frustration they might have felt paled in comparison to the sheer relief of finding him alive.

Sephiroth was the one watching him (hiding him, more or less), while Genesis and Angeal dealt with getting all of them back to the Tower in one piece. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Cloud was so little and this event just reinforced the fact that only SOLDIERs had any hope of containing him. Hopefully that would bolster their argument rather than encourage Science to get involved, because...well, forget what he and Genesis and Angeal would do to save the kid, Cloud himself would rip the whole department to shreds using only his teeth if they even tried to take him.

On some distant level, Sephiroth wondered how Cloud had managed to ensnare the three of them (and more SOLDIERs besides) so quickly. Or at all. Sephiroth wasn’t supposed to have a heart. He was supposed to be the pure paragon of SOLDIER, a soulless weapon forged only to mete out death. But here he was, holding a child safe in his arms and feeling his breath stutter every time he wondered what it would have been like to find a cold, unmoving body beneath that broken equipment.

Cloud was asleep, face milk-pale where it rested against the dark leather of his coat. He had proper blankets now, and Sephiroth’s own body heat besides. Angeal had been very clear about that—Cloud was not to be without a heat source until he was no longer anemic.

Not that Sephiroth would have willingly put him down. He found himself oddly agitated at the thought of not being able to feel the boy’s heartbeat beneath his palm. And, more than that...he felt unwilling to give up the strange, powerful contentment he felt just having Cloud safe in his arms.

“Seph?”

He startled a little, moving his eyes from Cloud’s face to find Genesis standing with one hand on the door frame, watching them with an unreadable expression. “...yes?” Sephiroth responded when Genesis didn’t continue. He realized that he had been shifting back and forth from foot to foot without noticing. When had that started?

“...you’re purring.”

What? He stopped—he stopped breathing entirely, actually. They’d told him about Cloud’s near-violent reaction to his own purring weeks before, but only now did he really understand. Because humans weren’t meant to be able to do that.

“Hey,” Genesis said quickly, crossing over to touch his arm, “stop. I know what you’re thinking.” His eyes were unusually gentle, maybe because he was riding the same relieved high Sephiroth was. “But...aren’t you glad Cloud isn’t alone?”

Aren’t you glad you’re not alone?

And he...was. He really was, once the thought was put to words. Cloud had been frightened by his own body and abilities, but he didn’t need to be anymore. Not when Sephiroth was with him. Neither of them were alone.

The rumbling started back up. He thoughtlessly leaned his head down and pressed his cheek to Cloud’s damp, unruly hair. The boy smelled like mako and blood and explosives. Sephiroth didn’t mind at all.

Genesis huffed a laugh, but it choked a little, and Sephiroth cracked an eye open inquisitively. “You’ve...you’ve never been injured enough or happy enough to do this before, have you?” he asked.

Oh. Was that it? He thought it might have been in response to Cloud, somehow, but...he really hadn’t ever felt such powerful relief and contentment until today, had he? Objectively, that was probably sad—that’s what Genesis’s expression was telling him. He didn’t much care though. There were more important things to think about.

So he just hummed noncommittally and gathered Cloud a little closer, shutting his eyes again. When Genesis huffed a second laugh, it was much lighter.

“So,” Genesis said, nudging him, “when is it my turn to play space heater?”

Sephiroth growled.

[hunterartemis]

Media Bias (Avengers X Alien!Reader)

It was a request from anonymous reader and since I have limited experience with tagging, I am going to quote the person’s request here:

“ Hi can you please do Avengers x reader where the reader is like Starfire from og teen titans (but the reader is green and the blasts are blue) and the Avengers go on a talk show and the host is being very mean to her. Thanks”

So, dear anonymous. I hope you enjoy!“

Words: a whopping 4100

Y/n, open the door” I heard Sam thudding away on my door as I buried myself in the layers of blanket and put the air condition humid enough to cause a mini monsoon.

“Go away Wilson and leave me alone--” I bellowed on top of my voice.

“Y/n it’s been more than 7 hrs, you got to come out... whatever happened in the morning you gotta let it go--”

“I don’t wanna let it go... I am a national embarrassment--”

You must be thinking, what is the situation you’ve been dragged into. Let me pause there and rewind 17 hours back to give you a complete understanding which lead to this complete mess.

People think our story ended and sealed with Thanos never got to see what we go through in the New York penthouse. With the ongoing Pandemic on board, people are desperate to see us even more, as if it is the new Thanos and we are to defeat it. There is no greater sense of helplessness than playing the puppet of courage without doing anything. So whoever wrote that “after the defeat of big bad, the heroes rejoice” was a big idiot.

And thus, I found myself awake after hours, sitting alongside the broad glass panel that showed the completely stopped-in-time, shining in the dark cityscape of once bustling New York. A fleeting sense of desolation plagued me as I remember my own world in the verge of extinction. My breath almost stopped in the great worry of my fellow living being in this planet; the one who saved me from destitution--

 “y/n, is that you?”A calm and concerned paternal voice broke the train of my thought. I sharply looked behind my shoulder to see a disheveled figure of man standing in the dark. By the tousled curls and the slouched hem of the sweatpants, I knew was Bruce.

“Urh, you startled me!” I said with a dismissive voice. I felt almost embarrassed to realize what I was thinking moments ago. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.

“It’s you who startled me y/n, what are you doing up so late?” Bruce said with a groggy voice rubbing his eyes rather irritatingly. “We have an important event to attend tomorrow first thing in the morning” he slowly moved towards from the shadowy part of the room to the path of dimmed light from the glass panel and spared a long glance at my face. The way he looked at me sometimes irritated me, because it was an inalienable fact that he fell into the same category of humans who express an unhealthy obsession with my kind: a scientist.

“It’s not like I enjoy staying up like you Lowly Human...I am as stressed for tomorrow as you are!” I tore my face from his ken to express my displeasure. In reply, he sighed disappointedly, which sounded patronizing in my already agitated mind.

“I wish you’d stop insulting my specie whenever you get upset...” he gently put his hand in my shoulder, but soon he withdrew and stepped back. “And what is that god-awful smell?”

Any female whether she is human or not is very sensitive to criticism, especially about how she appears, thus Bruce’s comment was not only offensive but hurtful as well. I could not restrain my anger and annoyance anymore, and I stood up sharply to face him “I just happen to wet myself in the rain yesterday at my detour downtown and it turns out it has too much sulphuric acid and it is peeling my skin away... right before when I am about to go up close on television.”  My hand subconsciously moved up to my cheek, where flakes were forming in my otherwise jade smooth skin. “And you are telling me to stop insulting your specie... I will when you unicellular cretins will stop ruining your own environment—“ I folded my arms defensively, gazing away from Bruce’s face “--as if I don’t get ridiculed enough for my chrorophyllic skintone, and now I am shedding like a common reptile.”

“Alright alright I am sorry...” Bruce threw up his arms defensively, and his small paces back and forth showed his discomfort more than anything, “do you want something for your skin, CeraVe or something? I can fetch you some ice if you want?”

His apologetic gesture made my whole effort defeated; but my pride disrupted me from being apologetic “Forget it... as if those human manures would work on my skin—“ I heaved a sigh and looked at him again “must we do the thing? I mean I am not the only alien that set foot on earth in this decade, why must I be walked around like a showdog in front of all the people?”

For some moments Bruce did not answer me. I almost thought he was ignoring me, but then I realised that he must be contemplating on every word he wanted to say and every word that was running through his brilliant mind. Out of anyone in the team, Bruce was the visual hole, the less than heroic material: even with the Hulk. And for this, the society made sure that he would be self conscious for the rest of his life for his other identity. My annoyance almost melted to sympathy when I heard him speak in a rather frustrated voice.

“Y/N, I know that you are stressed about this and frankly I hate this stuff too, but this is very important for the people: for your people as well as ours. Not all things that come from the space are benign and people need reassurance that you are not hostile. I hate this too, but it is for the greater good!”

“Greater good, greater good... it is always for the greater good!”  The same old daily whining of lofty agenda made me sick “I am sick and tired of these Brucie, I don’t want to do this anymore... I am tired about people asking me weird questions and cretins posing as scientists trying to push probes on me the first chances they get-- I wish I could just disappear with the portal that brought me in this cursed place!“

Bruce came closer and grabbed my shoulders gently “Don’t say that y/n... otherwise we wouldn’t have the means to counterattack all those aliens—“ my silence might have given him the cue that he wasn’t doing a very good job at convincing. His wavering eyes fixed on my face once again as he spoke “okay, here is a deal: how about it is the last time you appear in public, hm? Once you satisfy them that you are part of the team, I swear people will leave you alone... they left the Hulk alone too once they understood that he is one of the good guys!”

“No but...“

“No ifs and buts... go, and have some sleep. Let me look in the lab if we have some squalanes and peptide solutions lying around—“ he said with a paternal affection and disappeared into the dark passage which lead to his room

“Thanks Brucie you are the best—“

I couldn’t help but to smile a little. Humans!

...

“This is a bad idea I am telling you--“ I told Bruce with an hushed tone as the makeup artist went on with a puff on my face for the millionth times. The rest of my team was behind me, getting the same attentions to their dismay. I could tell Bucky was downright uncomfortable as his makeup artist had a hard time getting not distracted by his bionic arm; and Wanda was downright glaring at the man who kept flicking the brush on her nose.

“relax y/n, you are smart and you are friendly, you are going to ace this and trust me people are going to love you--“ Bruce said with gritted teeth to make sure no one could tell what he was saying. He almost flinched as some of the powder made into his nose and the makeup artist followed him up with a q-tip.

“My face is itchy...“ I whispered again, trying not to gouge my face out with my nails as the powder sat on the flaky part of the cheek. If this wasn’t a studio I would have scratched my face like a lunatic and ended up as someone who was attacked by a bear in the mountains. And I was glad that I was standing beside Bruce who knew how not to go overboard with the things. Clint would have brushed them off, Wanda and Bucky would have panicked, and Sam’s gestures no matter how genuine would have made me laugh.

“Wanda already told the makeup artist to spray you with Squalane, your face isn’t half as bad as it were yesterday night“ Bruce then went on politely gesturing the makeup artist to spray the stuff Bruce brought from the lab in a clear bottle, and the look on the Makeup Artist’s face was between annoyance and bursting into tears.

“Brucie...“ “I don’t wanna mess it up--“ I said nervously as we walked into the couch and settled with the others.

“Trust me you won’t... “ Bruce graciously consoled me.

The cameraman cued and we were all gestured to look into the main camera as the lights in front of us adjusted accordingly. Within all hustle and bustle, the host walked in like a royalty, and by the looks of his face and those following him with makeup and refreshment, he had a really bad morning.

“We will go on air in 3, 2 and 1”

“Good Morning America, this is your host Justin Fallon and welcome to another episode of The Early Show. Today we have with us some really special guests. You might know them from News, the murals, the comics and the Merchs please welcome our own global superheroes: The Avengers. Welcome to our show” the host said with an uncomfortable friendliness and turned towards us.

"Thanks for having us with you" Sam answered graciously, with a little awkwardness. I could understand why; it was always Tony, Steve and Natasha who spoke in public. After such a terrible loss, he is struggling to fill up their shoes for the sake of our public image. He had been wrapped up into a pretty bad controversy recently for succeeding as Captain America and it had a pretty bad toll on him—to the point his speech kind of went from cheerful to composed in an unnatural way.

 "It’s been way too long since our morning couch looked so colorful and it surely brightens up the day.” The host said with an obligatory politeness. Although the term was innocent enough but it seemed not so—I instantly froze up and million things started flying inside my head: was I looking good enough, is my patches showing under the layers of power and squalane. Turns out it was not me alone. From the corner of my eye I could sense the tension behind me from Clint and Bucky and I know it was different than mine. The host must have wanted the old team, and looked like he was stuck with the mediocre leftovers.

“Thank you...“ Sam replied.

“So here you guys are after averting the big wipeout crisis, in the quiet and chilling, so how does it feel to be in the pensive from being hyperactive all the time?“

“Well, at first it did feel kind of boring and lack luster, but slowly we are adjusting to it. With the ongoing Pandemic crisis I think we just have to adjust to the situation. In a way, I think we are all helping each other by staying inside and recuperating.” Sam answered diplomatically.

“That’s so nice” the interviewer said quite curtly and then changing the topic he sharply turned to Doctor Banner “I know of all you people Dr. Banner will find this Lockdown Leisure slightly more comforting, isn’t that so Doctor Banner?”

Wait, what was that? Was that even normal? Sam was sitting in the front and after him Bucky, then Wanda and then Bruce. Should not he come gradually? Breathe... maybe I am reading too much into this. Keep a friendly face, don’t think too much... the entire nation is watching... this is the one time I have to do things right! It’s for me, my team who housed me and my people.

I had to give props to Bruce for managing things calmly despite his claims about public speaking. He politely replied “Well theoretically it should be but it’s not like causes of anger cannot exist within the so called peaceful environment if you think about it, but I am glad you showed your concern” and like a pro, reached out to the glass in front of him to sip some water—like some real celebs in talk shows.

“Isn’t that true! So Solaris, how does it feel to be surrounded by the icons of the earth?”

I wasn’t really ready for the sudden attention. For a second I blanked out completely and gaped my mouth like a complete idiot. My stupefied face must have been quite prominent because the host tried to laugh it off lightly to divert the attention. I am still wrapping my head around the fact how some humans work so beautifully under so much attention—If I could choose between blasting off alien armies and speaking in talk shows, I will take the aliens instead.

“I..I--It’s quite fun... there is never a dull moment with them--“ I manage to utter, and thankfully it wasn’t a gurgling sound from a deep abyss.

“The thing is, being the most newest member, you sort of have a mystery around you, the kind of a Blue Comet sort--“

“Oh thank you— “ great going me, like a real talk show celeb—keep it up!

“So why don’t we break that down... Solaris, is that true that you came from a whole another galaxy which is not Milky Way?” the Talk show host asked, reading from a small piece of card.

Finally, something I can talk about all day: stars, planets and galaxy. I will have to slay this, I chanted inside and replied after drawing a breath “Yes that’s true. I am from Planet Auriga from Pleiades system. Our Sun is Alcyone, the second brightest star right after Aldebaran. You people call our system Taurus Constellation--” 

“--so much astrophysics, take notes kids they might ask you at the NASA interview.“ the talk show host interrupted. It annoyed me greatly because I could finish the words I worked so hard to speak confidently. So that’s how Bruce must feel all the time when people interrupted him when he explains things. However the host went on as if nothing happened “For a near human creature in this planet, do you identify more with the Professor X’s troop or with the Avengers?”

Near human creature? My race is literally the most Superior in all of galaxy.

“I don’t really understand what you mean...” I said as politely as I could manage.

“I mean isn’t it hard to fit in when you are the only alien in the group--“

The flippant remark was rude and I tried not to wrap my head around it. I recalled Bruce’s words to keep cool and maintain a neutral face replied : “I mean I am not the only one, Thor is also not of the earth and he is a darling to be around. Alien or not I think I have learned a lot about myself and the ways of earth by spending time with this wonderful people?“

I could hear the audience clapping and cheering with my reply. A surge of pride swept across my chest and I smiled slightly at the audience.

“How sweet--“ the host said, keeping with the cheerful mood “as the outer world people are coming into the planets, we think a lot of things are shifting, do you find it hard to cope into the earth from where you come from--“

Finally, a thoughtful question, I made a solid eye contact with the host and replied “No, the atmosphere is pretty much the same in Auriga, but I think humans can do a lot better taking care of the environment. I know for a fact that millions of planets and their lifeforms were extinct because of excesses I see on earth.”

The thoughtfulness of the host was only for so long “The girl’s been around... if you know what I mean—“ he commented with a little wink, and from the audience’s laugh I knew he didn’t mean something polite or mildly positive. After the laughter subsided, he turned again to me “I dig the midnight blue hair... it is so contradictory and yet it works“ he complimented “because you know scale and hair are not something we see very often in our planet--“ 

Excuse me, what was that supposed to mean?

“--so tell me are the lapis cascades all natural? I mean they are not dyed at all?”

“No they are not... the special keratin bond that reflect the blue pigment of the natural light but they are actually transparent—“ I added objectively.

“So that means in the right lighting you don’t need to mow the bush—“ the host said with a curved smile on his lips, and the audience went on laughing in the same manner they did moments ago.

Even under the blowing airconditioner, I started t feel really warm around my neck “I really don’t know what you mean; you are making any sense at all! Do you guys need special light to mow the bush, do you do in the solstices or during the eclipses—“  this time I didn’t hide the fact that I was annoyed.

“--she is really really funny you guys--“ the host again smiled and acted like I was a stone wall and my reaction didn’t register in his mind at all. “So you are saying you don’t mow your bush at all?“

“I live in a New York Penthouse, there is no bush--“ honestly if this wasn’t a dumb talk show, I would have taught this impudent human a lesson.

The host looked a little uncomfortable as our eye contact lasted for several seconds. He cleared his throat and went on “Okay you guys, she just clarified that there is no bush, so let’s move on to your...your look... I am so fascinated by it, it’s so reptile chic--“

What’s your fascination with cold blooded animals? Are you asking to die like one?

“Um, thanks...?!”

“So how do you manage to maintain this--“

That was honestly the last straw. This host is impolite and rude and he leeches off the discomfort of his talk show host. When this realisation hit, all my self-control and self preservation went out of the window. The vacuum was replaced by the sheer annoyance towards the host who deliberately mistreated us since the beginning.

“Do you think that’s how I live, maintaining my skin and mowing the bush--“ my pitch rose from my previous composed tone “I mean what kind of questions are these?“

The host was still wearing his phony smile on his face, but I could see the colour slightly draining off his face “No I was just asking, because the audience wants to know--“

“I think the audience is smart enough to understand that they cannot get the green skin on natural blue hair, so can you move on to a more sensible question?“ I answered heatedly and defensively at the same time, and as I spoke I felt the aura of tension shifting from discomfort to sheer panic.

“Y/n... don’t do this--” I heard Bucky whisper very faintly from above.

“Solaris, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t always get a green-skin hottie on the morning couch, don’t be offended!” he said while he gestured covertly to cut the camera on the other side. I have to give this man an applause , I could tell he had busted all his courage but he kept the face of nonchalance too good to be true—no wonder he sat on this chair for so long.

“What’s your obsession with the skin colour?—“ I said heatedly as I stood up from my seat “Don’t you dare cut the camera... don’t you dare! Do you think you humans are the epitome of beauty from which point everyone in the galaxy should confirm? I am sick of this... Everyone, I am so sorry for your wasted time but no more of this!”

“Solaris--“ this time it was Sam’s voice that implored me from the sides. For a split second I felt bad for him, because as Captain America, he would have to take the heat from the public. But I was at the point of no return. If I back out now, I would be called a pushover and I would have to endure that image for the rest of my life in the earth.

“You know what, as you are so obsessed with my looks, I would love to show you another thing of mine that is blue--”

Blast

So long story short, Solaris goes to a morning talk show, Solaris encounters a rude host and Solaris blasts him with her Blue Sun Beam. Biggest disaster ever!

The thudding outside the door would not stop, and honestly their over attention was getting on my nerves “honestly, why don’t you go away... what are you, my royal nanny?”

“Very funny Solaris... now come out and get some food--” this time it was Bucky who spoke. Although he was the shortest to reply, but it made me well up. He had the shittiest history amongst all of us: hunted, betrayed, manipulated and now sidelined—how can I see my problems bigger than him.

 “How can I... I ruined everything, all the reputation you built throughout the year, I blew it up within 3 minutes, how can I show my face to you guys! I was supposed to be the superior being--“

A moment of silence followed. But then the old familiar calm voice spoke from the other side

“y/n... It’s not about superior or inferior, you were just very very honest with your feeling! sometimes it’s good for the public, sometimes it is not. I mean look at me--I have struggling with my anger all my life and god knows the stuff I have wrecked in Hulk state. It’s okay to make a mistake... no one blames you!”

“Ha ha right...“ I replied sarcastically, feeling mad about how well Bruce understood my situation.

“Honestly, the way you acted today... Tony would have been proud!”

I could not hold myself anymore. All the feeling that has been plaguing me until now: embarrassment, guilt, confusion, sadness... all came down like a thundering rain with that one statement. I rushed and slammed the door open and jumped on Bruce to embrace him into a tight hug. At first I could tell Bruce was taken aback, but soon his firm arms snaked under my back to hold me tightly.

“I am so sorry... I ruined you all--“ I hid my face in Bruce’s shoulder. Suddenly I felt a gentle pat on my back, I straightened up and looked, it was Sam. His awkward cautionary expression was gone and he looked cherry as the old days “As Captain America, I cannot condone your behaviour, but as Sam... well, that jerk deserved it--“ he reached for his pocket and took out his cellphone “and hundred thousand people in New York agree with you“

I looked at him with a curious expression as he gave me his phone. When I looked at it, it was a tabloid video that had the clip of me blasting the host and it had—

“Stars in galaxies!... 100K likes?” I exclaimed

“And look down, there are comments too--” Bucky scrolled down from behind my shoulder to descend to the white space.

That jerk deserves it, he was literally harassing her...You go Solaris #MeToo

Solaris is so cool, I wish I was as cool as her.

Ugh, I hate that morning show host, if I was in her place I would have thrown him off the stark tower, #SunQueen

Racists never change, and We stan our color positive hero #SolarisRocks

Humans...

...

Okay, that took a lot of time because at first I didn’t know how to work on the request, then I had to go back and forth and rewrite most of it two times because I wasn’t convinced it was good. So I sincerely hope it’s good because I am freaked out as hell.

I also gave reader a name because she is inspired by an alien character in TeenTitans called “Starfire”. So I call her Solaris, and was constantly reminded of Solar of Mamamoo (TMI)

I don’t hate on Fallon, I just used his name because it is recognisable by American public and I also had to see a lot of Jimmy Fallon’s show to write about the Talk Show plot. I was also greatly inspired by Naomi Campbell, RDJ and Nicki Minaj’s interviews.

[agustdef]

XX

Pairing: Johnny Suh x Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Friends to Lovers; Coworkers to Lovers

Word Count: 16.1K

Warning: Language; Past Infidelity (not by anyone in the pairing); Mild mention of not great mental health; Implied Smut at the end. 

Rating: PG15

My Weird and Mildly Chaotic Banner Maker: @dee-ehn​

My Lovely Dweeb Beta Reader: @guktro​

A/N: This fic was crafted for the DramaVers collab hosted by the ever so lovely (never tell her I called her that) @namluve​. My fic is based off the K-Drama/Web Drama, XX, which you can watch here if you feel so inclined. Would recommend. (Psst... it’s only 5 episodes all under an hour long.)

Summary: When you work your whole life to reach your dreams of owning a bar you hope that having that dream ripped from under you without notice isn’t a part of life’s plan. And you definitely don’t imagine that it comes with suddenly being business partners with your ex-best friend. But life doesn’t work in the way we want it. At the end of the day you try to focus on the things that make life better, until the two men in your life who hold your heart (something you didn’t think possible) meet and hit if off so well that you’re sure your life is moments from collapsing completely.

The entire time Hyuk spoke YN sat there feeling like she couldn’t process his words. She heard all of it and took it in, but she was stuck on what he’d said when she’d walked into their bar to do inventory on the one day they were closed. Hyuk wasn’t supposed to be there, so it shocked her to see him pacing about but then he blurted something out and she’d never had the chance to exit her shocked state.

“YN, did you hear me?” he asked.

She wasn’t completely pulled from the surreal feeling she experienced, but enough of her became present enough to look at him and nod. Of course, she wanted to retreat into thoughts that said it was all a dream when she saw the pity in his eyes.

“I really am sorry, YN. I had to sell it and I know I said I’d give you a heads up if I ever wanted or needed to give my share up, but it couldn’t be helped. It was the only way to get my father to give into appointing me a position on his board before he found someone else. But I found someone who's done well with other bars and she’s just trying to expand her portfolio, so I’m sure she’ll sell you her half when all is said and done,” Hyuk reassured.

None of his words helped her feel good about it though, if anything she felt worse after hearing him. It became more real as he explained things to her for the third time that night. Her dream of the bar being hers had been so close, she’d almost had all the money to buy him out and it all came crashing down.

To think her phone calendar had a day three months in the future as the day she’d succeed. For a moment all she could think about was deleting it, so instead of responding she pulled out her phone and did just that.

“What are you-” he started, until he noticed what she did.

“YN, I-”

Her standing abruptly was what cut him off the next time; plus startled him to the point where he almost slid from his bar stool. His klutzy actions usually brought her some joy no matter how brief, but nothing in her could muster up any positive emotions.

After she took a deep breath she stared at him with a neutral expression and spoke. “You can put everything I need to know in the office for me to check in the morning. Anything else can be sent to me via email. That includes the new co-owners contact information so that I can set up a meeting with them so we can discuss things. If I need something you didn’t give I will contact you. I hope everything works out just the way you want it, Hyuk. I’m leaving now, lock up behind yourself and mail me the keys.”

With that she turned on her heel and walked out of the door, she needed to put some distance between her and him. As well as her and the bar. Not even Hyuk calling out for her stopped her from leaving, nothing he had to say was something she needed to hear. At least not while her world crumbled before her eyes.

From there she went home. The process was a blur as she relied on muscle memory to get her on public transportation and then walk the rest of the way. By the time she came to she was inside and knocking on the door to her roommate’s bedroom.

“YN, I thought you wouldn’t be back until three,” Johnny said as he opened the door, voice laced with sleep.

However, his inquiry seemed to no longer matter as he took YN in. She’d stopped holding it all in and her body slouched, shaking slightly as the tears poured down her face. Every second or so she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out until the sob finally released itself.

Johnny had her in his arms instantly. Not a word was uttered as he used one hand to press her face close to his chest and the other to rub slow circles into her back. And even when she calmed enough to speak, he merely shushed her and pulled her into his room. She wasn’t allowed to say a word until she was dressed in one of his too big t-shirts and they were cuddled in his bed.

She appreciated it too, because even though she’d been ready to talk her mind needed time to collect itself before she blurted out nonsense.

“Hyuk sold his share of the bar to someone else. Needed to let it go for his dad to give him some position at his company or some shit,” she whispered.

She felt Johnny’s body stiffen as she finished and then felt him take several deep breaths as she felt his heart speed up. He wasn’t a person quick to anger, but in certain situations he just couldn’t stop how quickly it came to head. Especially when he was proven right in a way he wished he wasn’t.

Minutes ticked by as he did his deep breathing and YN expected him to blow up or point out how he’d warned her, but nothing came.

“No, I told you so?” she asked.

That got a laugh out of him, though it was bitter.

“You know I won’t. This isn’t like when you bust your ass trying to get down from a table while drunk. This is your dreams being tampered with by a prick who couldn’t even show his dad he was responsible by co-owning a successful bar, but still managed to get what he wanted at your expense.”

Displeasure coated his every word and though it should’ve made her sad to think of her former co-owner and his shitty behavior she couldn’t help but laugh. It was because as he spoke she remembered all the times Johnny had snubbed or called the man out on his bare minimum rich kid behavior to his face. Johnny had never liked him and it was always clear to everyone, so he never missed a chance to be petty.

Sadly, that amusement went as quick as it came.

YN sighed. “Well, it is what it is now. Can’t change what’s already done. At least he said they only want to own it temporarily to pad their portfolio or some shit.”

In an instant, Johnny pulled back and looked at her with wide eyes.

“So, there’s still a chance?”

Though the hope in his voice boosted hers, she couldn’t get herself to give in. So instead of being as enthusiastic, she nodded.

Johnny’s eyes narrowed at that. “I will allow your non-excitement to slide because you are in shock and hurt, but you’re not going to go back to thinking this is a pipe dream. You can and will get the bar all to yourself. And let’s not forget you’re close to saving enough to start your own elsewhere if it falls through. And before you say it, I know this is your dream place in your dream location, but remember you had another dream location before this.”

Naturally, her best friend didn’t even allow her to voice her negative thoughts, something she was grateful for in that moment. She’d had a rant about how she should give up and all kinds of downer nonsense ready to spill out before he’d called her on her bullshit.

Another sigh escaped her and she nodded before laying her head on his chest again.

“Are you opening today?” she asked.

“No. After the bridal party, who wanted to drink and make perfume all night, I needed a break. And because they went well over their time I got paid double so I could miss three days and still not feel the loss.”

“Then can we stay in bed all day?” she asked.

“Sure, we can order something and watch TV. But can we sleep first, you woke me up too early,” he whined.

It was noon.

YN shrugged. “Fine with me, but I need to go get a bon-”

Before she could finish that sentence a dark purple bonnet was shoved in her face and she barely grabbed it before a thought came to her.

“You did steal it!”

“No, you left it in here after you took down your braids that one day. I found it somewhere in my dirty laundry. I for one don’t need a bonnet and for two, after the time I borrowed your SPF lotion and you nearly murdered me I learned my lesson,” Johnny said.

“You almost made me go outside ashy. My skin was being uneven with its six shades of brown instead of one, I didn’t need it to be dry too.”

He rolled his eyes at that but adjusted them a little so he could press a kiss to her forehead and then got comfortable.

“Yes, yes I know. Now put it on and go to sleep,” he said.

Part of her wanted to say something more, but she simply slid the bonnet over her hair, which was twisted, and laid down.

As her eyes closed her brain drifted to the horror of her morning, but she fought it off and tried to focus on the positive. Johnny was right; she had options, which didn’t leave her at a complete loss no matter how things went and that was a good thing.

Plus, she had Johnny by her side, even if it wasn’t always in the way she wanted. That thought brought a twinge to her heart, but she cuddled closer and reminded herself that moments like that were enough.

“He just dropped it all on you at once? I knew he was a self-centered prick, but damn,” Yoongi commented.

YN had relayed what happened to her main bartender when they’d both come in to prep the bar before it opened. She planned to keep it from him until she met her new co-owner, but he saw through her the moment she walked in that afternoon. Fighting him was futile, something she learned within the first six months of him working there, so she just spilled everything as she wiped down the bar stools.

“Yup. No warning at all, just told me with everything done before I could object. Something about thinking just being straightforward would lessen the blow. Since I prefer bluntness and all that,” she mumbled.

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed Yoongi pause as he wiped down the counter and turn to look at her fully.

“Does that dumbass still not know what the word blunt means? Because it’s sure as fuck not screw over your business partner and the only person who kept a business afloat while he cried to daddy about not getting the position he wanted because he’s a failure. Fucking weirdo,” Yoongi shouted.

Though it wasn't really funny YN couldn't help but throw her head back in laughter, pausing in her cleaning as it coursed through her. She couldn't even stop the tears that came along with it.

When she finally pulled it together Yoongi was cleaning again, but the smile he wore showed he was happy with his handy work. And YN was thankful for it. He always knew just what to say to make her laugh when she needed it, even if the joy only lasted for a few seconds. It was one of the things that drew her into him as they got to know each other. Past his introverted defense mechanisms was a sweet man who often just did his best to help wherever he could.

The only person keeping her sane most days.

“Well, yeah he is a dumbass I will finally and fully admit it. But, he was a dumbass keeping me from having to put off certain things to keep this place moving forward, so for a time he was worth something. Now he’s just a fucking headache fucking up my plans.”

Silence filled the room after that as they finished sanitizing everything and got the bar set up for patrons. They were ready an hour in advance, which wasn’t something they usually did with YN preferring it to be only thirty minutes before the last thing was finished, but she didn’t want them working as she met the new co-owner.

There was nothing in her that wanted to impress them, but she preferred all the things be in tip top shape and nothing left to worry over as she handled something so stressful. It shouldn't have felt like that, but meeting someone she didn’t know and didn’t choose in a bar they would both own wasn’t fun. Especially when she thought about other people who’d come in before wanting to be her business partner but wanted everything changed. Something that wouldn’t happen.

“You can take a break and go out if you want. I can meet them alone,” she said as she checked one of the mini fridges under the bar one last time.

She expected Yoongi to say he’d go grab coffee from his favorite place to give him that final boost to keep on his customer service voice all shift, but he shook his head no. He grabbed a bottle of water and sat down at one of the tables farther into the bar. It confused YN and she planned to say something, but then the sound of a door opening caught her attention.

They both turned their attention to the intruder and YN immediately felt like the wind was knocked out of her.

In the door of her bar stood Chae Hyungwon, her ex-best friend.

Thankfully, he appeared just as shocked as she was, though he tried his best to pull it together. His usual fake confident smirk made an appearance and his gaze shifted from her to the space around them. His head nodded every so often and soft sounds of approval slipped from his lips as he did.

YN knew it was him avoiding her gaze to prepare whatever non-caring act he planned to put on with her, but that didn’t ease her at all.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

After several seconds of blatantly ignoring her Hyungwon responded.

“Is that any way to speak to your new boss?” he asked.

Shock wasn’t the word that YN used to describe how hearing those words felt, mostly because it wasn’t what coursed through her. It was more like amusement at being some sort of joke to the universe. Amusement and immense sadness.

“Co-owner. You are my co-owner. And let’s not forget that I own most of it,” YN said.

Hyungwon’s eyes went wide. “You’re the co-owner?”

That was a small win for her.

“Ah, so Hyuk didn’t just decide to withhold information from me. At least he’s a consistent idiot,” she said.

There was a beat of silence before YN pulled herself together and decided that she would unleash her feelings later and handle her predicament in that moment.

“So, shall we sit and talk?” she asked.

Hyungwon stared at her for a moment before nodding. At that YN motioned towards a table she’d set up for them and went to sit down. She waited a moment for him to settle in before pushing a folder across the table. And though clearly confused he took it and flipped through the contents.

He scoffed. “What is this, a college orientation? Am I to read and sign all of these, then be punished if I fail to do them or disregard them?”

“Yes.”

That startled him, but YN didn’t give him time to recover.

“That contains all the information that you need to know about this business. How it is currently run, it’s vendors, it’s monthly costs, the excel sheets we use to track information so that we can make small changes here and there to stay on top of how to best run things. And as you saw on top, explains the rules that I’ve laid out for you as co-owner. They are the same for anyone who wants to take on that role and besides small adjustments have remained the same throughout my use of them. They are not fYNible. With a compelling argument I may be willing to bend something but the odds are virtually nonexistent. They must be understood and abided by and any of them that are major violations will be cause for termination of your co-ownership, without a mandatory buyout from me. Which is something that was in the contract that Hyuk gave you, so you’ve already agreed.”

“That’s not allowed. I saw it, but it didn’t go into-”

YN laughed. “You signed a contract without meeting with the other co-owner, the person who owns fifty-five percent of this bar. Thus, not allowing yourself the chance to get all the information. Which means you forfeit the right to suddenly demand a change on something you agreed to blindly. My rules are not outlandish, they are just specific and demand that you are serious or at the very least don’t get in my way.”

Laughter escaped Hyungwon, but it clearly held no humor. For a moment he looked prepared to argue or leave, but he simply reopened the folder and read over the first few sheets. Though there were a few sounds that were akin to disapproval that wasn’t what reflected on his face when he glanced up several minutes later. It was more so a look of mild amazement.

“This keeps anyone who buys in from doing anything slightly shady behind your back or straight up dumb without mutual decision. It’s ironclad, makes sense not to put it directly into the contract since you’re opposed to negotiating that part,” he said.

Part of her felt proud, though it was solely because she knew she’d done things well in that respect. But the other part of her was displeased that the pride appeared from hearing a form of praise from Hyungwon, even if it wasn’t directly from impressing him.

Naturally, he couldn’t leave it on a positive note though.

“Too bad you didn’t come up with one where it stopped him from fucking you over,” Hyungwon mumbled.

“Yeah, so sad, if only we could make those kinds of things for everyone we encounter. Though I guess something for me to hold people accountable for fucking me over wouldn’t be something you’d be personally interested in. Could be used against you,” YN said without missing a beat.

Hyungwon’s face went red after that and she could see a flurry of emotions playing out on his face but could pick up on none. Not that, that lessened her amusement at all. She’d gotten a reaction out of him and it was childish, but felt wonderful nonetheless.

“Is there anything else you need to show me?” Hyungwon finally asked after a minute.

YN nodded and stood from her seat.

“I can show you around the place and explain how things run. However, I ask that you hold all questions until you have absorbed all the information, I don’t mind if you use your phone or something to write things down as I talk. But if you think it’s important to know please stop me and ask.”

All she got was a nod before she led him around the space. She showed him the back rooms, including the office, and explained how things worked schedule wise with everything. Then she brought him back out front and pointed out things behind the bar to get him acquainted with how things worked. Then she led him through the space and showed him the balcony that gave the best access to their view of a skyline and water off in the distance. Once finished she brought him back inside and was about to wrap it up, but then he spoke.

“How many employees are there?” he asked.

“Including myself seven. With the way we currently operate, more aren’t needed, but there is still a chance we could hire a few more.”

Hyungwon nodded. “And I’m guessing he’s one.”

That was the first time YN glanced Yoongi’s way since Hyungwon appeared and she turned to see the male drinking his water and scrolling through his phone.

“Yes, Yoongi has been here almost a year now.”

At the sound of his name Yoongi looked up and while he didn’t seem particularly fond when he glanced Hyungwon’s way he did offer YN a smile, one she returned happily.

After that her attention moved back to Hyungwon who glanced between the two of them and looked prepared to say something but didn’t.

“Well, is there anything else you need or would like to see? We open pretty soon so we’re running low on time,” YN said.

Seconds ticked by as she watched Hyungwon stare at her but seem off in his own little world. It was something that was the norm for when he debated on what to say or do so it wasn’t surprising, but it made her uncomfortable.

“Hyungwon,” she called out.

He snapped out of it and cleared his throat. “No. I’m good. I’ll just sit off in one of the back corners for a while to watch how things go and then leave.”

A nod and then YN left him to do what he wanted. The two waitresses for the night arrived just then and everyone got their behinds into gear. Then minutes later their customers began filing in.

Though YN’s mind reeled from what happened she didn’t get the chance to linger on it, because work became the focus quickly. She enjoyed bartending so she did that alongside Yoongi and though the place wasn’t packed, people tended to order drinks rapidly. And since their bar had made its name for mixed and signature drinks it wasn’t just rounds of shots. They needed to mix drinks and do it right, half-assing it to get it out quickly wasn't something they did. Especially since part of the draw for some, besides the drinks, was watching them being made. They enjoyed some sort of show with it, though neither YN nor Yoongi went all out to impress, just did what they needed to with focus and a slight flourish.

So, by the time she caught her breath and wasn’t focusing on anything work related and glanced up to find Hyungwon she noticed his former spot taken up by someone else. He was nowhere she could see, so she assumed he left and felt herself sigh in relief. It didn’t clear the chaos she kept at bay in her mind, but helped it settle some.

However, she again didn’t get time to linger on it because they’d done the last call and an influx of orders came on. She and Yoongi worked to get them out and were thankful when people began to leave, some stumbling to the exit with the help of security.

From there everyone immediately began working on their sections to clean and an hour and a half later they were all on their way out the building. YN saw off her waitresses and security then prepared to say her goodbyes to Yoongi only for him to be giving her a look she saw when he’d offer to join her on the way home and she’d deny.

Which meant that fighting him on it would’ve been useless, so she just began walking towards the train station.

For several minutes they did so in silence and though YN seemed calm it was clear that she was fighting something off. Something she didn’t want to talk about or at least that’s what she told herself until Yoongi spoke up.

“You can scream if you want,” he said.

That made her pause and then laugh loudly. It brought on looks from the few people lingering about late at night, but she didn’t care at all. One would’ve thought she was laughing at the idea of screaming to release her feelings, but it was more so that screaming is what Johnny had her do when the incident happened years before. He got her drunk, took her to the top of a building and they screamed until she was a laughing mess on the ground. He’d had to carry her home after.

“I wish that was the fix for this. Hell, I wish I didn’t have such a strong reaction to him after all this time.”

Again, silence filled the space as they began walking away and neither of them spoke again until they were seated in a half-deserted train car. Yoongi took that as the perfect moment to bump her shoulder to get her attention and it worked.

“You could tell me about it. You don’t have to of course, but it could help the feelings a bit,” he offered.

At that YN sighed and her eyes closed. A lot of her screamed to let it die so she didn’t have to deal with the emotions again, but a smaller voice reminded her that the feelings would always be there and she probably only felt so intensely because she’d been forced to endure them in front of someone who didn’t know what happened. If it had been Johnny or her by herself she’d be better about it. And she had to remind herself she trusted Yoongi a whole lot, so telling him wasn’t the end of the world by any means.

Once she’d made peace with her choice her eyes opened and she turned so her back leaned against the small wall blocking her seat from the door. She knew that if she told him it had to be while looking at him.

“As you may know I have an ex that Johnny loathes with his entire being. I’m sure you remember that drunk rant that he gave the first month of you working there,” she paused to see his response and once he nodded she continued. “Well, I know he went on and on about planning to beat up all the people who’d ever hurt me, so there were a lot on that list. Anyway, he got to talking about an old friend before he ran to the bathroom to throw up. That friend was Hyungwon or my new co-owner, I don’t think I told you his name. But yeah, he was my best friend. Like that friend I made the moment I came to orientation and looked every bit of the confused foreigner I was. We clicked and he felt like the best friend I’d made in my entire life. Even helped me figure out how to work up the nerve to talk to my ex to ask him out.”

YN sighed and used her hand to push back a few loose curls that had slipped from her bun. The voice telling her to shut up got louder and she knew if she wanted to stop she could, but something about the attentive look on Yoongi’s face stopped her.

“In our senior year things were beyond stressful. He was dealing with family business stuff and his father has always been a difficult man. While I was dealing with trying to find a job so I could keep a visa and stay in the country, while also trying to graduate. We barely saw each other and I barely saw my boyfriend either despite usually sleeping at his every night. I decided to change that one night, I messaged Hyungwon to schedule a hang out and he agreed. Then I grabbed some food and snacks and headed to my boyfriend’s. I was at most an hour earlier than when I said I’d be coming, something not out of the norm for me and it wasn’t like he didn’t know.

“It was so quiet that I assumed he was asleep. I made sure to keep quiet as I settled in and then creeped towards the bedroom. However, I didn’t make it there, because while a few feet away the door swung open and I was met with him in his boxers and a disheveled Hyungwon. They didn’t notice me right away or at least I like to think so since they started making out and didn’t stop until I cleared my throat. The expressions of shock at that point are barely a memory because I’d started to tear up and just turn and left. They both attempted to reach out, but obviously I shut them down.”

After she finished Yoongi’s expression shifted to shock and then anger.

“And yet he acted like he was superior and has nothing to be sorry for when he came in today. What kind of bullshit is that? He should at least appear apologetic,” he said.

YN went to answer, but they were at her stop so she waited until they were off the train and up the steps.

“Hyungwon’s default expression is resting bitch face, especially when trying to hide some sort of emotion behind it. And he will lay it on thick. But he also is likely to force that and a haughty demeanor because he just does. It’s a defense mechanism, especially when he feels wronged in some way. He turned it on me a week after it was clear I wasn’t forgiving him. He’d prefer to be the one who is uncaring, then to endure too much emotion. No matter if he’s the cause of it.”

“What kind of fucked up shit is that? He messed up, not you. You had every right to refuse to deal with him or forgive him,” Yoongi said.

YN shrugged. “To a degree it’s a defense mechanism that I understand even if I don’t agree, but sometimes it does make him more of a douche than he’s going for. But it is what it is.”

They walked the short distance to her apartment in silence and YN couldn’t help but realize how much better she felt. It didn’t fix everything, but it helped more than she thought it would. Johnny usually was the one to get her calm enough to process the rest and she knew that once she told him the news he’d help her overcome the lingering emotions more, but with the chance to vent to the two people she trusted the most it was different.

Once they reached her apartment she turned and pulled Yoongi into a hug. He went stiff for a second before he hugged her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No problem,” he said in return.

She held him for a few seconds longer after that and then let go, gently nudged him towards the cab that pulled up at the most convenient time out of nowhere. Or at least she tried to pretend she didn’t order it when he wasn’t paying attention, but just like every other time she did it he saw through her.

They waved at each other and she went inside once the cab pulled off. On the elevator up she couldn’t stop the smile on her lips. Her brain had halted its existential crisis and focused on the memory of Yoongi’s own smile as the car departed. It was beyond cute and she’d told him that when she’d first saw him do it, but what she felt in the elevator was different. There was an all-consuming happiness and a weird feeling in her stomach as she thought of it then.

The smile didn’t leave until she was sitting at the table with Johnny eating fried chicken too late at night and telling him what happened. He ranted and raved, even made a few threats, which brought the feeling back again, but that time directed at her roommate.

Weeks passed, and though YN hated the arrangement for multiple reasons she got used to it. Hyungwon didn’t try to implement any major changes and most of what he did was stuff she’d planned to do months later when they had more than enough funds for it.

Though there was one thing she’d agreed to that came with some regret. Or at least regret is what filled her as she had to endure a couple who didn’t understand distance and chose to sit at the bar.

The moment they strolled in, clinging to each other, they’d made a beeline for her side of the bar and told her how they’d seen the bar mentioned on the account of some popular new actor and then promptly shoved a phone in her face to show her. All it took was a single glance to know that she’d never seen that man in the bar before and the picture had been taken around a time they weren’t open. He was sitting on the bar’s balcony with a drink in hand and you could see people enjoying themselves behind him, but they appeared to focus on appearing in the right angle of the picture for it not to be fully staged. Which meant it was Hyungwon’s doing.

YN agreed to allow him to expand social media reach because though she did it, sometimes it wasn’t the best that it could be. However, their definitions of expansion differed and about four celebrities that had never been there had posted about having such a good time at that bar. Something that brought in business, but also forced YN and her staff to lie when asked by customers. And customers asked a whole lot when they came in, needing every detail down to what the celeb smelled like.

It was annoying but arguing about it with Hyungwon ended up with her just conceding in annoyance every time. Despite the nuisance of it, she truly didn’t have it in her to keep the back and forth with him on the subject. Doing it just didn’t prove to be worth it.

So, she and everyone endured the nonsense. Though as she watched the couple get increasingly touchier she almost stormed off into the back office to put a stop to it once and for all. In fact, she’d turned to tell Yoongi that she was going to step away but was distracted in a second.

“YN!” Johnny shouted as he approached the bar.

From the moment she laid her eyes on her best friend she noticed the offness. The giant stumbled a little while he walked and there was a slur to his words. His clothing was also a little less put together than usual and though not noticeable to most people it’s something she picked up on after years of enduring his quirks.

“Johnny, I thought you had a date,” she said.

That immediately made him frown at her. Of course, she guessed how well that had gone, but she knew that he preferred to explain to her about how bad it was, so she got the true dramatic effect. So instead of saying anything she allowed him to take up a seat at the bar and got him the coldest bottle of his favorite beer that she had. He took it happily and downed half of it before he began his story.

“She wanted me to be a third in her relationship. Brought the boyfriend and everything. Which we all know I’m fine with and my dating profile says that, but you warn a person beforehand. She said she was single and then boom, boyfriend suddenly.”

He paused and downed the rest of the bottle, which was quickly replaced with another by Yoongi who happened to be moving by. Johnny gave him a grateful nod and picked it up, but just held it.

“And that would also not be the worst thing in the world, but then the entire time the guy kept sizing me up and then asking the most sexually invasive questions. At one point he asked me how big my dick was and seemed ready to whip his out so that we could compare them. I had to drink to get through the entire thing and sped out of there the moment the bill for dinner was paid. Blocked her dating account, her social media, and number on the way here. Then had to block his number, because apparently blocking her wasn’t enough of a hint for them,” he said.

YN winced hearing that part, because she couldn’t imagine enduring something so awkward and then creepy as that. Nor could she imagine not understanding when someone wasn’t interested after such intensive blocking.

Pathetic was the word that came to mind.

“Well, I’m glad you escaped them. You get to drink that one and one more, then you switch to water. Also go back and heat up my lunch or have someone grab it for you, you need something else in you and I didn’t get around to eating it myself,” YN said.

That changed Johnny’s demeanor in an instant and he glared at her, but before he could scold her about not eating properly Hyungwon appeared.

“YN, if you’re not busy up here can you come back into the office to help me with something? It’ll only be a few minutes, I want to know I’m doing this right,” he said.

Johnny’s glare shifted from her to Hyungwon, but neither of them paid him any mind.

“Sure, I’ll be back there in a sec,” she said.

Hyungwon nodded and disappeared again. And though it was clear that Johnny had something to say YN ignored him, turning to tell Yoongi only to get shooed away before she could open her mouth. She shot him a quick thumbs up and then hustled back to the office.

“What’s up?” she asked as she closed the door behind her.

The moment Hyungwon had her close enough he pointed to the screen of their computer and started to explain how he’d tried to do something in the excel sheet for the month’s vendor expenses but something went wrong. He walked her through the whole process before she stepped in to show him what he’d done wrong for it to not to work. And then they went over some of the other sheets to ensure they were right, as well as some of the vendor request forms that needed to get done by that time the following week.

It was an easy conversation and though weeks before YN thought she’d still be awkward and apprehensive; she’d managed to find a good groove in dealing with Hyungwon as a business partner and ignoring the pain from the past. He was someone who put himself fully into his work, so it wasn’t hard to mesh with him on the subject. In fact, he got more work down in the weeks he’d been on board than Hyuk in the years he was YN’s partner. She never minded doing all of the work before, but she also would never deny that having some of the weight off her was refreshing. Even in situations where she had to double check and teach Hyungwon the ropes a few times.

When they were done she stood from her seat and stretched, her eyes meeting the clock to see she’d been back there for almost an hour.

“Is there anything else you need?” she asked.

Though Hyungwon shook his head at first, he stilled for a moment and then whipped around to look at her. The expression on his face startled her with its seriousness, his eyebrows furrowed and the frown on his lips was intense. There was also a glint in his eyes that she recalled from when he found out some not happy news and a part of her worried greatly about what he’d say.

“Actually. I would like to apologize,” he said.

That confused YN for a second because she’d still be in work mode, until she saw the way his body sagged and then it clicked in her head. Her hands went up in defense as she shook her head rapidly.

“You don-”

“Please let me talk?”

And though her whole body screamed to not let him continue she couldn’t find it in her to not let him get whatever it was off his chest. So, she took a deep breath and nodded so that he’d continue, she didn’t trust herself to say the right thing.

“I know I apologized then and I meant it, even if I did the thing where I pretended like it wasn’t my fault and that you should’ve forgiven me. I fucked up on so many levels and I didn’t mean to. I need you to know that it was never my intention, I just… I don’t know how to explain it. That night is a weird blur of sadness, drinking, and feeling someone wanted to be in my presence and cared about my feelings. I gave in for stupid and selfish reasons. He told me you’d broken up over a week before, but even then it wasn’t an okay thing to do. I know that. I knew when I agreed. I knew when it happened. And I knew the entire time after.

“I have no valid excuse for my betraying you like that. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. And I’m even more sorry that I’m messing with your dream. It wasn’t my intention at all. I swear to you I didn’t know you were the co-owner when the contract was signed. And I’d planned to back out after I found out, but it was too early in the contract for me to be able to sell it to you and I would’ve had to sell it back to him. And I’ve worked with Hyuk before, he will continue to fuck things up. And I guess I’m using a lot of words to say I’m sorry and I’m rambling, so again I’m truly sorry.”

By the end of his tangent YN was left confused and unsure. She could see the sincerity, something he’d never been able to fake, and she knew he felt sorry for his actions when it happened, but she didn’t know how to respond. There was nothing in her head that felt like an accurate response to what he’d said. Especially the apologies, because she’d forgiven him a year after the incident. Not in a whole ceremonious way of letting it go to move on, but she realized she moved one already. The hurt wasn’t gone and she knew if she saw him her reaction would not be positive, but she knew that if she did see him and he spoke to her she’d probably be willing to talk it through with him. Hell, she’d thought about it for half a second when he first stepped foot into the bar, but he’d chosen the snooty demeanor and she’d thrown it away in an instant.

All of that uncertainty must have been clear to Hyungwon, thankfully, because he cleared his throat to regain her attention and then smiled at her. A real smile. The first smile she’d seen on his face since the first time she’d seen him again.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. You don’t have to say anything ever really. We can act like I didn’t say anything at all and keep going how we’re going. I just wanted you to know that,” he said.

YN’s mind scrambled to find a response after that because it didn’t want to have said nothing, but she ended up nodding and walking out without saying a word. She’d made sure to keep her expression light and offered a small smile before she turned away so he didn’t think she was running from him or hated him.

With her mind going a mile a minute she stepped into the staff bathroom to use it and run a cold, wet paper towel across the back of her neck to help calm her down. When she got worked up she got hot and needed to be brought down before it spiraled. It only took five minutes before she felt ready to head back out to the bar, though she wasn’t completely herself as she went.

A large part of her wanted to go back and yell at Hyungwon and then have a heart to heart, but she willed herself to keep moving forward.

However, when she reached the end of the hall she wished she’d done that. People seated at the bar had left and moved elsewhere, which made it easy for her to spot Johnny nursing a glass of water. He looked ready to drink it, but something else had his attention. Someone else.

Yoongi was standing directly in front of him, body bent over so that his arms rested on the bar between them. He wore a wide smile and reached over to poke Johnny’s cheek as they laughed together.

They were so close to each other and so comfortable, that it was almost romantic. Then with bated breath YN watched as Johnny ran his hand through his hair and winked at Yoongi, something he only ever did when he was flirting. A quirk that she’d pointed out to him once that he’d never noticed he did. But that wasn’t what made her stomach churn, it was the light blush that coated Yoongi’s cheeks as he punched Johnny’s arm.

Both men were flirting with each other and by their expressions it was far from the playful kind they’d done once when some girl kept hitting on Yoongi and wouldn’t understand no until Johnny stepped in as his “boyfriend.” Oh no, their flirting was real and natural.

And YN didn’t know which one it hurt more seeing do it.

At least once a month there was an event held at the bar and so YN wouldn’t open it to the general public. And by some miracle one fell on a Sunday and was during midafternoon, which meant she didn’t have work the next day and they wouldn’t be open late into the night. Both things were something she needed after over a week of feeling at her lowest.

The down feeling wasn’t new by any means, but it didn’t make it easier. Nor did her avoidance of Johnny, who usually knew the right things to say to get her out of a funk.

It was a consequence of her avoiding her roommate.

After she’d seen his interactions with Yoongi at the club she’d gotten over things pretty quickly, but they didn’t stop there. Though both males had talked before their communication ramped up. They were texting often and sometimes even video chatting. Along with that came an increase of them hanging out. On one free day YN had swung by to bring Johnny food at his shop, but when she appeared Yoongi was already there and they were eating. Of course, they invited her to join and she did, but it hadn’t been fun for her. Which was how she described all her hang outs with them. It was the constant third wheel kind of feeling and seeing as she had no time to adjust to her realization of feelings for both of them, she definitely didn’t have time to adjust to them possibly getting together.

All of it was too much at once and only aided along the low she felt. Which meant she turned to avoiding them when she could. Some things were changing for the club and that meant she had a built-in excuse to be busy. That coupled with her clearly being down meant that they left her be when she said she wanted to venture out alone or with other friends. And they definitely didn’t stop her if she just said she wanted to lay in bed all day and be left alone. She’d ensured that she did it a normal amount so not to alarm them and it worked for her.

Well, only worked in the matters of not being forced to third wheel. Though the times they hung out in the apartment while she locked herself in her room didn’t do much for her whole, dealing with feelings plan.

Not that she dealt with them well when not around them.

However, the day of the event she saw the light at the end of the tunnel for her funk. YN woke up feeling on top of the world and everything ran so smoothly from then on. They’d set up, received the guests, and kept the event running without incident. Minus the very drunk man who got weirdly passionate about telling the story about how the wine he was drinking was made and then proceeded to spill it.

Hell, even seeing how Hyungwon and his boyfriend mingled without issue brought her some sort of joy. And that joy was how her brain drowned out the voice that told her that Hyungwon’s boyfriend seemed familiar and not in the good way. Something that would have persisted if not for Johnny having approached her.

“Isn’t that the guy who showed up to that weeklong dating event with a different person each time?” he asked YN.

That was all it took for her brain to kick into gear and her head whipped over to look where Hyungwon stood with him. It took a single second to see his face and then recall all the times he’d come in with people and sometimes left with someone else. Or at the very least flirted with others, slipping people, including YN, his number while his date was preoccupied. He’d made her uncomfortable.

Those things weren’t cool and alone were enough to alarm YN, but that wasn’t the issue she found herself focused on when she stared him down. No, the problem was that when Hyungwon had appeared at the bar and introduced his boyfriend he’d spoken of how they’d been together for almost two years. That series of events had happened only two months before he became her co-owner. Meaning the man was a worse cheater than she’d thought he was.

“Oh, fuck me,” she groaned.

“Yeah,” Johnny said.

Though YN avoided eye contact with him most days the tone of his voice made her finally meet his gaze and it wasn’t comforting. In fact, he appeared a bit uncomfortable and unsure of how to react to the situation. She thought it was because of what happened, but then she glanced down to his hand and saw a business card in it. It showed Hyungwon’s boyfriend’s name and work info, but with a quick flip YN saw another number scribbled on back along with something about calling for a good time.

The man held no shame. Hitting on people with his longtime boyfriend present and the photographer of the event no less. Someone they’d hired to work it and would report back to them for how everything went. Truly the worst possible person because despite the possibility of lack of moral compass, the odds weren’t that great that he wouldn’t tell the person who hired him what transpired with their boyfriend.

A headache from it all was an understatement for what YN felt about it. But she knew what she had to do despite it all.

“Just…” she trailed off, taking the card from him and slipping it in her pocket. “Just don’t talk to him about it. I’ll bring it up when we wrap up for the night. It’s better I do it.”

“Are you sure?”

She wasn’t but nodded anyway.

Johnny didn’t believe her, but when she shooed him away to continue taking the photos he went without much hesitation.

From there she just worked to get through the last two hours of the event. She kept the bar going and even took a turn as a waitress when things got a little hectic since she hadn’t thought she’d need many staff on hand for something not that big.

Naturally, she hoped that it all was enough to keep her mind preoccupied, but that wasn’t the case. Any time she wasn’t focused, even for a second, her brain thought about it. And it was worse whenever she glanced up to see the both of them together as if one of them wasn’t a horrible human being. So much of her hated the idea of Hyungwon being hurt like that, even with their own past. No one deserved that. Plus, they’d made a lot of progress since he’d made that apology and YN had started to feel good around him. Like she actively wanted to be there. They’d even eaten lunch together a few times.

By the time everyone had cleared out and the staff was almost ready to go she snapped out of her own thoughts of dread to pull Hyungwon to the side. She said something about something she needed him to look over before he left for the night and he followed her to the office without hesitation. Which was good for her nerves, but not enough to quail the new set of anxiety that hit when his boyfriend said he’d wait and sat down at one of the tables. She would’ve preferred if he’d not been there to be confronted in her presence, but she didn’t have the luxury, so she pushed through.

When they entered the office she took a deep breath and turned to face Hyungwon, who appeared a bit startled and she assumed her expression aptly portrayed the discomfort and nerves she felt.

“I could prolong this because that’s totally what I want to do, because this makes me extremely uncomfortable, but I feel like you need to know. Your boyfriend has been here before. And not like just a random patron, but a person coming here on dates with people. Even attended a few events with a date in the last three months or so. And for the most part they’re always different people. And to make matters worse he’s always flirting with someone else when his date is away or even right in front of them. He’s hit on multiple staff members before, including me. Also, he slipped Johnny his card, with his personal number and a… flirtatious message on it.”

YN spoke so quickly she wasn’t sure he understood her, so the frown that appeared on his lips was what she used to indicate she could continue going. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the card, but before she could hold it up for him to see or hand it to him his hand was on her wrist.

Startled, she looked up to see the frown had left his face and he’d gone for a much more neutral expression, though his eyes held fire behind them. It almost made her flinch.

Hyungwon scoffed. “I didn’t think you’d stoop to this. He’d never even heard of this bar before I told him I was going to become a co-owner nor would he have the time to do that. Also, what could possibly be the problem with coming here with other people if he did. He can bring friends to events or out for a night of partying. My goodness YN why would you even try to spew such false info-”

Before he could finish, YN put a hand over his mouth. That confused him but didn’t stop the way he looked at her. And that only made her angrier.

She’d listened to his little rant about how she was wrong and hoped that he would change course. Hoped that the way his tone wavered every now and then was indication of him not believing his own words, but he kept going. If she hadn’t stopped him YN was sure he’d descended into words much less passive in calling her liar and into much more hurtful talk. And with the way she felt she couldn’t endure that. She refused to be hurt by him when all she wanted to do was help.

“I would never make up something like that. And I am not as stupid as to think people hanging out in a bar or doing the bare minimum of hugging is cause to deem them together. Nor would I sit here and make up being uncomfortably flirted with and Johnny getting his number and a not so ‘I want to be friends’ note from him. Something I was just going to show you. But that doesn’t matter to you apparently. Because someone who's been harmed by something as bad as cheating would totally make that up for shits and giggles or for some sort of revenge. Because I of all people who has let much worse slide would do that, right? Don’t believe me, that’s fucking fine. Live your life thinking I’d lie about that or misunderstand. But if you want to pull your head out of your ass you can look at this card, you can look at the files on the computer to see pictures from events, you can check the bar’s website and social media for the pictures too. Hell, go ask Johnny for them. He has more than he gave up and with the way he was making out with most of them I’m sure he has something to show that.”

After that YN didn’t wait for a reply, she simply turned on her heel, grabbed her bag, and stormed out of the room. She went out front so she could tell her manager to finish locking up and tell Johnny she wanted to leave, but when she got out there she saw something that made her feel even worse.

Johnny and Yoongi were standing across from each other at the bar laughing and being all touchy. It wasn’t the worst thing ever, but then they leaned in close enough that they looked ready to kiss until Yoongi happened to notice YN and turned to look at her. His smile dropped and he stepped away, moving to get from behind the bar but she didn’t stay put.

YN all but sprinted out of the building with three voices calling out to her. And she didn’t stop until she was in a taxi, sobbing and asking to be taken to some bar that was far away from her own business and home so they wouldn’t stumble upon her.

From then on time moved in a way that she couldn’t comprehend. She reached the bar and immediately muted her ringer to avoid calls or texts. And once inside she greeted the bartender she was familiar with and asked for a drink. Something she did until she was so drunk that she just barely was cognizant of what was happening around her. Of course, she wanted more, but she needed to be responsible despite all the things that had crumbled right in front of her.

“I called you a taxi, it’s out front. Go home YN,” JB, the bartender, said.

Though part of her wanted to say no she simply nodded, paid, and headed out to the taxi that waited for her. She managed to walk normally until she reached the taxi where she stumbled a bit and had to be helped inside. Once she and her driver were in their seats she slurred her words and told him her address. He grunted and they were off.

The whole drive her brain kept trying to figure out how’d she’d deal with Johnny when she got home or Yoongi when she had to work. Her brain was so hazy that she couldn’t form full ideas for Johnny, but decided she’d just have someone else take her shifts with Yoongi. That answer made her so proud that she smiled and patted herself on the back.

However, the back patting stopped when the driver stopped and she got out, only to realize he’d dropped her a few blocks from her apartment. He’d driven off by then and she felt slightly more sober, so she started her trek home. There was some tripping over her own feet and stopping when her vision blurred but she did okay.

Ten minutes in though she felt her stomach drop as she heard a voice.

“YN? Got damnit, YN where have you been?” Yoongi called out.

Though she heard him clear as day she continued walking without even a glance backwards. She even put a pep in her step, though that was less about avoiding him and more about being miffed about the use of her full first name.

“YN, could you stop,” he said.

She continued ignoring him. Even when she stopped to put in the code to her building, when she stopped to wait for the elevator, and when both of them stood in the small space together. Yoongi was displeased, but he didn’t force anything simply followed behind her.

He tried to speak again once they entered the apartment, but he wasn’t the only one.

“Can you just answer m....”

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been calli...” Johnny started

Regardless of their concerns she continued to ignore them both, even tuning out what they had to say as she kicked off her shoes and deposited her bag on one of the hooks near the door. The plan was to walk past them and into her room where she would pass out, but as she made her first step she tripped over a box that she hadn’t seen.

Thankfully, they caught her and got her standing and steady. She muttered a quick thank you and then looked at what had been her undoing, only to see a box she’d asked Johnny to move multiple times.

That surely brought up some anger as her head whipped up so she could glare at him.

“Why can’t you just listen to what I say? Or better yet understand that there is an issue? That all signs point to a fucking problem if you do something like that? Why? I’ve almost hurt myself like ten times already and you have yet to move it!”

Johnny’s own anger subsided a little and he appeared sheepish for a second, mumbling an apology and moving the box out of the way. He turned to her after, but she didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say or talk about, so she attempted to storm off to her room as planned. Attempting was key in that, because the moment the foot that hit the box touched down on its own she cried out in pain.

“Fuck,” Johnny said as he caught her and held her up.

“Stupid fucking box!” she screamed.

“Oh, fuck. What can we do? How can we help?” a panicked Yoongi asked.

YN cursed a few more times as the throbbing settled in.

“Just take me to my room. I just want to sleep and not deal with this shit.”

Both men nodded and helped her to her room, carefully placing her down on the bed. From there she slipped off her jeans - she had leggings on underneath - and shrugged off her heavy sweater so she only had her sports bra on. After she got comfortable in the bed, using a pillow to put under her throbbing ankle and threw a bonnet over her hair, thankful to be wearing it braided.

As she got comfortable and prepared to sleep she realized that neither of them had left and when she prepared to tell them to both men crawled into the bed with her, getting on either side.

“What are you do-”

She wasn’t allowed to finish though because Johnny cut her off.

“Can we just stay? We know we stressed you out in the last few minutes and we feel like shit. It would make us feel better and if you say no, we’ll just sit on the floor or outside your door.”

Yoongi nodded. “We’d just feel better closer.”

Though she opened her mouth to argue she found that with the pain in her ankle and the alcohol wearing off she was too tired for it. So, she said nothing and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself and laying completely still until she fell asleep.

Or mostly fell asleep. With the two of them in her bed so close and radiating so much body heat she found it hard to slip completely. Not that either of them could tell that she wasn't asleep.

"It has to be more than the Hyungwon situation. I think I know what it is and that means we need to tell her soon,” Yoongi whispered.

"Wait. What? We have everything set for a week. Can it not wait?"

"Have you seen how she's been acting lately? She's pulling away from both of us and a week gives her more time to put more distance. We won't have a chance to come clean by then or even get a proper conversation in about it. She'll just think it's pity or not feel enough to care."

"Okay, tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, it's an off day and she's ahead of all her work, so even if she goes in it'll be fine."

Silence followed that and then soft snores.

Their words confused her, but she also felt her stomach drop as she imagined them saying they were together or any other thing that would make her distressed. Her mind couldn’t stop thinking of possibilities and she finally knocked out as a way to avoid the overthinking.

When she woke up it was around three in the morning and it was because she was overheated. Confusion filled YN as she couldn’t figure out the problem, only to open her eyes and see both men cuddled into her from either side. Everything came rushing back to her at once, but she was still tired enough that she prepared to ignore it and go back to sleep.

Until she noticed their hands intertwined over her body. Nausea hit fast and before she knew it, she slipped from the bed and exited the room. It was the only time she was happy that either of them were heavy sleepers.

She limped from her room and went to Johnny’s. She created a similar set up for her ankle and pushing down all negative thoughts she cuddled into one of his plushies and went to sleep. Though not nearly fast enough to stop the tears.

The day after chaos reigned, YN woke up surprisingly early but didn’t dare leave Johnny’s bed. She waited in the dark in silence until she heard Yoongi leave and then slipped into her room as Johnny was in the kitchen making coffee. She’d barely made it in without him catching her, but once she was inside and the door was locked, him knowing didn’t matter.

From then on she tried not to think about anything that occurred and just got undressed and into the shower. The focus was on getting clean and hoping that that hot water would help along her still sore ankle; resting it through the night had been enough to keep it from getting too bad and it hadn’t swollen.

After she was cleaned she made quick work of getting dressed and taking down her hair, allowing her twist out to take full form. It needed a little sprucing up and then she was done. Ready to tackle the day.

Though she didn’t know how.

Every few seconds her brain focused on the sounds of Johnny moving around the apartment. Mostly because he wasn’t in his room, but out in the living room near her door which meant that he awaited her exit. She hoped that he would leave and she would have an opening to slip out and avoid him a little longer, but she knew he was stubborn and didn’t have to work that day so he had all the time in the world.

Since grabbing her stuff and escaping wasn’t a perfect plan she was forced to sit on her bed and think out other ones. There was the obvious choice of talking to him, but with all that went on her head she didn’t want that. Plus, she wanted to be a punk for a while and not deal with whatever it was him and Yoongi planned to tell her. That left things like stay in her room all day, exit via the fire escape and come through the front to grab her bag and shoes, or just go out of her door and walk past him. Staying in her room would drive her up the wall and the fire escape on the building was not the best and she’d have to jump a foot or two to get off it, something that would agitate her ankle.

That meant that she had to walk past him, which meant she needed an excuse. She sat there thinking for a while until she remembered something important she’d put off and planned to do after the event. Something that was important to keep her business running and that she told Johnny about.

It was perfect.

So, after taking a deep breath she stood from her bed and exited her room with some faux confidence and a whole lot of fake indifference.

The moment she was in sight Johnny stopped his movement. He looked ready to move closer to her but seemed to think better of it. Something she was thankful for since she didn’t know if she could get away from him if he was close enough to stop her. He wouldn’t hurt her and would let her go if she asked but being stopped messed with the whole flow of things for her.

YN didn’t linger too long on what he was doing and just walked to the front door and slipped on her shoes. She then grabbed her bag and made sure her wallet and phone were there before her hand touched the door to open it.

And that’s when Johnny spoke up.

“Do you want to talk about what happened? I feel like we should talk about it. Among other things,” he said.

For a second that made YN freeze, but she recovered rather quickly. Maintaining her “indifference” she turned to look at his face for the first time since she walked out and shrugged.

“Maybe later. Don’t really feel like dealing with anything besides spreadsheets and those tax forms I need to get out by tonight,” she said.

Though Johnny still appeared prepared to push he seemed to resign himself when she said tax forms. As an owner of his own business he knew that was important and it took her awhile to get everything ready for her accountant. Which meant he simply collapsed onto the couch and nodded.

With that small victory YN opened the door and walked out. Part of her said she should at least say bye or when she’d be back, but she knew talking to him longer would’ve made it harder for her. She’d nearly cracked when she saw the worry and sadness etched into his face.

Time is what she needed.

No one foresaw five days of it to go by though. Not even YN.

After she’d bypassed Johnny she’d genuinely ended up too busy to have the energy for any sort of conversation. Mountains of paperwork hit and there were issues left and right. Even when she was in Johnny, Yoongi, or Hyungwon’s presence it was so work related that they didn’t even attempt to talk about anything else or ask her to speak later.

Even at home she was left alone, especially because she’d fallen asleep while responding to Johnny about what to order for dinner one night.

Friday night was when things slowed down and she took her usual shift bartending. It was a packed night because they were handling an event that they themselves were running to get more business. Which meant that most of the staff worked, as well as Hyungwon and Johnny who was hired to take pictures to go up on social media and their website.

It put YN right in the middle of all of them and it was uncomfortable, but she kept strong. Well, she committed to giving them the silent treatment unless it was about work. And it worked out pretty well for her, she managed to get through most of her shift without giving into any attempts to talk or pull her to the side.

The non-plan gave way for reasons she couldn't foresee though.

While she left to the backroom to grab more tequila she was trailed by Hyungwon, who’d tried to get her alone the moment she’d come to work that day. He was begging for a moment of her time even as they made their way back towards the bar, but she held strong. Something she regretted the moment she passed the bottles to Yoongi so he could prep drinks and then turned to see someone she didn’t want to.

Her ex, Jisoo, stood right in front of her bar with a few friend’s laughing it up. None of them noticed her for the first several seconds, which she was thankful for, but it didn’t last long enough for her to fully pull herself together. When Jisoo turned to request a drink he was met with a clearly shocked YN.

Jisoo appeared surprised as well, but he pushed that aside to smirk at her with a quickness.

“YN, I didn’t know you worked here. I just got back into the country and this was the first place my friends recommended. Small world. Oh, Hyungwon… what a surprise to see you here too,” Jisoo said.

That snapped YN out of it and she turned to see Hyungwon glaring at the male, his hand in a fist as he stared him down. For a moment she was reminded of the past as she looked at him. The pain rose up for a second and she felt sick having them in the same place, but she pushed it down. Despite their falling out they’d done well since reconnecting and she was mostly past it all, even close to asking him to hang out like a friend. Allowing a piece of shit ruin that wasn’t okay.

Never again would she allow Jisoo to ruin things for her.

With that spark of anger and confidence she turned to stare down Jisoo herself. She noticed Yoongi closer than before and Johnny standing behind the little group ready to pounce, but she waved them off. YN needed it to be her who went off.

“I own this bar and Hyungwon here is my co-owner, so naturally we would be here,” she said.

For a second Jisoo was knocked off his game, but it wasn’t long before he bounced back. He was like Hyungwon that way and YN hated it.

“Oh? I thought you two were no longer on speaking terms?” he said.

“Well, clearly what you thought was wrong,” Hyungwon chimed in.

Hyungwon’s words elicited a laugh from Jisoo for some reason and it made YN uneasy, but she held her ground. No matter what he threw she knew she could take it. There was no way she’d allow him to see her hurt or crying.

Jisoo shrugged. “I guess so. You’re still with Ji-ah though, right YN? Last I heard you and her hit it off.”

That was the thing to force a humorless laugh from her lips. Only Jisoo would mention her other ex whom he knew she’d broken up with a while ago when she’d moved to take a job at a company out of the country. A company that Jisoo worked at, at that.

Of course, he had to be a trash human in more aspects than one.

“No, but you know that. Since you hit on her, took her on a few dates, slept with her and then told her how you knew me. That's why you asked her out in the first place. You remember that, right? Oh, and you have to remember how she told your job that and so they demoted you, plus moved you to a different branch,” YN said.

And at last the smirk left his face. While pleased by that, YN didn’t ignore the way he tensed and the anger that covered every inch of his expression.

“I feel like you’re the one who should remember. Like remember how you cried when you saw us together. The hurt on your face as I kissed hi-”

Before he could speak anymore Hyungwon almost punched him in the face. If it wasn’t for YN hip checking him and thus making him stumble he would’ve made impact on Jisoo’s right cheek.

Once Hyungwon was settled and being held back by a staff member YN’s attention focused solely on Jisoo.

“I don’t want you or your friend’s here. Ever. So, I’m going to ask you to leave. There will be no argument. No putting up a fight. No asking to be given another chance. You will leave and never return, am I understood?” she said calmly.

Naturally, Jisoo opened his mouth to reply but YN cut him off by whistling. Within seconds two security guards were at the bar and Jisoo’s friends dragged him towards the exit. It was clear that he wanted to say or do something, but he left without much issue and after that YN could breathe.

However, breathing meant that it all came crashing down on her and the next thing she knew she ran to the office with tears streaming down her face.

The intention was to get in there alone and ride out whatever wave of emotion hit until she could pull it together and go back to work like nothing happened. Of course, that meant that the first part didn’t happen.

Hyungwon had followed behind her and slipped in before she could fully close the door. Though it bothered a part of her she didn’t have it in her to say anything or react. She did have the energy to cry harder though, her attempt at silent tears only lasting seconds before sobs wracked her body.

In her head all she could think about is what happened all those years ago. Except the pain she felt was amplified. YN knew it wasn’t because of that or at least the feeling wasn’t solely because of that. No, because after reliving that in her head her brain brought up every other failed relationship and honestly all the failures in her life. It didn’t stop playing the flashbacks until it reached the more recent things to fuck up her life plans and the uncertain romantic feelings she had to endure.

It was all too much, especially when it came at her all at once.

She ended up so in her own head that she didn’t feel Hyungwon pull her into his arms and hold her close. Didn’t hear the apologies and words of reassurance. Didn’t hear the curses about her ex. Didn’t even feel when he moved them from standing to sitting in a chair, her on his lap with her face in his neck.

And time passed so swiftly that she couldn’t tell how long they’d been like that once she’d come back to. But it didn’t matter because it heightened her embarrassment of what had occurred and she attempted to escape him, only to be held in place by bony fingers.

Once she stopped fighting Hyungwon removed one of his hands and used it to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Your crying is valid and don’t you dare think otherwise. None of that embarrassed or frustrated bullshit because you deserve to be able to release all that,” Hyungwon said.

Even after years apart he still knew her reactions to being overwhelmed through and through, and in that moment she was eternally grateful.

With a nod from her he didn’t stop there.

“That was unexpected and I’m sorry he was here. I forgot how horrible he could be and then he’s just gotten worse over time. You’d think someone would stop playing those games and trying to mess with people’s mental and emotional stability, but alas here he is. I think his company was planning to do an event here, I’ll tell them we’re canceling it and that he’s the reason. Might even throw in some security footage for good measure.”

YN opened her mouth to object, but Hyungwon gave her a look that shut her up.

“Besides that, and I know this is a horrible time, I want to apologize. The way I acted a week ago was uncalled for. When you said it, I believed you I really did. It was just something that wanted to deny that he would. Not necessarily for my own feelings, though they did come into play. But also, because he’s the one who came to me. I had no interest in him whatsoever, but he was persistent in a way that wasn’t creepy and I thought who would work that hard to just throw it away. Especially when they’d been the one to bring up the subject of marriage recently.

“So, I went on the defense and instead of just checking what you had to say or denying it and moving on I went to the worst possible conclusion. Said things I didn’t believe even as they left my mouth. And thus, for the second time since meeting you hurt you in a way that wasn’t okay in the slightest. And I understand that you may not want to work towards friendship. I like to think we were close to getting back or wanting to deal with me. I just want to apologize because you deserve one and I know I was in the wrong.”

What neither of them expected, least of all YN, was her to start crying again. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and she felt her body shake again as she let it out. Though she could tell he was confused by the way his body tensed, he didn’t say anything and simply rubbed her back gently as she cried it out.

About five minutes later YN spoke.

“You’re a fucking idiot and an asshole.”

Hyungwon laughed. “True. But you know what happened when you tried to get me to be nicer for that month. If we’re being honest you made me worse.”

YN laughed that time, remembering how Hyungwon spent every day being closely watched by her as he tried to not be snarky with people. By the end he’d given up and snapped on some annoying man that wouldn’t leave them be and she was sure she saw tears in his eyes as he ran away from the fuming Hyungwon.

He mellowed out after that, but when someone truly tried him he was a lot more than he used to be. YN marked that as a major fail and stuck to keeping him calm when he rightfully deserved to put someone in their place, which was oddly often at their school.

“Yeah, a mistake on my part. But at least I got you to start counting to ten before you unleashed yourself.”

“Ah yes, what a great help that is. Ten seconds longer of dealing with the idiots.”

They both laughed that time and when they pulled it together they talked. About everything in detail. Nothing was left off the table and by the end YN felt less weight on her shoulders.

By the time they were done about an hour and a half had gone by, meaning they’d been back in the room for over two hours and the bar was shutting down.

“I guess I should go help since I flaked on my shit at the end,” YN said as she got up from Hyungwon’s lap.

At first he nodded and got up too seemingly ready to follow her and the next he was giving her a look and grasping at her wrist.

“What?” she asked, confused.

“You need to talk to them.”

A groan escaped her immediately and her head tilted back as she blew out a puff of air.

“Nope. None of that. Talk to them. Tonight. And don’t be a stubborn brat and not let them finish what they have to say. I’m sure it would clear up a lot of things for her,” Hyungwon said.

There was no use in arguing because he would win and she knew he was right, even if she didn’t want to admit that to herself.

“Fine.”

And that was all it took for him to release her and take the lead on exiting the office. However, YN didn’t get the chance to leave right behind him. The moment Hyungwon was out, both Johnny and Yoongi stumbled in forcing her to take several steps back.

They both appeared nervous and disheveled, which helped calm YN for some reason. Though it didn’t get rid of all the feelings like she would’ve preferred.

“We need to talk. Now. We can’t keep putting it off,” Johnny blurted out.

If YN didn’t know how frazzled he got under pressure she’d be shocked by his actions, much like Yoongi who stared the man down eyes wide, but she’d known Johnny long enough to expect that kind of thing. What she was shocked about is how he didn’t dive into explaining right then and there.

Once she was sure he was done talking and that Yoongi had nothing to say she took over.

“We do need to talk. But it would be better not here. So, after we close up and at the apartment, yeah?”

That appeared to shock Yoongi more and Johnny too. They both probably assumed she’d be resistant or straight up tell them no. Things she debated on for half a second but couldn’t go through with.

“Okay,” they both said.

With that YN patted both of them on the shoulder and headed out to help.

About an hour after that everyone was done and headed out of the door. They said their goodbyes with the staff - and Hyungwon who hugged her while threatening what would happen if she didn’t give either man a chance to talk - then they got in a taxi to go back to the apartment.

Silence prevailed, which made YN awkward since she was sandwiched between them in the back seat, but she didn’t let it take over her. At least not too much. She held strong despite it and managed to make it out of the car and into the apartment without thinking of making a run for it.

The same couldn’t be said for either of the men though. YN hadn’t faced them until she was rid of her jacket and shoes and sat on the love seat, but the moment she did they froze. For a second they stared at each other both expressions unsure, but then they seemed to come to a consensus and finally fully entered the apartment, taking a seat on the couch.

Again, they were immersed in silence, but that only made things more tense.

“Go ahead,” she said.

Thankfully, they didn’t take long to react to that.

“We,” Yoongi started, pausing to look at Johnny before continuing. “We know we’ve done a horrible job at making things clear to you. We’ve been a little secretive and haven’t made the most effort in ensuring you were okay when we saw that something was off. It was a major fuck up on our part, one that could’ve prevented if I hadn’t been so stuck on keeping a certain timeline on how we should talk to you about this. And I’m starting to ramble when it was agreed upon that I would tell you so we could get straight to the point. And oh my fucking goodness, will I stop it already. Okay, basically we both want to date you.”

YN felt her entire body tense as confusion filled her.

“Excuse me?” she said.

That went unheard though.

“That’s not how we agreed you’d say it,” Johnny whined.

Yoongi scoffed. “It is. Well, not exactly but all the words I used were in the agreed upon statement.”

“Maybe, but you could have at least tried to eas-”

“Excuse me!” YN shouted.

That stopped Johnny and got both their attention.

“You don’t get to drop a bomb like that and then not elaborate. Especially to a very confused person whose last week has been trash. Explain yourselves.”

There was another silent moment of them staring at each other and then Yoongi gestured for Johnny to go ahead. Johnny rolled his eyes but turned his full attention to YN before speaking.

“What Yoongi said was true, we do both want to date you. But before you start to spiral and come up with your own conclusions let me fill in a few things. We’ve both known Yoongi for over a year now, you more than me. And he and I have always clicked despite how worried you were that he would slap me upside the head for being too friendly and getting in his space. It’s an easy kinda friendship we’ve had going, but then that day at the bar a few months ago we really clicked. I know we’ve been obvious about the attraction and it’s only built over time.

“The thing is we soon realized that both of us also feel something for you. Those feelings are from before we ever looked at each other that way and despite the growing feelings between us it was still there. Yoongi just about lost his shit when he realized and was very confused. And well, you know that most of my relationships have been poly, so it was nothing new for me. Though still kinda surprising because I thought I’d continue to live my life not acting on feelings for you I’ve felt for years.”

“I’m sorry what?” YN practically screamed.

The interruption earned her a glare which quieted her despite wanting an answer.

“As I was saying. I was planning to not act on them, but then suddenly someone else who I liked felt the same way for you as I did and it felt like a chance. That plus Hyungwon telling me I was an idiot for not realizing the crush you had on me before you got with dickwad back in college after he overheard me talking to Yoongi. But either way everything aligned and after I got Yoongi to accept that this was a viable option we started doing those group hangouts. To us they were test dates, but then we… well we…”

“We realized that we weren’t including you as much as we thought and could tell how third wheeling it felt,” Yoongi said.

Johnny nodded. “Yes, that. We failed to factor in as people who know each other, but don’t know each other and who are using those outings as dates we’d get caught up in each other. Which we realized but didn’t realize how bad until yet again Hyungwon overheard us. Told us we were idiots, because it was clear that you felt something for both of us and yet we were both going around acting like a couple in early days while dragging their friend who didn’t know we liked them around. And then we decided to fix things, but then the falling out with Hyungwon happened and nothing worked so we were unsure of what to do next besides maybe cornering you. So, yeah.”

With the way Johnny so abruptly ended that YN was left unsure of how to proceed. What had been said was a lot to take in. Not because it was wild or out of her comfort zone, but because despite feelings she’d had no time to process her own. She knew how she felt about them both, but she’d never allowed herself to linger on it too long to address how to handle things. And when she found herself finally admitting it things went to shit and she thought the only people she’d been interested in in years were on their way to dating each other without her ever having a real chance of seeing if either of them felt the same way.

Since YN hadn’t gotten that out of the way she definitely had no time to factor in any poly relationship. Like Johnny said she did know he was into it, but Yoongi wasn’t someone she knew well enough to know if he was down for that. He didn’t judge it, but not caring about how people lived their lives and actively participating were two different things.

Just the thought of having that conversation with him made her nervous despite it being more of what he would have done in the past and not in her present since she’d heard that he’d agreed with it. At least that’s what she thought they said. Her brain was frazzled.

“Hold on,” she finally said after minutes of silence. “So, I’m clear. You both want to date me and each other? You just failed to realize that you should’ve gotten to know each other better and go on dates alone, before trying to test out a poly relationship with me without my knowledge?”

“Yes,” Yoongi said while Johnny nodded.

Without warning pillows from the loveseat were in YN’s hands, she was standing, and said pillows were making contact with each male’s body.

“You. Two. Are. Fuckin. Idiots. How. Could. You. Not. Think. That. Through? What. Happened. To. Being. So. Got. Damn. Smart. Huh?”

Each word was spoken in time with the pillows swinging down on them. And though they squirmed they didn’t try to dodge or take them away from her. They let her keep going until she was satisfied.

Upon her clearly giving up her attack they both reach out and pull her down onto the couch so her body stretched out across them.

“Yes, we’re idiots. And we’re sorry about not thinking things through and telling you. But we’re idiots who are smitten with you and would like a chance to date you,” Johnny said, his hand moved to find the spot at the back of her head that she enjoyed being scratched. She didn’t even care that he was messing up her hair a little, just relaxed into the feeling.

“Ditto,” Yoongi said.

That drew glares from Johnny and YN, which he responded to by throwing his hands in the air in surrender.

“We are really sorry. And if you could let us date you, it would make me very happy,” he said.

His second response sated both of them and they relaxed back into their little moment. And as time ticked by they all grew more comfortable. There was more to talk about, but they cleared the space and it was clear they were all relieved. YN most of all.

Though she tried not to show it, YN felt giddy and wanted to giggle as she watched them both interact with each other and her. So much so that it slipped out when they both leaned over to press kisses to her cheeks. It seemed to amuse them, but she was so embarrassed she slipped away to change and scolded herself for the behavior. Not that she didn’t do it again when her mind replayed what happened.

They spent the rest of the night watching TV and eating food they’d ordered. It was peaceful and comfortable, so much so that they almost fell asleep on the couch.

Two in the morning rolled around before they all dragged feet to climb in Johnny’s bed and knock out. YN wanted to sleep on the outside of the bed, but ended up sandwiched between the both of them, not that she complained about it.

Once they were all comfortable they said their good nights and tried to sleep, but one adjustment by Johnny against her ass had YN slapping his arm.

“You cannot possibly be hard right now,” she whined.

Johnny pressed closer after that, grinding his dick against her ass more.

“You can’t possibly be calling me out on it right now as if it hasn’t happened before,” he mumbled.

“And both of you can’t possibly be having this conversation while I try to sleep. Go to bed before the next thing you’re both complaining about is how bruised and sore your asses are,” Yoongi chimed in.

Though it was meant as a means to shut them up all it did was elicit whimpers from both of them at the thought. That’s when Yoongi sat up and stared down at them and even in the dark they could see the smirk.

“Oh, you like that do you?”

They both nodded eagerly.

“Then strip.”

Neither of them had ever moved so fast in their lives and it was beyond worth it. Complaining was kept to a minimum the next day, but only because Yoongi took very good care of his babies and made sure to kiss their booboos all better.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 20: Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore...

Alt Prompt: Memory Loss. So kind of Lost, but also kind of not.

1140 Words; Apprentice AU

Garmadon was absolutely not allowing his son to go to Chen’s Island. But the choice had been taken out of his hands.

If Lloyd was going to go to Chen’s Island, he would not be going alone.

The choice to jump the gap and board the boat was obvious. Taking on a mentor role for his brother’s students alongside mentoring his son was unexpected, but nonetheless very sensible.

Dealing with Clouse, on the other hand…

Garmadon supposed it was inevitable karma. Clouse wasn’t the most unpleasant person Garmadon had ever had the displeasure of meeting, but he was most certainly far too petty about a rivalry that didn’t exist anymore.

He’d also picked up an apprentice at some point.

And he was being incredibly too smug about it, as though there was something he knew that Garmadon didn’t. True, Clouse knew many things that Garmadon didn’t—mostly magic related—but Garmadon felt like there was something more to it, something obvious that he was missing.

Clouse’s apprentice wasn’t all that assuming—he was tall, sure, and almost imposing in that mask he was wearing, but the almost timid way he held himself spoke more of a gentle disposition.

Whoever he was, Garmadon resolved to keep an eye on him. Something about the boy Clouse had taken as an apprentice just didn’t sit right.

But for now, Garmadon would watch and wait.

+=+=+=+=+

Something was wrong.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Rather, the Apprentice realized, something was not right. Not necessarily wrong, but most certainly off.

Perhaps it had to do with the Elemental Masters competing in Master Chen’s tournament?

That might be it, but that wasn’t really the Apprentice’s concern—Skylor was the one handling that.

Or maybe it was the Stranger in the cell? Well, he had a name, but the Apprentice felt that referring to the automaton as “the Stranger” just had a more… interesting feel to it. Interesting was certainly the word for why the Apprentice had started talking to him during his lunch hour.

It probably was the Stranger—or rather, what the Apprentice was planning to do during tomorrow’s conversation.

The Apprentice seldom showed his face if he could avoid it—it was why he’d taken the time to painstakingly craft and paint his mask, and why he’d always eat in private before going to the Stranger’s cell. It wasn’t that the Apprentice felt himself ugly, or had something to hide; he just got this strange feeling whenever he saw his face. And Master Chen, as per his vanity, had more than enough mirrors lining the halls that the Apprentice frequented.

In fact, he was standing in front of one now. It wasn’t one of Master Chen’s extravagant ones, but a simple mirror in one of the many washrooms for the various staff. It was cracked in the upper corner, and this washroom wasn’t frequented often—perfect for the Apprentice to make sure this was what he wanted to do.

With a sigh, he removed his mask.

Brown eyes stared back at him. His hair was mussed up a bit by his hood, but that hardly mattered. It was a face that was oh-so familiar, and yet—

It didn’t look right.

It wasn’t his eyes—those were unmistakably his eyes, a warm gentle mahogany. It wasn’t his skin, which was the same shade it always was this time of year. It wasn’t his disheveled hair or the tiredness of his expression, nor was it his teeth when he attempted a smile.

But something was irrefutably off.

Something knotted and almost ugly settled in his stomach the longer he looked. Something was off, and the Apprentice couldn’t figure out what. The answer was right there on the tip of his tongue, and he could not for the life of him figure it out. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Thoroughly dissatisfied, the Apprentice put the mask back on. That was much better.

“I should go see him now…” Yes, he should go see the Stranger. It would be rude to keep the automaton waiting.

+=+=+=+=+

Zane’s time on this island had not been the best.

Though that was kind of obvious, what with him being locked up in a cell with his only pleasant visitor being Clouse’s apprentice.

Who had refused to give a name when asked, but it was hardly Zane’s place to pry.

Pixal disagreed.

In fact, as Zane had been expecting, the apprentice showed up, only a little later than the usual time. They sat down not far from Zane, their back to the door.

“Hello, Stranger.” They greeted. Zane returned the greeting. It was their little game, the little routine they’d worked out.

“I couldn’t bring you any food today.” They said, “I’ll bring extra tomorrow to make up for it.”

Zane smiled sadly. “You know I do not need to eat.”

“Yes, but I also know you enjoy it.” They replied. Oddly, they were fiddling with the ends of their sleeves, as if they were nervous about something.

Zane tilted his head curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I don’t think so.” They said softly. “There’s… something I wish to do, but… I’m nervous.”

Zane considered that. “Well, if the thing you wish to do is difficult, then it makes sense for you to be nervous.”

“It’s not… difficult, exactly.” They swallowed. “I don’t really like showing my face, but… I trust you.”

They took off their mask.

And with that simple, innocent action, Zane’s world went screw-eyed, turned on its head by the face of the person before him.

Zane had listened to the gossip of passing guards. He had heard the apprentice himself talk in passing about the tournament. About how the ninja—his brothers were there, likely come to find him.

So why was Cole of all people sitting in front of him, mask in hand? Why was Cole of all people supposedly Clouse’s apprentice?

And if Cole was doing this to rescue Zane, then what kind of long game was he trying to play?

“Is… is something wrong?” Cole asked, his face the image of placid concern.

Zane stared blankly. “Cole…?”

Cole stiffened. “What did you just say?”

“Cole.” Zane stated. “What are you doing?”

“My name isn’t Cole.” Cole muttered.

That was very concerning. “I’m sorry, what? Cole, you’re not making any sense.”

“That’s not my name!”

“What has gotten into you?”

Cole glared. “Nothing. Nothing’s gotten into me. I’m an apprentice mage and my name is not Cole.”

“Cole—”

“Stop calling me that!” Cole roared, standing up abruptly. Gold hummed in the air around him.

Cole sighed, replacing his mask. “I’m sorry.” He turned around to leave.

“Wait, I—”

Cole paused in the doorway, hands shaking. “I won’t bother you again.”

And then he was gone.

And Zane was once again alone, with far too many questions and not enough answers.

What had happened to Cole?

[drbibliophile]

Sunday Romance 04-18-21

Prompt:  What am I to you?  

Word count:  1472 

Tagging:  @sunday-romance @sophiaroe @viawrites-andacts 

I feel like I’ve done this before, but I’m always game to try again.  Yes, there will be angst.  How can there not be?  This is not tied to any WIP.  No names.  Just a He and She.  

“What am I to you?”  

Her words had haunted him, burrowing deep under his skin and invading all the places of him he’d rather not know.  They haunted him still, echoing in his mind over and over.  

“What am I to you?”  

She’d asked it without anger, without recrimination.  He had been expecting it.  Yet she still managed to disarm him with it.  Somehow he managed to matter to her.  He knew that fact in a thousand different ways, even if she never said it outloud.  It was her way of asking if she mattered to him.  Just a simple question, asked in the quiet time after he’d enjoyed her, wringing ecstasy from her throat and body, and hoping secretly it was enough.  A question that should not have shook him.  

So he had answered simply.  That she was his prize, his reward for his loyalty and his work.  Nothing more.  She had taken the answer with grace, but he’d seen the hurt in her eyes, in the tightening of her hands against the sheets, and in the way she had turned her back to him to sleep.  Her question had come from her hope that perhaps she did matter.  Yet, how could she?  She’d been a prize, a spoil of war.  Men like him didn’t fall for their spoils.  So he had reminded her of her place, her worth.  She was a prize.  Nothing more. 

“What am I to you?”   

Except that really wasn’t the truth, was it?  He knew it then and he doubly knew it now.  A master strategist undone by a simple question.  So he’d evaded, not answer with the truth.  One didn’t show the other side what one was thinking.  That simply wasn’t done.  One didn’t show one’s vulnerabilities.  No.  One kept it hidden, secret, quiet.  So very quiet.  

“What am I to you?”  

He dropped his face into his hands.  Now, though, if he had the choice, he’d have answered differently.  He would have told her that she was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night.  That her smile delighted him.  That her laugh made all the rough and uneasy parts of him settle.  That he’d know the touch of so many women and men, but that her touch was the only one that he craved, needed like he needed air.  That when she called him by his name, his true name, he was home.  That she mattered more than title, loyalty, or duty.  That she was his very world.  That however poorly or cruelly or wrongly he managed it, he did love her.  

Yet, he hadn’t.  Not a word as to how she had him on his knees before her.  Not a hint that he’d have given everything for her.  Nothing.  He couldn’t afford to show the weakness.  Not if he wished to keep her safe.  Too easy for his enemies to take advantage of her and thus him.  No one could know.  He could afford the assumption that he was indulgent of his prize, but to actually care for her?  To let her matter?  No.  He couldn’t.  He had to seem to not care.  It was the only way.  Wasn’t it?  

So he had helped her escape.  Not that he would admit it, but it was time.  She had to go lest he forget himself.  If she wanted to stay, she could, but she’d taken the chance and run.  She hadn’t even hesitated.  She’d run and who could blame her?  She was free of him, no longer his prize.  He swallowed hard.  She was gone and he felt the loss of her with every breath.  

Which made today bitter beyond belief.  His betrothal, a matter he’d managed to stave off and avoid for years, was today.  A peace offering to cement the new treaty between his sovereign and another.  He’d tried to beg off yet again, but there was no mercy this time.  There was no one but him to marry, so marry he must, lest he risk even more royal displeasure.  Marry to bring two peoples together.  Bind himself to another and open himself up to the threat of children.  No, not threat.  The promise of children, but these children would not have her eyes nor her grin.  He swallowed hard, dragged down by a multitude of memories and regret.  He hated the regrets.  They pricked him like he had kicked a hornet’s nest.  No, his children would not have her hair nor her humor, but they would be his and he would love them.  He could ado that.  

He rubbed his hands over his face then through his hair.  Best get moving to meet his future bride.  He drained his goblet of wine then rang the bell to call his servants to dress him.  He scowled at the formal coat he hated wearing.  The embroidered cloth was stiff and stifled his movements.  However, it was necessary.  No point in antagonizing the other side by not looking his best.  

He allowed them to fuss over him, dressing him as he ought to be dressed.  He glanced at himself in the mirror.  He imagined her commenting on it, likely saying that he cleaned up rather well or something else equally teasing.  Sorrow flooded him before he pushed it away.  His bride wanted to meet with him privately before the formal betrothal ceremony.  Not the usual request, but also not beyond the pale.  It did prick his curiosity about her.  

He entered the room and stopped.  His bride had her back to him.  Yet he knew that back as he knew his own.  He’d studied it enough to know it well.  He struggled to breathe.  It was her.  How could it be her?  How… the door closed behind him, causing her to turn to him.  She studied him, her expression guarded.  He wanted to say so much, needed to say so much, but nothing left his lips.  All his words died at the impassivity of her look.   

She sighed, a small noise.  “You still do clean up well.”  

That snapped him out of his shock.  “Thought you’d say that.”  

“Did you?”  

“Yes.  I…”  He stopped, caught again by the sight of her here.  “Why?”  The word slipped out.  

Puzzlement crossed her face.  “Why what?”  

He moved towards her.  “You were free,” he rushed.  “Free from me, free to do as you will.”  He stopped within arm’s length of her.  “Why come back and bind yourself to me?”  

She studied him, her head tilting as she did.  “You assume I have a choice.”  

He winced.  Of course.  As he was compelled to this betrothal, so was she.  Yet, would they do that to her?  Force her to marry the man who’d taken her as his spoil of war?  Would they really be so cruel to her?  His heart ached again, now for the thought of her not wanting him.  Why would she after all?  

“We don’t have to do this,” he started.  

Her expression hardened.  “Not interested in marrying a spoil of war?”  

Her words stabbed like daggers into his heart.  “No, never.  I…”  He stopped, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.  He stared at the oak boards.  “I’ll not force you into a marriage you don’t want.”  

“But the choice isn’t yours nor mine.”  She moved a step closer to him, drawing his eyes back up to her.  “The decision has been made and we have to abide by it.”  

“No.”  He shook his head.  “Not unless you want this.  I can’t.  I…”  He stopped, defeated by her and not caring that he was.  “I will not be the cause of your hurt again.”  

“Thought I was just a prize.”  

He looked away, almost not able to breathe because of how much pain crushed his chest.  “I lied,” he confessed.  

“Why?”  

“It was easier.” 

“Easier than what?”  

He looked back at her.  “Easier than admitting that you mattered.”  

She straightened.  “And what am I to you now?”  

The question echoed through him.  A simple question with a simple answer.  “My heart.”  

“Oh.”  Her arms crossed over herself as she looked away from him.  “There was a time I’d have given much to hear you say that.”  

The pain in his chest sharpened.  “But no longer.”  

“Yes.”  His heart shattered at the word.  “No.”  He stared at her in shock.  “I don’t know.”  She threw her hands into the air before gathering herself.  “I thought seeing you would decide for me, but it’s only left me more confused.”  She held up her hand before he could speak.  “I could have said no.”  

That surprised him.  “Why didn’t you?”  

She snorted, shaking her head as she did.  “Because everytime I thought to do so, my mouth rebelled.”  She sighed.  “I chose this marriage.  Don’t make me regret it.”  

“Never,” he vowed. 

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse Chronicles Chapter 5 Part 1

Words: 1561

TW: Death, violence, blood CW: vampires, assassins

R:

His blush at her calling him “luv” was quite satisfying. Smirk widened. He was quite cute like that, hmmm, strange feeling there. Maybe this is why Arthur had fun making the ladies blush? 

Her ears were good enough to be able to hear them while she dispatched their enemies. The banter between these two suggested they were rather good friends. Good, that would make the transition easier. Certainly, it would be some time before Cal was able to make friends with the residents at the mansion, given what he had done to her. Arthur would likely be the least forgiving of them all, since he had treated her wounds personally.

<<Yes, I am one. Figured out yet I haven’t exactly aged since you got here?>>

Ah, now there was the answer to a question she had. She had suspected as much but left such things to the proper time.  Good to know she was escorting two vampires rather than a human and newly sired vampire. Next question would be who his sire was, but that would have to wait. 

They made their way through the citadel, she dispatching anyone that stood in their way. Even in the council room, she had worked with surgical speed and accuracy. Now, they stood outside what remained of the assassin’s league. She turned around and listened intently to both of them.

<<You will have my unwavering loyalty for the rest of my life, this I swear.>>

“I thank thee for such an expression of devotion, brave sir knight. Remember though, I am no queen, my domain is but a small part of the world. And to answer your question, I can tell by the way you speak. I remember the courts of old.”

<<So dramatic! But yeah, what he said. Obviously, I don’t have an issue not fighting on the side of the angels, but if there were any such thing, I’d say you come the closest. Avenging angel, maybe.>>

Laughter, this time short and to the point, more like a scoff but without the derision. A somber tone and expression took hold. “You will learn soon enough that I am no angel, I have never deserved such admiration. An angel of death more than an avenging angel, darkness and despair is all that has followed me for hundreds of years. There is a reason that I am called to the battlefield, and it’s not to make the place art worthy. But, if you wish to think of me as such, I cannot stop you.” Gaze met his, eyes wavering, telling tales of old, death, and destruction, of unimaginable loss, all in an instance. 

She uncased her wings, slowly, her eyes glowing for a moment. “Time to go home.” Wings stretched and flapped a few times before she took off, the two of them flying right behind her via her abilities. 

Over the countryside they flew, the small lives of those below unable to be seen but able to be felt as their tiny figures moved about. Over rivers, forests, and ravines they flew still. A good time later a castle came into view, situated on a cliff, its defenses rivaled by few. 

Landing gently in front of two large doors, she glanced back at them both before knocking. Door creaked open to reveal a man dressed as a butler. 

“Ah, M. La Comtesse, glad to see you’ve finally arrived. I have dinner set for our newest gue-” He stopped, there were two men with her, not one. “M. la Comtesse? Two?” A slightly exasperated sigh. “A little warning next time would be nice. Now the dinner service will have to be adjusted. You are also late. Did something happen?”

A chuckle at his sass, something that she had found endearing over the years. “A few unexpected things happened, including bringing our second guest with me. He was in a predicament that I could not ignore.”

“Ah, very good. M. la Comtesse. I shall have a second room arranged immediately. You know, this reminds me of when you brought the Van Gogh brothers here. Are they brothers?”

“Not to my knowledge, though they banter like they are. Suppose you’ll have to ask them when you’re not pretending they aren’t right behind me. Can we move on? The smaller gentleman is in need of rouge.”

“Of course, M. la Comtesse.” It was then that Sebastian figured out that it was Cal who had done the unthinkable to his mistress. Though he hid his displeasure well from her in tone, the look he gave Cal was as cold and furious as a blizzard. “Might I have their names?”

“Oh, sorry… the larger gentleman is named Derrick, the smaller is called Rapscallion, though he also seems to go by Cal.” She stepped past Sebastian to be met by the prying eyes of the castle residents. “Good evening everyone.” She motioned at their new guests, “These two, Derrick and Cal, will be living here from now on. No harm should come to either of them, or you’ll be answering to me personally. Now, can we have a normal dinner, please? It’s been a long day.”

A few more steps into the castle and she faltered. A grunt and she began to fall, only to be caught by Arthur. “Now, luv, what have I said about overexerting yourself?”

“Mmmmm, I don’t need a lecture now….” Her wings went back into her back and she began to breathe heavily. 

Quietly, he spoke to her, “You know, dove, you didn’t need to bring him back here, let alone two. Seems like it may not have been worth the effort.” Arthur shot both men a look, his eyes showing of his vampiric rage. All that left him as he picked her up and carried her off. 

“Apologies gentlemen, introductions of your fellow residents shall have to wait till dinner itself.” Sebastian chimed in, “My name is Sebastian. I am the head of staff here and am the butler that serves M. la Comtesse personally. Now, let’s get you two cleaned up so you are presentable. Can’t have you dressed like that for dinner with everyone.”

He ushered them both to where they could bathe and get their choice of finer clothing. 

……

“What happened out there, luv?” Arthur inquired, his eyes looking over her exhausted figure. 

“I’m not used to having to carry so much weight with my powers for so long. Seems I need to train more. Not used to flying while using my powers either. The battlefield usually doesn’t call for use of my wings. I had been planning on just carrying back one, not two.”

“And why are there two? Who do we need to watch out for…. Who…. who did those horrible things to you?”

“Ask Jean, I’d rather not tell everyone so as to give them a chance to make their own impressions.”

“Ever the mystery with you, luv. What am I ever to do with you, hmm?”

She scoffed, “Suppose you’ll stay with me, as you always have. I’ll be fine Arthur, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Mmmm, the blood on your clothes tell enough of the tale.”

Eyebrows quirked, “Damn, guess I wasn’t as focused as I usually am. Apologies to Sebastian and the staff.”

“Get some rest and change, maybe take a bath. Till dinner then, luv.” With that, Arthur left her alone, all the while hatching a plan to figure out which of the two had tried to kill their beloved Comtesse. 

…...

Having scrubbed all the blood off her, a bath had felt refreshing, especially for her sore wing muscles. Sheesh, that was a long flight. Ah, yes, dinner. Time to look nice and make pleasantries. This was going to be interesting. Never before had she brought anyone to the mansion with as much issue with the other residents. Even Theo, resident tsundere, or Mozart, resident grump had been this much of an issue. She only hoped her warning not to harm them would stick. Didn’t mean they had to accept them, or be nice for that matter. Oy vey this was a mess. 

…...

Heels clicked on the hard floor as she entered the dining room. Starry dress flowed with each movement, it looking like it was the sky just as the sun had decided to finally sleep. Everyone seated now rose to greet her. Sebastian pushed in the chair with her as she sat down, ever the lady of elegance. A soft smile graced her lips as she raised a glass of rouge, “Welcome, Derrick and Cal. Introductions are in order, so I shall go around the table.”

Taking a sip from the glass, she set it down. “Derrick, to your left going ‘round the table we have, William Shakespeare, Vincent Van Gogh, Theo Van Gogh, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Napoleon Bonapart, Isaac Newton, Leonardo da Vinci, Dazai, Jean de Arc, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is to your right Cal. And yes, these are the actual men of their namesakes. I specialize in bringing back people from history to help with current predicaments. Gentlemen, please enjoy dinner. I can now also take any of your questions, as promised before we left that accursed place.”

Glares ‘round the table were at both Cal and Derrick, but no one said anything to them, they all starting to chatter among themselves.

[fifteenleads]

amīcitia

Chaos amidst order, like fire burning water itself.

All in all, a dire situation, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in sheer madness.

His grip on the floating plank tightens, willing his weakened biceps to work with him, even as the rest of his submerged body shakes in earnest in the freezing river water below. The dark clouds overhead thicken as lightning strikes the distant altar; the Hydraean is not pleased with Ryuunosuke, and the result of that displeasure is the destruction of Altissia.

While First Secretary Ango had promised protection for the Oracle for the Rite of the Summoning, he did not extend the same to the fallen Prince and his deplorable retinue, who will actually face the Trial and receive the Astral's blessing for it. It was an unfair deal Ryuu accepted, regardless— nothing else mattered to him, so long as his betrothed is kept safe.

A laughable sentiment— Ryuu never considers Lady Kouyou as anything but an estranged older sister, yet he remains utterly devoted to her, nonetheless. Their shared grief over the loss of Kyouka during the Siege of Tenebrae had bonded them in a twisted but tragic understanding to do everything it takes to survive.

It was the only principle Ryuu swore to live by as they embarked on their journey to reclaim Lucis from the Empire— his last order to them, in fact, before everything began and went to hell.

An order, it seems, he won’t be able to see through to the end, as Imperial soldiers stare him down, like vicious hunters to helpless game, trapped without any form of escape.

Osamu considers his limited options at this point— the most logical one would be to swim away, let himself get swept by the unnaturally strong current down the major canals into the open bay. Ango had mentioned something about boats in the briefing; maybe he could commandeer one of them and make his way to the altar post-haste. The other, more impulsive one, is to muster the little strength left in his thin, untrained arms, and teach these glorified lapdogs a lesson in humility for daring to underestimate a half-dead Crownsguard with only raw intellect and an uncanny secretarial experience to show for it.

To be fair, though, he did take combat training with Kunikida seriously— or, at least, as much as what was expected of him at bare minimum. Those lectures on ‘ideals’ and ‘expectations’ didn’t rub off him as much as they both would have wanted, but who needed physical prowess when he had aptitude for harnessing the King's magic?

That sentiment now bites him hard in the back, with the King long-dead and the Prince, too, now feared dead. ‘Don’t blame me when you’re all alone out there, Dazai.’

A small voice in his head tells him to just let go of the plank and let himself sink— a lot easier for everyone, by far.

Osamu levels his would-be executioners with an unnaturally serene gaze. With more than half of the city destroyed by Divine Wrath and the remainder plunged in utter chaos, it wouldn’t be surprising if a member of the Lucian Prince’s entourage winds up dead or permanently incapacitated at this point. Atsushi would probably sense it— he did always have the strongest affinity with the Armiger, probably more than its actual owner, Ryuu himself. Kunikida, who’s always had his back since they were children, would just know — theirs was an unconventional partnership, enough to overturn propriety and station twice over, and then some.

And Ryuunosuke— His Royal Highness, whom he is tasked to protect and mentor— Osamu feels genuine regret at the prospect of leaving his young charge to face the rest of his life alone, all because of a fleeting moment of cowardice. He had been looking forward to teasing Ryuu at his wedding as one of the royal groomsmen, too, but that certainly isn’t happening now.

He closes his eyes and lets go, one finger at a time. Everything around him slows down— the rumble of explosives, the clap of thunder, the sound of gunfire, then—

— the shrill of a drawn blade, followed by two thuds and a loud splash, and Osamu feels himself being pulled to safety and roughly thrown onto the pavement. He barely has time to process the dead soldiers beside him before he feels a strong kick to his gut.

“I’ve always heard that the brat Prince’s shady advisor is an impossible man, but I never expected him to be this much of a mess,” intones a cocky, nasal voice from above him. Osamu looks up at his unwilling savior by instinct, and instantly resists the temptation to laugh. It seems that the rumors about the High Commander of the Imperial Army being a Napoleon are actually quite accurate, after all.

Osamu immediately rises to his full height, dispensing with any courteous gestures right off the bat; his head bows and knee bends to no one else but his own Liege. “I suppose this is the part where I express my deepest gratitude for saving this worthless life, Lord Chuuya Kashimura Nakahara, High Commander of the Imperial Army of Niflheim, First Prince of the Imperial Province of Tenebrae, younger brother to Lady Kouyou Tokutarou Ozaki, Venerable Oracle of the Six.” He cocks his head to a side, as if to ask if he had missed anything.

The recitation of his full title elicits the desired effect, and Lord Chuuya comes at him with full force, roughly grabbing Osamu by his dress collar and yanking him down to his level. “Do not speak Sister’s name with that plummy voice of yours, Lucian scum. It is your royal brat’s selfishness and naivete that brought her into this whole mess.”

A mess which, until now, he still has yet to forgive, Osamu does not say, looking directly into those clear eyes, blue as the sky, yet burns brightly like fire. For a moment, he thinks he is looking into Lady Kouyou’s eyes, deep red as the sunset, yet calms gently like water. It is the only differing trait between the two half-siblings, as they share everything else like copies of each other, from the bright salmon of their hair to the sharp angle of their jaw, down to the unwavering pride with which they carried themselves as heirs to the Royal House of Tenebrae, even as they were abruptly orphaned, deposed, and held captive as political prisoners, acting in the interests of the Empire against their will.

Lord Chuuya, it seems, still retains that fire of rebellion within him, just as Lady Kouyou still holds the quiet spark of revolution close to her heart. It makes Osamu relieved, in all honesty— ‘He still holds you in high regard, Your Majesty.’

“What are you grinning about, Advisor?” The Crusading Prince spits out at him, his voice dropping several octaves as the grip on his collar tightens in all earnest. Osamu widens the space between his lips a little further in response, before finally deigning to reply, “Nothing at all, Your Highness. I am merely amused at how the Imperial Raiment hardly suits your frame at all.” There is no lie in this, either; the stiff, white robes marking one to be from the Empire are made to appear large and imposing— neither of which befits Lord Chuuya’s lithe form at all. Still, he manages to make it work, somehow, and make the outfit his own, in more ways than one.

There is a short silence as Lord Chuuya considers his words, before Osamu feels the tight sensation around his throat loosen and he remembers to breathe once more. “Enough of this farce. We merely waste time here,” the Prince huffs indignantly before brusquely turning in the other direction. “You are coming with me, Lucian Advisor. We find my Sister and that royal brat of yours.”

Lord Chuuya does not give Osamu time to assent, instead trudging ahead along the ruined walkway, angrily kicking the stones along the path. Osamu could sense palpable anger from his hunched form, and the growing urgency and desperation from beneath it. He is reminded of Kunikida’s forcefulness for a moment, and it makes him want to hold on to his life just a little longer for now.

‘You must survive,’ Ryuunosuke had told each of them, coal eyes burning with grief and rage as they watched Insomnia be consumed from the far outside, with no way back in. ‘Promise me.’

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Osamu puts his hands in his pockets, slowly moving forward until he falls into step with Lord Chuuya. Time, too, flows normally once more— the rush of the river current, the crackle of boots on gravel, the howling of a far-away tempest, then—

— a slight pause, followed by a deal to start a partnership, as unconventional as the last. A temporary truce, too, for so long as they have loved ones they cherish and wish to keep safe. “If we’re doing this properly, Your Highness, you might want to know your companion’s name as early as now, just so we can coordinate our attacks properly later, should the need arise.” Osamu follows with a smirk, for added measure— surely, someone who serves in the military should recognize the benefit of the practical suggestion.

Lord Chuuya merely raises an eyebrow incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I know your name, Osamu Dazai,” he says in a much more relaxed tone, the sudden use of informal language momentarily throwing Osamu for a loop. A snort leaves his lips before he could stop himself, which soon blows into low, controlled chuckles as he turns away, clutching his sides with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

Annoyance creeps into the Prince’s voice once more as he questions the sudden fit. “What’s so funny, Dazai?” It takes Osamu a full minute to calm down as he wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “Nothing at all, Your Highness— or, should I call you Nakahara instead?” he offers, as if to return the unexpected courtesy granted him.

There is hesitation in Lord Chuuya’s stilted movements as he raises a hand to the back of his head, absentmindedly threading the long, red mane there, still dripping wet from the rescue earlier. “... Call me ‘Chuuya’,” he asks instead, looking away, a slight flush on his cheeks. “Only the Niffs call me Nakahara. It makes me feel… quite uncomfortable.”

‘Do forgive him his rudeness,’ Lady Kouyou had apologized for him long before. ‘He is actually quite a gentle child.’

Osamu smiles at the memory, noting all of these things in Chuuya and more. ‘Indeed, he is. You must be proud of him, Princess Kouyou.’

It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, befitting only her alone: ‘I indeed am.’

“Very well, Chuuya, since you doth insist so much,” Osamu complies, raising his tone to that of the plummy impersonation the Napoleon Prince hates so much, “but blame me not if I end up calling you names you might dislike. Consider yourself warned.”

The well-placed taunt elicits the desired effect, and Osamu merrily skips on ahead, effortlessly dodging Chuuya’s attempts to stick his daggers into his back. It’s a much easier feat than drowning himself, by far, and surviving seems a lot more bearable now.

Hope amidst despair, like sunlight dispelling the darkness.

All in all, a fortunate circumstance, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in subdued contentment.

[he-is-mine-i-am-his-blog]

Wild geese 6/18

Fandom: Painter of the Night

Pairing: Baek Nakyum/Yoon Seungho

Ratings: M

Word count: ~2100 words

Story summary: When Nakyum enters an arranged marriage with Lord Seungho, he does expect to find himself in a situation where he does, fighting for his life. ***An arranged marriage AU, set in the Joseon period like the canon.

Warnings: This story contains graphic depictions of violence. These scenes are not terribly gory, excessive, pointless, and violence is not glorified in anyway. I will not give warnings with specific chapters as not to spoil the plot.

Read below or on AO3.

***

The recent loss and the following revelations have left Nakyum feeling more unsettled, more alone than he did before. Sharing his suspicions with Seungho’s personal servant did little to diminish this sense of complete isolation. He is still alone, even if the older man did not dismiss his concerns.

Nakyum had implored Mr Kim to keep his silence on the matter, to share it with no other. He doesn’t know if the man truly believed him, but he didn’t want his suspicions to be known. Mr Kim had agreed, hesitantly, and it seems he has respected Nakyum’s wishes in the days passed.

He has not spoken of what was shared with others. He has not brought it up again to Nakyum either.

The older man’s eyes follow Nakyum though, with more care than they did before. Though, it is not only him who has taken a sudden interest in Nakyum.

Nakyum has caught Seungho looking towards him on many occasions. The man has been more present at meals, even joining him for breakfast and lunch. Although they do not talk much, too often Nakyum lifts his gaze to find his husband already staring.

Seungho’s eyes may be relentless on him but are unreadable as always.

This unforeseen attention from his husband is – confusing to Nakyum. He doesn’t know how to interpret it. He knows though that it doesn’t mean that they are any closer, that Seungho wants him to be married to him any more than he did before. Nakyum reminds himself of the very fact.

Nearly a week after the hunt, Nakyum arrives at the common room for dinner to find Seungho already there, alone. He lowers his eyes and quietly walks up to the table. He cannot meet his husband’s stare, although he must be watching.

“Father will not be joining us this evening as he has other engagements.”

Nakyum nods, as he does know how to respond otherwise.

They begin their meal.

Nakyum picks up his chopsticks with his uninjured hand, the other carefully laid on his lap. He adds food to his bowl from the bountiful table, but he doesn’t have much of an appetite. He hasn’t since the hunt. He eats slowly, picking at the small pieces, his eyes carefully cast down.

They eat in perfect silence. There are no sounds beyond the gentle clink of chopsticks against the ceramic bowls.

In this quietude, Nakyum’s mind drifts elsewhere.

He thinks of home, of the small house he grew up in under the tender care of Donghyun and Sungjung. He thinks of times when he would be with his father at his shop, when he would help his mother with the chores around the house. He thinks of them with so much longing that it constricts his throat, his entire chest.

He wishes to be back there with them, to hide from everything, to forget everything that has happened to him since he arrived at this residence.

His face must’ve betrayed his thoughts, as it becomes clear when Seungho speaks up.

“Why are you so upset, husband?”

The words are sharp, but his tone is – peculiar. It sounds like a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Nakyum is still stunned by the words, too much to respond. The look on his husband’s face darkens as his question goes unanswered.

“Do I not make you happy?” he asks, demanding, “Have we not provided sufficiently for you?”

And then, something lights up inside of Nakyum, burning hot and bright.

He narrows his eyes, staring at Seungho. He can’t hold himself back anymore.

“Upset?” Nakyum repeats his voice far too loud in the quiet room, “You think I’m not happy?”

Seungho’s face twists in discernible surprise, clearly not having expected this reaction from him. He rises to the challenge that Nakyum’s response proposed though.

“And what should I think when you make such faces and tell me nothing?”

“I’m lonely,” Nakyum responds without thinking, anguish evident in his voice.

He is not just lonely. He is afraid too, but at least he manages to keep that to himself. He is grieving.

“I left my home to come here,” he adds, “I don’t know anyone here, and I don’t have anyone at all here. I am so horribly completely alone, especially now after my-“

Nakyum stops abruptly. He bites his lip to silence himself. And yet, he sees in the eye of his mind what his words didn’t say. An image of his mare lying bloody on the muddy banks of the ditch.

When he looks to his husband again, he doesn’t flash of dawning in Seungho’s eyes, a realization of what Nakyum had left unsaid. It hurts him. It makes him angrier yet that he can’t be private with his feelings inside. It hurts him more than the words.

He thinks back to Seungho’s words then.

Have we not provided sufficiently for you?

Before he can stop himself, Nakyum slips his hand under the layers of his robe at his chest, blindly grasping at the necklace that he still wears, that he has worn every day since he received it. With a quick, sharp yank, the thin chain breaks off easily. He slams his hand against the table, the cups rattled against the hard surface with the force of the impact.

A sharp stab of pain lances through his wrist that steals the air from his lungs. Tears well into his eyes, unbidden.

The necklace lays on the table, trapped beneath his palm.

“I don’t care for anything you may give me. I want none of it!”

He looks at Seungho, as he says, “I will not break the promises I made you, but I will not beg of you either. So, hear me now when I ask: If you cannot hide your displeasure of me, please can’t we just avoid each other.”

Nakyum storms off before Seungho could even think to reply.

  ***

  Nakyum is nearly at the steps leading up to the house when he hears the steps running to catch up to him. He doesn’t stop until someone calls after him.

He doesn’t turn even then. He stands there in the quiet inner courtyard of the residence.

It’s dark and cold. His outer jacket is haphazardly put on, from when he had rushed out. He doesn’t feel the chill of the wintry evening though.

He simmers in anger, although it has largely lost its heat in the wake of him storming out. It is still there, in the quickened beat of his heart, in the jumbled thoughts of his mind, in the throbbing ache of his wrist.

“Nakyum,” Seungho says again, as he comes to a halt at a distance, “I’m –“

His voice is unusually quiet, soft now that he speaks his name. He seems – uncertain, and not only in the way that he left words unsaid. His voice wavered.

When Nakyum turns to him, Seungho is already staring at him. His face is shrouded, sheltered by the shadows, but not enough to fully hide him or the expression on his face.

There is intensity in the way that he looks at Nakyum, his eyes sharp and steady. They carry none of his previous anger, of frustration or displeasure either. His face betrays little else.

He still remains as indecipherable with his thoughts and feelings as ever.

“I didn’t –,“ Seungho stops, and he hesitates for a long moment, until he tries again, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Nakyum wants to argue, if only on instinct. He doesn’t though. He stops too.

He looks at Seungho then, really looks at him.

Perhaps the man is not as much of an enigma as Nakyum thought. Perhaps he never truly looked at his husband, long and hard enough.

Seungho is staring at Nakyum, but he doesn’t carry his usual look of cool hardness. His face is serious. There is sincerity there too. More than that, there is that vulnerability that Nakyum thought he only imagined hearing in his voice.

And then, perhaps because of the dim lighting of the courtyard, Nakyum’s eyes play tricks on him.

For a moment, he doesn’t see the brash, cruel man that he has only ever known Seungho to be, but instead, he sees a young boy who lashes out in anger for being betrayed, in fear of being hurt.

The vision disappears into nothingness as easy as it emerged.

He sees it more clearly now though. He sees how all this could've been difficult for Seungho too.

Nakyum only considered his own experience, of how he left all that is familiar behind and came to live here in a house filled with strangers. And yet, he did it with his free will, with his own choice, because his father asked him when the offer came.

He had not thought of Seungho who didn't have a choice – because his father didn't grant him one. Although Seungho had never expressed it in words, he is certain of it. He has heard whisperings of it.

When Seungho shifts on his feet, Nakyum lifts his gaze to meet Seungho's from where it had fallen. He nods quietly. He looks at his husband for a little longer, in this moment of silent understanding that they have found, before he turns and walks into the house.

In his room, Nakyum removes his outer clothes, although his jacket is already open and his boots unlaced from his hasty departure. After putting them away, he goes to light the rest of the candles on the dresser. He does not like the dark.

He thinks of the exchange with his husband. He thinks of Seungho – he truly thinks of him for the first time.

He tries to see him for who he is, not who he hoped him to be before they met or who he believed him to be after.

Nakyum tries to see him as the man that he is, not just as his words and actions, but as his intentions and meanings. In thinking of him in this manner, Nakyum is forced to admit he doesn't know him at all.

Would it make a difference if he did, he wonders.

He isn't left long with his thoughts until there is a knock on his door. He hesitates for a moment before answering. When he calls for the person to enter, he is relieved to find it is not Seungho but his servant instead. He isn’t sure he could continue the discussion with his husband when his mind is a mess as it is now.

"I came to see if you needed anything before going to sleep."

Nakyum lowers his eyes, as he declines the kind offer. It should not be Mr Kim serving him, even if, in his reluctance, Deokjae often fails to do so. Nakyum can manage on his own anyway.

The older man stands by the door for a moment, silently observing him, until he walks over to the cabinet in the corner of the room. He takes out clothing for Nakyum for the next day and moves to place them on the dresser. His back is still turned towards Nakyum, when he speaks.

“Younger Master Yoon is not as bad as you may think he is,” he says quietly.

Nakyum doesn’t respond, but he isn’t expected to do so, it seems. The servant smooths the fabric of his clothes, as he lays the folded bundle on the dresser. When he is done, he goes to the door. His hand rests on the handle for a moment. He looks over his shoulder at Nakyum.

“You should tell him your suspicions,” he says, “He would listen.”

The older man leaves, and Nakyum is alone with his thoughts again.

Nakyum is staring after him, at the closed door, and considering his words.

Even if Seungho is not as bad as he thinks, he wouldn’t need to be very good either, because what he thinks is that no one wants Nakyum gone as much as Seungho does.

It is then that the image comes to his mind, unbidden, the look on Seungho’s face, in his eyes from when they had stood face-to-face in the courtyard.

Nakyum isn’t sure if it is true anymore if Seungho really wants him gone as much as he assumed. He isn’t sure if he ever did.

It doesn’t matter much either way, as he can’t trust him.

He can’t trust anyone at all.

[whitefoxed]

Form Contract!

Send “Form Contract!” for our muses to form a magical contract bonding them together! — @algrimthestrong​, sent April 12th 2019, 3:16:42 am Chapter 1

P.S. Alternate verse where Vuhs never met Malekith and he’s speaking a dialect of Alltongue.

Vuhs flinched. He could sense the summoning coming from a distant place, with enough power to bring him there. A frown furrowed his brows. He was in no mood to play such games, he had an organisation to run.

The summons came stronger, striking an impulse for him to heed the call and accept it. Someone, somewhere, was offering deep magic for his services. Why him? There are other foxes… Vuhs froze, recalling his bloodline. A sacred one.

Looking at the blueprints of a new artillery engine on his table, he sighed. Blood was being offered. Tempting things were being offered, he could feel it in his bones. A different kind of hunger had him licking his lip and swallowing.

Fine.

Vuhs disappeared from his office on Earth and reappeared in the sigil, dressed sharply in his full black suit. “What is it, Älgrim Valgoth of Svartalfheim?”

The air was thick with the smell of blood by the time Algrim sat back to survey his work. The symbol had to be drawn precisely as shown in the book, or else the ritual would fail. Pressing a piece of cloth to the wound in his arm to staunch the bleeding, he compared the sigil he’d painted on the stone floor with the original illustration.

Algrim had found the grimoire tucked away in the Library of Sins, its pages stiff and brittle with age. It told of spirits, of demons, of powerful beings bound to do the summoner’s bidding - if one knew how to bind them to his or her will.

Clad in only a pair of loose linen trousers, Algrim gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm. The wound was deep - it had to be, to yield the amount of blood required to draw the magical symbol. He felt lightheaded, weak from the loss of blood, yet determined to see the ritual through to its end, driven by the burning need for justice - for vengeance.

Taking a slow, deep breath to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand, he began to recite the incantation. There was no immediate result, no flickering of candles, no whispers, no drop in temperature, nothing that indicated that his summoning had been successful. For several moments, only the sound of his own laboured breathing filled his ears, until—

The being that appeared in the centre of the sigil looked nothing like Algrim had imagined. A male, human in appearance, dressed in the fashion that was common on Midgard and looking absurdly out of place in a Svartalfheim dungeon.

Trembling with both exertion and excitement, Algrim climbed to his feet. When he spoke, his voice was raw with relief. “You came. You really came.”

He took several cautious steps towards the “man”, but took care not to cross the magical barrier. “I wish to employ your services, lord. I want you to help me kill someone - King Thryme of Jotunheim.” He spat the name like a curse, full of bitter hatred. “In exchange, I offer you wealth—” He nodded at a small wooden chest filled to the brim with rubies, “—the throne of Jotunheim, and—” Carefully, so as not to spill a single drop, Algrim picked up a silver chalice filled with blood - his blood - from the floor and offered it to the fox, “—myself, in any way I may be of use to you.”

The dark elf staring back at him was quite the sight. Sleek and strong, with cheekbones haunted by vengeance and a burning gaze of obsidian. Wafting around him was that alluring scent of offered blood which formed the sigil and dripped still from the elf’s arm. Vuhs licked his lips subtly. There was a difference between normal blood and that which is offered through magic. There was power in belief, one belonging to faith and the realm of ‘gods’. As per his bloodline.

Hunger. This was new to Vuhs, a sensation unlike any other. Of course, it was also his first time being summoned upon. He didn’t think anyone would have, in his time. And from what he heard from his mother… before they separated- it had not been done for generations. Vuhs waited silently with arms folded for the elf to finish exclaiming his appearance and get on with it.

Tilting his head to the left, Vuhs narrowed his eyes at the name. A king- naturally a Jotun from the sound of it- as such, a frost giant from the records he read in HYDRA. They have magic too, he supposed. What he wasn’t sure was if his own strength could compare to said king. Frost giants live much longer than humans- his own age aside, the mortal memories implanted in him were just that. Mortal.

And while he was considering such, the elf was already offering other things, which he merely gave a cursory glance at. Rubies- he could afford himself a chest if he wanted to. Though gems of such size would be hard pressed to find on Earth. He wasn’t very interested. The throne- why would he want to rule somewhere cold and unfamiliar? It wasn’t very alluring either. What did catch his attention though, was the chalice the elf was offering, inciting him to meet that careful gaze. Hm.

Silent moments ticked by as he considered, his silver blue eyes wandering between the chalice and the elf, with nary an expression on his face. Then all the sudden a burst of blue flames roared within the sigil, enveloping the area behind the barrier as Vuhs hair turned white, drifting with nonexistent wind. Ears and tails flared into view, as blue flames lighted up in mercury eyes and an opal claw tapped lightly on the barrier at the chalice.

“For that, and your true name, I can lend you my strength. You will be able to heal any wound in minutes as I guard you. You will have my speed and senses. You will be able to bear the deathly frost of Jotunheim. You can control the elements in your surroundings as I can. You will have my aide in illusion and glamour in your quest. ‘Tis what I will lend you.” He countered.

When neither riches nor the offer of a kingdom to rule over elicited the expected enthusiastic response from his visitor, Algrim was hard-pressed to fight off an encroaching sense of despair. Clearly, his offerings did not suffice. Only the chalice filled with his life blood seemed to be worthy of consideration, though the man’s expression remained unreadable, giving no indication as to whether or not he deemed the offer acceptable.              

Holding the other’s appraising gaze, Algrim waited in tense silence for the fox to reach a decision. The answer to his unspoken question came not in words but in actions, and he barely managed to stifle a gasp when the fox dropped his disguise and shifted into his true form.

As plain as his human appearance had been, as splendid was the fox that hid beneath.

While he had expected his potential ally to smite King Thryme on Algrim’s behalf, the fox’s offer to lend his strength to the elf so he may carry out the deed himself was more than Algrim had dared hope for.

He inclined his head to the fox. “Your offer is more than generous…” Algrim’s tone was one of apology. He was desperate, but not so foolhardy as to blindly accept the deal and place himself at an obvious disadvantage. His own life mattered little to him after losing his wife and children, but if he was to meet his doom, it would be on his own terms. Foxes were sly, mischievous creatures, serving only their own ends. There was no telling what he would get himself tangled up in.

Blood, Algrim would gladly give, but to give out his true name would mean to eviscerate his very being, to give the fox power over him and make himself a tool of his whims. It was a bargain he was not prepared to strike. “Not my true name.” His voice was hard with resolve. “I am afraid, my lord, but this is a price I can and will not pay.” He offered the goblet to the fox, urging him to take it and sample its content. “I offer you wealth, power, and blood from my own veins. Is this not yet enough?”

He was desperate, longing for a chance to avenge his family, but even in his grief Algrim was no fool. Making himself a slave to the fox was not the path to salvation, but to eternal damnation. “Surely there is something else I may offer you instead, some other way this humble elf may be of service to you?”

Polite the elf may be, his tone had Vuhs narrowing mercurial eyes at him. Then at the suspected rejection, the fox huffed lightly, lifting his chin in displeasure. Ears which were angled forwards swivelled to the side with much disinterest, expressing every bit of it as he turned away to pace in a circle within the sigil. “You offer wealth I do not want, a throne which is not yours to give, you think a mere chalice of blood is sincere enough an offering?” Vuhs shook his head haughtily.

Testing and sensing the barrier of magic, he could return forcefully to where he was on Midgard if he wanted. After all, it was only meant to summon him here and keep him from leaving the barrier without permission. Its purpose was met. The blood offering may be the only thing he was remaining in the sigil for. Redolent of power, along with the rest of the blood spilled about the room, was tempting him to stay. But it wasn’t enough for what Algrim wanted.

Algrim wanted Thryme dead, and while Vuhs wasn’t certain enough if he could kill the king and hence offered his abilities instead, imbuing the other with his power meant he also had to keep company for the magic to work. The chalice of blood was worth buying his time, but it was far from sufficient for the risk on his own life even if he went alone to assassinate Thryme. Hence, as much as he lusted after the elf’s offered blood, he could only turn his nose away from it. A bound contract was not to be taken lightly.

Mild frustration frizzled his tails a little. Curling them before him, he preened and smoothed out the fur delicately with his fingers. Vuhs glanced back up at the elf who was so desperately trying to bind him. “There isn’t much I desire. A loyal servant I can fully trust thereafter would be an acceptable offering, but you wouldn’t even give me your name.” Highlighting again his displeasure, the fox remained aloof as he stated what he wanted. For that was the only reason why he demanded it. It was obvious he did not trust the elf’s simple pledge of loyalty and service.

Contractors had a history of trying to cheat their way out of the contract once they got what they wanted.

As expected, Algrim’s refusal to yield to the fox’s demands was met with irritation. The fox’s spurning of Algrim’s offerings, in turn, put the elf in a predicament he had not foreseen. He needed the power the fox had offered him to avenge his family, and though he refused to reveal his true name, there had to be something with which he could persuade the other into consenting.

“One can never be wealthy enough, powerful enough, or wise enough,” Algrim argued. “I offer you both wealth and power - and I will gladly lend my knowledge to you as well. You are correct in pointing out that the throne of Jotunheim is not mine to offer,” he admitted, “but once Thryme is dead, the throne will fall to the one who killed him. You could appoint a regent if you do not wish to rule the realm yourself. Jotunheim may seem like a bleak and barren world, but it has plenty to offer. Ore from the mountains, forests teeming with game, and the Casket of Ancient Winters, one of the most powerful relics you may ever encounter.”

Algrim’s offer would have satisfied even the most capricious business partner. Still, he felt it was not quite enough to tip the scales in his favour. His shoulders were tight with tension and his eyes bright with despair as he watched the fox pace within the painted sigil. “You may call me Algrim,” he added, offering a long-due introduction, though not his true name. “What name do you go by, lord?” That the fox had not yet left was a good sign. It meant there was at least a modicum of interest present, despite his apparent reluctance.

“If you do not want to do business with me, then why not trade a favour for a favour?” Algrim suggested, trying a different approach. “A favour, for which I will be indebted to you until I  can repay it. You help me bring a monster to justice, and I offer you a safe place in exchange - a place here in Svartalfheim to which you can retreat should you ever find yourself in need of a refuge. I will be bound by my word, as is the law of my people,” he added, seeking to reassure the fox.

“What else could you possibly desire, my lord?” Algrim asked, his voice close to cracking as he felt his only chance at vengeance dwindling. “Would you have me disgrace myself, to fall at your feet like a common serf?”

Running his sharp claws through his fur, Vuhs listened to the elf’s appeal. Jotunheim was being sold like potential land. The Casket did draw a twitch from the pointed white ear, but the fox soon recalled what little he knew of it. A powerful relic, nevertheless. But it served his own purposes little. Vuhs continued grooming his tails. He had nine of them, after all.

The introduction of a ‘name’ lifted the fox’s silver gaze from its hooded focus, expressionless. Another offering was brought onto the table. A refuge. A way out. Vuhs’ gaze fell once more on the bright white of his own tails. “I need not a common serf.” He spoke once more after he sensed the other’s whittling confidence. “I need not, a throne that would be contested.” He continued, pausing in between. “I need not, a power that is not mine, however powerful it is.” Looking up again, his combing hand settled atop a tail, lightly resting on the fluffy cushion.

“I need not wealth I cannot spend. Nor a refuge I cannot allow myself to have.” Holding his gaze right with the elf’s, Vuhs gave him time for his words to sink in. “Because like you, I understand vengeance. However, unlike you, your enemy is one and final. Mine is not.” Silver eyes fell on the ancient sigil that the elf before him had found out of desperation, and in it laid all their skill and knowledge possible. Magic was never easy, a sigil was not simply a symbol drawn. It was also obvious the elf before him was not of a sorcerer’s grounding. Time, discipline, calculation and resourcefulness, Vuhs saw that in his summoning.

“You suggest a trade in favour, and offer your knowledge as well. Then, I aid you in the completion of your vengeance, and you, offer your time, skills and service, according to my wishes, till the completion of mine. My abilities as this favour, and the chalice for my time.” The fox lifted his chin with a certain finality, knowing the elf had offered all they could in their beseeching earlier. Vuhs ignored the request for an address.

There was no need to give a name when the deal was not finalised.

The fox bid his time. Silently, Algrim watched him as he stood grooming his tails, as if the action held so much more interest for him than what Algrim had just offered. Frustration coiled in his stomach, adding to the misery he felt deep in his heart, and the crushing sense of despair at seeing the deal he sought to strike slip through his fingers. The wound on his arm, too, had begun to bleed again, warm trickles of blood sliding over his skin and dripping onto the stone floor, but he barely registered it.

The fox’s taking apart every advantage Algrim had cited, squashing it into insignificance with shocking ease, almost shattered what was left of the elf’s composure. Each word had the bite of a knife to it as it sank in deep, shredding his hope to pieces until—

The fox’s mention of an enemy had Algrim perking up his ears. It was only natural that a powerful creature like him had made a few enemies of his own throughout the years, but the fox’s disclosure was still enough to surprise Algrim, as was his confession that he, too, was driven by a desire for vengeance.

Algrim was silent for long moments as he considered the fox’s counter offer. What did he have to lose? Nothing. Everything he loved had been taken from him. If he pledged allegiance to the fox, he would be granted a chance at revenge at least. There was no telling if he would survive such a dangerous quest, even with his strength and abilities enhanced. If he did, though, Algrim would hold up his end of the bargain. A favour for a favour.

“I accept.” His voice was oddly calm, as chill as winter mist. Stepping forward, Algrim went down on one knee, bowing his head in supplication as he lifted the chalice to offer his blood to the fox, urging him to drink.

Vuhs knew he wouldn’t have to wait long, watching as the elf considered his counter offer. Since they were not willing to give their true name, this was as close to a loyal contract he could get. And though he would not admit it, there were times when he felt too drained and exhausted to carry on his plan. He needed someone, someone who wasn’t a doll, a manufactured marionette, someone with brains that could pick up the pieces he missed, so he wouldn’t have to constantly watch his back. When the elf agreed, he would have smiled if it was his old self.

Instead the relief was minimal and he simply nodded, more than aware the probability of success ahead of them. Releasing his tails and walking back to where their barrier met, his hand reached out and allowed out of the barrier, to grasp the chalice. “Let it be so.” Sealing the deal, blood red runes rolled out from where their hands touched, running along their skin and spiralling like constricting snakes towards their hearts. Such was the effect of this ancient sigil and contract. Bearing the discomfort of a weight settling on his frame and sinking in, Vuhs helped himself to the fragrant blood that touched his lips.

Power surged through his veins.

Spreading from his abdomen to the tips of his limbs, it was a novel sensation that had his silver irises shrink to pinpricks. Different from the raw strength of magical power, what he expected to be warm was cold as biting winter, yet rushing like ice shards through the ravine of his veins. Oddly, what should have been painful felt refreshingly right. Like it was something he should have had, since he was born. A power that was originally his.

The barrier fell away. Vuhs swished his tails before they faded from view, the lowered chalice clean as if it never contained blood. His appearance returned to how he was when he first arrived. With a brush of his hand on the elf’s shoulder, Algrim’s wounds disappeared.

“Now, let’s get started. You may call me Vuhs.”

When at last the fox accepted the proffered chalice, Algrim’s shoulders sagged with relief and he let out a long exhale, but the moment was short-lived. From where their fingers touched, a burning sensation started spreading upward, needle pricks that travelled along his arm, into his shoulder, and towards his heart, causing his chest to constrict with pain. Resisting the urge to pull away, Algrim pressed his lips together tightly to let no sound of complaint escape him as he bore the sting of magical runes. Having read about this part of the summoning in the grimoire, he recognised it as the final stage of the ritual. Their deal was binding now, a contract sealed with magic and blood that could not be broken.

By the time it was over, a fresh sheen of sweat had formed on his skin. Algrim rose to his feet, watching silently as the fox consumed his blood. The effect it had on him was instantaneous. The fox seemed invigorated, revitalised, brimming with energy. Though he had made it a point to state his disinterest in Algrim’s offer, Algrim could tell the other was already benefitting from their deal.

His gaze dipped to where claw-tipped fingers curled around the empty chalice, a shiver crawling down his spine at the notion that a part of himself was now inside the fox. When the other touched his shoulder, Algrim felt his pain and exhaustion abate as new strength washed over him in cool, soothing waves. As it would seem, Vuhs had not been exaggerating when he had touted his abilities to Algrim. The deep, bleeding cut on his arm had disappeared, leaving only smooth, healed skin in its place.

“Lord Vuhs.” Algrim bowed his head in gratitude. “How are we to proceed from here?” Was there another ritual that had to be completed in order for the fox to transfer his powers to Algrim? While he was desperate to leave for Jotunheim, rushing into action was not the way to move forward. A quest such as the one that lay ahead of them required thorough planning. Maps had to be consulted, supplies gathered, and precautions taken to ensure the success of their journey. This was his only chance. Algrim would not fail. He could not fail.

“I would be honoured to host you for the night, so we may devise a plan of action.”

Tapping his foot lightly along one of the sigil’s lines, Vuhs lingered in the room where it still attracted him so. “There’s no need to call me Lord now you know my name.” He said upon hearing the address, pointing it out first before continuing methodically, nodding to accept the offer. “I would assume you have maps of Jotunheim and possibly Thrym’s lair, as well as some idea on travelling there from here. If not, we’d have to at least start from there.” Gesturing for the elf to lead the way, Vuhs calmly followed after.

Looking at his summoner, the fox’s features gradually changed, using glamour to mask his appearance once more. Fair skin took on a blueish sheen, gradually shading towards an almost metallic silver hue, while his short hair returned to its white flair, lengthening down loose to his waist. His ears too, tapered longer. Sliding his gaze from the elf to his own hand, Vuhs adjusted the shade of his skin further to his satisfaction. Within mere minutes, the fox was every bit a dark elf apart from his Midgardian garb.

“Tell me more about this Thrym, such as his personality and combat style. Until we have a few executable plans of action, then we can work on coordinating our combat style and get you used to having my senses and strengths. As for illusions and healing, they are techniques which require too long to learn. Therefore as long as I am around, I will perform as you dictate.”

It can’t be said that Vuhs was not rushing for time either. The summoning was sudden, and he still had a lot of work to do. Though he trusted his operations would not fail in the near future, and would even keep his disappearance a secret, he would not wish to risk all his plans and preparations from not returning soon enough. But he accepted this deal with the elf, and would see to it that Algrim finds the result satisfactory. It was his first contract of such sort after all…

“After that however, you have to rest.” Giving the elf a once over, Vuhs pursed his lips. Though his power - especially the new strength he had just absorbed - healed and replenished the elf’s stamina, evoking such magic and the effort to do so must have likely strained his summoner’s mind. Algrim needed rest, of a different kind. “It’s been this long, your revenge can wait another day.” Or a few, depending on how much they had to plan and train. Mildly concerned that the deal’s success would spur the elf to carry on, persuasion slipped from his lips.

As a former general and recently appointed advisor of the Accursed, Algrim was used to wielding authority. Giving orders and directing subordinates had become second nature to him during his many years of service. In Vuhs’ presence, though, he felt almost docile, ready to yield to the fox’s supervision. Vuhs was every bit his senior, perhaps not in years, but certainly in abilities. With Vuhs’ powers to call upon, Algrim was hopeful that the fiend who had made his life a living nightmare could be brought to belated justice.

“Of course we have maps.” Now that he was presented with a task to focus on, he was back in his element. “Jotunheim is a huge realm, a vast world of countless dangers and very few amenities. That the Jotuns have managed to thrive in such a harsh environment should be proof enough of their… superiority,” Algrim admitted bitterly. “As for Thryme’s lair, it is not so much a lair or a cave, but rather a well-guarded citadel. He is a brutal and cunning leader, with his nephew Laufey set to follow in his footsteps.”

Watching Vuhs out of the corner of his eye, Algrim could not help but marvel at the fox’s disguise. He did make a very convincing dark elf – no, not just convincing. Striking. His Midgardian attire, though, was very different from the clothes worn by the natives of Svartalfheim, drawing many a curious glance as Algrim led him though the castle’s twisting hallways. “They are called frost giants for a reason. Their kind relies mostly on their colossal strength,” he explained when Vuhs requested information about Thryme’s preferred style of combat. “The weapons they use are of the primitive variety. War clubs, spears, rocks, fists,” he spilled forth, eager to provide the fox with the information he needed to begin their training. “Stealth and speed will be our best bet for success. A poisoned blade may do the trick, but getting close enough to pierce that thick skin of theirs will be a challenge of its own.”

When they arrived at Algrim’s quarters, he held the door for the other man, waiting for him to enter first before following him inside. “May I suggest you change into something a little less conspicuous, Lo—Vuhs?” Masking his slip-up behind a practised smile, Algrim left Vuhs waiting by the door while he went to retrieve a set of clothes from his wardrobe. He held out a moss-green tunic, a pair of brown leather trousers, and well-worn boots to the fox. “If you are going to stay here with me until we are ready to depart, it is imperative that you try to blend in.” What they were about to do had to be done in secret. The king would not take kindly to Algrim going behind his back, which was why the advisor intended to have Vuhs stay with him instead of giving him a room of his own. It was safer to have Vuhs pose as a friend or lover than risk raising suspicions as to his identity.

“I will rest after we agree on how to move forward,” Algrim promised. Vuhs’ concerns were justified. At the moment, Vuhs’ energy still lingered in Algrim’s system, but that borrowed strength would wear off soon enough.

He pulled a folded map from a shelf and spread it out on his desk. “I know a witch who might be persuaded to help us travel to Jotunheim.” If Vuhs did not want the rubies Algrim had offered him, they might just as well use them to buy passage to Jotunheim for the two of them. “From there, it will be a journey of perhaps three or four days to Thryme’s fortress.” He indicated the route on the map, tracing it with a finger.

For all the dangers Jotunheim represented, Vuhs had an innate sense of superiority to a realm he had never been to. Ever wary of his inner workings, the fox reminded himself to take more caution and heed the elf’s advice. From Algrim’s words alone, he could visualise a sly ruler safely shielded within layers of ancient walls of medieval brute force. All the more cracks to slip through. “Do they have magic?” He found himself asking, another factor to be concerned about, though the frost giants seemed to prefer physical combat.

Entering the rooms without hesitation— the elf had no reason to harm him after all that effort to summon him here— Vuhs raised his brow slightly at the elf’s suggestion. He did not mind having to change outfits, doing as Romans do was standard practice. Taking the clothes, he opened them infront of the elf to double check if he knew how to appropriately wear them before putting them to a side. “I will change later when you rest.” Time was of the essence, and it would be better to finish their initial discussions while Algrim was still present.

Moving to the elf’s side, he studied the map unfurled before them. A swift glance to the side of it showed the map’s legend and scale. Unfortunately, it was not a script he could read. “Explain this. Also, are there other maps? Of our route to the witch, as well as the citadel? If we don’t have the latter, is there someone or somewhere we can buy such information from?” Used to such arrangements, Vuhs’s mind was listing out what he needed to know before Algrim could rest. He fully intended to continue planning while the elf slept. “If possible, I’d like a sample of Jotun hide as well, or at least something similar.”

Times like this, he missed human technology. Spying devices, temperature and bio scans all minimise mission risks. Though he doubted they could maintain functioning condition in Jotunheim climate. He also wanted to know the jotun guards’ shifts and routes. But that would have to come later. The fox did not expect Algrim to have all the details, considering he was but a one man mission before their alliance. If he did, he doubted the elf would even need him around at all.

As for now, he considered the option of poisoning their target that Algrim proposed. The elf who was so focused on revenge would have considered other options already before settling on such a suggestion. Rather than poisoning a blade, wouldn’t poisoning their food be much easier? “As for the poison you suggested, what is it? Or do you not yet have one in mind?” If anything Vuhs was frustrated about, it was the language gap. If he could read, he would simply ask for relevant materials and send the elf to bed.

[dokuhebi]

Shattered-by-Sparks said ➳ // you know I was gonna

Send ➳ and I’ll generate a number between 1-  15 to see what kind of kiss my muse will give yours!   3. A kiss underwater // @shattered-by-sparks When they were young, they recall the contrasting words of their elders. They remember being eight years old, donned in one of Jiraiya’s hakama, since they could hardly afford their own during their days as an orphan. Intending to learn the art of stealth for the day, but being offered a different lesson by the stand-in teacher. They recall the womans disapproving voice when they, still plagued by innocence, squandered their teams success by veering off route. Because they had stumbled upon a small nest they dared not disrupt for the mere sake of training, where the residue of young students learning their abilities would render the small inhabitants homeless, mere collateral damage. A sharp bite of correction; ‘you will be the first to die out there, if you think with your heart not your head boy.’. And so they learnt, to listen to their head, and to never argue with logic. No matter how it conflicted with what little moral code their now deceased mother and father had tried to impart. They would be fourteen when donning one of Tsunade’s furisodes, finally doing well enough on missions to be better off financially, but hardly in the position for luxury items such as pretty clothing. They recall a mans disapproving eyes, when he sees a rag dressed boy had run over to the young serpent. Mistaking their Senju borrowed gown as a sign the raven haired teen was well off. Asking for any spare coin, but being promptly told to leave them alone. Because they had learnt their lesson, to use logic above all else. And there was no clear gain in helping someone, only clear loss of their own money. But from the man who had watched, and given the rag dressed boy something in the serpents stead, they had earned a displeased bite of criticism yet again; ‘I would hope a young lady such as yourself would have more heart than that.’ And so they learnt that they were expected to listen to the organ of confession in their chest as well. That while arguing with logic would end them up dead in this violent world, there was no point surviving if they lost their heart along the way. And it had been a strange balancing act, where they found the most rational middle ground. By the time they reach adulthood, they have obeyed the voice in their head that says caring for their team mates, or for anyone, would end in little but misery and loss. For humans were far too fragile to hold on to. So they let the bonds they had formed over countless years to crack and wither. But there would be no point to make a stone of themself, and so they had given their heart to their work, to their studies, their ambitions. And that had been the easiest way forward for the next sixty years - until they met her. The Sannin finds themself beside Rin at a quaint bar, no where near the stretches of Fire Countries influence, nestled in the borderlands of Sungakure and Kirigakure. A pleasant town, where nobody seemed to know anyone. The gathering of those who wanted nothing but drinks and accommodation. So in a town untouched by external politics, where the name Sannin and Jinchuriki earned little but a blank and ignorant stare, neither one of them has to wear the deceptive guise of henge. Rin had stirred awake a part of them that had been dormant for quite some time, although they have little concept of what that emotion may be. Fondness, was the closest term they held. They had been exchanging conversation in the furthest corner of the bar, neither one interested in mingling with strangers, at least this evening. However despite reputations holding no weight in this town, attention was still offered by those who had come here to seek conversation with unfamiliar faces. Orochimaru has long since mastered the art of a gaze that pierces the confidence of anyone, and a smile that seems to say ‘begone’. So any of those who had boldly stepped up had only made a swifter retreat. After a moment of distraction however, they return their attention to Rin to find a woman had swept up the opportunity of her temporary solitude. Perhaps the woman was being friendly, perhaps the woman was being coy, neither should matter. The thing that should earn the vipers immediate attention after all, is the reaction they feel rise inside of themself. Awfully indifferent by nature, often impossible to get a rise out of, certainly unfazed and disinterested in the antics of people as a whole... so why then, do they feel the ever growing distaste for the womans pushy conversation? A spike of, dare they say it, jealousy. They found they had no time for the womans lipgloss smile, and can only return the gesture she offers them with something ever so judgmentally false. Their smile shows nothing but the baring of fangs, and they resist the urge to say something nasty by taking a purposeful sip of their sake. A likely culprit for why they have decided composure can be thrown to the wind, and they can openly offer the woman who burdens their pleasant conversation with Rin a wry expression. They do not offer her any social graces, they do not laugh politely at her jokes, they do not respond immediately if she asks a question, they reject her every offer, be it a drink, an idea, or even a more comfortable seat when it opened up. Because while she keeps up conversation with Rin and Orochimaru, it had not escaped their attention that she had sighted the pretty brunette with her autumn coloured doe eyes, and made a straight line toward her. That had been the reason why they had prompted Rin to down the rest of her drink, as they did their own, before moving location. They would be lying if they said after all their drinks, that they remembered the small details of the evening. Like how they convinced her to leave the bar and promise of more alcohol, or who had the idea to visit the towns main attraction of naturally formed and well maintained hot springs. But they had found their way in to the warm wooden and stone floored room. Where the divided rock pool-like sections of the warm water offer multiple springs to choose from in both the male and female portion of the building. When asked where they would like to sit, they can only toss Rin a playfully confessional gaze, knowing that even drunk or tipsy, she of all people would have read their earlier displeasure like an open book. So they do not stoop so low as to deny what is obvious, instead sticking by their little display of jealousy and guiding her to one of the unoccupied springs. Keeping her quite far from the other woman enjoying the warm water a few meters away, and from the dividing wall where men can be heard not seen in their separate quarter. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I don’t want to share,” they say with a slightly coy tease to their voice, finding their way to rocks designed for sitting. They have their towel drawn around their body to hug their sylphlike figure, tucked neatly under slender arms just as pure white as the towel itself. While they had made quick work of twisting their long dark hair in to a bun, they had next sought to help her. Pale digits in contrast to the umber hair they now begin to lightly coil for her, ever the perfectionist in their antics, they allow some hair to frame her face as they had done for themself. To avoid the fault of gathering too much hair and putting needless strain on the locks. They gracefully move around her to inspect if the bun is centered and comfortable, lightly tipping her jaw up to examine it, before drawing slightly back has them realizing how close they had gotten with all their fussing and perfectionism. Gazes meeting a moment, and lips mere breaths away, they can not tell if they wish to blame alcohol or impulsiveness. For whichever it was, there is no taking back the gesture once they offer it. Logic would tell them that this is a dangerous game with no reward, that they have not acted after proper calculative thought. But they have survived three Great Wars, invented jutsu that could revive the dead, cures and technology that could prevent future deaths and revolutionize shinobi. They had achieved more in their life than nearly any shinobi to date - surely a moment of foolishness, a moment of thoughtless impulse, could be forgiven? They do not internally wrestle with the idea for long, they have allowed their hand to gently graze down from its placement in her hair to caress the side of her face instead. Where they can guide it to the side so they may catch her lips with their own. To earn a reaction they can not hope to try and guess. Would this be seen as overstepping? Would there be distrust when their venomous fangs were so very close to her flesh? Would she return it? They do not know their next step if she returns it. Why, they would perhaps know how to handle disdain at the gesture, more so than acceptance. Yet there is no deterrent strong enough to make them back out. They have shown that even feral and deadly jaws can be remarkably gentle, the kiss lingering like a ghosts might. A mixture of wanting to possess her, yet vanish all at the same time. When they draw away, chatoyant amber eyes seek out a response. But only for a moment, before a somewhat abashed, somewhat amused smile finds its way to their lips. Their hand drawn back to their person to correct the towel around their chest, a mere means to seek distraction, and a reason to pull away before she gives her response. Somehow still confident even in their bashfulness. “Well then,” they say with a soft exhale that could be mistaken for the slight trickle of nerves, only to be banished by the gesture of their self assured smile, even when they continue to subtly fidget by next running a hand through their long midnight fringe, “I do hope that was as well received as it was intended, but if it isn’t, you are more than welcome to offer me a polite lie, and pretend you are too drunk to remember this.”

[yuto-non]

The Photo pt. 2 (M)

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Dom!Yugyeom, rough sex, spanking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, not really after care, jealousy, gagging

Summary: The photo isn’t your only souvenir.

A/n: Finally~ Sorry it took so long. :( I find myself become discouraged with my writing. Thanks for your support.

Adrenaline flowed through every part of your body, your heart raced with the music and your eyes followed every single moment of Yugyeom’s performance as Got7 performed on stage. Normally, you were entranced by Jinyoung, taking time to appreciate each and every member for their efforts and talents, especially Mr. Jinyoung. Tonight, though..this was a one man show, as far as you were concerned. Your eyes were attached to Yugyeom, like a puppet in his show, you followed him. Completely lost in the way his hips moved to the tempo of the music, the way his arms flowed effortlessly from one move to the next, and the way his eyes locked with yours as he licked his lips. It all felt as though the two of you were the only ones in the room of thousands. Your core was throbbing, the events from prior replaying in your head over and over. The way Yugyeom’s strong arm felt around your waist, the almost whisper-like moan that fell from his lips as he pressed his hard cock into your ass. The absolute thrill of it all. It felt surreal, it all just felt too good, and you needed more.

Each song felt like a lifetime, each second passed by in an hour as you awaited the end of the show. You were enjoying every single second, but it was also two hours of absolute torture watching Yugyeom on stage, teasing you, taunting you with his thrusting, licking and dominating sexual presence as her performed for the packed arena. Your friend was blissfully unaware of the one-on-one performance you and Yugyeom were sharing. She had no idea that Yugyeom was undressing you down to nothing with just a stare. She had no inclination of knowing that your pussy was burning with a need of feeling Yugyeom deep inside of you. The show was dragging on, and your anxiety was building. How would you even get Yugyeom alone? You’re just getting a poster signed, surrounded by other fans, band and staff members. The dreams you had created in your mind for two hours began to vanish as Got7 said their goodbyes, leaving fans in tears and screams while they exited the stage.

“Oh my god! Can you believe that?! Fuck, that was amazing. I can’t believe we get to meet them AGAIN!” Your friend squealed as she took a seat next to you. The dreaded wait began. You plastered on a smile and made small chit chat with your overly exuberant friend as the fans whom weren’t participating in the poster signing, filed out of the arena. Thoughts raced through your head, wrestling with ideas on how you’d possibly find yourself alone with Yugyeom, but no ideas stuck. Nothing seemed to be realistic given the circumstances, and you began to accept the loss to make it easier later on. A deep sigh left your chest as you sat back in the chair, a staff member walking up on the now empty stage.

“Everyone doing the poster sign, please line up off stage right.” Like a hungry swarm of mosquitoes, fans raced to the stairs on the side of the stage, eagerly waiting to see Got7 again. You were less excited than the other mass of fans, which lead you and your friend to the end of the line.

“Dammit, we are so far..” Your friend groaned at her displeasure on the place you had both taken.

“I’m sorry, I’m just feeling a bit tired.” The excuse seemed realistic given your deflated expression and less than thrilled facial expressions. Your friend was too lost in wonderland to notice, and continued to poke her head around the line, hoping for a glimpse of Got7 on stage. Small chattering from fans could be heard as staff members walked down the line, handing out the posters everyone was going to have signed. Right before the staff member extended your poster, the small chattering turned to a huge roar as Got7 walked out on stage. They bowed to the fans, waving and smiling as they lined up, sharpies in hand.

You quickly looked down the line, eyes halting as they fell on the frame of Kim Yugyeom. His long slender legs were wrapped perfectly in black fitted ripped jeans. His shirt fell loosely, tucked behind the most amazing black leather belt. He looked absolutely divine, and your blood ran cold when you caught his attention, his dominating gaze making your knees weak already. You bit your bottom lip, causing Yugyeom to shift his neck to the side uncomfortably before breaking the drawn out gaze. This was torture. The sexual tension between the both of you felt so thick. You couldn’t focus on anything besides the feeling between your legs and watching Yugyeom on stage as he spoke to the fans in front of him.

Your eyes were torn away from Yugyeom as you heard the beautiful laugh of Jinyoung booming through the arena. He was laughing at something the fan in front of him had said, and you found yourself admiring him all over again. He always looked so put together, so perfect, not a hair out of place. His smile was radiant and contagious, bringing a smile to your own face as you watched his innocent interaction with the lucky fans. You slowly made your way closer and closer to the stage, watching all the members as they signed posters and chatted with fans. Your anxiety was growing, you continued to look between the members as well as Yugyeom, searching for an answer to all of the questions rummaging through your head.

You were finally next, and when your friend finished her quick talk with Yugyeom, you moved yourself much too eagerly in front of him, pushing your poster out towards him. Yugyeom’s face graced an evil smirk as he took the poster into his hands and signed it. “Thanks for coming.” He whispered down to you, his eyes black and hidden partially behind his hair. You swallowed hard, already feeling so small and intimidated by just the look he gave to you. You nodded your reply, and as you reached for the poster, Yugyeom’s arms pulled you into a hug. He smelled so wonderful. The musky-woodsy scent went straight to your head, the feeling of his strong arms pulling you close to him, and the fire that ignited on your body from every inch he touched felt like too much. Your body needed him, and you fell into his embrace, forgetting about the poster that was now between both of you. “Backroom.”

The words slipped from his mouth so easily and quietly. Goosebumps replaced the fire on your skin, shooting down to every inch of your body as his voice swept across your ear. You had nothing to say in return, except for taking a step back with wide eyes as you looked around for the door he was suggesting. Before you could ask for a clue, you were swept over to the next member, and robotic-ally handed Mark your poster. What was going to happen in the backroom? Which backroom? How do you get there? You had more important questions to answer than the ones that Mark was asking you to be nice. You felt bad, you wanted to enjoy the fan sign experience. You wanted to thank every member from the bottom of your heart..but your core was throbbing. Adrenaline had replaced all the blood in your body, and you were internally screaming for some release and an end to this absolute torture you’ve been experiencing all night.

The only thing in the world that could possibly take your focus away from what was going on in your mind belonged to the next pair of hands that took yours before singing your poster, Jinyoung. Jinyoung looked down at you, but unlike Yugyeom, did not make you feel small or intimidated. His warm eyes made you feel so safe and protected. Jinyoung signed his name before handing you back your prized possession. “Thank you so much for coming, I hope you enjoyed the show.” Jinyoung sounded so honest and genuine.

“No, thank you. Seriously. I’ve been looking forward to this night for so long.” You returned his smile, nervously biting your lip as you looked up at Jinyoung and into his crystal clear eyes. Jinyoung’s arms found their way around your body, pulling you in for the warmest hug you’ve ever experienced. Your body felt like jelly in his arms, as though you would be protected from everything as long as you stayed in the embrace. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, all thoughts of Yugyeom fleeting from your head as you rested in the comfort of Jinyoung’s arms. The moment faded as the embrace ended, your bodies pulling away from each other, and a rush of cold air coming between the both of you. One last look, and you were down to the end of the line with Bambam. While Bambam jotted his name down for you, you looked down the line, hoping to connect with Jinyoung again. As your gaze fell on Jinyoung, something caught your eyes further down. Yugyeom. His facial expression looked anything but happy. His jaw was clenched tight and his fists were decorated with white knuckles down at his sides. Your eyes snapped open, and the only thing that brought your legs to move was the sound of a staff member calling for all the fans to meet on the opposite side of the stage. The fan sign was over.

You quickly made your way to the other fans, Got7 waving their goodbyes and singing their last well-wishes to their lovely songbirds as you all huddled near the stairs, waiting to file off. It all happened too quickly. You never got the chance to find that fucking backdoor. You were too lost in Jinyoung, and caught off guard by Yugyeom’s upsetting gaze. Was he upset you didn’t find the backdoor? Were you supposed to have just walked off? Got7 left the stage and your heart fell down to the floor. It was all too fast. Your body was aching for Yugyeom’s touch, but you had ruined every chance given to you.

Staff members ushered you all down the stage, slowly filing you down the small staircase one by one. Your anxiety was taking over, the reality setting in as you inched your way forward. “Oh my god - that was incr--”

Your friends voice was cut off to your ears by a familiar stinging pain. You winced from the sudden shock, your arm being taken roughly by a hand off to the side behind the curtain. You forced back a scream from the sudden grip, jumping slightly before you snapped your head to the side to see Yugyeom’s dark black orbs and sweeping hair. Your legs wanted to move, but your body was in disbelief. You looked ahead of you to make sure your friend and no one else was looking, and before you could second guess anything, you slipped behind the curtain to follow an obviously angry Yugyeom.

Follow would be the ideal word for the situation at hand. You weren’t following Yugyeom as much as he was merely dragging you along, your legs fighting to keep up with his long strides as he pulled you into the back. You could hear the faint voices of the fans as you got further and further away, and once you found the both of you behind a door in the back, the voices had all vanished.

“Hey, sorry for--”

“No.” Yugyeom interrupted your apology as he locked the door behind you, turning to see you standing there, watching his every move.

Your body felt heavy, your breathing picked up as the nerves began to spark inside of you. Your legs wouldn’t move despite the pleading inside your head as Yugyeom stood in front of the door, facing you. “I asked you to meet me here.” He growled. Taking a single step forward. Your body screamed, panic setting in. He looked annoyed, and it terrified you. “And what did you do?”

The question didn’t really need an answer, thankfully, because you had forgotten all words as you continued to watch Yugyeom. The sound of metal rang through your ears and your eyes trailed down to his hands. Yugyeom’s pace towards you was slow and tormenting as he undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops one by one, his eyes never straying from your figure before him. Swallowing was painful, and you were suddenly very aware of just how soaked you must have been between your legs. He had not even touched you, all he had done is terrify you, and there you were. A dripping mess already.

“You ran right to Jinyoung. You ran straight into his arms.” Yugyeom’s voice hit you right in the chest, his words like poison on his tongue that he spat at you. You were suddenly jerked from the moment and stumbling on your words for an excuse.

“No, I-”

“I said. No.” Yugyeom was now right in front of you. Only a few inches separated your bodies with his belt folded in one of his hands. “I don’t want excuses.” He gave you a reason before you could ask. You could feel the heat from his body. You could feel his breath sweep across your neck as he dipped down to whisper into your ear. “You need to be quiet while I show you why you should’ve chose me.”

You tried your best, but you couldn’t hold back the groan that left your throat from the best words you’ve ever heard. Something about Yugyeom made you want to just be used and be at his mercy. Yugyeom wasted no time, grabbing your wrist with his free hand and spinning you around. The smell of leather filled your senses as his belt was then placed directly in front of your mouth.

“Open.” Embarrassingly quickly, your mouth opened up. Leather now filled your mouth as his belt slid in between your teeth. Without direction, you closed your mouth around the belt as Yugyeom fastened it behind you. “I don’t trust you to be quiet, so this should help.” He smirked at his handy work before turning you back around. His eyes bore into you, drinking in your figure as you stood before him. Your legs rubbed together, attempting to lessen the intense feeling of need that throbbed at your core. Yugyeom’s eyes landed on your needy action, his hand going down and parting your legs as you stood, his body following so he was kneeling down in front of you. His hand started at your knee, gripping it softly before trailing up your thigh. You wanted to scream into the belt from the slow movement, you were already so needy, that this was just going to drive you mad. Your hands found his hair, testing your limits as you circled your fingers into his locks.

Yugyeom didn’t react, and continued his hands journey up your legs. You tightened the grip on his hair as his hands got closer to your center. His hands didn’t quite get to the place you wanted them, and instead continued upwards to the waist of your pants. You whined into the belt as Yugyeom’s hand rested on your waist.”What’s wrong, kitten?” He purred. His hands gripped your waist harder as you whimpered your reply, unable to speak past the belt. Yugyeom’s hands made their way to the front of your pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them down your legs. His eagerness began to show as he brought his hands right back to your waist and began to pull your panties down right after. You moaned into leather at the feeling of cool air rushing to replace the heat of your dripping cunt. Yugyeom licked his lips and leaned forward, his warm breath now fanning over your center. Without warning, Yugyeom's tongue painted a thick strip up your pussy, collecting the dripping juices and sending your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling. His tongue was slow, moving back out and giving you small and gentle licks. Your moans hit the leather of his belt over and over as you tried your best to keep standing from the overwhelming feeling. Yugyeom’s hands found your hips, holding you steady while you worked on your pussy with his mouth. His lips circled your sensitive clit, flicking it gently with his tongue and causing your hips to thrust towards him in search of more. Yugyeom’s hands went to your ass, grabbing it roughly and pulling you closer to him as he ate you out hungrily. His moans against your clit had your head rolling to the back, your grip on his hair becoming tighter as you tried to push him closer. You needed more, and Yugyeom had you closer and closer with every flick of his tongue.

Muffled swears came out of your mouth, and your hips tried to fuck his mouth as best as you could, until he stopped. Protesting in the form of whimpers came from you as Yugyeom licked all of your juices from his mouth as he stood up in front of you. “You taste so fucking good, kitten. And to think you wanted to give that to Jinyoung and not me..” He still sounded so angry, jealous even, as he spoke to you about Jinyoung. Yugyeom turned you around and gripped the back of your neck, pushing you forward to a chair. Right before your knees hit the chair, Yugyeom pulled your neck back, stopping you in your tracks. You didn’t dare move, you remained where he had stopped you as he walked around to the front of you and looked down at you, your pussy dripping, your eyes begging him for more. Yugyeom palmed his cock through his jeans as he drank you in, licking his lips again.

He began to undo his pants, never taking his eyes off of your face as he did. Once his pants had loosened, he slid his pants and boxers down, releasing his cock and forcing your eyes down to see for yourself. You bit down on the leather at the site of his cock, pre cum dripping off the tip and Yugyeom’s hand wrapping around it tightly. Yugyeom sat on the chair, stroking his cock and staring up at your hungry eyes. “You can make it up to me by coming here.” Yugyeom’s free hand grabbed your wrist and tugged you so you were straddling his lap in the chair. His cock was throbbing in his lap, waiting for you to move. You moved your hand over his length, replacing his hand with yours. Yugyeom took a sharp breath in as your hand wrapped tightly around him, stroking him slowly. You loved the feeling of him in your hand. He was so thick, so hard, just for you. Yugyeom groaned out, thrusting his hips up slightly. “Don’t waste time, I can’t stay forever.” He gestured you to have a seat. You lowered yourself closer to his lap, his cock waiting for your dripping cunt as you both watched in silence. Your blood was rushing to your head, you almost felt weak from the amount of excitement that was pushing through your body the closer you got to him. He felt so warm and strong, his cock looked absolutely delicious and you wanted nothing more than to feel him stretch you out in every way.

Yugyeom watched as his cock brushed the lips of your pussy, sending electricity down your spine as your ached your back and slowly began to lower yourself onto him. He stretched you out so much, a slight tinge of pain was mixed with the intense pleasure you felt as your pussy began to wrap around every inch of his cock. Yugyeom became impatient and reached his hand up to wrap into your hair. With one tug down, your body collapsed, slamming his cock deep inside of you and pulling a scream from your throat that fell against the leather belt propped in your mouth. Yugyeom’s hold in your hair became stronger as he began to fuck you. You lifted yourself up some so Yugyeom could thrust inside you faster and deeper, wanting to feel every inch of his cock as it slid in and out. Yugyeom’s moans were music to your ears, biting and sucking your neck between pants and growls. His free hand grabbed your hip, pulling you into him in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, I need to hear you.” You took this as your sign, undoing the belt behind your head as Yugyeom relentlessly fucked your needy pussy hard. As soon as the belt loosened enough, you pulled it down your jaw and let it hang around your neck as you screamed out his name, begging him to fuck you harder.

“Please! Fuck, Yugyeom! Fuck me, please fuck my pussy harder!” You cried out, grabbing his shoulders and sinking your nails into his shirt covered shoulder. Your neck gave out, your head collapsing backwards as the sounds of moans filled the room from you and Yugyeom.

Suddenly, Yugyeom stopped. Your neck regained it’s strength and you locked your needy eyes on Yugyeom for a reasoning. Yugyeom smirked at your protest and lifted you off of him with ease. Without saying a word, he grabbed your neck again, leading you to the wall and pressing you against it. He leaned his body against you, lava flowing between the both of you anywhere he touched. His cock throbbed against your ass, and you pushed back against him with a whine, begging for him to continue. Your wave was close to crashing, your juices were spilling out onto your thighs and all you needed was a few more moments of Yugyeom fucking you to bring this wave of pleasure down onto you.

Yugyeom moved your hair to the side, biting your neck as he thrust his cock into your ass over and over, slick from your juices and easily able to slide against you. You needed him inside of you, but the feeling of his hard length sliding against you was wonderful, and created whimpers in your throat as you pushed back against him in rhythm. Yugyeom continued to use your bodies pressed together to fuck you, moaning into your ear as he pleasured himself.  “Yugyeom, please..inside of me..”

You breathed out the words using some of the last air you had, your breathing coming in small and short bursts. You spread your legs for him, begging him to give you what you needed. Yugyeom took a step back and brought your body with him. Using the extra space between you and the wall, Yugyeom bent you over. Your hands came out to balance yourself on the wall, giving Yugyeom easier access to your soaked core.

“I still…” There was a pause as he spoke. The silence seemed like forever, but was realistically only a few seconds before a sharp pain hit your ass. His hand left a bright red print on your ass, causing you to jerk forward from the shock. “I don’t understand..” Another pause, another slap.

“Why.” Slap.

“Would you choose.” Slap.

“Jinyoung.” Slap.

“Over me.” Another slap. Every slap harder than the next. You bit down on your lip to stifle the screams that threatened to escape as your ass burned from the contact of his hand. Yugyeom rubbed your sore ass, continuing to give you slaps on alternating cheeks until your ass was perfectly marked to his liking. Once he was satisfied with his work, Yugyeom took up behind you, and slid his entire cock into you with little to no warning. You screamed in pain and ecstasy. You were dripping down his cock immediately, your pussy absolutely begging for him to fuck you harder, tightening around him every single inch as he sunk into you. One of Yugyeom’s hands reached up, grabbing your hair and pulling you up some to arch your back, allowing him even deeper into you.

“I want you to feel me tomorrow. I want you to fucking remember this night.” His words sent fire into your core, your stomach turned in pleasure at the thought of his marks all over you. You clawed at the wall for something to hold onto as he fucked you harder and harder with every word.

“You’re so fucking hot. I couldn’t stop watching you all night.” His cock stretched you out more and more with every thrust of his hips. The moans he was creating, the feeling of his length all the way inside of you, the tightness of your pussy wrapped around him and the words he continued to speak were sending you into bliss. Your eyes shut as you pushed back onto him harder.

“Fuck me, please, Yugyeom, I need to cum!” Your body was about to explode. You already felt light headed from the amount of blood that was rushing so quickly through your system. Your heart was about to burst from the intense pleasure that threatened to break at any point if Yugyeom continued. Yugyeom’s grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you back more.

“Then, fucking cum for me.” He demanded as he fucked you harder than you thought possible. You screamed into the silence of the room, white pleasure washing over you as you fell into a state of absolute ecstasy. Yugyeom didn’t slow down, fucking you harder and harder, his cock slamming into you and stretching you out, sending you over the edge in the best way. His cock finally stilled some, twitching inside of you as he came.

“Fuck, fuck you feel so fucking good!” Yugyeom tipped his head back as he screamed out for you, his cum spilling inside of you and adding to the intense feeling you had throughout your entire body. Yugyeom stopped moving, keeping his length deep inside of you as your bodies rested against one another and the wall. Your breathing and his were the only noise you could hear as you both regained your breath. You felt so weak, but so full and satisfied. Your entire body tingled with satisfaction and warmth. His breath fanned across the back of your neck as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

After a moment of regaining composure and oxygen, Yugyeom pulled away. Your body was shocked with cold air, a contrast from his warm body. Your body felt so weak and heavy, and you slid yourself down to the floor to rest as Yugyeom disappeared behind a door. He returned with some water and a blanket, offering you your pants and the other items.

You thanked him, dressing yourself as best as you could from the floor and wrapping yourself up in the blanket. You weren’t exactly cold, but it felt nice to be bundled up. Your emotions were as numb as you felt, tired and exhausted, and processing what just happened was for another time. Now, you just wanted to live in this moment, and let is happen. Just as your friend has encouraged.

Oh fuck. Your friend.

You frantically searched for your phone, retrieving it from your pocket.

Calls and texts,  concerned words in every message.

“You should go. We both are being expected.” Yugyeom nodded towards your phone. You didn’t want to leave, but you also couldn’t leave your friend hanging any longer.

“I hope to see you again, kitten.” Yugyeom leaned forward, kissing your forehead and stepping away from you. “You can follow the exit signs to a back exit.”

And just like that, Yugyeom swept out of the room, adjusting his pants as he left. You got to your feet, legs wobbly, and began to fix your own pants. As you were about to leave you realized.

Yugyeom’s belt was still on your neck.

You grabbed the wet leather and grinned to yourself.

What a great souvenir. Much better than a photo.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 6575 Chapter: 9/9 Rated: T+ Summary: When his brother disappears coming home from town Madara goes looking for him only for both to end up taken prisoner in a castle hidden by magic generations ago. The candelabras talk, the furniture sleeps, and a great white beast hides himself away in the eastern wing. As he uncovers the story behind this place and gets to know the last small group of ‘survivors’ Madara gradually makes a new home here in the least likely of places.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Chapter 9

Waking up the next morning without a hangover probably ranked in the top ten surprises of Madara’s life. The good ones, even. Either he’d found some water to drink that he didn’t remember or something about the reset magic had saved their sorry hides from suffering through the usual aftereffects of excess. Whichever it was Madara was hardly going to question his good fortune.

He was, however, going to question how he had fallen asleep with his head in Tobirama’s lap. As funny as it was to see his friend’s massive form sprawled out and bent backwards over the couch it was probably best to get up before they embarrassed each other with their equal amounts of awkwardness. Just look at him go. Definitely getting up. Madara glared up at the ceiling with great offense as though it had anything to do with his lack of motivation to move, determined not to admit that he was just very comfortable with zero desire to ruin that. He knew the man under him was going to lose his mind when he woke. It would be best to at least find a less compromising position before that happened. Yet still he continued to lay there battling against the urge to roll over and burrow his face in to Tobirama’s belly for another hour or so of shut eye.

It was a little weird to think of anyone outside of his family in such a familiar way but Madara passed over that without giving it much thought. He’d gotten to know everyone here at the castle quite well over the past several months, it was really no surprise that he would grow close to them in the same way he was close to Izuna, the sort of camaraderie that meant he would feel comfortable relying on them in a time of need, the sort of bond that meant he would sacrifice a part of himself if it would let them be happy.

A lot of thinking just to rationalize his inability to get up.

Madara was still pondering all the many excuses he could come up with when finally he was treated to the sight of the ever-proper King of this establishment jerking his head upright with a graceless snort and gazing around the room with bleary eyes that spoke of a very deep slumber. From the slightly dopey look on his face it seemed like he must have been having quite a nice dream before the waking world reeled him back in without warning. Heart suddenly racing in his chest, Madara kept as still as possible, almost as though he thought perhaps he could go unnoticed if he simply didn’t draw attention to himself. Whatever half-baked plans his lazily befuddled mind had come up with were dashed when Tobirama looked down. Both of them froze as their eyes met, somehow equally astonished.

“G’morning,” was all Madara could think to say.

“I…yes. A good morning indeed. Have you any recall as to how this came to be?”

“No but I hear I’m a cuddly drunk.”

For whatever reason that seemed to disappoint his host. Maybe he was hoping for a more ostentatious story of grand adventure ending with collapsing against each other on the couch. Actually that sounded much better, Madara wished he’d thought up a story like that to tell.

“Most fortuitous that you are here. I remember little of last night myself; however, I do recall that I wished to make a confession to you which I did not have a chance for. Surely if I had spoken my piece we would both recall.”

“Sure. Makes sense.” He paused for an unnecessarily drawn out moment. “Should I get up?”

He felt a little vindicated when Tobirama seemed reluctant to insist on that but after a moment of indecision he agreed it would be best. It wasn’t quite the lecture on propriety he’d been expecting but that was alright, he’d already enjoyed a humorous first reaction and that had been everything he was hoping for. When he sat up his back cracked in several areas and he had to stand up completely in order for everything to pop back in to the right place. As he did he could feel Tobirama watching him but mostly chalked it up to the fact that he was really the only thing in the room to look at. These were, after all, the same set of apartments that Tobirama had been locking himself in to for several decades. His gaze probably slid right over the contents now no matter how lavish they were to Madara's eyes.

Once his body no longer felt like an accordion in need of a good stretch he flopped back down on to his corner of the couch and gave his companion a winning smile.

“You needed to talk to me about something?

“Something very important which I feel may affect many things–”

Before he could ever finish his sentence it was interrupted when the door flew open across the room. Tobirama’s first reaction was to swing his head around and glare in that direction but the expression quickly melted away to become worry as he caught sight of Hashirama, his carven metal face devastated.

“What is it?” Tobirama demanded, already halfway off the couch.

“It is Mito! She will not wake! Help me, brother! Please!”

“No…” The sheer amount of heartbreak packed in to that one word whispered under his breath in protest of something he could not stop was, without contest, the saddest thing Madara had ever witnessed in his life.

Hashirama led them as they hurried from the room and down the hall in to another. In better circumstances Madara might have taken the time to inspect what the bedroom of an intended king looked like but at the moment none of that existed, the décor around him as likely to be trash as it was to be treasure for all the attention he paid it. His eyes were only for the still shape in the center of the massive bed.

Gently resting atop the covers she had doubtlessly once slumbered beneath, the ribs of Mito’s fan were open to reveal her face so still and stiff. With her painted eyes closed and mouth caught in a slack neutral shape she looked identical to the portrait Madara could remember being shown just outside the kitchen. Their cousin, he recalled. A woman of renowned strength whose fall in to the long sleep had surprised all of them; now Mito had followed in her footsteps and the loss of her was like a knife in the gut. Madara could only think to be grateful that Kagami was not here at the moment and to wonder who would have the displeasure of breaking this terrible news to the boy.

Movements careful, eyes filled with a deep sorrow, Tobirama approached the bed and traced the edges of his sister-in-law’s inanimate form with one finger, calling her name softly. When she did not stir he slid both hands underneath to lift her up and turned to sit on the mattress, whispering things she could not hear from the land of dreams. Hashirama clamored up on to the bed and began to pat insistently at his arm, asking over and over whether there was anything he could do, and with every word Tobirama’s body grew stiffer and stiffer.

“I am sorry, brother,” he replied eventually. “I am so sorry.”

“Then…there is nothing to be done?”

“No. If there exists a way to prevent this then I do not know it.”

Hashirama stared up at him with a doleful face, their eyes holding each other in place for a small eternity, until finally his form seemed to droop and he reached out with one hand, pulling it back at the last second before his flame could touch the lacquered parchment of his wife’s form, unable to touch her even now. As his face crumpled even more Madara turned away and wondered if he should leave. This felt like a moment meant to be shared between family and the last thing he wanted would be to impose.

She might not be dead technically but the scene before him may as well have been a funeral. For all intents and purposes Mito was lost to them. While she certainly wasn’t the one he’d grown the closest to since arriving here Madara could still say that she meant as much to him as though she were his own sister-in-law. To lose her presence would change the entire dynamic of their little family group.

And wasn’t this just the wrong time for Madara to realize that he saw all of these poor cursed people as his family now, opposable thumbs or no? He always did have a terrible sense of irony.

“Will you lay her on the bed?” Hashirama requested in a voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

“Of course.”

Quick as if he’d been shocked by a bolt of lightning yet careful as though the fan between his hands were made of glass, Tobirama turned and laid Mito down to rest against the pillows as she had been when they entered the room. Hashirama hopped himself over to her side and crawled in to a small tin box that must serve as his own place to sleep without fearing he might light the rest of the room on fire by accident. With a whimper he lifted one arm out and reached for his wife only to draw it back and curl into himself, sinking entirely in to his box but for the top of his head resting against one edge where he could still gaze upon her still form.

“I believe I should like to be alone with her,” he told them and they nodded in solemn agreement.

Since Tobirama seemed beyond words or the ability to even think it fell to Madara to take him by the hand and pull them both from the room, back down the hall where they had passed a pleasant evening the night before, a happy memory that already felt years behind them. After encouraging his friend down on to the same sofa as before he cast around the room for a blanket and gathered as many things he could see that might count as one. The sake set, he noted, had mysteriously placed itself back in to its cupboard.

“Words escape me,” Tobirama murmured as several throws were tossed about his shoulders. “I cannot believe she faded so quickly – that she faded at all. It is beyond comprehension.”

“Beyond comprehension is a good way to put it. Are you doing okay?”

“Me?” The sad mask of his face cracked just enough for a sliver of surprise to shine through that someone might be thinking of him at a moment like this. Madara scoffed and sank down on the cushion next to him.

“Yes, you. I know how you drown yourself in guilt about everything so I’ll repeat my question. Are you doing okay?” He accompanied his words with his best approximation of a firm look to discourage any bullshit about being just fine. All it took was one look and anyone with eyes could see the idiot was not fine at all.

His guess was proven correct by the way his friend refused to meet his eyes. Madara scowled and poked him in the side.

“None of that, yeah?”

“Madara, I beg of you, tell me how am I meant to witness yet another of our dwindling number falling victim to slumber and not look to myself as the cause?” Tobirama raked at his hair with both hands and then dropped them back in to his lap to stare wistfully at the inhuman claws on each finger. “How can I not be a monster?”

He looked up finally when he saw a human hand reach over to take hold of his own. “Because you love them.”

“What?”

“I have to believe that you are human because only a human could mourn for the loss of someone they love like you’re doing now. No monster could ever love as deeply as you do.” Madara squeezed their hands together and thought about pulling away but didn’t want to ruin the moment, not when he could finally see wheels turning behind those brilliantly red eyes. Tobirama blinked at him as though seeing for the first time.

“Because I…love them. I do love them.”

Madara huffed. “I could tell that.”

“This is- they are all trapped here in this state because of me. No, hush, listen. They are here like this so many years later because of me and yet as the years turns they have never faltered, their love for me has never faded. Whether I believed myself to be deserving or not.” His spine straightened like the light of revelation were filling him up and he pulled his hands away to stand up with something like awe in his face. “I do love them. And perhaps…perhaps that is enough.”

“Enough? What do you mean, enough for what?”

“To make me human.”

Almost before he could process those words Madara was blinded as the room was filled with a sudden light he couldn’t see the source of. Both of them cried out and lifted their hands to shield their eyes as a coarse voice sighed throughout the room with a terrible aching fondness, “Finally.”

The light seemed to last forever, burning through the spaces between his fingers until he cringed and wound his entire arms around his head, ducking down towards his chest in an effort to escape. In front of him he could hear the sounds of Tobirama struggling as though the light were hurting more than just his eyes but no matter how much he wished he could reach out the pain of lowering his own arms was just too great. He was forced to wait it out until finally the world grew dimmer once again and a cautious peek out from the safety of his self-made darkness revealed nothing more than the natural light of morning.

It also revealed that Tobirama was no longer in the room with him, replaced by an unknown – gorgeous – man. After taking a second glance Madara was quickly forced to amend his statement. He knew those tattoos, that white skin, and most of all he knew those pretty red eyes all too well. Tobirama stared back at him out an achingly beautiful human face filled with the same stunned disbelief he was feeling himself. Only for a moment, though. Then he was raised his shaking hands and staring at them as though he’d never looked upon human fingers before, slowly twisting them back and forth, wriggling the digits and examining them from all angles to determine that he wasn’t hallucinating the sight before him. Madara was so distracted by the hands he almost failed to look down and see two very human legs with almost dainty white feet peeking out, bare underneath the long dark pants.

When he looked back up Tobirama met his gaze with lips parting in a slow smile that just kept growing and growing until it filled his entire face and Madara did the only thing he could: he blurted out his first thought.

“You’re still tall!”

Tobirama laughed and it was a beautiful sound. So like the laugh he already knew but smoother without the rough edges of sorrow that had tainted every moment of this man’s life for the last hundred years. Madara wanted so badly to bottle that sound, to keep it forever and relive this moment over and over.

He wanted to speak again but he couldn’t find the words. Then the door crashed open for the second time that morning and all thoughts of speaking were swept away by the figure that stumbled in to the room on wobbling legs, brown skin and a too-wide smile, the human embodiment of sheer joy pulling behind him a woman more beautiful than Madara's imagination could have ever composed. Red hair cascaded down past her waist in a silken waterfall but it was the delicate shape of her lips and the sharp eyes that identified her. She could be only Mito. Which meant there could only be one name for the massive tree of a man leading her, letting go of her wrist to throw himself unsteadily across the room.

“Tobirama! Oh Tobirama!” Hashirama fell in to his brother’s arms with tears already wet on his cheeks, holding him so tight it looked almost painful. Rather than complain Tobirama caught him up in a hug just as tight and buried his face in long brown hair shoulder.

“Brother,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “It is good to see you as yourself again.” The look on his face said he wanted to protest when Hashirama pulled away but it was only to rest their foreheads together so they could look in to each other’s eyes.

“Not as good as it is to see you as I have always seen you. As I knew that you must someday again see yourself.”

The moment between them was simply too personal to watch. Madara turned away to offer an arm to Mito and pretend she couldn’t see him discretely wiping at his eyes. She was kind enough to allow him that delusion so he repaid her by offering his support as she trembled her way through relearning a body that she had not worn in much too long. It wasn’t until she had cycled through several expression of frustration that he realized she was not trembling with fatigue or with weakness but rather with effort; she was trying to move. How confusing it might have been to have legs after so many years of effortless flight.

Very gently and quietly so as not to attract attention to her mishap he reminded her that she needed to lift her legs if she wished to cross the space between her and the husband she had just today nearly abandoned to the ravages of time. She looked down at her own feet as though surprised to remember that she had automatically performed such movements when Hashirama pulled her in here. Madara wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh because it was funny, coo because it was adorable, or mourn a little for all the parts of being human that she would need time to rediscover. In the end he did none of those things because he was too busy helping her not to fall over as she carefully shifted her weight from side to side, getting used to the sensation of using the muscles. Then she was pulling away from him and he held both hands at the ready should she topple over sideways but allowed her to go to her beloved on her own.

“Dearest husband,” she called softly in the same rich voice she had used to scold them all for misbehaving at the dinner table. Both of the brothers looked up at her in wonder and for a moment she allowed Tobirama to take her in a gentle embrace, murmuring apologies in her ear as one could only assume he’d just been whispering to Hashirama. It took a few long moments before he could bring himself to step away and hand her in to the arms of her husband, who received her with as much joy as if her face hadn’t been the first he must have seen when the magic was broken.

Tobirama watched their reunion for a moment until that too became too personal to watch and then he turned to meet Madara's gaze again. And again Madara wanted to find some momentous words inside himself to mark such a significant moment but it was hard to think around the revelation that, after so many months of trying to beat the truth of his own humanity in to this idiot’s head, it had finally happened. He was human. Before him stood a human being still tall and still pale but still so very much the friend he had grown so close to.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said before he could stop himself. Tobirama’s eyes widened and he seemed to pause as though trying to figure out how that was meant.

“Am I? You’ve always been rather fetching yourself.”

Madara spluttered. He really hadn’t expected the man to come back with something so blatantly flirtatious. Was it possible that he’d missed something? He was already running through some of their more recent conversations looking for any double entendre he might have missed when a rush of squealing laughter drifted in from down the hall and he was treated to the sight of Tobirama’s face lighting up all over again.

“My people!” he cried, taking Madara by the hand. “Why, the entire castle will have awakened! Come! Come!”

With an almost childish glee he spun for the door and pulled Madara along with him as he dashed out in to the hallway, rushing towards the sounds of unfamiliar voices all laughing and shouting together. Clearly his emotions had overwhelmed him, as was understandable in a moment such as this, but it was still a bit funny to see pale feet pounding down the carpeted hallway like an eager child. Then suddenly Madara had so many more things to look at than exposed feet. As they burst out of the royal apartments in to the rest of the castle they were met with the sight of a dozen or so people all standing together in a gaggle, hugging, sobbing, touching each other with awe in their faces. Tobirama gasped and froze for a moment until they spotted him and descended upon him to bow and reach for his arm, offering him the most heartfelt thanks the world had ever heard. He might have stood there all day if more voices didn’t catch his attention and drive him to explore further.

Around endless hallways he continued to run and always he pulled Madara along behind him to witness as he encountered more and more of the people he had lost over the years. Face after countless face passed them by, all different ages and filled with all different emotions too, and Tobirama grew only more jubilant with every one of them until finally they turned a corner to see Izuna coming in the opposite direction with an absolutely adorable young boy riding piggyback, shiny black curls bouncing with every step where they framed a happy cherub face.

“Madara! This is madness!” His words were a direct contrast to the way he laughed and jostled his little tagalong friend. “Look, it’s Kagami! Can you believe it? Right in front of my eyes! One second he’s small and sleeping on my pillow and the next poof he’s a full sized kid!”

“I know, Tobirama did the same thing to me!”

“Holy shit! Tobirama!” Izuna stopped dead a foot away to stare at the still-towering pale figure holding Madara's wrist.

Kagami, on the other hand, had no such confusion about how to react. “Sensei! Sensei! I had forgotten you were truly so tall, sensei! Look!”

When he held out both arms over Izuna’s shoulders and wiggled his fingers, more dexterous than his little wooden hands had been before, it was such a cute sight Madara was surprised the three of them didn’t burst in to synchronized tears just to see the little mite this happy. Tobirama seemed at least a little overwhelmed though, unsurprisingly.

“Surely the handsomest fingers I have ever laid my eyes upon,” he praised, grinning in response to Kagami’s giggle.

“Will you hug me later sensei?”

“Not now?”

“Izuna promised me a ride upon his back for as long as I desired and I can feel the air! On my skin! It’s stupendous! Again, Izuna! Again!”

Hefting the boy up a little higher, Izuna nodded to both of them. Then he started off down the hallway again with a light-hearted, “Later, losers, we’ve got places to be! Zooooom! Where to next, Captain Kagami?”

Both Tobirama and Madara stood watching until the pair of them were out of sight seeking the fortunes of fun somewhere else in the castle. Although he knew how much his friend had probably wanted to have a proper reunion with Kagami it was easy for Madara to understand why Tobirama had let the boy go. No one could blame him for wanting to experience the small pleasures of humanity again. There would be plenty of time later for the boy to embarrass his king with overly emotional hugs and assorted declarations of joy.

“And where to next for us?” Madara asked, biting down on his bottom lip and hoping whatever expression he was making wasn’t too foolish.

“This way,” Tobirama breathed, taking off almost before he was finished forming the syllables, and when he pulled Madara away again it was down a familiar path they had both travelled countless times before.

Rounding the corridor towards the kitchens was a little hard to do at top speed with so many maids and cooks and scullery boys all choking the area with their tearful reunions but with a bit of weaving and fancy footwork similar to the kind they used when trading blows on the practice field the two of them managed to find their way. They came out at the far end of the hall from the room where Mito cooked and served the best meals she had been able to craft without hands. Madara thought for a moment to ask why they had come here specifically and it was only a moment after he realized he already knew when the reason presented itself with a course bellow.

“Tobirama!” Several heads in the hallways turn first to the source of that strident voice and then in the other direction to observe their frozen king. “You foul bastard of a pig farmer!”

“Cousin…”

“You cowardly fool, weak bespawling moron of the highest order!” The face that once hung in a painting just outside the doors of the kitchen gazing inward stopped in front of them with a mighty glare that softened infinitesimally as she added, “You had better have missed me!”

With that she caught Tobirama up in a hug with arms so thick Madara felt his eyes widen before he could catch himself. Instead of pushing her away Tobirama held her closer and murmured the same apologies he’d already made to the dozens of people who had caught his attention on the journey down here. They held each other for a long time, long enough to make it quite clear that this was an important woman in Tobirama’s life, and Madara could already feel his imagination running wild when they finally parted to clap each other on the shoulder one last time with the same gruff clearing of their throats.

“I cannot possibly express how much your presence has indeed been missed, dear Touka.”

“You could try, cousin. But that can wait for a time when we can all sit down and hear the entire story. Tell me, who is this? I do not know your face, stranger.” Touka, as Madara now recalled her name after hearing it again, stared at him with eyebrows raised in quite a suspicious manner. Were it not for the happy atmosphere filling them all to the brim he would have bristled immediately under that look. Tobirama’s hand on his arm helped a little too.

“It is my absolute pleasure to introduce you to Uchiha Madara, a living descendant of our most trusted advising family.” His friend glanced at him with warm eyes that Madara thought nothing of until he saw the way Touka narrowed her own in thought.

Her weight shifted almost as if to take a defensive stance and he wondered, for one terrifying heartbeat, if she were about to attack him. “What is he to you?” she asked instead.

A little embarrassed by the implication of that question, when he looked to the man beside him Madara was already blushing just a bit. When he understood the softness of the eyes looking back he feared his entire face might just burst in the flames and it was only made worse as Tobirama gathered himself enough to find the words for a reply somehow even more embarrassing than the implication had been.

“He is everything I have waited for and more.”

Obviously the only proper reaction to that was to go outside and bury himself in the garden now that the soil wasn’t going to replace itself every morning. Tempted as he was, Madara held his ground here and simply made himself as small as possible while the two of them continued catching up, not saying a word until Touka asked where her other cousin was and the three of them turned around to walk right back up the stairs to the royal apartments they had just come all the way down from.

The reunion between Hashirama and Touka was about as filled with tears as Madara had always suspected anything involving his overly-emotional friend would be. Mito, at the very least, held herself in a more ladylike manner, though her eyes did mist a little no matter how much she tried to deny it. All of them seemed to be having trouble keeping their bodily – human – reactions in check after so long encased in lives of steel or wood or canvas. It was humbling to watch, if also a tiny bit sad. But mostly it was entertaining to see the usually quite composed Mito shed a tear as she spoke without even being aware or to watch Hashirama jump each time something brushed against him because he wasn’t used to physical sensation. The idiot even spent a solid five minutes dragging his fingernails against the skin of his palm and trying to find the right words for how that felt.

After so many people had slept for so long with none of them aware how much time had actually passed they knew they couldn’t all stay locked away in their rooms forever. Tobirama allowed himself an hour to properly greet his family as a whole once Kagami and Izuna slipped in to join them but after that he reluctantly left to greet more of his people and keep everyone calm, to answer what questions they had for him. Madara was tempted to go with him. The day was barely a few hours old and they had already shared a couple of moments that felt significant but he held himself back. He could wait. The rest of the people here in the castle had waited much longer than him and their issues probably felt a lot more pressing than his own.

Despite convincing himself it was the right thing to do it was still difficult to wait almost the entire day to find a moment he could be alone with Tobirama again. Several hours passed before any of the residents realized the slight tension in their bellies meant that they were hungry and the hubbub of everyone getting to experience the glories of real food again caused an uproar the likes of which neither Madara nor Izuna had ever borne witness to. Who would have thought food would be cause for such celebration?

Literally anyone. Madara felt like an idiot as soon as he thought that. Food was amazing and he couldn’t imagine having to live without it.

It was well in to the evening before he found the privacy he was looking for. Once everyone had eaten and most of the questions had been answered, when Tobirama was no longer required to be a king but able to take a few moments to just be a brother and a cousin and a friend again, he first spent a bit more time with his family all sitting together in the part of his living quarters where he first became human again. Madara tucked himself away in one of the couches and mostly spoke with Izuna and Kagami to allow the others a bit of space, biding his time until slowly the room began to clear as everyone reluctantly trundled off to bed.

As much as he himself was yawning, tired enough that he had fallen asleep on Izuna’s shoulder more than once, he held out until finally he was the last one present. Tobirama closed the door behind Touka, dragging her feet up the hall reluctantly as though terrified of going back to sleep, and turned towards his final guest with color on those beautiful high cheekbones.

“You are not tired, Madara?”

“I really really am,” he had to admit. “But I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Oh? What did you wish to speak with me about?” By the look on the man’s face he already knew. Smarmy bastard probably just wanted to hear it out loud.

It was lucky for him that Madara was too impatient to play games. “You said something earlier than I wasn’t sure what you meant by. I was hoping you could clarify for me. When we met Touka in the hallway you introduced me and you told her that I was…that I was everything you were waiting for.”

He expected some blushing. Maybe a little stuttering or stumbling or words. His friend had been raised in a different time, by a different class, so it was nothing less than a shock for Tobirama to be so bold as to step closer and take both of his hands in an achingly gentle hold. The look in those pretty eyes he knew so well could have melted a better man than him. It was all he could do to lock his knees so he wouldn’t simply puddle on the floor with a weak cry of surrender, waves of feelings he hadn’t even noticed building up inside of him all rushing out together in a flood of emotion.

“When you came in to my life I could not have known then what you would become to me,” Tobirama said to him, his voice little more than a low rumble. “Every day I have spent with you at my side has been a blessing. At my lowest and weakest points you looked upon me and declared me human still, you saw worth in me when I believed there to be none, and as I learned more about you how could I help but to fall more deeply in love than I ever thought possible?”

“Oh my god.” Fighting hard against the prickling in the corners of his eyes, Madara could only tremble when Tobirama leaned in a little closer.

“There may be only a shadow of a chance that you return such sentiments but if there is any then I cannot help but to ask after it. You leave me helpless to my heart in a way I have never known. Madara, dearer to me than you can know, could you ever–!”

He probably had a hundred more of his fancy words stored up and just waiting to spill out but Madara couldn’t take it anymore. In one swift motion he lifted himself on to his toes and pressed their lips together because if Tobirama could be bold then damn it he could too. The instant they connected he groaned, glad he’d taken this step himself in case it took Tobirama forever to get here because this was apparently something he needed more than he’d known. Sometimes it was hard to tell when the idiot would be daring or when he would hold back because he’d been raised to think certain actions ‘unseemly’ or that moving too fast was simply not done. By the way he responded to the kiss with a soft noise of his own and pulled Madara closer it didn’t seem like that was going to be much of a problem.

They parted only when hands began to wander and both of them gasped, more startled than anything else. Only yesterday they had been friends and nothing more but Madara realized with less surprise than expected that they had been building towards this for quite some time now. He wondered when Tobirama had fallen in love with him; wondered too when he had fallen in love with Tobirama in turn.

“Would it be too forward of me to admit that I do not wish for you to leave?” Tobirama stroked his face with gentle fingers as he spoke, something deep in his eyes that required no definition, and Madara felt no need to resist the smirk that fought its way on to his face.

“Not if I feel the same. Is that your roundabout way of asking me to stay the night? I have to admit I wouldn’t have thought you would move so fast. Won’t people talk?”

“Let them. We are all of us whole and healthy again and I believe it is time for my brother to take his rightful place on the throne. A king, perhaps, must be cautious in the bonds he creates but a prince?” He lifted one shoulder in a deliberately casual shrug. “A prince may be free to fall in love, to allow passion to override his reason, or even to, say, allow the man he loves to rest in his bed rather than travel the daunting path back through the castle hallways.”

Madara bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. “Are you saying I’m too lazy to walk back to my own room?”

“Do not trouble me with your inferences again,” Tobirama sniffed haughtily.

“Mn. I’ll let it go this time. Maybe. You could kiss me again and convince me.”

So Tobirama kissed him again and Madara said nothing more as he allowed himself to be led deeper in the apartments. To sleep in the bed of a king wasn’t something he’d ever thought he might be doing and yet now that he was doing it the idea wasn’t nearly as incredible as the knowledge that he would be spending the night in Tobirama’s bed. Laying his head on a pillow and closing his eyes knowing that when he opened them there would be a beloved face to greet him just like this morning – with a little less drama, of course.

He wondered briefly whether this place had returned to the memory of the rest of the world, if the village he’d grown up in remembered the castle only a few miles away, but that place felt so distant now after what felt like a lifetime here in a different world and he realized he honestly did not care about those who had never cared about him in return. The life he had in that backwater village had not been happy but what he had here? It may have started out rough, the way he had arrived was far from ideal, but Madara would not give up the life he’d built for anything. Nor would he be giving up the soft look in Tobirama’s eyes as they shut themselves away in a bedroom where the opulence was far outclassed by the shining beauty of a man who led him in.

Madara was glad he came here. He was glad that he had looked at Tobirama with open eyes. Glad that he had found what only Tobirama himself had forgotten was there.

The beauty in the beast.

[cryysiswritesthings]

Beneath the Darkness in My Bones || Chapter One

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: Mature/NC-17 Warnings: Horror, Psychological Torture, Trauma, Implied/Referenced Torture, Rape, Parent/Child Incest, Obsession, Drugged Sex, Sexual Assault, Abuse, Non-Consensual Somnophilia Status: In Progress Pairing(s): KogKag (main), BanKag, Oni(gumo)Kag Summary: Horror is all she knows. Darkness is in his blood. She is the other half of his soul, and his calls for her echo long into the night.

Find it On: Tumblr | AO3

Series: Flowers Grown in Darkness Desecrate You 

Chapters on Tumblr: Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 ||

Tumblr Tags: #kogkag #bankag #onikag #inuyasha #beneath the darkness #btd chapter #flowers desecrate series

Kagome’s eyes never left the floor as their steps echoed through the stone halls. Banktosu led her diligently, ignoring the servants who stepped aside to let them pass. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, their malnourished bodies moving like puppets on a string. As soon as the duo passed, the servants and maids reformed their lines, going back to work.

To the villagers who had never lived a day in the castle, such behavior would have been a clear warning of some dark sorcery. An omen of war yet to come. To the castle’s residents, however, this had become the staple of their daily lives since the loss of their beloved Lady Kikyo.

After a few more turns, the silent duo arrived at the castle’s main hall, locked behind two massive, heavy wooden doors. Briefly, Kagome remembered a time she had wondered if they were made from the same wood as the trees that bordered their lands. She’d wanted to know, and that had been one of her first lessons about learning what was and was not appropriate for her to ask.

Six pairs of guards stood outside the doors, three on each side, all waiting for Banktosu’s nod. At his signal, they took hold of the large iron bars that served as the only means to open the hall to them. Kagome knew better than to rush in. To enter the cavernous room until the doors were fully opened, without permission, was worth an evenings unwanted company as punishment. It was better to wait until she had been invited.

The lord of the castle, a young looking man who went by the name of Onigumo, rested comfortably on his throne. It could not be seen from their distance, but on his beautiful face sat a triumphant smile. He took a moment to admire his daughter, congratulating himself on having trained her so perfectly. His darling daughter, who looked so much like his late wife, her mother, the lovely Lady Kikyo.

“Ah, you’ve found her. Excellent as always, Bankotsu.” Crimson eyes left the guard to focus instead on his child. “Come in, Kagome. Come and greet your father.”

With a bow of her head, acknowledging his invitation, Kagome followed Bankotsu’s slow walk into the room. The creaks and groans of the wooden doors splintered over the walls as they were drawn to close. It was only as the duo reached his lordship and Bankotsu stepped aside to allow the young woman to stand before her father that they finally clanged together, signaling that the trio were alone.

“My lord,” she began demurely, bowing low, “I must apologize for my delay, I was… distracted from my duties.” She would not rise to meet his eyes. “Please, forgive me.”

“Oh?” The lord’s face lifted, his triumphant smile shifting to one of amusement. “And what could have caused this distraction from such a dutiful child as my daughter?”

His amusement scared her. More than his anger, than his rage, his amusement could mean humiliation of the highest order, or a punishment that would haunt her waking hours. Her gulp was inaudible, and though she rose from her bow, still she would not look at the man before her. “I… I do not know, my lord.” Kagome licked her lips, trying to hide the quaking of her voice. “I… I suppose it was only a whimsical fancy. I found myself staring out the window, and wished for some fresh air. I did not realize how much time had passed, or I would not have been late for dinner.”

“You must have truly been distracted, for me to have to send Bankotsu to fetch you,” he crooned softly. The lord’s crimson eyes flicked to the male behind her. “He is meant to be my personal guard, Kagome. Not your babysitter.”

She flinched, and only just resisted the urge to hug herself. Tears pricked at her eyes, terrified of his displeasure, but she would not let them fall. Doing so would only make things worse “Yes, my lord. I promise, it will not happen again.”

“See that it does not.” Onigumo rose from his throne, stepping down from his raised dias to stand before his daughter. Slowly, he reached a hand to raise her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You have been doing so well, my daughter. I would hate to have to once more assign Jakotsu as your guard. He has expressed great enjoyment with his current duties. I cannot imagine he would be pleased to be removed from them in order to keep an eye on you.” Fear filled her eyes, and his smile widened. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” The word came out as barely more than a whisper, and she tried again. “Yes, father. I understand.”

“Excellent.” The lord did not release her, instead leaning forward to brush a soft kiss to the sleep bruised skin of her eye. “Now then. Let us enjoy our dinner together before it gets cold.” He dropped his hand from her chin, holding it up for her to rest her arm over his. “Jinenji has prepared quite the special meal for us. Quail soup, a spinach pecan salad, and roasted duck.” He glanced to the girl from the corner of his eye. “A favorite of your late mother.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, and for Onigumo, over with far too quickly. As his daughter rose, she bowed to him, excusing herself for the evening. He watched her turn from him and head back to the entrance of the throne room for only a moment, before letting his gaze fall to the young man who had stood silent throughout their meal. It had not escaped his notice over the years how Bankotsu’s eyes followed his child, watching her until she was gone from his sight.

“Bankotsu.”

The guard’s gaze moved back to meet his lords own, unafraid of the man seated before him. He was aware that his lord knew of his… something to the Lady. Bankotsu had been brought to the castle as a child, one of seven unique children. From the moment he had first laid eyes on her, Bankotsu had known the Lady would belong to him. There had never been a doubt in his mind. He still felt the strength of his conviction, even now. “My lord?”

“You are aware that the man who is to wed my lovely daughter will be someone of my choosing. This has always been my choice, and her wedding night will belong to a man that I, and I alone, feel is worthy of it.”

“Of course, sire. I have always known.”

The lord smiled. “And still, you watch her as a hawk would its prey.”

Bankotsu raised a dark brow. “The choice has always been yours, my lord. But we both know I will always be the one you choose to marry her.”

“You think so, do you?”

The guard shrugged. “If you disagreed, you wouldn’t have heeded my advice against having Renkotsu put in charge of her.” Not that he thought Rentoksu couldn’t do the work. Quite the contrary. If anything, the other male would be far too good at the job. Good enough that, given the right provocation, he could turn the Lady against his ‘older brother’ if he chose to. Or try and take her for himself. And that was a thought not to be borne.

Bankotsu was not a man to be trifled with once he found something he desired. And he’d wanted the Lady for a long, long time. He didn’t like games, but he would use every method available to him. No matter what he had to do, who he had to kill, he would make the little sparrow his.

“So I did,” the lord murmured. Rising from his seat, he stepped away from the table, allowing the servants to finally clear the trays of food away. “It seems you truly believe you are the best choice to wed my daughter. I suppose I could be… persuaded to follow your way of thinking. However,” that red gaze settled heavily on the black haired guard, “should you do anything to… displease me from this point on, I may have to rethink that decision. And you would not want that.”

Bankotsu bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Of course, my lord. My first loyalty has always been to you.”

“It has. See that it stays that way.”

The guard watched in silence as his lord headed through a hidden hallway before following him. Too often, the older man reminded him of Renkotsu, with his trickery and quiet manipulations. The difference was, Renkotsu had learned the hard way what it meant to cross his older brother. The lord found their little ‘family’ amusing, but he would likely feel otherwise if he knew who truly owned the loyalty of the elite seven.

Bankotsu smirked. Yes, his first loyalty was to the lord. And as long as the old fool didn’t get in his way, that wouldn’t have to change. If he did…. Well. He hadn’t been trained from childhood for nothing after all.

Now that she was alone in the hall, or as alone as one ever could be in this place, Kagome allowed her terror to consume her. She wouldn’t make it to the privacy of her rooms, they were too far, and so stopped at the darkest corner she could find. Her hand covered her mouth as her back hit stone, trying desperately to muffle her terrified sobs. She sank to the floor, curling in on herself to try and hide from the glazed eyes of the servants who passed her by.

She hated this place. Hated her father, his men, the servants, everything. She woke in fear every day. Would there be a presence inside her rooms that she didn’t want? When the evening candles were lit, she fought the pull of sleep, stare focused on the doorway to her rooms. Wondering, again, if her night would be disturbed by the unwanted presence of her lord father.

One way or another, she would leave this place. She didn’t know when, or how. All she knew was that if she didn’t, if she had to live in the nightmare inducing please much longer… If the horrors of the castle didn’t break her, she would take her own life in their stead.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh… Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

The call was quiet, a dream of sound she could barely hear. Raising her head, she listened for the sound again. Nothing came, but she rose anyway, hand moving along the cool stone as she found her way to a window.

She could not see the forest from this side of the castle, could not smell the leaves rustling on the wind. But the full moon hung heavy in the sky, covering her in silver light.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh… Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

She closed her eyes, savoring the sound. The call couldn't be real, she knew that. A figment of her imagination, conjured by her mind to help her retain her sanity while she lived here. Still, it soothed her, calmed the racing of her heart. Real or imaginary, it made no difference. And it helped her to imagine a fierce, protective rage echoing in the call. Something that, if she let it, would protect her from the horrors she faced for all the days of her life.

If only it were real.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh… Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh…

Red ringed eyes saw through wood and stone, caught on the heart that would soon join the one beating in his chest.

It had been centuries since one of his kind had found their other half in a human. The wolves belonged to the ancient world; were made of all things dark and dangerous. Oftentimes, humans could not understand the darkness of their lupine mates, and many of the packs were lost from the strain of their shattered bonds.

Wolves had always loved more fiercely than their human halves.

But this human had already tasted a twisted kind of darkness. She'd been born into it, knew its power to hurt, its power to control. Her pitiful sire used his meager powers to keep her caged, to keep her afraid. He would make her a prize to one stronger, if his wretched desires did not first make him keep her for himself.

The wolf's mouth pulled into a frown. Until his other half answered the call, stepped into his domain, there was nothing he could do for her. Though his fangs ached with the need to tear flesh from bone, to taste the life blood of her enemies on his tongue…

His lips curled in a snarl, pacing restlessly along the cliff side.

No, until she accepted him, he could not protect her. But when she did… Oh, when she did.

His snarl lifted to a terrible smile.

On that day, he would make them all pay.

[queen-of-ice101]

Of Blood and Fire - Dark Fantasy Short Story

Warning for darker overtones in setting and character dynamic

______________________________________________________________________

The fires in the valleys below cast a dull glow over the stone walls that towered into the black clouds. Narrowed eyes watched the smoke rising, slender fingers moving slowly as black mist curled between them. The screams were faint as they echoed towards the ledge that the woman stood on, but one could just hear them over the hot wind that blew over the cliffs edge. Blood dripped from the deep cut on her lip, injury going ignored as she observed the carnage below.

“How utterly unsurprising that I would find you here, gloating over your handiwork.”

She wheeled, watching as a black cloaked man stepped out from the shadows of the cave leading to her post, his words laced with disgust.

“Come to observe what success looks like Lord Jeshau? It has been a while since you’ve had the privilege to see it up close.” Her words were honeyed, mouth curving into the slightest of smirks.

Silver hair glinted in the dull red light as he pulled his hood back, glancing down over the fires below. Each step towards taking the stronghold had been bitterly fought for, anything to stop the uprising of the Earthborne. Their lands above had been united, there was little glory left to find. So they had come below, to the planes of the underworld for their next conquest, strange magicks ignored in the centuries before as they laid claim to land along the edges.

“Ah yes, the success of a stronghold burning to the ground. What a stunning accomplishment Morgana, capturing a city already being destroyed to prevent us from gaining one of the capitols.” Jeshau needled, sneering at the sights below. “Tell me, what will the emperor think of this loss?”

Her lip curled into a sneer and she swept out a hand to gesture at the fires below.

“This stronghold would have been doomed no matter who led the assault on their defences. If I recall correctly, you could not even pass their first wave. We lay waste to their precious homes, what is left has been fortified to withstand war and it is with that we shall rebuild. To weak to sacrifice themselves for the preservation of their secrets, we have many a hostage awaiting His Glory’s arrival.” She bit back, the short fuse of her temper already having run out with just a few short words.

She saw the victory in his eyes, and he crossed his arms.

“Who was it that caught some of those fleeing the city through their tunnels? Your show of force through those walls did not successfully capture the commanders, I did.”

“A truly stunning way to say that you didn’t have the strength to hold the offence. How proud the emperor must be, to know one of his ‘elite squadrons’ was useful for little more than capturing fleeing Earthborne.” Morgana taunted, enjoying the way his smile faded into a snarl.

His expression was dangerous as he began a leisurely advance, Morgana saying nothing but raising her chin in challenge. She could feel the magic that radiated off him as he finally came to a stop in front of her, close enough for his breath to just barely reach her.

“I could end this competition right here, right now. A single push, that would be all it would take. High enough up to look like an accident, there would be no one left to challenge me for the position of commander.” He murmured, his threat delivered as a taunt.

She surveyed him for a moment before reaching out, slender fingers trailing up over his arm to come to rest against the back of his head as she pulled him down closer to her. She tilted her head, a slow grin forming as fangs flashed.

“Then do it. If I managed to fail such a simple escape, I’ll be taking you with me. I won’t be losing to you darling, not now, nor ever.”

His gaze was unbroken as he watched her, before letting out a low laugh as a hand settled possessively on the small of her back. He took a step back from the edge, pulling Morgana along with him as they moved further onto the black stone.

“Now where would the fun be in that. Both our names tied to failure, left behind in the dust of the next war. No, not yet. I wish to see each and every earthborne fallen at our feet.”

At his words her expression darkened slightly, Morgana smoothly twisted from his grip approaching the small crevice against the cliff wall near the cave entrance. Reaching within she grasped one of the many tubes within, withdrawing it to reveal parchment encased in glass.

“What do you have there?” Jeshua questioned as Morgana withdrew the parchment within and unrolled it.

“Declaration of the emperor.” Morgana responded, “One that went out to a restricted number of captains tasked with front line assault.”

His expression twisted in displeasure, he could tell by the colour of the seal it was not something he had been privy to.

“I suppose it gives you great amusement to find yourself in possession of chosen knowledge?” He bit out, Morgana ignoring the opening his words left her.

“If it’s contents offered me any sort of joy I just might. As it happens, I find our newest direction repulsive to what I am here to fight.”

He took the orders from her outstretched hand, eyes scanning it’s contents quickly before with a series of curses he shoved it back into her palm.

“To integrate the Earthborne, because they have become accustom to our environment. He wishes for us to show mercy to them and their spawn?!”

The parchment crumpled in her hand, blackening with magic.

“He has entered into negotiations with the Earthborne, discussions of allowing their kind to settle amongst ours. The emperor is growing soft, swayed by the exotic gifts offered by those who would take our lands and home from us for the sake of war glory. Giving away pieces of these planes even after all that has been done.

Rage burned in Jeshau’s eyes and he watched as Morgana dropped the order of mercy, parchment becoming dust under her boot as she twisted her foot.

“He would call for our mercy after our sacrifice, how very Earthborne.” He spat the name like a curse, poison dripping from his words. “Wishing to save them and their homesteads.”

Morgana said nothing, but approached the cliffs once more. The wind blew the smoke away, allowing them to see the outline of the blazing buildings that stretched across the city.

“Is this not beautiful?” She breathed, “Their presence burning into ash. This to be our legacy, one he seeks to silence.”

She felt his approach, him hovering at her back so close they were nearly touching. He leaned his head down, breath ghosting along her ear.

“A legacy of blood and fire, this is your desire?”

The flames reflected in her eyes and she smiled, the expression chilling in it’s joy.

“The emperor may have his gifts, but we shall take our victory. There is no peace, not until we see every last Earthborne dead in the ashes of their cities.”

Without warning she was spun to face him, his eyes glittering with reckless abandon.

“Are you proposing an uprising? To turn the darkness against it’s ruler?” He purred, “You could serve as my right hand.”

“I do not bow.” She said slowly, sweetly, her smile betrayed by the venom in her eyes.

Morgana reached up, hand closing around his throat. Her nails pressed into his neck, leaving crescent indents on scarred skin, but Jeshau only laughed. A thumb ran lightly over her lip, swiping over the cut in its path. As he pulled away she could see her blood on his skin, Morgana gesturing to it. He only raised a brow, bringing it to his mouth and licking it away.

“You may not, but the emperor will. He has forgotten our place in this world, it is time to remind him.”

The bloodlust danced in Morgana’s eyes and with one last look below she turned on her heel and stalked towards the caves.

“The soil shall run red under the Earthborne.”

Jeshau only smiled at her words, cloak billowing as he followed her into the darkness.

Smoke hung heavy in the clearing they left behind, their magic lingering within the fire’s aftermath. A new war was brewing, one fuelled by the hunger for carnage. Yet, in that moment things held still, unchanging, the last moment of normality ticking away into nothingness.

Above it all the silence reigned, only disturbed by echo of softest screams.