#am done now but am still processing all that for a bit wheeze

[solaestial]

russell pixel portrait and some different expressions i drew a few weeks ago for discord emotes

[frost-fells-ramblings]

No Good Done by Hesitation

The infernal quarter system of my college is currently kicking my dog and stealing my lunch money. Thankfully, I have my troublesome trio to keep my sanity in line. I decided to split this in two because it is so long (and there’s a place where I can give it a clean break). Expect part two soon.

Anyways, here’s Wonderwall:

Previous --   Next

TW: Illness, itsy bitsy bit o’ blood

BOLD = Gothic

BOLD ITALISCISED = Baalfloran

Summary: Ephrael’s reluctance to interact with his new bond is having unintended consequences. Incaro sees to it that he minds his health.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ •••• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Deep, bellowing coughs echo through the halls of the base, wet and phlegmy; leaving their plagued owner gasping for breath as soon as they finish racking through his body. To any normal human, coughs like this could signify a number of things: like a nasty case of the flu, or worse, pneumonia. To Astartes, however, such an affliction was almost as alien to them as any xenos would be; and on ancient Terra, it could entail a far more foreboding illness.

Ephrael wipes spittle and blood from his lips; the latter of which is the newest addition to his current condition. His chest feels heavy and compacted, like the black carapace beneath his skin is bruised and broken. His lungs wheeze, his hearts heave, and the ever looming, ominous presence of guilt lays heavily upon him. That last symptom had been with him since he left the park that day. It is because of this little fact that he knows that this is no Nurgle-born malady, or some strange new Astartes centric disease that has stricken him.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want his bond; he just isn’t actively chasing or nurturing it. However, such a thought process was lost on the powers that be. It feels as though his very being is chastising and screaming at him, begging and pleading to seek out his bonded. Another wave of coughs bubbles up in his chest, and he leans back from the report he is working on to let them loose. The door to Ephrael’s office slides open just as he finishes his fit. Incaro leans against its frame, arms crossed, dark brown eyes staring down at his friend in disapproval. Ephrael spares him a short glance, then returns to his work.

“It’s getting worse,” Incaro says, staring him down from his place at the doorway.

“It sounds worse than it is,” Ephrael rasps in return.

Incaro pushes off the doorway, quietly observing his captain. Ephrael attempts to ignore him and return to his work, hunching back over his papers; yet the feeling of his brother’s gaze scrutinizingly raking over him makes his skin crawl. Incaro circles him and his office several times before speaking again, “Wet cough, clammy skin. You’ve been palming at your chest frequently, so I’ll assume that it’s sore or that your hearts hurt.” He frowns as he lists out all of Ephrael’s symptoms, coming to a stop at the trash can by his desk and nudging it with his foot, “And now there’s this; blood in your mucus.”

The captain sits up in his seat with a scowl, running his hands down his face with a sigh, “Incaro. I am fine.”

“Apothecary Incaro. Your apothecary, brother,” he hisses in frustration, then backs off with a sigh. “I have let this issue go on for far too long. I should have been firm with you that day, captain, for the sake of your own health. Go seek out your bonded.”

“As I had said before; if it is meant to be, it will happen.”

Incaro shakes his head, “Yes, and I understood that that day. However, you have not stepped foot off base since then.”

“I’ve been busy,” Ephrael scowls, motioning to the paperwork in front of him.

“You’ve had plenty of opportunities, and offers from our brothers, to take a break and step out. We both know that ancient Terra can only keep us so busy for so long.”

“The issues in front of me require my attention specifically, a captain’s attention to be precise.” Ephrael stares up at him defiantly, “We may not have to worry about much, but still there is work to do; and I will see it done.” The last part of his words get caught in his throat, choking him with bile at the simple suggestion of what he was going to say; even as it claws its way from his mouth, “M-my bonded can wait a few more days.”

The coughing fit that erupts from him is immediate and disorienting in its ferocity, made worse by his in-vain attempt to suppress them while his door is open. Incaro watches his fit pass, his frown deepening at the force which it wracks through his friend’s body. He waits for it to pass before finally speaking again, “Ephrael… We both know what this resistance of yours is truly about.”

Ephrael clenches his jaw, grinding his teeth together, “I said I will another time, Incaro. That is the end of this conversation.”

As he leans back down to escape into his work, a heavy hand grasps his shoulder and pulls him back. He snaps his gaze back up to Incaro’s and is met with a scowl equal to his own. The myriads of scars that deeply mar his old friend’s face seem to outline every ounce of frustration and disappointment he is feeling, “I will let you suffer in silence no longer brother.” His gaze softens slightly, and he shifts to their native Baalfloran, “As your friend I tell you this, and as your brother I implore you; please let yourself be happy. I have never blamed you; so stop blaming yourself.”

Ephrael’s brows scrunch and he looks away, with his jaw as tense as the grip on his pen. Incaro continues, “A walk through the park; that’s all I ask. And if I can’t convince you as your brother, then as your apothecary I am telling you to. I am not above dragging you out of this chair.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from Ephrael then, “I would like to see you try.”

His brother smiles fondly down at him, “I am very determined, and I believe I could do it.” Incaro releases his shoulder and steps back, “I hope you understand why I am so insistent. Raphine was right in his observation; interacting with those girls was the first time in a long time that I have seen you smile. Even your chuckle just now; I would have accused you of being an Alpha Legionnaire only a month ago. If just that one meeting was enough to pull you out of the depths your stupor, then I am determined to keep you on this path.”

“I am… trying Incaro.” Ephrael allows his shoulders to fall, releasing the tension within himself. He leans back in his seat, but keeps his gaze set ahead. “I want to do what you ask. Please, just understand how hard this is for me.”

“You do not need to bear this burden alone, brother. That is why I am here. That is why Sevram and Raphine have stuck around, despite your personality being pricklier than that of an Iron Warrior within 40 yards of an Imperial Fist.”

He lets out a huff, “I am better than that.”

“That is true,” Incaro nods. “I think you’d clench your teeth just slightly less than they would.”

Ephrael rolls his eyes and eases himself from his seat. “I will endeavor to be more amiable, then.”

“Yes. Less Iron Warrior, and more Tired Scout Babysitter.”

“I am already that,” Ephrael gives him a deadpanned look.

“Then lean into it,” Incaro gives him a small, teasing smile.

Ephrael shakes his head, but he cannot hide the smirk that briefly graces his lips. “Thank you, Incaro. Some days I feel that you would have served our legion better as a Chaplain.”

“Hopefully, never because I am lacking in my medical skills.” Incaro gives him a pat on the shoulder, “You flatter me, nonetheless. I have simply known you for long enough to know what’s going on in that head of yours; nothing more.”

“My compliment still stands then.”

“Of course,” he nods, switching back to Gothic. Incaro begins to nudge him towards the door of his office, “Now, enough chatter; off you go. My threat still stands. And even if you cannot find your bonded, I think the fresh air will be good for your health.”

“Yes, yes,” Ephrael sighs, “I am going; I am capable of walking myself there.”

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 200 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: sitting in my hammock chair on the balcony

It's still that same Tuesday I started with MAG 195. But it's 6 pm now, so I was toying with the idea of saving this last episode for later. Since it was only one episode and no way to get anything done in just 25 minutes, I decided to listen to it right away. Back then I didn't know TMA was supposed a tragedy because I kept off everything TMA on the internet to avoid spoilers. And I was so used to mainstream fiction which for the most part was not daring enough to really get into mean endings. And I don't speak of just bad endings, I mean really, reaaaally mean ones. The Mist comes to my mind, I thought that was particularly unlucky. And, as I said last episode, I missed that Jon gave Georgie his lighter XD In these few hours since I listened to MAG 197 I didn't really have time to process what all of this meant. I just wanted to see Jon and Martin okay. So I went out on the balcony, got cozy in my hammock and thought to myself "Alright! Time so save the world!"... Oh boy xD

JON: "Jonah Magnus! …" [ARCHIVIST STATIC RISES] JON: "Ceaseless Watcher, you know why I am here. Release him." [STATIC CRESCENDOS AND THEN DIES DOWN AS CHANTING AND BACKGROUND STATIC DRONE CEASE] “Ceaseless Watcher, you know why I am here” is so anticlimactic XD What happened to theater kid Jon? Also yeah, at that point on my first listen I got a bit suspicious. We have only heard Jon until now. No Martin...

JONAH/ELIAS: "What’s – ? Wh-what’s going on? Where – ?" [METAL BLADE IS DRAWN] Hey uhh... Where did they have the knife from? XD I mean, there is so much weight put on that lighter, that they NEED it for the plan because they couldn't get fire elsewhere apparently? But they had a knife... Totally possible that Martin brought it from the cabin though back when he didn't know what to expect from the outside world.

JONAH/ELIAS: "Where’s Martin? I rather thought he’d be the one to do the deed. …" [METALLIC CLINK] JONAH/ELIAS: "Ah, I see. Going it alone, are we? Probably for the best. Empathy only holds you back in the end." Cue Surprised Pikachu Face me XD (Also fuck you, Elias. Even now he still mocks Jon.)

JONAH/ELIAS: "Uh, L-Look, John, a-as fun as all this melodrama is, enough is enough. We both know you that don’t have it in you –" [FOOTSTEPS, FOLLOWED BY SOLID CONNECTION] JON: "That was for Sasha." JONAH/ELIAS: "J-Jon, wait!" [ANOTHER BLOW, ACCOMPANIED BY WHEEZING] JON: "For Tim." JONAH/ELIAS: [Afraid] "P-Please Jon!" [AND AGAIN] JON: For Gertrude, and all the others." [WINDED, LABOURED BREATHING] This however is music to my ears xD Thinking back to MAG 162, Tim speculating that Jon wouldn't avenge them...

JONAH/ELIAS: [Wheezing, pitiful] "P-Please Jon… [coughs] I don’t want to die." JON: "Neither did they." JONAH/ELIAS: [Soft, terrified] "No, no… N–" JON: "But no-one escapes at the end." [WITH EFFORT, THE ARCHIVIST STABS DEEPLY] [EXTENDED SOUNDS OF CHOKING & GURGLING DEATH RATTLE] [BODY SLUMPS HEAVILY] Okay first, my reaction during my first listen: Shocked. Like "no, no, no, no, what is he doing" (still in denial) "Okay, how can we turn this around..." Second, thinking of MAG 82. Never underestimate your opponent. Elias saying that Jon doesn't have to stomach to kill a man in cold blood. And that's exactly what happens here. No Eye-magic, no "Ceaseless Watcher". Just a man killing another man. I do like that this is the last thing Jon does before you could argue he lost his connection to humanity.

JON: [Pained] "– the flaying of skin… burning, retching on the smog of… hide, hide, hide… it is not real but still it comes to… falling through the pitch black daa-aaaaaargh!" Oh man, that moment when it looks like he cannot control it and is just as hollow as Elias was when he was "in charge".

So the first Fear to exist was the Hunt. Was then already the Dark? Cause "because they knew the dark held flashing talons and shining eyes". But with the minds the Dark was mentioned after the End: "The fear of their own end, of the things that lived in the darkness, became a fear of the darkness itself."

"And as they grew to know what it is that they saw, to give it names, and struggle at learning, so too did they learn to fear that their eyes might deceive them, or show them too much. And as they learned to know their friends and kin, so too did they learn to fear the unknown figure, the coming of the stranger" Eye already there at the beginning? Spiral then perhaps? And then the opposite of the Eye, the Stranger. Kind of surprised it was only birthed then. I also see mimicry in the Stranger. Was that still part of the Hunt? What about animals who lived in colonies, getting their leader switched out with a younger stranger who came to conquest the herd.

"and the silence when they were alone." Lonely.

"And when they found fire, that bright ignition of home and hope and progress, the thing that was fear gorged itself on a newfound terror once again." Desolation.

"And as these tiny, strange minds grew and learned, they did something new. They began to take their thoughts, their instincts and their horrors, and they crystallised them. They gave them sound and form and shape to share them." But this is the Eye for sure, right?

"And as they did the thing that was fear felt itself began to tear, to crack and fracture along a thousand unseen fault lines. It bled and warped and multiplied, and could no longer see itself as once it did. It could never be whole again." Hm... why?

"But within these forms were freedoms, new and wonderful dreads to push and explore, new muscles to flex." This already sounds fleshy, but I thought the Flesh only really formed after livestock got out of hand.

"The joy of oozing, crawling pestilence as minds distrusted their own corrupted bodies." Okay, Corruption.

"And as they grew to learn their place within the world, the pathetic meagreness of their own existence, they could not spin a story rich or grand enough to fully hide their own awful insignificance, lost and alone in the terrible greatness of the universe." Vast.

"And by the time these minds had reached a point of intricacy to lie and scheme and puppet one other, they had also learned to conceive of war." Web and Slaughter.

"And so it drew its plan to escape not only this ephemeral cage of non-existence, but even the very reality into which they might break, and it chose its fool: The Great Eye, the most unwise of all the fragments, forever seeking and consuming knowledge that it could not comprehend." Wow, I do not appreciate that XD What a diss...

I missed the Buried somewhere...?

MARTIN: "Oh thank god. Just, just, just stop what you’re about to do, okay? I know that you think that a– … What’s that?" A smoothie?

JON: "I did. I am." MARTIN: "Why?!" JON: "You know why. I can’t let them out. I can’t! Not again." MARTIN: "Oh, what have you done, Jon!" JON: "Go tell the others. It’s over." MARTIN: "N-No… you don’t understand!" JON: "What?" I like to think Jon's the same, but he sounds so free of emotion here. Only getting a bit harsher at "I can't let them out. I can't!". And that "What?", it's still flat but there is also an almost belittling tone to it...

MARTIN: "I didn’t think you’d go through with it! Not without me! I can’t believe you’d do this! That you’d leave me like this! You swore to me! You swore to me, you bastard!" T________T That reaction is so real.

JON: "Martin! I’m still here." MARTIN: "Are you!? How much of you is even left now?" JON: "It’s still me, Martin. I’m still here." MARTIN: "How would you even know?" JON: "… I’m sorry Martin, I am, but it’s done. You can hate me, you can scream at me, but it won’t change anything. I had to do this." What I find the most hurtful in this is Jon's apathy. He seems so content, even though his boyfriend is screaming at him.

JON: "And you promised." MARTIN: [Angry trembling] "Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare!" Jon thinks he kept his promise. For him it always meant that there is an option in which no one else would come to harm. For Martin it was literally anything that didn't require Jon to end up like this.

MARTIN: "You’re not listening! You never listen! They are down there fighting those things, and lighting it right now!" JON: "It’s fine, Martin, I’ll call off the servitors. They can’t light it, they don’t have… they don’t…" Okay, maybe... just maybe there after Martin's line there could have been room for a Girl(s) on Fire (see what I did there? xD) scene. But I feel like Jon's line would have had to be changed then for re-entering the Panopticon scene... I can't really see it working though, I think the whole thing in the Panopticon works as it is!

JON: [PATS CLOTHING] "Wait a – Oh… Oh, no." I was like "wait what???" xD

Only after the explosion hits Jon seems to regain a bit of emotions. Did becoming the Pupil of the Eye really strip him of humanity? Was the Eye taking so much space that Jon couldn't really get through with his emotions. With the Panopticon starting to crumble it would make sense that the Eye is losing power and so it also loses its grip on him.

JON: [Struggling] "No! I can feel the pull… The web, the tapes, it wants – No! I won’t let it!" Oh man, that monstrous tone to "No! I won't let it!". Even though we know that's him, especially this part it him and him alone. He’s fighting so hard.

JON: "Martin, get out of here! What’s going to be left of me after this, you can’t see that." That seems more like him. In tone and context.

JON: "Martin, please! I can’t lose you. Not like this…" MARTIN: "Tough! Okay? Where you go, I go!" JON: "That’s the deal…" I'm glad they agree on this.

JON: "Okay." MARTIN: "What?" Oh god, he knows this doesn't sound good...

JON: "Do it! The knife’s just there. Let them go." MARTIN: [Tearful] "I’m not going to kill you!" Aw man, when you think there’s no way this is gonna get any worse...

JON: "Cut the tether. Send them away." You coooould, technically, take this literally and Martin did not stab Jon but only cut him free from the Eye! And they go somewhere else and everything will be sunshine and rainbows, right?... Right???

JON: "Maybe we both die. Probably. But maybe not. Maybe, maybe everything works out, and we end up somewhere else." Gonna bring that up again in a bit! But also this and then the ending scene with the girls give us that beautiful ambiguous ending.

MARTIN: "Together?" JON: "One way or another. Together.” Throwback to MAG 154... Don’t know if it was intentional, but it’s beautiful.

MARTIN: "I don’t think I can…" JON: "It has to be you. The Eye won’t let me do it." What was it with Daisy? That it felt right, that the people we love are actually the only ones who can hurt us? It really has to be Martin. (It also works with Jon killing Elias. Elias liked Jon in a way, he was proud of Jon in that sick disgusting way. Jon was the reason he got what he wanted. And it only makes sense that Jon was the only one who could take it from him. So Jon could hurt him.)

MARTIN: [Sobbing] "Are you sure about this?" JON: "No. But I love you." MARTIN: "I love you too." [KISS] At that point on my first listen I was ugly-crying so hard I didn't even hear the kiss xD I read it online a few days later and was super confused like "I didn't hear anything!!", checked the transcripts and went back to listen to that part again - and get my heart crushed again :`) Do we know where that sound effect comes from? Because I remember Alex screaming when Anil suggested he and Jonny actually should make out: “We did it and it didn’t work!” xDDDD

[MARTIN STABS DEEPLY; THERE IS A SINGLE GASP] [PAINED SOB] That is so good... The gasp, Martin crying. Alex really knows how to cry XD I was already impressed by that back in MAG 118. Hm... I thiiink I could do it as well. I start crying very easily. Just channel some shit that happened. Hard part would be stopping to cry then xD Oh, since we have two stabbings in this episode I just wanted to raise some trivia about Christopher Lee correcting Peter Jackson on set of The Lord of The Rings. It was about the sound a person actually makes when they got stabbed in the back. Because Christopher Lee served in WW2 and he heard that sound first hand... And it actually is just a gasp, because the air is driven from your lungs. So very well done here!

And there we have it. Martin did the one thing he said he won't do under no circumstances... In MAG 129 he said he won't let Jon die again, and now he's even the one doing it. In MAG 186 he also said he won't do it, he can't. And in MAG 199 he admitted to think he can’t actually imagine ever making a decision that he knew meant losing him. But Jon gave him an out for this one. He said there's a chance that everything works out and that they end up somewhere else. So Martin does in fact not know if this truly means losing Jon.

[DISTORTED SCREECH, WITH SOUND LIKE TAPE RAPIDLY UNSPOOLING AMIDST A RISING CRESCENDO OF STATIC] [THEN… CLICK] Is that the spider web? I never pulled it through a spectograph myself.

GEORGIE: [Calling] "You found something?" BASIRA: "Just one of the old tape recorders." I don't think the Fears still linger in their world. I know this has been a theory since one of the tape recorders is still here. I personally wouldn't think to much into it aside from it simply being a narrative device here. And the recorder did stay off this time when Basira turned it off. Maybe after that the recorder fucked off to the rest of the tapes, reaching Jon and Martin Somewhere Else to let them know everyone is okay over there. I don't think Annabelle lied. Yes, the Web manipulates but I think it does it surprisingly often by presenting the truth, but in a way so people interpret it in the exact direction the Web wants them to.

GEORGIE: "No. Still no sign of them." BASIRA: "No bodies, though. That’s a good sign, maybe?" GEORGIE: "Maybe." Georgie and Basira, who were both very much friends with Jon at the end, still cling on to them.

MELANIE: "Maybe it’s time to accept that they’re gone." Of course Melanie is the first one to close this chapter.

MELANIE: "And, honestly, it’s probably for the best. I mean, I just don’t think people would exactly be understanding. You remember what happened when they found Simon Fairchild?" GEORGIE: "Yeah…" MELANIE: "And he’s not just some powerless left-behind avatar, you know? We’re talking about ‘The Archivist’." Melanie does have a point here. I love that everyone remembers what happened. This must be such a fucked up world right now. Not least because holy hell, the streets must be carnage, people openly performing vigilantism... Even when it comes to the case of Simon Fairchild I do like a bit of karma.

I do wonder how everyone was doing during the process of going back to the normal world. Did people magically reappear where they were before the Eyepocalypse? With all of them remembering what happened (because it did very well happen) I think this didn’t go so well. The Eyepocalypse happened, and then it just ended. People in Buried domains just stay exactly where they are... Buried and suffocating. People in Vast domains actually raining down to the ground... (Yeah, I know, I just made the post-change world even more fucked up.) Oh god, would those people in the Mortal Garden turn back or just stay the way they are and die instantly...

BASIRA: "Yeah okay, you’ve made your point. [sigh] Would just be nice to know for sure." GEORGIE: "All we can do is hope." BASIRA: "I suppose." Yeah, what Melanie said can give them at least some ease. But I can understand than knowing for sure can help them find closure.

GEORGIE: "We should go. It’ll be dark soon, and we still need batteries for the nightlights." For all the victims of Dark domains. This also sounds like they are not back to their normal infrastructure... No power yet. Preppers in the US must be so proud of themselves right now and I hate that thought.

MELANIE: "And I’m sure Rosie’s keen for us to take the Admiral back off her hands." GEORGIE: "She’s alright, he’s calmed down a lot." MELANIE: "Thank god for tinned tuna." Yay Admiral!!!

BASIRA: "If anyone’s listening… Goodbye. I’m sorry, and… Good luck." Yes, we! We are still listening! (I immediately got from this forth wall break that we're supposed to be one of the universes the Fears moved to and this is the reason we got to hear this story.)

I would have loved to have any indication that Georgie could feel fear again, just to twist the knife a bit more!

Okay, when the credits started I also caught myself thinking "The Magnus Archives WAS a podcast distributed..." xD My second thought was "Fuck, they could have saved Daisy!!!"

Okay, my headcanon for the ending/the boys! You know what? I think this was the only way for Jon and Martin having a shot of possibly making it out alright. Traveling with the Fear. We know the Web can repair damages to the human body that would be fatal. If it can repair a cracked skull, it surely can repair a stab wound. And since the Fears exist in this new world they ended up the Web can do exactly that. If the Eye can like people (Martin), I'm sure the Web can like them all the more. It already liked Martin, but I'd say it also likes Jon. Both of them were basically its tools to get what it wants. So the Web gave them a chance at life in the new world (also, can’t harvest fear from dead people, so better if they’re alive). Jon would be free from the Eye since Martin cut the tether. Martin however... I feel like killing Jon in the collapsing Panopticon is his metaphorical death. It would work both for the Lonely (killing his loved one) or the Web (carrying out its plan), so depending on what one likes better, there's possibility for Lonely!Martin and Web!Martin. Jon would probably need hell of a lot of therapy... Martin as well. I'm a bit of a sucker for the headcanon that Jon and Martin did break up Somewhere Else only to find each other again when they had time to work through their trauma. Took me a bit to come up with that headcanon though, after I finished TMA I thought there was no way they could have survived/maybe just Martin survived and is now alone in a new world.

So on my first listen when I was done with the episode I felt strangely... nothing? I texted my sister that I had finished TMA now and that I don't know what to think of the ending. I guess binging S5 in just 5 days was a bit heavy when it comes to breaks I would have needed to process.

Cause and effect of the "feel nothing" thing, but at first I also found the last episode kind of underwhelming. Like there's missing something. Don't actually know if I felt nothing because I found it underwhelming or if I found it underwhelming because I felt nothing. After I had time to process and think about it some more, I do think it's very good as it is. I mean, it's hard to top MAG 160, that was just my personal peak in fiction. And I do think if TMA ended after something like MAG 160, after something that was soooo utterly "OMFG", I'd just be mad that I don't see how it went afterwards. It's the same with endgame ships. I fucking hate it when they finally get together in the last few minutes of the entire thing. Inu Yasha, She-Ra (I'd say Life is Strange, but there's a comic, so yay!). I want to see the couple together, otherwise all the URST was just the worst possible tease and "ha ha, in your face" ever, like thanks for nothing! Really glad, TMA didn't do that and we got to see an entire season of Jonmartin.

When I listened with my spouse, so basically my first relisten, I pulled through till the end. But on my second relisten I stopped after MAG 199. I really didn't want to listen to MAG 200.

Aaaaand I’m gonna do the recap of story progression here, because we now finished the main thing. So s1-4 copy-paste and then s5! MAG 1 bis 19: Start of September 2020 - July 2021 (11 months) MAG 20 - MAG 40: July 31st 2021 - August 19th 2021 (20 days) MAG 41 - MAG 80: August 19th 2021 - September 2nd 2021 (15 days) MAG 81 - MAG 120: September 2nd - September 20th 2021 (19 days - with 7 days intermission) MAG 121 - MAG 160: September 20th 2021 - October 1st 2021 (12 days) MAG 161 - MAG 200: October 1st 2021 - October 5th 2021 (5 days)

@a-mag-a-day

[vendettaparker]

Talking to the Moon [P.P]

Summary: When Peter’s identity is leaked, he is forced to leave you and his old life behind, shattering your heart in the process. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: ANGST, like straight up rip your heart out. Far From Home spoiler (kinda), Endgame spoiler (kinda)

a/n: so if you couldn’t tell this is based off of the song ‘Talking to the Moon’ by Bruno Mars. its a loose interpretation. i’ve been planning an angsty fic like this for a while. angst is my favorite genre of fic, especially when it has a hopeful or fluffy ending. so this one DOES have a hopeful ending and potential for a sequel,, so yuh, enjoy! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Three years, two months, and 14 days. That’s how long it had been since Peter’s identity was leaked. That’s how long it had been since he left you. For good. 

     Peter had been frantic after that news broadcast aired. He webbed back to the compound immediately, crying the whole way. He was scared for himself, sure, but the fear he felt in the pit of his stomach for May, Ned, MJ, you. That was the reason for his tears now. He could hardly breathe by the time he made it to the compound. Happy, Rhodey, Sam, and Bucky meeting him as he burst through the large floor to wall windows in the main room. The frantic yelling, pleas, and cries coming from the main room were what alerted you to his presence. When you walked in he was a mess. Crying, heaving with anxiety about how scared he was. Peter had always been a sensitive, emotional boy, but he always got over his shit eventually. But this? This, seemed like the end for him. 

     You ran up to him, shushing him and holding him. Trying to tell him to simply “breathe”. All he could say, over and over again like a mantra was a schloo of “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your heart broke. How could fate be so cruel to the sweetest boy? The one who was the most deserving of all the happiness life could possibly offer. The rest of the team had shown up within the next hour. Happy, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, and Pepper also present. Peter had calmed down slightly, but he knew, he just knew, this was the day he had to say goodbye. He had had this talk with Mr. Stark back when he had stopped his first villain, Vulture. Tony knew the type of sick monsters out there who would love to get their hands on the boy behind the Spider-man mask. He and Peter had developed a plan in the tragic case that Peter’s identity should be released, at least, not on his own terms. Tony’s plan was for Peter to run away. Leave. Take nothing with him but the clothes on his back, and even then burn those clothes the minute he could. Tony knew. He knew these dangers. And worse, he knew the consequences. 

     May had come to the compound the second she got the call. She knew as well. Peter knew. She knew. Tony, even in his grave, knew. Everyone knew. Everyone but you. 

     Peter had a getaway car and a destination ready within another hour. He wouldn’t disclose it to anyone. He took you aside, gently stroking your cheek to wipe the hot tears that never seemed to cease. “Hey, hey, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.” He whispered, choking up on every other word, trying to be stronger, just a little stronger, for you. “I have to go now. I’m so so sorry. I love you so much.”

     “It’s okay Peter,” You sniffled, pushing his bangs back and giving him a sad smile. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t worry.” 

     Peter’s lips quivered and he heaved another sob. “No, (Y/N). I-I’m not coming back.” You took your hand back as you felt the pressure of tears building behind your eyes. 

     “W-what? No, this—it’s just temporary. Until we can—Fury and Pepper—We can fix this.” You stuttered anxiously, hoping your words would convince him that this was okay. That everything would be okay. 

     “We can’t, (Y/N). It’s done.” Peter spoke, his voice hardly making it to a whisper. 

     “No!” You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to hold him closer. “Please. Please. Please. I-I can’t! You can’t! I—You’re all I have!” You were sobbing uncontrollably now. The weight of the situation finally caving in and crushing your heart and soul. “Please! I’ll do anything, I’ll protect you! Please!” 

     Your meltdown didn’t help Peter one bit, if anything, seeing how desperate you were to keep hold of him, to just love him; that broke him more. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. Please.”

     “How can I? You’re killing me.” You whimpered into his chest, tears soaking through his black sweatshirt. “I can’t— I just— I can’t!”

     The whole team heard. No walls were thick enough to block out the heartbroken sobs from the two teenagers in love. Fury was the one to finally bring an end to it. Nobody else having the heart to pry you from each other. Even Fury felt his own stoic exterior cracking. 

     You were in hysterics, clawing, and grabbing at Peter’s sweatshirt, hair, face, anything you could grab. It didn’t matter if you hurt him at this point, he’d heal. But if he left you, you knew you’d never recover. Fury had put you in a chokehold while yanking you back. Peter just heaved and heaved, his sobs getting louder and his chest getting tighter. May rushed over to him and took his hand, placing his head in her chest. 

     Fury yanked you back more, but you still refused to quit. Fury released his chokehold, not wanting to do any real damage to you. Right as you were released, Wanda came up behind you and placed her hands on your head, red magic already starting to swirl. 

     “No, please.” You wheezed, trying to get a fresh breath of air. “He’s all I have.”

     Wanda looked at you, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.”

     Without so much as a flick of her wrist, you were out, descending into darkness. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter left after that. The car taking him away, and you hadn’t seen him since. As the months went on you never really recovered. Never really felt whole again. You just survived. That was all. You went through the motions of everyday life, but never truly felt like you were living. Two weeks after Peter left, May left with Happy. They moved to California, living there ever since as well. They got married last year. You were all invited and everyone went. Everyone but you. You missed May and Happy, but it still hurt. Plus, you were busy anyway. After you graduated high school, you flung yourself into the avenger lifestyle, fully immersing yourself in it. You went on every mission possible. Did all the paperwork you could. You did anything and everything you could to keep yourself busy. Stop yourself from feeling the pain that had stopped feeling like a searing stab and had now turned into a dull ache. A new constant in your life. 

     Nights were the worst though. The only time you couldn’t be constantly avenging or working yourself to the bone on new suit technology. The only time you had to think and feel. The only thing keeping you going was the hope that Peter was still out there. Somewhere, anywhere, missing you as much as you were missing him. Watching the same moon you watched. Basking in the same sun that shined on you every day. Every horrible, miserable day. 

     “(Y/N)?” the quiet, soft voice of Pepper breaking you out of your headspace. You hummed a response and looked up at her, waiting for her to continue. “Did you hear what I said?”

     “No, sorry.” You responded sheepishly. Pepper’s gaze softened. She took in your lean figure and pale face, eyes seeming to be sunken in from the dark circles. “I was just finishing up this briefing of my last mission.” 

     “You went alone?” Pepper asked, concern washing over her features.

     “It was a simple one. Just took out a mob, was done in like, four hours.” 

      Pepper sighed. “(Y/N)—”

     “Pep, it’s fine. It was so easy, anyone could have done it.” You cut her off, turning back to your laptop, typing away. 

     “It’s not just that though. It’s all of this. This whole funk you’re in. The same one you’ve been in for years, (Y/N).” Pepper waved her hands around to emphasize her point. “We all see it. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. He wouldn’t want this.” 

     Your whole demeanor changed. The solemn, yet calm veneer breaking. “It doesn’t matter what he wants, Pepper! I didn’t want this. All I wanted was him. For the rest of my life. Nothing else would matter, as long as I had him to get me through it. But I don’t have him. I have nothing. He was it for me. He—” You sobbed, tears finally running down your face in an uncontrollable waterfall. “I feel like I died. Like I am just a spectator, no longer doing anything of interest to myself.” 

     Pepper pulled you into her so fast. She was always quick to console you. The months after Peter left she was the only one you could stomach seeing. “It’s okay. I know, shh, I know.” Pepper was tearing up now too. She knew you never got over it. But now seeing with her own eyes how broken you’d really become. The reality hurt. “He’s out there, okay? And it’s going to be okay. He’s okay. We’re okay.” 

     You just cried. That’s all you could do. The more you tried to talk about it the stronger the urge to cry was. Pepper just hummed and held you. Stroking your hair until you fell asleep. 

     When you woke up you were in your room. It was dark and the moon was shining through the opened window. You just stared at it, closing your eyes and imagining Peter was staring at it too. The same one. Thinking about you, just like you were thinking about him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Another few weeks went by. The same routine, the same empty feeling consistent in your body. Nothing changed. The revelation that you were, in fact, not okay didn’t fix anything. It still hurt. You were still broken.

     You were in the training room, sparring with Wanda when the melodic tune of your ringtone rang through the gym, echoing off the walls. You put your hands up in defense to stop Wanda from continuing the match. Wanda whipped her hands around and brought your phone to you in a wisp of red magic. 

     “Thanks.” You mumbled, wiping your sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand and taking the phone from the air. Wanda nodded and jumped out of the ring to grab her water bottle. 

     You looked at your phone still ringing, seeing an unfamiliar number, but taking in the location: Budapest, Hungary. You answered the call bringing the phone up to your ear “Hello?” You asked, shifting from one foot to the other waiting for a reply. A beat of silence pasted before you heard a tired, yet all too familiar voice on the other end. 

     “(Y/N)?”

[alaskasmonsters]

Play Fights | Modern Levi Ackerman

requested by @windex-princess-gia​: HI! i absolutely love LOVE “patch-up” and was wondering if you wrote for modern levi? I love the idea of him and his s/o play fighting and being all cute and sweet <3 if you do write something tHANK TOU

pairing: modern!levi ackerman x gn!reader

w.c: 1.642

warning: none

a.n: hii, thank youuu!!! <3 i hope this is what you imagined and i hope you like it!!! i am so sorry it’s so short, i hope it’s still okay. :3

Your eyes drifted to Levi’s form, who was bent over the dishwasher to collect the contents, checking every single piece of tableware for remaining dirt. He never trusted the dishwasher to do its job, hasn’t since the two of you had moved in.

You found it endearing sometimes, his mania for cleaning. Your place was always clean, too, and it was cute when he scolded you for wearing a hoodie again, that he had already deemed ready for the washer (although it was your favorite hoodie and it’s so comfortable and it was just a little bit of dirt).

He would have that face, all emotionless and unblinking and you knew he had to hold back not to hit you on the back of the head for being an idiot. Then he’d force you out of it and instead throw one of his hoodies to your head, knowing that’s what you wanted.

It wasn’t fun however when you wanted cuddles, needed them actually (you were quite needy with physical touch most days) and Levi was rather ogling the plates that actually reached his high expectations of cleanliness with satisfaction, rather than already get it over with it and watch a movie with you, his significant other.

“Levi,” you whined for what felt like the tenth time already.

He barely turned to glance at you, already knowing what you wanted. Seemingly unimpressed he gave you an onceover before turning back to the teacup he was just inspecting.

Losing against the charm of clean tableware, you really should feel threatened at this point.

You let out a groan, falling back on the couch.

“Stop being whiny and help me with the dishes the stupid washer hasn’t done a good job with, if you want cuddles so badly,” Levi scolded and when you sat up again he was just placing the cup he’d been inspecting on the “not good enough” pile, glaring at it as if it had personally offended him.

It was his favorite teacup, one you had given him before you had ever moved in together, to the first birthday he had celebrated with you, and in his opinion the washer never did a good enough job on it.

It might have warmed your heart, but the thought of having to wash already clean dishes to get Levi’s affections, and probably not even doing a better job on it than the dishwasher...you could just hide beneath the blankets.

Instead you got up and made your way to the kitchen sink, because let’s be honest, if Levi did this all alone it would probably take another 20 minutes, with how thoroughly he inspected every piece of tableware and you wanted your cuddles.

You’d risk being scolded for not using enough soap or too much soap, you couldn’t really tell how he decided which one it was, but it didn’t really matter to you.

Levi looked up to give you a smirk, damn well knowing you had no desire to actually help him, that you only did it out of desperation. You stuck out your tongue at him, making him shake his head with a roll of his eyes.

Taking down the faucet sprayer from the attachment, you already eyed the several pieces of tableware with disdain.

“You know, I'm just doing this because I love you,” you teased, playfully shaking the faucet in his direction with a warning glare.

You weren’t sure what Levi would have responded, probably rolled his eyes at you again and told you he loved you too. Either way, his words died on his tongue the moment cold water hit him in the side of the face.

You noticed in horror that you had accidentally brushed the button at the bottom and activated the faucet sprayer, drenching Levi’s hair and upper part of his hoodie with water. He stood there, unmoving, frozen in shock, until he slowly turned to you. His eyes glaring at you with utter annoyance.

The water was trickling down his face and his hair was sticking to his forehead. Combined with the pissed off expression, he reminded you too much of your cat Mustard after you’ve given him the annual bath.

You couldn’t keep in the snort.

Clasping your hand over your mouth you looked at Levi with wide eyes, knowing damn well you were already toeing the line and it wouldn’t be long until he looked for revenge.

“Y/n.”

His voice was dangerously calm and you quickly threw your hands up signaling your surrender, biting your lips, trying to keep the laughter from spilling out.

“It was an accident. My finger slipped!”, you hurried to say, but you couldn’t suppress the giggles escaping your mouth.

Slowly, Levi put down the plate he’d been holding, fully turning your direction, eyeing you like a hunter eyed it’s prey. You froze in anticipation, mind already whirling.

He came towards you faster than you could process and with a squeak you pressed down the button again, spraying Levi once more, hitting him square in the face.

That wasn’t enough to stop his advances and you quickly threw the gadget into the sink and raced to your connected living room, jumping over the couch in your attempt to escape.

Laughing loudly at the top of your lungs, you slipped on the floor, scattering across the room. Levi was right behind you, it wouldn’t be long until he would have caught up to you.

He’s always been much faster than you have, so it was only a matter of time. Still, you always tried anyway. Whenever you and Levi were being silly and goofing around (which occurred quite often, despite him appearing mostly cold and distanced), you were aware that your boyfriend had significant physical advances.

It made it just the more satisfying whenever you were the one to win, if only due to luck.

Levi caught your arm and pulled you back until you stumbled against his chest. Before you could even attempt to wiggle free he bent down to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing at all.

You huffed dramatically, trashing in his arms as he carried you all the way towards the couch to throw you on top of it and pin you down.

Looking up, you saw the smug look on his face.

“Not fair!” you pouted, but Levi wasn’t done with you, yet.

The only warning you got was a single finger lifted in the air (he pinned both of your wrists down with one arm now) and a little smirk and then you were already squeaking and wiggling beneath his grip.

His finger dug into your side without mercy, dancing across your skin, then pinching again. You giggled and wheezed uncontrollably, helplessly trashing under his weight.

“No! Stop! Levi!” you whined out between laughs, trying to kick out with your legs, but he was sitting on top of them.

He paused for a second and you sunk back into the pillow, gasping for air. Your boyfriend was looking down at you with an eyebrow expectantly raised in the air.

“Pretty please, it was an accident I swear!” you pushed out between gasps, giving him your best puppy look.

He cocked his head to the side, motioned for you to go on.

“I’m sorry i splashed you with water,” you apologized and because the image of his similarity to your cat still lingered at the back of your mind you added, “And that you look like Mustard who’s just gotten a bath.”

Levi snorted.

“Do I now?”

You nodded, grinning up at him.

He scoffed, clearly bemused, if not a little annoyed at you.

There was a moment of peace, where the both of you just looked at each other, then Levi dove down, rubbing his wet hair against your face.

You squeaked at the wetness and tried to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge, rubbing against you like….well, a cat.

“Ew, Levi,” you laughed, huffing when one of the wet strands almost got into your mouth, “You win, wou win. Mercy.”

He removed himself from you immediately, a cocky half grin on his face as he let go off your wrists.

As soon as your hands were free you pushed against his chest, trying to wipe off the uncomfortable feeling of dampness on your cheeks that Levi had left there.

“Don’t you know I always win, darling?”, he teased, making no move to get off of you.

You rolled your eyes, a sly grin forming on your face as an idea popped into your head.

Before Levi knew what was coming you’d reached out and slung your arms around his neck, pulling him down so he was almost lying on top of you. He had reacted quickly enough, only thanks to his agility so he could catch himself with his arms before actually falling on top of you. Both of them were propped next to your head as he was kneeling between your legs.

He found your eyes, his face devoid of any emotions as he stared at you in complete silence. You chuckled at the sight of that face, your fingers dancing across the shaved hair of his undercut.

“I got you to get on the couch, though,” you explained, giving him a toothy grin, “Haha!”

Levi shook his head, but the soft smile on his face told you he didn’t mind as much as he would like to pretend. After all, your boyfriend liked it when you were cuddling on the couch and watching a movie just as much as you did.

That man was secretly the biggest softie.

“You’re a brat.”, he countered, voice free of annoyance.

You laughed, unashamed, then pulled him down the last inches to connect your lips to his in a short kiss.

“Love you, too.”

[atlabeth]

transferred part twelve - atla smau

masterlist | part eleven | part thirteen

this takes place about 2 weeks after the last chapter

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well. 

wc: 3.6k 

a/n: i’ve been writing bits and pieces of this since the start of this series so. enjoy. that’s all im gonna say lmao 

warning(s): cursing, mentions of familial death, mentions of abuse, some angst but also some fluff. this is kind of a heavy chapter because both zuko and y/n talk about their past, but there is fluff at the end. 

~~~~~~~~

You pushed your hair out of your face and tried to blink the sleep out of your eyes, catching a glimpse of the time on the corner of your laptop. 

3:23 AM. 

You should’ve been asleep a long time ago, but all of your professors had decided to schedule tests in the same week so it was one of many, many late nights you had had lately. You thought that they would cool down because midterms were coming up, but BSSU professors kept proving you wrong. Late nights like these were becoming a regular occasion, and right now you just needed a break. 

The tea dates with Zuko were the only things keeping you sane. But could you even call them dates? 

It was the two of you, together, sitting and talking over tea for hours, and they were happening multiple times a week. In fact, you and him had gotten tea together exactly 9 times in the past two weeks — and that wasn’t even counting all the talking during your shared shifts. 

Katara, Suki, and Toph told you that they were dates, you wanted them to be dates, but there was a part of you that was so incredibly scared that you were wrong — that moving past that bridge would ruin the friendship that you cherished so much with Zuko — that you kept things solely platonic. No matter how much you wanted to kiss him every time he gave you that smile. 

But thinking about the complicated relationship you had found yourself entangled in with Zuko wasn’t a break, no matter how many times you had pondered over it before falling asleep in the wee hours of the night. 

You closed your laptop and grabbed your jacket that had been carelessly tossed on a stool at the kitchen island, making sure to sneak out of the apartment as quietly as you could. You opted to work in the living room, choosing to camp out on the sofa whenever you had to stay up as late as this, just so you wouldn’t wake up Sokka. Your brother had no idea how much you did for him. 

The cool breeze hitting your face and the shining stars in the sky were a welcome change of scenery from the lifelessness that was your apartment at night and your computer screen that you were sure was going to cause you eye issues later in life with how bright it was. 

You took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling the crisp night air, and started to walk. You were sure you looked like a mess. You were wearing some flannel pajama pants, a BSSU tank top, tennis shoes, and Zuko’s jacket.  He had never asked for it back after that night at the party, and when you had showed up to one of your hangouts wearing it, he told you that you could keep it — “it looks better on you anyways” — so you did. 

There was something calming about the atmosphere. You knew that a lot of women were anxious about going out at night, especially alone, but that was why you had taken self defense classes. Being friends with Suki was a self defense class in its own, and it was very much appreciated. You allowed yourself to get lost in your thoughts, trying to give yourself the break that you deserved, when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. 

“You know, it’s not safe to be out alone at this hour.” 

You let out a scream at the unexpected voice and whirled around, your fists already up to defend yourself. When you saw who it was, you laughed, completely shocked, and hit your hands against your legs, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. 

“Holy shit, Zuko, you can’t just sneak up on someone like that!” you wheezed. You had no doubt that he only had good intentions, but for a second you thought someone was going to try and kill you. You had to admit, the scare was worth it to see the mix of horror and embarrassment on Zuko’s face.

“I’m so sorry!” His hands were held up placatingly in front of him and he let out a nervous laugh as well, but it did nothing to cover up the wide eyes he stared at you with. “I am so sorry, I didn’t even think about that. I- I was just up studying too, and I heard you leaving so I thought you could use some company- I swear, I wasn’t trying to scare you or anything!” 

You shook your head but couldn’t stop the smile on your lips, gesturing for him to come closer while you caught your breath. “It’s fine. Come on, walk with me.”

He fell into step beside you and the two of you walked in silence for a while, the only disruptions being the occasional car that drove by. It was eerily quiet, but with Zuko, it was nice. 

“So-”

“So-” 

Both of you laughed when you each interrupted the other, and when you motioned for Zuko to go first he shook his head. You paused for a moment, the question on the tip of your tongue, before you decided to take the plunge. 

“I’ve been wondering since I got here; how did you end up as friends with—” You gestured around with your hands. “—this whole crew? It’s kind of a weird combination of people, so I guess I just wanna know how you became a part of it.” 

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair, causing your eyes to widen a little bit as a stammered apology came out. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to-” He gave you a tight smile and shook his head. 

“No, it’s fine. You should know about my life if— if we’re going to keep living together.” He knew the moment he met you, the moment he agreed to let you live with all of them, that he would have to explain his past to you. Hell, your siblings might have already told you some of it — he could only hope you’d still want to be his friend after he was done. 

“”I.. I wasn’t the best person in the past. I was a horrible person actually, and I consider myself extremely lucky that I was given so many chances to change. I hurt people. Bullied people. Got into fights just because I could. I was just- horrible is the only way to describe it. But your siblings, Toph, Aang? They were all people that decided to give me one of those chances, and they’re a huge reason that I am who I am today.” Zuko spoke slowly, and you could tell that this was something he didn’t open up to many people about. You smiled softly at him and nodded, letting him know that he could go on. 

“I don’t know how much you know about my father, but he’s the CEO of our family company. He’s been this huge presence in the business world for as long as I can remember, and he’s responsible for all the wealth and fame that our family has today. And when I was younger, I idolized him. I thought he was the greatest man in the world, that he could do no wrong, and I just followed him blindly. He was the most important person in my life, but.. I was nothing to him.” 

“He didn’t care about his friends, or- or his family, he only cared about power. My mother left when I was young, we haven’t heard a word from her since, and- and I don’t even know if he cared. My father would do whatever it took to become as powerful as he could, and that meant—” Zuko’s voice was getting louder and he cleared his throat, trying to keep his cool. There was a certain hollowness behind his eyes, and it tore you to pieces. “That meant hurting anyone that went against him. Including his children.”  

“I have a sister, Azula. She’s a prodigy in every sense of the word, and my father used it, used her. She was clearly his favorite, and it drove me insane. I mean, I did everything for his approval, but he only cared about Azula. We had a good relationship when we were younger, but my father molded her into the kind of person he wanted her to be, and— and I was jealous of her. He used that against us, purposefully staked the fire of our competition, one that I thought I could somehow win. But we had both already lost the second we started fighting against each other.” 

“It took me a long time to realize that.. that he was abusing us. I mean, he gave me this scar all because I spoke out of turn, and— and I still thought that I could earn his favor, that he deserved to earn my favor! He threw me out of the house when I was thirteen, and I went to live with my uncle. It took an even longer time, but with his help, and the support of your siblings and their friends, I was able to break the cycle. I was horrible to them at first, all of them, and I hated my father for what he did, but it was probably the thing that saved me.”  “And Azula.. leaving her will always be my biggest regret. My biggest mistake. I should’ve forced her to come with me when I was kicked out, I should’ve done something sooner, because maybe she wouldn’t have turned out the way she did.” He swallowed hard, his voice strained. “I came back for her once I was stable, and I helped her get out. I helped her get a therapist. It’s been a long process, but she’s getting better every day. But not a day goes by where I don’t think about what I could’ve done to help her more.”

You instinctively reached out for Zuko’s hand, and to your surprise, he took it without question. You gave his hand a small squeeze and led him over to a nearby bench — without realizing it, the two of you had entered a public park that was near the complex. When you sat down together, you moved so that one of your legs was crossed in front of you and the other was hanging down so you could face him. 

“Zuko.. I am so, so sorry. I don’t think any amount of apologies will be able to get how I feel across, but.. you didn’t deserve to go through that. No one deserves to go through that.” You took both of his hands, thankful for the warmth they provided. “Listen to me. Are you listening to me?” 

He gave a pained smile and nodded. “Yes, Y/N. I’m listening to you.” 

“You are not who you were in middle school. You are not who you were in high school. Okay? Your father is a horrible man, and you wouldn’t have done any of those things if it wasn’t for him. What you did when you were younger wasn’t okay, but the fact that you have so much remorse for it today proves that you’re a good person. Zuko, you are a good person, one of the best men that I’ve ever met in my life, and I’ve only known you for a few months.” 

You were subconsciously rubbing calming circles into the back of his hands —  hands that were still holding yours — while you talked, but it was all Zuko could think about.  “I know you feel guilty about leaving your sister, but you did what you had to do to get out. You came back for her, and you’ve helped her get better. She’s grateful for it, Zuko, I know that much.” 

“Everyone else has forgiven you,” you murmured, staring deep into the fire he held in his eyes. “You deserve to forgive yourself.”

The silence that passed while you gazed into each other’s eyes felt like it lasted an eternity, when really it was only about a minute. Zuko was the first to break it, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at you as his words tumbled out. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to dump all of this on you at once.”

“It’s okay, Zuko, really. I understand; sometimes you just need to talk to somebody. You don’t know how much it means to me that you trusted me with all of that. And.. if we’re still baring our souls to each other, then I guess I have some things that you should know as well.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek; were you really about to tell Zuko about what happened? Most people knew that your mother was dead — killed in a drunk driving accident when you were ten — but you had never told anyone, not even your father or your siblings, about the full effect it had on you. But his eyes told you more than he ever could, and in that moment you knew it would be okay. You could trust him with something you had never trusted anyone else with.

“I’m sure you know that my mother died when I was young.” He nodded and you swallowed, trying to get rid of the sudden dryness in your throat. “It was.. hard. Really hard, on all of us. It was just so unexpected that we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t really have any money to spare, so my dad had to keep working, and I had to take care of Sokka and Katara. I was only eleven, but I basically had to take over the ‘mom’ role. Our grandmother came down to take care of us so we wouldn’t just be a bunch of kids living on our own, but even with her and Katara’s help, it was still hard. Sokka and Katara had to grow up much faster than they should’ve, even though I tried to shield them as much as I could.” 

“It was.. a lot. I won’t lie to you, it was a lot. Maybe too much.” A mirthless laugh hung in the air and you had to blink back the tears threatening to spring. “My mother was.. amazing. She was the only one who truly got me, you know? She was just this— this beautiful spirit in the world, and she brought light wherever she went. And when she died, it left this.. huge, gaping hole in my heart, one that I’m still trying to fill. I- I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill it. I thought as I got older it would be easier, but i-it’s not. The three of us joke around by calling Katara mom because of how she is, and they sometimes do it to me, and I know that’s all they are, jokes, but some part of it still hurts.” 

You were rambling now, spilling your soul to Zuko, going into the most mundane details that you had never told anyone. You had taken away the dam that had been holding back the waters of your emotions for so long, and now Zuko was going to drown in them. But you couldn’t stop.

“It’s the reason why I didn’t drive for so long. I didn’t want to, I was terrified of it because of what happened to my mother, but someone needed to be able to take Sokka and Katara around. And- and as I got older, and I started going to parties and people started drinking, I never did. I couldn’t, I was always the designated driver, because I couldn’t leave that in someone else’s hands. I had to be in control, because if I let someone go, then it was like I was killing my mother all over again, and it’s the reason why I always have to be the one driving—” 

You paused to take a deep breath, and as you looked down at your hands, you realized they were shaking. Not just your hands, but your entire body. What the hell were you doing? You let out a tearful laugh, covering your mouth with one hand and shaking your head. “God, I am so sorry, I— I don’t know what got into me.”

Zuko’s eyes never left yours, his own glassy, and he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. Like you said, it helps to tell someone. A-and— I know how you feel, what it’s like feeling like you have to give up the world for your siblings. But you have to take care of yourself too. You’re not just what you can give to other people. You are your own person.”

He was thankful that you trusted him enough to tell you something like this about yourself, something that your own blood didn’t even know, but it also made him realize that you had always trusted him. 

Your point about driving. You liked to be in control so that if something did go wrong, there wouldn’t be any thoughts of what you could’ve done. If something happened, it was because of you and only you. And on your first day of classes, and many trips since, you had let him drive. It was something so small, so insignificant to anyone, but to you it was a sign of trust. 

You trusted him. 

“You’re shivering.” Your voice snapped Zuko back to reality and he shrugged, the smallest smile playing on his lips. 

“I wouldn’t be if someone had given me my jacket back,” he joked. You elbowed him in the chest and stood up, holding out your hand for him to take to help him up as well. Zuko took it and you ignored the butterflies that erupted, setting a steady pace as the two of you walked. 

“We should get back to the apartment. It’s late, and you need to sleep,” you chided. 

“You have bags the size of baseballs under your eyes. I think you need sleep just as much as I do.” 

“I’m special,” you shot back with a grin.

Yeah, you are, Zuko thought. 

The walk back to the apartment was shrouded in comfortable silence and intertwined hands, something that neither of you made any move to change.

~~~~~~~~

Soon enough you had gotten back to your rooms — such a small apartment meant that they were right next to each other — and as you turned on your heel to face him, a shy smile played on your lips. “Thank you. For, uh- coming after me. For listening to me.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. The two of you stood in silence for a while, and then Zuko reached out his hand. Your breath caught in your throat as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the close proximity combined with the surprisingly intimate act caused your cheeks to heat up once more. It was like you were caught in a trance.

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips for just a moment, and you could’ve sworn that he did the same. The air between the two of you was crackling with unseen electricity, and before you could question yourself you were leaning forward. 

You felt him lean in as well as your eyes fluttered shut, and his lips ghosted over yours. Your eyes snapped open and you stared at him, your lips slightly parted in disbelief — he just kissed you. Zuko just kissed you. It was like time had stopped — and then it all came crashing down. His lips came back to yours with an intense fervor, cupping your face in his hands to get as close to you as possible.

It was bliss in the purest sense. You reciprocated immediately, tangling a hand in his dark hair, letting out a soft gasp as your back hit the wall. Despite how many times you had imagined this moment, nothing could compare to the real thing. It was passionate but gentle all the same, and the warmth that spread through your whole body was familiar — it was Zuko. 

Your mind was a jumbled mess. It was split a million different ways; one part suddenly very worried about how your hair looked, one hoping that Sokka and Aang couldn’t hear you, another that didn’t care, but most of them were just screaming about how oh my god you were kissing Zuko.

You knew your whole face was flushed when you finally pulled away, and the warmth of his lips lingered as the two of you stared at each other, breathing slightly labored. You tentatively reached out your hand and softly, carefully traced your finger over a part of his scar. He flinched at the contact instinctively, but you felt him relax and even lean into your touch. It meant more than you could ever say, especially knowing what you knew now. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured, your touch impossibly soft against the cracked skin of his scar. “And you’re stronger than anyone knows. Than you know.” 

You kissed him again, shorter and sweeter than the first but just as tender, trying to memorize the feeling of his lips against yours as he returned it. You smiled at him and pushed your door open behind you, equal parts nervous and exhilarated about what just happened. “Goodnight, Zuko,” you whispered, shining eyes never leaving his until you closed the door.  

As soon as you were in your room you turned around and leaned against the door, smiling to yourself like an idiot. Your hand ghosted over your cheek, the spot where his hands had been, and you sighed dreamily. You had no idea how you were going to be able to finish studying. 

This was definitely more than a small crush. 

~~~~~~~~~~

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also i am so sorry i suck at writing kiss scenes dont roast me please

[kagetsukai]

I posted 541 times in 2022

13 posts created (2%)

528 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jellydishes

@feralgoblintea

@heroofshield

@mapplestrudel

@out-of-the-embers

I tagged 473 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#avenue queue - 425 posts

#dragon age - 65 posts

#art rec - 58 posts

#da:i - 37 posts

#signal boost - 32 posts

#i'm wheezing - 32 posts

#cullen rutherford - 28 posts

#commander handsome - 26 posts

#humor - 22 posts

#love it - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 103 characters

#every other flavor of white person i know (in europe) would rather die than have their guests be hungry

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Someone just tried to “shame” me for reblogging a hospital color theory post

Sir, we’re both on Tumblr in the year of our lord Beyonce 2022 and YOU are calling ME out for being cringe? Baby, that ship has sailed a LONG time ago. Get with the program. We’re all cringe here, but you in particular. Have a nice day 😘

6 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

#4

Well... I guess I’m middle-aged now.

7 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

#3

The reason it’s hard for me to be a person who is positive about the future is because anytime my life starts looking up and maybe things start falling into place, something huge and negative shows up and knocks me the fuck down. I always have, and continue to, merely keep my head above water.

7 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

#2

End of the year writing round up

I was tagged by @barbex​ and @roguelioness​

Overview: This year I mostly stepped away from writing for Dragon Age after a series of unfortunate events that made me bitter about the fandom. I kind of started writing a fic for The Wayhaven Chronicles, but the story uses so little of canon that it might as well be an original at this point. That being said, I did write a fair bit of it and I’m quite proud.

As you can see, I wrote 72K words last year and I am thrilled, because it’s the most I’ve written in one year, ever - by about 20k words. As a bonus, here’s the percentages of how often I wrote in the last year. It’s not great, but it sure is better than 2020. Go me!

See the full post

9 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

This was supposed to be a time of excitement and hope for the future. Instead, it’s become a nightmare.

About three weeks ago I finally made the decision to separate from the man I was living with. After several years of living like casual roommates, he was still blindsided when I told him I wanted to move out away from him, as if our relationship hadn’t been the worst joke in existence. Alas, after some sulking and some FB dramatics on his part, I was excited to move on. I was looking at new places to move into.

And then I found out my mother had a serious fall and had cracked her head enough to not be able to speak for a day. This stubborn woman had *refused* to go get it checked out and it wasn’t before I yelled at her that she chose to go get tested. It wasn’t until the day after that I found she had been admitted to the hospital. It wasn’t until the day after that I got the worse news of my entire life.

My mom has brain cancer.

The doctors are convinced that based on imaging they’ve done, the cancer had come from a different part of her body, but before they could give her all the testing to find out, she refused treatment, refused further testing, and went home. She hasn’t worked since the hospital stay and has been struggling to pick up things, or take care of basic needs.

I am still in shock, tbh, but I’m not afforded the luxury of processing my own emotions because suddenly she’s deteriorating at an exceeding pace and it looks like she might not have a lot of time.

In the meantime, I was approved for a wonderful one-bedroom apartment that looks absolutely *lovely*, but it’s incredibly hard to celebrate this new chapter of my life when it looks like I’m going to have yet another reason to hate my June birthday.

I don’t think I can explain more. All I can think about is the dry details, the information, the things that require logical parsing of what’s going on, because the moment I think about what I feel, I’m both numb AND like I’m about to break. None of it feels real, all while it’s way TOO real.

11 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[jaminjims]

「BRAIN GO BRR」

anon request: Heyyy! Could I request for an imagine for prompt 83? An ot7 platonic bts 8th reader crack / fluff? Like they’re playing around and it gets a wee bit competitive? 😅

prompt: “if you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.”

pairing: platonic!bts ot7 x gender neutral!reader

genre: crack >:), fluff

warnings: strong language?? should that be a warning?

words: 1.3k

~**~

You looked seriously into Taehyung’s eyes, determined that you would get it right no matter what he did. The stakes were high as your team was only one point away from winning.

Tae meowed.

“Monkey!”

There was a brief pause before several different things happened at once.

“Monkey?! I meow and the first animal you think of is monkey, oh my god. Can I hit you?” Taehyung looked at Jin for permission, “Can I hit Y/n?”

“Yah! I can’t help it if you sound like a monkey all the time; you never evolved past caveman! That’s natural selection Tae! Aish, why couldn’t you just evolve past caveman brain.” You whined and messed with your hair in frustration. Jimin and Jungkook looked on in despair as now the Hyung team was a point closer to winning the game and now the two teams were tied. Hoseok and Jin did all they could not to pass out from laughter while Yoongi just nodded to your exclamation like it was universal knowledge that most people, indeed, did not evolve past caveman brain. Namjoon looked like he would like to end his suffering and was contemplating if it was too late to resign as leader. He should let Yeontan take up the mantle. Or maybe get a lizard. Lizards are patient and wise, right?

Ah yes, the elegance that was animal association; where you make an animal noise and if your partner gets it right then the team gets a point. If your partner gets it wrong, then the other team gets the point. Simple really.

Well, unless it came to you, apparently. There was really a 50/50 chance with you.

It was your birthday and you were all gathered in the dorm living room, having a mini party to celebrate while v-living the event. It seemed like the mass lack of IQ you had spread and lowered the general intelligence of everyone in your vicinity though, as Taehyung exclaimed;

“You never evolved past tadpole brain!” He pointed back at you and you had half a mind to bite his finger.

Before you could act on your biting instincts, Jimin laid a hand on your shoulder with a grim expression on his face. “Even I knew it was a cat, Y/n-ah.”

There was obviously something missing in their brain functions because no, that was definitely a monkey. You lunged for the phone to consult ARMY in the decision but Namjoon had enough sense to pull it away from you before you did something rash. Coincidently, you tripped trying to get up to get it back from the leader, and he just looked down at you with something akin to utter misery for this game in his eyes. Or maybe it was war flashbacks. Probably war flashbacks.

Hoseok couldn’t help it; he was basically wheezing he was laughing so hard and Jin went to help you up, though, he was laughing too and almost fell on you in the process. Yoongi was trying his best not to laugh but he kinda looked like the embodiment of the 👁👄👁 face to you.

“Hey! We can still win this, team! They can still get the next one wrong!” Jungkook exclaimed with determination in his eyes. Jimin nodded along with him as you four sat off to the side and the four eldest got together. It was Jin and Yoongi’s turn and Jin thought of an animal that they haven’t done yet.

He hissed.

There was a tense few seconds before Yoongi, quite confidently, replied with “Hedgehog.”

Jin’s eyes widened as he smiled, that caused Hoseok to whoop in victory because if Jin was acting like that then Yoongi had obviously gotten it right. “Aish, you’re so smart.” Jin complimented. Yoongi smiled and looked at the younger ones with smug victory in his eyes. Namjoon sighed like the long suffering parent he was.

It only goes downhill from here.

Your poor brain struggled to make sense of it. “Hedgehog?! What the fuck?! Do hedgehog’s even hiss!?”

This time Hoseok, Jin, and Yoongi started laughing and celebrating their victory while your other three team members looked at you.

You met Jungkook’s cold stare first, “I am going to defenestrate you.” Then they all lunged at you. You yelled and bolted up, grabbing one of those sticky, stretching rubber hand things you can throw at walls to get them to stick there. (if you know, you know) You had insisted you have them as party favors.

You ran around the couch so there was something between you and the other three maknaes. “But we live on the fourth floor!”

“Exactly!” Jimin added, “Maybe if you hit your head hard enough you can gain some brain function back!” Tae continued.

They ran around one way as you ran around the other. You used your sticky hand to hit them in the face when you could while the Hyung line stood a respectful distance away from the chaos and got it on camera.

“Pause!” You yelled and you all froze. You pointed at them while they pointed back at you. Hoseok started laughing again because it reminded him of the one cartoon spider-man meme.

You smirked at them, “If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers!” Then you bolted away and the poor hyungs didn’t realize you were running to them before it was too late. You hid behind Namjoon as Jimin, Jungkook, and Tae came at you.

You growled and barked at them like the rapid animal you were and it spoked Namjoon enough to almost drop the phone (that was still running the v-live, by the way).

“Did you just bark?” Yoongi said in disbelief while Hobi and Jin also had a look of confusion mixed with concern mixed with slight horror directed at you. Namjoon quickly moved out of the way so he didn’t contract whatever brain cell eating illness you had. You moved to get behind him again before the other young ones could get to you.

He would would have poked you back with a stick if he had one, “Back! Stay back I say!”

You paled when you realized that you had no cover and bolted down the hallway, Jimin hot on your feet and the other two not to far behind.

The hyung’s followed to wherever you were going to make sure everyone made it out somewhat still intact.

You ran into your room and only paused momentarily when you saw that, huh, when did you open the window?, before regaining your senses and dodgeing the three others as they came barreling into the room.

So, the scene looked like this. You on one side, closest to your closet and desk, while Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were across from you, backs facing the weirdly opened window. The four oldest were watching on with non concealed laughter and amusement (well three of them were, Namjoon looked a little bit like he wanted a nap.)

With nothing between you and your attackers, you did the last thing you could do; which was throw the sticky green hand at them.

You missed and you all watched as it went falling out the window.

There was a few seconds of nothing before you all jumped at the sound of Hoseok’s phone. He looked at it and then back at the other members.

“It’s Sejin Hyung.” He answered the call and put it on speaker.

“Hoseok-ah, would you like to explain the sticky, green, ... hand thing that just flew out your dorm window and into Y/n’s cake?” That was Bang PD’s voice. Which only meant one thing; their boss was with their manager and they had just witnessed you throwing something out the window and landing in your cake.

Wait, it landed in your cake?!

“Wah! It landed in my cake?!” You whined in misery as Hoseok couldn’t help the incredulous giggle that escaped him. It was quiet on both sides before you heard your manager laugh from the other line.

After that it was a domino effect and you all started laughing, even Bang PD himself. While laughing you still couldn’t help the little whines that escaped you.

“But what about my cake??”

[end]

~**~

end note: PLEASE, i live for crack fics you guys. along with writing angst (which i seem to write the most, for whatever reason) crack is one of my favorite things to write. i feel like i get to really just let my already deteriorating mental stability go and write whatever comes to mind with prompts like these so i had sooo much fun! thank you so so so much for the request anonie! i loved it so much and i hope you like it as much as i did 💜

masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206

[giggly-squiggily]

The Jar (My Hero Academia)

Heyo! So, I had a silly thought.

Todoroki being unable to open jars and getting flustered in the process lives rent free in my head. Also, Lee!Midoriya also lives rent free in my head. I thought I should combine the two! :) 

“Don’t laugh, Midoriya! This is serious!”

Midoriya tried. He really did. He just couldn’t help it. “Ahehehe! T-Todorokihi! Do you ne-heed help?”  He cackled around his question, giggling even more when the half and half hero shot the the jar in his hand a ferocious glare.

Midoriya had just gotten back from training, walking out of the common room showers when he found his boyfriend battling with a Kimchi jar, trying and failing to open it. The green haired hero couldn’t tell you why it was so funny watching the powerful student struggle so much, but he found himself laughing helplessly.

“I don’t need help! I am a hero in training! If I can’t open a jar of-arrrgh! Kimchi, how am I going to- open dammit! Help anyone!” Seeing the usually calm and collected hero swearing and struggling only made Midoriya laugh harder, doubling over with one hand on his belly, the other supporting himself up. “Ahehehhehe! I’m saahhaary! I’m sahhaharry! It’s just-” He wheezed when Todoroki looked up from the Kimchi to give him a rather nasty side eye. His boyfriend was just too cute for his own good!

“Oh, so you think this is funny, huh?” Todoroki asked, putting the jar down on the counter before approaching the giggly hero. “I’ll give you something to laugh about!” Before Midoriya knew it, ten devious fingers attacked his sides and ribs, making him arch with a squeal. “AH! Aahahhahahahahha! Tohohohohohoodoohoohrohoohohki! Stahhahhahhap!” He cried, squirming in the duel-quirk user’s clutches. The half and half hero laughed softly, moving his fingers higher up and gently kneading the space underneath Midoriya’s armpits, right above his top rib.

“AIE! Gahahhahahahhaahahhaha! Sthahhahhahahap iihihihihiiht! Ihihiihhihm sahahahhahhray! Ihihihihihim shahahhahahharry! PLehehahhahahhse! Nohohohoo! NHOHOOHO NOHOHOHOOHT THEHEHHEHEHERE!” Todoroki had dropped his hands to Midoriya’s stomach, poking and prodding at the flat stomach. “All that training, and you still have soft spots on your stomach? It’s really cute.” Todoroki noted with a smile, making Midoriya’s already flushed face redder than before. “STAHAHAAHAHAHAHP TEEHEHEHHEHAASING MEHEHEHEHHE!” He cried, falling completely into Todoroki’s chest as they slid to the floor.

“But you’re too cute not to tease. Am I doing this right? How did Uraraka do it? Oh! Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle…”  He softly sang, earning  soft little whines from the green haired boy. “TOHOHOHOHOHOHOODOROOHOHOKI PLEHEHEHHEHASE!” Midoriya cried,  tapping his hand against Todoroki’s chest, indicating he was done. The half and half hero finally ceased his tickly assault, catching Midoriya as he slumped completely against the taller boy. “Hehe..heheheheha...hehe...Y-You’re too muhuch…” He giggled, making Todoroki smile. “Heh, are you alright? I didn’t overdo it, did I?” When the green haired boy shook his head, Todoroki relaxed.

After a bit, the boys got up, returning to the counter. “Alright, let’s open that jar of- oh!” Midoriya exclaimed, seeing the jar was now open, the lid neatly placed next to a sticky note. Todoroki picked up the note, reading it over. Once he was finished, his cheeks flamed a bright pink, and he looked away. “What’s wrong? Let me see…” Midoriya picked up the note and read it out loud.

I opened the Kimchi jar for you.

Next time, maybe take the flirting to another room? You woke me up.

Todoroki, work on your physical strength. It will come in handy the next time you need a jar open. Consider this a lesson on why you shouldn’t rely on your quirk so much.

-Aizawa Sensei.

Midoriya blushed fiery red, the reality of being caught setting his nerves aflame. When he looked up, Todoroki was giggling softly, one hand covering his mouth as he took in Midoriya’s endearing blush. “Oh, so now you’re laughing? I guess I’ll have to get my revenge!” 

The half and half hero’s eyes widened, realizing what was about to happen. “Midoriya, no.” He firmly said, backing away as the green haired boy approached. “Midoriya yes! Come here!” With that, the chase began, the Kimchi sat forgotten as Todoroki’s laughter filled the dorms around them.

Thanks for reading!

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 1! “Harvest”

My first ficlet for Suptober! Read under the cut :)

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 2,218

Tags: Fluff, Disaster Bi Dean Winchester, Daydreaming about hot farmers, Some suggestive language (and swearing), Angelic wheat harvest assistance, The Dom Brow makes an appearance, Sam Ships It, Mini Case Fic  

On AO3 here.

“All right,” Dean announces as he stomps into the hospital room, trailing mud with every step. “You’re not gonna have a problem anymore, Randy.”

The man propped up on the hospital bed cushions glares at Dean from under bushy eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time,” he snaps. “First these-- these things terrorize my fields for weeks, then y’all show up and are so useless that they maim me after you’re already on the case, and now I’ve lost the prime window to harvest a year’s worth o’ growth ‘cause I’m laid up in this godforsaken facility. So don’t you tell me I ain’t gonna have a problem anymore.” 

Dean sinks down onto the rickety plastic chair next to the bed, moving gingerly to avoid jostling his (probably) dislocated shoulder, courtesy of some extremely vengeful spirits. He fixes Randy with an even gaze. 

“Man, I’m sorry about your leg. I am. The spirits had a wider range than we thought and we figured you’d be safe at the house.”

Randy snorts in obvious derision, his scruffy mustache fluttering comically. Dean presses on.

“But, we’ve put them to rest. Your great-grandparents aren’t gonna give you any more grief.”  Even if the rest of your family did totally fuck them over.

He stands again, awkwardly, and pats Randy’s good knee. “Sorry about your harvest, though. Can anyone help out? Neighbors? Friends?”

Randy glowers. “I ain’t takin’ no charity.”

Dean quirks his lips and nods. “Right. Take it easy, Randy.” He leaves the still-grumbling farmer behind, following his own trail of mud back down the hallway. A tall janitor lurking around the corner sends him a death glare and Dean tries for an appropriately apologetic smile. 

It’s been a real headache of a night. 

The pair of spirits haunting Randy Johnson’s wheat fields ended up being way more pissed off than Sam, Dean, and Cas had anticipated. By the time Cas located the heavy brass key to the farmhouse that was apparently tethering the property-line-obsessed spirits to the material plane, Dean and Sam were long out of rock salt. In their retreat, they’d ended up waist-deep in a pebbly creek, splashing and wobbling as they beat off the screeching spirits with crowbars. Dean has an unfortunately-placed boulder to thank for his dislocated shoulder -- he went down hard and clumsy just as Cas reappeared next to the stream, the old key melting dramatically in the bright glow of his palm. 

The spirits burned away in a shower of sparks, along with Dean’s dignity.

To top it all off, Dean drew the short straw to go tell Randy the case was closed, and he may have stomped off in a sulky huff before thinking of asking Cas or Sam to put his shoulder right. 

Oh, well. At least it’s dealt with. One more night in their more-stained-than-usual motel room, and first thing in the morning they’ll get the hell outta Dodge (almost literally - they’re up in Osborne County). 

Dean thinks of a bright July morning on the open road and sighs in relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He doesn’t get his wish.

“I just feel bad, Dean!” Sam protests as Dean gesticulates incredulously at him. (His shoulder was very pleasantly healed by Cas the night before, and if Dean noticed that Cas’ warm hands lingered a little longer on his skin than was technically necessary for a cursory dislocation repair, he didn’t mention it.)

“God, Sammy, yeah, it sucks about the guy’s leg, but maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole to everyone he knows, somebody’d help him out! It’s not-- it can’t be our problem.”

Sam crosses his arms stubbornly. “It’s not about Randy. His fields are part of a huge supply that feeds a ton of people. Do you want people to go hungry, Dean?”

Castiel chooses that moment to materialize directly next to Dean, his nose inches away from Dean’s cheek. He’s holding two steaming cups of coffee and Dean immediately grabs one. Cas squints and tilts his head. “Why does Dean want people to go hungry?”

“Oh my god.” Dean throws his free hand up. “Fine. Fucking fine. We’ll find someone who’s willing to plow the dude’s fields. That’ll be easy.”

Sam opens his big mouth, probably to say something about having faith in humanity, but Cas beats him to it. Still planted firmly in Dean’s bubble, he sends a puff of warm air against Dean’s face as he speaks.

“Oh. I can do it.”

Dean and Sam both look at him. Dean shuffles back a couple steps and wills his eyes away from the guy’s lips. He really spends too much time staring at them.

“Um--” Sam clears his throat. “You can harvest Randy’s wheat?”

“I can plow, yes.” Cas nods firmly. Dean’s first sip of coffee comes spraying back out. He pounds his chest and wheezes. 

“Like-- like-- with a combine?” 

Cas furrows his brow. “Is that a machine? No, I don’t require machinery. This is a very basic task.”

“Plowing,” Dean says weakly.

“Harvesting,” Cas corrects, tilting his chin down and narrowing his eyes. “Humans have been doing it for a very long time. I used to help, now and again. I can’t imagine the process has changed much.”

Sam slaps his thighs as he stands up from his bed. “Well! Look at that, Dean. Cas doesn’t want people to go hungry.” 

Dean flips him off, but it lacks the usual heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later, they find themselves on the edge of a vast, lazily undulating expanse of gold. They’d skirted the north edge of the field extensively while working the spirit case, since the activity was strongest there along the creek, but in his single-minded focus Dean hadn’t really paid much attention to the field itself.

It’s big. Like, squint-into-the-distance-and-you-can’t-see-the-end big. 

“You’re really gonna plow all that?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas. The morning sun is turning the tips of Cas’ hair a chestnut gold. 

“I will cut down the stalks, separate the grain from the chaff, and deposit the edible grain into a large truck, which apparently takes it where it needs to go,” Cas says matter-of-factly. “I visited Randy early this morning to make sure I knew which truck it was.”

Sam laughs. “Oh yeah? How’d good old Randy take that?”

“He seemed dubious,” Cas says. “And rude. I assured him that despite his unsavory attitude, he would come home to harvested fields.”

“Very angelic of you,” Sam remarks. 

“So how’s this gonna go?” Dean lifts a hand to block out the steadily-rising sun. “You gonna be flapping back and forth? Probably not smart to let the locals clock an angel doing the harvest.”

Cas arches an eyebrow at him, somehow gazing down at Dean despite being an inch shorter. “I don’t flap, Dean. I may have wings, but their movement in the ether is beyond your comprehension.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and turns his face away in a show of studying the field to the north, but mostly to conceal the flush of his cheeks in response to that eyebrow. 

For Christ's sake, keep it together, Winchester.

“I can’t explain to you how it will look,” Cas continues, oblivious. “You’ll just have to watch. Anything you see will be for your eyes only. I guarantee no locals will ‘clock me.’”

Dean looks back just in time to see the tail end of the finger quotes. Cas is staring right at him, that damn eyebrow still up, a subtle challenge, daring Dean to make a move.

Maybe not so oblivious. Asshole. 

Dean smiles sweetly and gestures at the wheat. “All right then. Have at it, buddy. Show us what you’ve got.”

With no further ado, Cas is gone. Dean’s left staring through the previously-Cas-occupied space at his brother, who’s grimacing with an air of great suffering. 

“What?” Dean demands. 

Sam sighs heavily and gazes out over the field. “You two are so weird.”

Dean’s about to respond with something really witty when Sam perks up and points into the distance. “Holy crap, look!”

Dean follows the path of Sam’s outstretched finger and his mouth drops open. On the horizon, at the far end of the field, there’s a cloud. No-- a mini tornado. A golden tornado. A… sparkly tornado?

“What the--” Dean cups his hands around his eyes like blinkers. Even with the glare of the sun blocked out, though, the tornado is just as bright -- a swirling, racing funnel criss-crossing the field way faster than a combine, or even Baby, could drive. 

“Why is it-- what’s the sparkly stuff?” 

Sam’s squinting too. “I think it’s the pieces of the stalks he’s separating? And they catch the light as they get tossed around.” 

The tornado’s already halfway across the field, approaching them steadily. It’s about as tall as an oak tree, and as it gets closer Dean sees that Sam was right: thousands of little stalks and bits of grain and -- what had Cas called it? -- chaff are whirling and flitting amid the twisting golden dust of the tornado. The effect is a bit dizzying, kind of like that ocular migraine Dean had one time as a teenager, when an aura of tiny flashing spots obscured his vision, right there in his eye yet impossible to focus on. 

He steps back instinctively, Sam mirroring his movement, when the tornado grows close to them. It whips past, blowing Dean’s jacket open, and where there was once chest-high golden grain, there’s now just dirt littered with aborted stalks. 

“Damn,” Dean whispers. He’s seen Cas do all kinds of badass things, of course, but they’ve been more of the smiting and heavy-lifting variety. This is a new level of cool. In a farmer-y way. This, of course, leads Dean’s traitorous brain directly to images of worn flannel stretched tight over biceps; of a blade of hay dangling jauntily from chapped lips; of long, strong fingers gripping a pitchfork--

“--Dean!” 

The pleasantly-evolving bubble bursts. Dean twitches as Sam elbows him in the ribs.

“Dude! Cas is done, come on.”

Dean blinks a few times to bring himself back to reality (a reality with wheat-harvesting angel tornados) and realizes that Sam’s heading north along the field to where a normal-sized, non-funnel-cloudy Cas is standing, brushing off his trenchcoat. Dean follows his brother and takes in the scene; the whole field really has been reduced to nothing -- just a flat, dappled expanse.

“Damn, Cas,” he says quietly as he reaches Cas’ side. His voice comes out strained and a little breathless. “That was some good plowing.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Can replies gravely. He tugs on his cuffs and some wheat dust puffs out. “It was an effective harvest. I disguised myself from mortal eyes -- including yours -- as I transported the grain to the truck, but I trust you saw the rest?”

Sam nods enthusiastically and launches straight into a barrage of questions about the physics and techniques and yadda yadda before Dean has to come up with a response. Yeah, I saw it. Yeah, it got me all tingly. That’s normal. He takes a few deliberate, slow breaths to calm the pounding in his chest.

Still tuning Sam out, he zeroes in on a single piece of wheat still stuck in Cas’ hair. It’s poking up toward the blue summer Kansas sky -- a tiny, trembling link between earth and heaven. Dean sidles up to Cas before he can overthink it. He slips his fingers into Cas’ wild, dark hair and plucks the wheat out. 

He throws it on the ground. It belongs to the earth. 

Sam falls silent with a choked-off laugh and Cas turns his trademark unblinking stare onto Dean. But this time there’s a slight crinkle to the edges of his eyes. A quirk of his lips. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says again. He reaches out and -- Dean stops breathing -- brushes another piece of wheat out of Dean’s collar. His warm fingers graze Dean’s throat and all Dean can do is watch the little stalk flutter to the ground. 

Well. So much for a steady heartbeat. 

“Hey, I’ve got stuff in my hair, too,” Sam announces, voice thick with amusement. “Anyone gonna help me out?”

Dean tears his eyes away from the enlightening piece of wheat and points a finger at Sam, leveling him with his sternest shut the fuck up face. He prays his cheeks aren’t flaming. 

“If you need assistance, Sam--” Cas says, starting toward him.

“--He’s fine,” Dean interjects hastily. Maybe a little loudly. He coughs to cover it up. Smooth. “Let’s go. I wanna hit the road.”

Sam’s already jogging away before Dean’s done speaking. “I’ve still got the keys,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll warm up the car. You guys can catch up!”

Cas and Dean are left at the edge of the empty field. Dean rubs his neck and shuffles his feet, acutely aware of Cas’ piercing gaze. It’s nearly warmer than the morning sun. “Uh-- that was really cool, Cas. Thanks for letting us see it.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies, measured and deep. “I enjoyed sharing that with you.”

Wow. All right. Dean needs to get moving or he’s going to explode. But not before filing that particular comment away for extensive mental perusal later, in the privacy of his bedroom. 

He flashes a grin and punches Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, farmer angel. Let’s go home.”

[dalamjisung]

queen of the night ❁ lee minho

genre: angst and fluff (a mess of emotions)

word count: 9717

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: the king needs you. but what he doesn’t know is that you need him, too.

“The preparations are underway, my King.”

He doesn’t spare a glance at his servant, waving her away with a wave as his eyes quickly scan the maps laid out in front of him. His Royal Secretary, Hwang Hyunjin, stands next to him, nodding in silent agreement as they move pieces around, mumbling unintelligible words that even if you tried, you couldn’t understand. Their low voices is a form of defense, protecting both you and themselves.

Being the Queen makes it so there are obvious downsides to a life of riches and power. After the first assassination attempt, Minho made a point of always having his eyes on you. You could still remember his angry words, the shouts echoing in the cold stoned walls of his castle.

“They dare to try and kill my wife under my roof?! Who the fuck do they think they are?” His crazed gaze lands on you, your hands clutching your robes shut as you try to control your ragged breathing. He frowns, and although it takes some time, you think he finally notices your discomfort in being in a room full of armed men after what happened. Gathering them all near his working desk, Minho quickly mumbles out orders. “Bang Chan, Changbin, take him to the dungeons, I’ll deal with him later. Felix and Jeongin, I want a through check of my grounds, use everyone available. Seungmin and Hyunjin will stay with Y/N–“

“What about you?” You ask, and you hate to admit that Lee Minho is your only source of comfort at the moment. “Where will you go?”

“I have things to deal with, my Queen,” The formality to which he responds to you is what ticks you off, and you are marching out of his room before he can even process it. Of course, his men are quick to follow you down the hall, all the way back to the Queen’s Chambers, but you lock the door before they can enter after you.

You need to be alone for what follows.

“Y/N,” Someone touches your shoulder and you’re quick to react, pulling away clumsily. You flinch, the sudden movement having your ribs throbbing in pain. “Oh… are you okay, Y/N?”

Chan’s worried eyes find your and you can’t help but smile at your best friend. He lived next to you growing up, his family relying on the crop yours maintained, and yours, relying on the protection of his father’s army. His father had been a loyal commander of the royal guard, serving the King and the Royal Family for years until he passed away in combat; and, having been trained since a young age, Chan was quick to follow his dad’s footsteps. You would’ve too, if the army allowed for female warriors. Instead, you found another way into the royal life, and, unfortunately, it came with a lot of weight to falls onto your shoulders.

“Y-Yeah,” You smile, a bit shaken up still. “I’m fine, don’t worry, Channie.”

He frowns, not believing a single word that leaves your mouth, but nodding nonetheless.

“Can I help you with anything?” You sigh, hands unconsciously moving to cover your ribs, uncomfortable with the pressure that your corset applies to the wounds.

“No, you just looked… lost,” He shrugs, looking around the room as the others busy themselves with strategies and tactical conversation. “It must be incredibly boring to have to sit through these.”

“You know I am not bored by talks of war,” You smirk, remembering back at fond memories of sitting in Chan’s living room with him and his father as you two played with his maps and two wooden swords he’d carved as toys. “I am, however, suffocated in a room too small for such big egos.”

The snort that escapes him makes you giggle, and you straighten your back at the realization that you two are being observed.

“My King,” You voice out, slowly raising up to your feet in the most composed way you can manage. “I am sorry to interrupt such urgent matters, but I wonder if it is okay for me to take a walk in the gardens…? It is such a beautiful day out and–“

“Commander,” Minho nods at Chan, face twisted into something that you can’t read. “Please escort the Queen outside.”

“Yes, my King,” Chan politely bows before following you out.

The noise of the door closing behind both of you is enough to have you both running down the hall, laughing in the most manic of ways as you race each other to the castle’s gardens. Upon your wedding, Minho had all your favorite flowers spread through the grounds, making a safe place for you to collect your thoughts and enjoy the sun, as he put it. You hold that space sacred, adoring what it means for you and what it could’ve meant for the King, even though you’ve never seen him out there, not even once.

“Oh, my Queen!” One of the maid steps out of the way as you run past her. “Be careful!”

“I will, Dorothea,” You shout back, smiling widely as you push the heavy doors open. The sun makes you squint, but you soon get used to it, quick enough to watch Chan pant, hands holding his body up by the knees. “Getting old, Bang?”

“Ha!” He wheezes out, but his nose crinkles in a oh so familiar way that is enough to have you laughing again. “You wish, Y/L/N… or should I say, my Queen?”

“Ew, no,” Your hands touch the white petals that surround you, finding comfort in the smoothness of their beings. “I hate it when you call me that, Commander.”

“You suck,” Chan grumbles, poking his tongue out at you.

“You are probably the only one that can tell me that without suffering the consequences,” You joke, sitting down on the wooden bench that faces the pond. Before sitting next to you, Chan looks around, wanting to make sure no one would witness such comfort casualty from a royal guard towards the Queen.

“Oh yes,” He chuckles. “The King would definitely send me after them.”

“It is not you that my enemies should fear,” You smile, hands once agains seeking the white flowers, almost as if honing their energy to yourself. “They are my enemies, after all.”

“Close your eyes,” He says once again, and is that a hint of a smile you hear in his voice? “It’s a surprise, my Queen.”

“They are closed,” You muse, chuckling at the uncharacteristically youthful behavior. Your hands are stretched in front of you, careful not to hit anything as your husband guides you through the halls of your new home.

You hear a loud, creaking noise and suddenly there is wind, blowing against you, caressing your skin with gentle nips of cold air. His hand is firm on your waist, and you dare to blush at the touch you’ve been craving for for so long, basking in the feeling of his breath hitting your cheek as he chuckles once you almost trip over an unannounced step.

“I got you,” He mumbles, voice low and raspy. “I got you, Y/N.”

“T-Thank you,” You whisper back, allowing your hands to fall on top of his as he keeps guiding you, turning you right, right, left, right, left, and stop. “Are… are we here?”

“We are,” He slowly withdrawals from you. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Your answer comes out more excited than you intended and he laughs at your enthusiasm.

“Open you eyes.”

Blinking, you focus on the rich bushes surrounding you, and where before there was simple foliage, beautiful, big white flowers have bloomed, their smell enveloping you in a trance of amazement and wonder.

“They are called Queens of the Night,” Minho explains, slowly walking besides you. “I thought it was fitting for you… with how they open up slowly, only at night; how they are careful with their surroundings, looking so rough at first, and then so, so soft at the touch.”

“Minho…” You whisper, holding tears back. This is the most beautiful thing he’s done for you ever since your wedding.

“My Queen,” His eyes are looking at you– only you– but he still misses the way your smile fades as you process his words, a pang of sadness washing away all the remnants of the momentary glee he was able to offer you. “My life.”

Nights in the castle are quiet, Minho being a kind enough master to give his servants the dark hours to rest. He cares for those who care for him and you know it; for him, however, it seems that you are the only exception.

Your windows is open, much to your husband’s dismay, but you simply shrug at his disapproving eyes, set on the ideal that if he won’t sleep in this room, he won’t command this room. A queen must sleep in her own chambers, is what he told you after the ceremony was done. He was courteous enough to call the maids to help you out of your wedding gown, but you would only see him again the next morning, understandably so. You knew why he married you then, and you know why he still keeps you close now; nothing about you is enough to allure the almighty King Lee Minho– no beauty, no riches, no titles. But what you give your husband is something beyond the shallow eyes of those who wondered what did their King see in a woman like you, a woman with no prowesses. What he did see, however, is something that only few do, and even fewer dare to recognize it– especially in a woman– but he did. He saw you for what you are, and that is the main, if not the only, reason you accepted his proposal. Minho saw pure, and unadulterated power.

Chan is the one to pick you up. He doesn’t dare to contest or question his orders, this is not up to him, but he worries; it’s clear in his eyes, in his face, in the way his mouth turns slightly downwards. He doesn’t find you in your family’s home and if that’s not where you are, then there is only one other place you could be.

He finds you in his house, laughing merrily with his mother as you enjoyed a warm cup of tea and wild strawberries from the forest in the back of his house. His mother sees him first, leaping to her feet and running to her son, excited to have her boy in her arms even if for a small moment. It is the fact that he doesn’t laugh or smile that has you both worrying, his mother pulling away from him, hands trembling and heart racing, and you behind her, hands on her shoulder in support.

That’s always been you– the silent support.

The strongest pillar of both your families.

“Y/N,” Chan’s voice is thick with worry, and you frown, wondering if he was once again hiding his tears from both of you. “The King requests your presence.”

“Oh my!” His mother gasps, turning to face you. “What does he want with her?”

“He saw you.”

You nod. You nod because you know– because you saw him too. It was during an attack to the village, an unexpected ambush from the prince of a neighboring kingdom as he visited to sign a trade treaty; from the carriages and nearby mountains, waves of men poured into the centre of your home, killing, destroying, burning. You remember hiding your parents and Ms. Bang in the forest, and almost like you’ve been possessed by an avenging spirit, you take a deep breath, you calm your racing heart, your focus, and you move. Years of training rush back to you, living next to the most skilled fighter and swordsman of the kingdom suddenly paying off, as one after the other, enemies fall to the ground under your merciless arrows.

In your defense, you didn’t know it was him– you didn’t know it was the King– but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. He is surrounded, twin blades in each hand, and all you see from under his dark hood is a smirk. The skill one needs to wield twin blades is immense, but even relying on his experience and obvious mastery of his weapons, this man would die by end of today… if you didn’t do something about it. Unlike him, you rely on your stealth and speed. You have a long distance weapon, and only a couple of arrows left– missing is not an option.

“Missing is never an option,” You whisper to yourself , and once again you take a deep breath. Hold it. And release.

The first arrow crosses his neck, and before their eyes can find you, the second one strikes another in the shoulder. With two down, you have enough time to throw your bow to the side, pulling two knives from your boots.

Some may say you fight dirty, arriving unannounced, secretly, quietly. It’s not good form, it is not noble. You, on the other hand, say you fight to survive. You don’t care about dignity as long as you get live. As long as those you are protecting get to live. That is all that matters, you think, as you approach another two, ducking away from the uncontrolled swords clanking against each other.

“Three,” You whisper, swiftly moving away as you slice his neck open. His body falls loudly, and now all eyes are on you, but that  only buys you time. Another knife finds another man’s knees, and you let the twin blade’s finish the job. “Four.”

You pull away in time to see the other two enemies fall dead on the ground, and you don’t dare to look up at the curious eyes that watch you walk away.

“You saved my life,” He shouts as he sheaths his swords.

“I know,” You pick up your bow, quickly putting your knives away.

“What do you want?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You frown, not even bothering to look back at him. You don’t stop walking, but he follows you.

“You must know who I am,” He chuckles, and you can hear him jogging to catch up with you. “So tell me… how can I repay you?”

“No need for that, your Majesty,” You keep your eyes down. “I did only what anyone would.”

“No,” He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. Not even my best commander could do what you did.”

You frown, not quite content with the dismissal of your best friend’s talents.

“I am sorry, your Majesty,” You bow down. “But everything I know is because of your commander. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check in on my family.”

One final bow and you are gone.

You remain unmoving as you hear shuffling from your window, your blinds fluttering with both the wind and the intruder. Another assassination attempt… could it be? It had been less than a month since you dealt with the last one. Who could be so desperate to have your King dead as to send multiple assailants in such a short period of time?

Don’t they know?, you think, regulating your breath to not give yourself away. One of them is bound to talk…

You move slowly, almost dreamily, slipping your hand under your pillow, where a familiar knife lays. This one was specially made for you with the best steel available in the kingdom, handle garnished with the brightest rubies in the land– Minho was particularly proud of himself with that one gift. Your thumb laces through the whole in the handle, steading your grip for when you inevitably ‘wake up.’

“Ah,” You hear the low voice mumble, a man. The deep breath he takes, nose bumping against your forehead, makes your stomach knot, and you stop yourself from giving into the nausea that threatens to take over. “Such a pretty Queen… all alone at night, unprotected, unloved. You must be craving some attention aren’t you, your highness?”

The cold drag of his blade on the exposed skin of chest is all you need to snap, one leg pushing him into the bed and one hand on his shoulder to hold him down, knife perfectly placed on his throat. Your breathing is harsh, visibly disgruntled, but he is too busy trying to regain control to notice. No one ever notices.

“Wha–“

“Who dares to trespass into the royal residence?” You practically growl, hair escaping your braid and falling over your eyes. You are aware of how you look– nightgown exposing the top your heaving breasts, eyes dark, hair wild; you see how his eyes leave your for a second, taking in the whole picture, and you really want to get this over with. But you need information first.

“Well, well, well, the Queen has some surprises up her sleeve,” He wheezes as you press your knife down harder.

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” He mumbles, smirking.

“No,” You chuckle. “I have no use for such an insignificant name. I do, however, need to know who hired you.”

“Ah, I believe you know that information will never reach you, your Majesty,” He winces, feeling the sharp blade shallowly cut through his skin.

“You see, I don’t believe you,” You click your tongue, and with another swift motion, you two are standing, his arm twisted against his back and your knife still in place. “But I understand… I am merely a woman, why would you tell me anything? Maybe an audience with the King will suit you better.”

Your feet are cold against the polished stones, but everything is secondary to the task in hand. You push the man forward, and it’s only when you’re in front of his door that you notice it is already ajar. It’s almost like your heart stops beating and your hostage notices, using the moment in his favor. He knocks you back with his head, and you feel blood dripping from your brow where he hit you. He has no weapon, so he is quick to try and escape. You can’t let that happen; you need to know who wants Minho dead– that’s the only reason you are there to begin with. You can’t disappoint him. Whatever happens next, it happens in seconds; with your mind split in between you current situation and your husband, you cuss the gods above and throw your knife, and before you hear the loud thump of the man’s lifeless body hitting the floor, you feel all the air in your lugs escape you.

“Stupid bitch,” You hear, as you fall on the ground. Another person, another woman, stands over you, feet pressing down next to where a small blade is lodged on your side, blood staining the floors the more you stay there.

The pain you feel has nothing to do with the weapon intruding your body, and you push away any emotional turmoil, forcing your blurry vision to focus, and all you need is one hit to the back of her knee. She falls forward, arms stretched to cushion her fall, and your elbow meets her face before she can even touch the ground. Adrenaline is rushing through you and you rely on that, knowing that you don’t have long until it starts to wear off and you lose all consciousness.

“Respect your Queen,” You snarl, getting into a fighting stance as she raises to her feet. “Girl.”

One of your hands puts pressure on your lower stomach, stupidly trying to stop the bleeding– you know you can’t pull the knife out, but it might just be the only weapon you have available. You have no other choice as she advances, another blade pulled out from her back– it’s messy and full of rage, completely unlike you, but it’s the best you can do. You barely feel the cuts she makes on your arms, and you don’t really register the loud steps approaching from the south entrance; all you can think about is Minho and the fact that she came out of his room.

Your body is getting slower by the second, and your opponent is quick to use that to her advantage, widely striking whatever she can reach. She doesn’t kill you, though, and you wonder if she might just need you alive.

“Y/N!”

Chan’s voice is the last push you need, and the knife on your hands, one coated with your own blood and sweat, finds itself a home in her shoulder. The guards are quick to grab her, and you waste no time, pushing Chan away to run into the King’s room.

Minho has his wrists tied to the bed, and he is unconscious. A large gash in his chest, from his collarbone all the way down, is bleeding and you cry out in surprise, tears threatening to fall. It’s your voice, really, that wakes him up with a flinch, and his eyes open quick enough to watch you, all bloodies and bruised, crying, fall on his commander’s arms.

“I have a proposal for you.”

You don’t respond, still on your knees in front of your ruler. It is only once he tells you to rise that you do, looking at him in confusion.

“I have a proposal for you, Lady Y/N,” He repeats, getting from his throne. With suspicious eyes, he is quick to command everyone outside, wanting privacy for what is next.

“Whatever it is, my King,” You respectfully nod. “I am honored.”

“Marry me.”

Your gasp travels through the walls, and that is the first time you learn that the castle’s walls talk back, echoing your words as if confirming your decision.

“E-Excuse me?!” You mumble.

“Marry me,” He repeats, and with his hand, he guides you to his throne, sitting you down and moving to grab you a cup of water. “I know this is sudden, but you must be aware of the pressure I’ve been under to find a queen.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” You look at him with wide eyes. “But I-I don’t understand–“

“If you are aware of the pressure bestowed upon me,” He chuckles, and nothing but misery comes out through his voice. “Then you must also be aware of the attempts on my life.”

“I’ve heard of them,” You mutter, looking down at your hands. You hear shuffling, and you see the King kneeling in front of you. His hands cover yours, and he carefully examines your palms, looking for something. “I thought they were rumors…”

“Not rumors, unfortunately,” He sighs, closing his eyes, and just now you notice how exhausted he looks, almost like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “And it’s becoming impossibly harder to deal with those. Few of my men are capable enough to deal with hired assassins, but they are still soldiers– they rely on force and brute strength. That is not what I need, Lady Y/N, to deal with these threats.”

“W-What do you need, my King?” You frown.

“I need someone observant,” He says, eyes intense on you. “I need someone careful and stealthy. I need an assassin of my own.”

“Your M–“

“I need you.”

You quickly raise to your feet, putting some distance in between you and him, as if that would allow you breath, to think.

“Your Majesty,” You cry out, not being able to deal with his ludicrous offer. “I am not an assassin. I am not half as capable as your men, I am just a–“

“Woman?” He finishes the sentence and it burns; your skin burns with the way he looks at you, your heart burns with how fast it’s beating, your cheeks burn with the blush that takes over as you nod. “Even better. No one will expect this from you. You can hide from everyone, Y/N, but you can’t hide from me. Not anymore.”

“Why marry me, then?” You whisper, hands shaking. You want to scream… you want to cry and hit something. Why is this happening to you?

“Putting you in my army will just give away your potential,” He sighs. “And marrying you is the best way possible to always have you close without raising suspicion. You’ll always be by my side– my Queen. My life will be in your hands should you accept this, Y/N; but by marrying you I can at least make sure that your life here is comfortable. I can take care of your family, protect them. That’s why I can offer you in return.”

Your breathing stops. “You are asking for my life, your Majesty, not my hand.”

“I am,” He breathes out, frowning. “I am, indeed.”

“Do I really have a choice?” He doesn’t answer. “I thought so.”

“Everything I can do to guarantee your safety, I will,” He argues, closing in on you. His hands find your cheek, and his voice is as fierce as his eyes. “I’ll care for you. I’ll watch over you.”

You nod. This is your fate.

So face it.

“Okay,” You say, softly. “I’ll marry you.”

According to Chan, it took you four days to regain consciousness. The kingdom has been in distress, and your parents have not left the castle, Minho having provided them with comfortable rooms and service. Your husband stayed by your side until you opened your eyes, and only when you cried out, shaking your head, only then he left.

Everything hurt, and Seungmin has been more than attentive to your wounds, making sure to treat them at least thrice a day. He was able to stop the bleeding as soon as you were left to his care, but he still worried that you lost too much blood.

“You scared us,” He tells you every morning, when Minho and Hyunjin accompany him to your chambers to check on you. “You are lucky that the Commander got to you quickly, my Queen, or else who know what those people would’ve done to you.”

Who knows what those people would’ve done to you.

Such a pretty Queen… all alone at night, unprotected, unloved.

You must be craving some attention aren’t you, your highness?

“I-I, oh my god, I– Seungmin, I’m going; I need a bowl,” A familiar feeling creeps up to you, and you know what is about to happen. Your lungs tighten, and the more your try to take in gulps of air, the more you seem to be out of it; hands furiously searching for anything to grasp– the sheets, your hair, another hand– and you whimper, tears starting to stream down your face. “I’m gonna–“

There is no time– you throw up all over your bed, and you feel hands moving quickly to pull your hair back, another drawing circles on your back, but you need it to stop, you need distance, you need quiet.

“No, no no no,” You say weakly, pushing the hands away and shutting your eyes tight. “No, don’t touch me, don’t– please, please don’t touch me.”

You can still her that man’s voice on your ear, his tone, his suggestions. The disgust that hits you is enough to drive you out of your mind, hands rubbing your skin furiously, wanting all traces of him gone, all traces of her gone.

“Hold her!” Seungmin screams, grabbing one of your arms. “My Queen, you’ll open your wounds! Don’t–“

“Y/N!” Minho’s voice is the only one that makes past the cloudy haze tainting your mind. “My love, Y/N, what is happening?”

You freeze. This is the first time Minho says that; love. And as much as you want to enjoy it, to bask in the moment of hearing that word you’ve been waiting to hear for so long from him, all you can think is her. And her leaving his room. And if he said those words to her, too.

“Get out,” You whisper, pushing yourself away from both of them. “Call Chan. And leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving you unattended,” Minho says, and the voice he uses, the one he uses on everyone else when he orders them around, is enough to have you glaring at him. “I’m your husband. I’m staying with you.”

“I don’t need a husband right now,” You hiss at him. “I need my family.” “I am your family!”

“No, you are not!” You bite back, sobbing. “Wait here if you must, my King, but only until the Commander arrives. And then leave. Please.”

“W-What do you mean…?” He frowns.

“Minho.”

The sharp intake of breath is enough to have shivers running up and down your spine.

“My family would never ask me to die for them,” You sniffle, and when you look at him all you see is hurt. “They would die for me instead.”

Chan comes in right after, and only after the door closes you allow yourself to mourn. You cry for the love you gave away so freely to a man that wanted nothing but your willingness to die for him, and you cry for your fragile heart that breaks in two. You cry for the life you didn’t live; one that you might’ve found another love, one that loved you back, and you cry for the family that you’ll never have, that you refuse to have. You cry, but it’s too late now.

This is your fate.

So face it.

“You’re really marrying him,” Chan muses, guarding the door as your maids finish garnishing your hair. Everyone’s fixation is on your appearance, so much so that they miss the small daggers on your thigh. They have to make you pretty for the King, they say; he needs to finds you absolutely ravishing for the nuptial night. Just the thought of it makes your palms sweat.

“I really am,” You answer, offering him a small smile. “Can you believe it? You promise you’d always protect me when we were five, and now it is your official duty to see that you carry that promise to the grave.”

“And to the grave I will carry it,” His smile is true and dimpled and you heart aches at the thought of having to watch your best friend possibly go into battle. “My Queen.”

“Oh, god, no,” You crinkle your nose in disgust. “Don’t call me that when it’s just us, Chan. We are family.”

“As you wish,” He jokingly bow to you. “Your Majesty.”

“Oh god…” You laugh, and for the rest of the afternoon, Chan takes it upon himself to make you laugh as much as possible; to remind you of a time when everything was merry, and easy, and free.

It’s a beautiful sound, your laugh; and Minho closes his eyes as he washes himself in the sound, on the other side of the door.

“What’s going on with you?” Chan murmurs. For the first time in forever you see him without his official royal uniform. He is wearing an old shirt, and you recognize it from the stain– it was his dad’s old shirt, the one you dropped grape juice on when you were just three. You didn’t know he held on that all this time, but just the sight of it makes your eyes water. “Hm? What is going on, Y/N?”

“He doesn’t love me,” You murmur, quietly crying like you’ve done ever since you moved to the castle months ago.

“What do you mean?” Chan frowns, and gets up, moving to go sit next to you on the bed. Your hands grab the hem os his shirt, playing with it was you finally allow yourself to rid your body of the raging frustration trapped within. “He married you, Y/N. Out of all the ladies in the kingdom, he chose you. I think that says a lot.”

“It says he wanted something from me,” You say, rolling your eyes. His hands are gentle on your cheeks, wiping away the tears even though his efforts are futile– you can’t stop crying. 

“And what did he want from you?” The intonation of his voice is enough to know he is suspicious.

“Protection,” You whisper, and only then you gather enough courage to look him in the eyes. “Minho was in danger, and… and I helped him. And he called me the next week, remember? He called me to the castle, you were the one that came to fetch me and he needed protection. There were many attempts on his life, Chan, and although he has a whole army, he needed someone more discreet. And he thought I could be that someone.”

“I- no, that’s not… what?”

It hurts you to see him like that, eyes wide, mouth hanging, but he needs to know. You could’ve died and he would never know why, but this can’t happen again; he needs to know.

“The assassin that went after the King last month,” You gulp. “I was the one that… dealt with it. He is capable, but he can’t put himself in danger like that– Chan! Where are you going?”

“And you can?!” He shouts. You expected this. You expected anger and frustration, but you really need him right now, you can’t be alone. “You can risk your life for a man you don’t even love?”

“I do love him.”

This is the only thing that appeases him.

“I… I love him very much, actually,” You whisper, too ashamed to look up from your hands. “It started a couple of months ago, and… I am not certain why, Chan, but he is a very good king– he treats the servants well, and-and he truly is loved by his people, and he is good. He is good and I just– I just wish he’d be good like that to me, too.”

“Things can change,” Chan breathes out. “He can change. You… you didn’t see him when you were unconscious, but I did. Y/N, I do think he loves you, I truly do but… I think he hasn’t realized it yet. Things haven’t been easy for the King. He’s protected himself as long as I can remember, always deploying the army to protect his people.”

“Chan–“

“I believe he loves you,” Your friend says. “But I also believe he doesn’t know how to love you.”

“My wife at last,” Minho smiles, guiding you across the dance floor. With him, things are easy– his smile make it so everything is easy.

“Indeed I am,” You smile back, and for the night, just for your wedding night, you’ll allow yourself to pretend. To pretend you’re in love; to pretend you are loved. “Can’t back out now, my King.”

“Wouldn’t dare even if I wanted to,” He snort, and you love these moments, the ones that he allows himself the casualness of life. “You are lethal, my dear wife.”

“So are you, my dear husband,” You raise your brows. “I believe I remember certain twin blades on these same hands that hold me, right now.”

“I am sure you must’ve been confused,” He laughs. His eyes disappear under the giddiness of his smile and you enjoy the moment to caress his face. “I am helpless without my Queen.”

Minho finds you in the gardens. You are dressed in strange clothes, men clothes, and something inside twists. The way you move your hands graciously through the large flowers is enough to have him walking to you, making himself announced with his heavy steps. The sun shines particularly bright on your face once you turn around to look at him, and he swears you look angelic, everything about you screaming innocence.

“Okay, that is enough Y/N,” Minho breaths out, frustration driving him over the edge. He moves from where he is standing to kneel in front of you, and, oddly enough, it bring you back to a fond memory of him in this same position, sitting you on his throne. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but you are my wife. We are bound together by sacred matrimony, in which I vowed to take care of you, to protect and love you–“

“Love me?” You mumble, and there is something wrong once your eyes meet his. It’s almost like you don’t see him; like he is a ghost which you look straight past. “Love me, Minho? Do you love me?”

“Of cour–”

“That woman in your room,” You interrupt him, and you are very aware of your position; if you had not married the King, uttering a word in his direction could mean death. But as his wife, you have the power to interrupt him, to argue with him, to ask things of him– and yet, you still can’t gather the courage to simply talk to him. “If she had sneaked in, I would’ve noticed. I would’ve heard her, especially considering how you keep your windows closed at night. They creak, you know? Loudly. That’s why, usually, invaders will look for an easier entrance… like an open in the room next door.”

“Is… Is that why you leave you room’s window open?” He gasps. “To reroute them to an easier entrance?”

“Not an easier entrance,” You shake your head, and you finally focus on him, eyes on fire with anger, with rage. “Me. I manipulate their way towards me, so that if there is an attempt to someone’s life, it will be mine.”

“Y/N–“

“Tell me,” The way your voice wavers is enough to have him in high alert, desperately scrambling to try and get closer to you. “How did she get in your room? If not sneaking through the obvious entrance, how would she get in, my King… unless. Unless you invited her yourself?”

“No, that’s… I mean–“

“On our wedding day, I signed my life away,” You tell him, voice growing louder by the word. “I gave myself to you– body and soul– and all I asked back was your loyalty. You remember that? You remember the promise you made me, Lee Minho?”

“I do. I promised you I would never humiliate you,” He recites, frowning at the memory of you in a wedding gown, eyes wide as you listened to his words carefully. The kingdom was unaware, but you two signed the contract in front of them all. “I would never displease you, and I would never betray you. I would protect, love, cherish and care for you. I would do my best.”

“So now I ask, is this your best?”

“No.”

“Then did you lie to me?” You walk to him, finger poking his chest persistently. “Did you lie?!”

“No!” He shouts, taking a step closer, and you don’t feel fear– you could never fear him. Not him, with the hands that held you so close during your wedding; not him, with the mouth that smiles down at you in the most random of times; not him, that promised you the world, even if just for appearances. “I would never lie to you!”

“Then how did she–“

“I invited her!”

You had a hunch, but the confession is practically a slap to your face.

“Her name… her name is Adeline,” He sighs, eyes watery and full of regret. “We grew up together, much like you and Chan. She is the daughter of one of the old cooks; my parents allowed their children on the grounds so that I would have friends, you know? Her and I were really close, until I hit a certain age, and my training begun. Father had big plans for me, so he had to be harsh, I understand that but… he pulled me away from everyone. Adeline did not take well to the news and she– she was only trying to help, but she talked to Mother and the next thing I know they are being sent away and–“

Minho rubs his face with his hands, breathing deeply to regulate himself.

“The war hit and it was time for me to take over. I got used to how things were, so I just carried on like that, but it… it was hard. I was practically a kid, I was desperate and alone, so I reached out to her. Her words were familiar and comforting and it became a habit– whenever rough times were ahed, I’d rely on her. She knows be better than anyone, and I think she might’ve misunderstood my intentions. I got a letter… on our wedding day. She was angry and disappointed and I felt guilty and so I just kept writing.”

“What would you two talk about?” Jealousy is a foreign feeling for you, considering you’ve never had much to be jealous over. Yet you feel it as if it has been born with you, as if it controlled you whole. You hate a woman you never met and not for the right reasons– not for an attempt to your life, but for an attempt to seduce your husband.

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N, we–“

“It matters to me!” You cry out. Surprised with yourself, you cover your mouth with your hands, looking away from him. But he heard you– loud and clear– and he is not about to let this go.

“Why?” Minho questions, taking another step closer, until he can feel the warmth from your body touching his. “Why would you care?”

“Because you won’t let me in your chambers, but you invited her in,” Defeated, you let your hands fall down. Everything that’s been bothering you, suddenly race to the front, and all the nights you spent crying, all the injuries you’ve received in his stead, all the comments about who you are… it’s all too much. “You barely talk to me, but you write to her constantly! You push me away just to pull to her closer– should I continue?!”

It’s another cold night in the castle. Another lonely, dark night in which the wind blows so violently that the trees whispers secrets that weren’t for the random ear; the windows rattled and the doors creaked, and it all sounded much like a song– on a that you would never dance to. In your room, the candle is still lit, and you shiver under your covers, pulling them up past your neck and just above your nose. Once again, your husband refused to join you in sleep, as much as you tried to change his mind, and you have to brave the night by yourself.

The darkness is not your friend– someone like you doesn’t get to enjoy nighttime. You have more than enough training and enemies to be aware of what lurks in the shadows. People don’t take kindly to your abilities, and with the years, you’ve gathered a fair amount of people who might want to hurt you, but ever since you’ve became Queen, those people might just as well kill you. Your husband’s façade protectiveness is a curse in disguise, and anyone that might attempt an attack against you personally will have to be lethal, as to not leave any personal traces behind.

The windows rattle again and you whimper, scared. Your heart is racing with the just thought of an invasion. Even though you have absolute confidence in your skills and you know that you can protect yourself if need be, you don’t want to live looking over your shoulder; you want to be able to sleep in peace, without staying half awake in case of emergencies.

The wind sings again and this time, you cry over this sad, sad song.

“We talked about you.”

“You are a proper bastard, Lee Minho,” You feel sick. Your stomach turns and churns and you feel like you’re about to faint. “You truly are–“

“I told her I’m in love with you.”

Once you bring your hand up, you can’t bring it down– no matter how much you argue with yourself. You just can’t.

“I told her about us,” He closes his eyes, expecting to fuel you with enough anger to have you strike him across the face. You need this, and he deserves it. “That we keep each other at arm’s length, that we barely talk, that we–

“And how did that result in her entering you sleeping quarters?” If you hear one more fault in your relationship, you think you’ll break. You’ll give up. And you can’t give up, not now, not when you two are finally talking.

“She wrote to me saying she was passing through the village on her way East. I told her to come visit.”

“At night?!”

“It’s the only time that you are not next to me,” He mumbles, hands behind himself, holding back the want to reach out and bring you closer and closer and closer until you are practically one. “And I didn’t want her next to you. I know about her feelings for me, she makes them plenty obvious, and I did not want her to shred the little trust you have in me.”

“And how do you think that is working for you, my King?” Your voice is pure venom. “How do you think that shred of trust is dealing?”

“It is not, I know that, okay?!”

“Do you, Minho?” You cry out, and you fist finds his chest. And then again. And again. And you hit him until you con’t have the energy to do so anymore, but it doesn’t help; you don’t feel better, you just feel tired. “How could you do this to me? She almost killed me! She almost killed you! Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t leave you,” Minho whispers, frowning as the image of your bloody gown comes back to mind. “And because I wouldn’t take her as my lover. Adeline was under the false belief that once the time came, I would take her as my Queen. That I was in love with her.”

“Wasn’t you?”

“I loved her,” He explains. “Like you love Chan. Like family love each other… or at least like I thought family was supposed to love each other. I don’t have much experience in the area, but that is what I imagined having a sister was like. Adeline, on the other hand, had envisioned us a future.”

“You love her,” You nod, and this is the first time you two reach an understanding. “But you are not in love with her.”

“Yes…” A puff of air escapes him and you feel it in your face, and you reach a point in which you are not sure if it is rage that still bubbled inside you, or desire. “I am sorry, Y/N. I truly am– all your injuries, all your pain… it is all because of me.”

“No–“

“Yes!” The hold on your shoulders only bring you closer and you close your eyes, feeling his lips brush yours as he speaks. “It is! I– she barely hurt me, but you; God, Y/N, you were stabbed! You had blood all over you! You were unconscious for days and all I could do was sit by you and cry, begging whatever is out there to wake you up! I… I never felt so powerless in my life.”

“Don’t be foolish,” You frown, hand moving to cradle his face. “You’re the most powerful man I know, Lee Minho.”

“Not when it comes to you,” Your husband whispers. “When it comes to you, I’m as powerless at the next man… I am simply at your service, my Queen.”

You hold your breath as he leans closer, and, when he kisses you, it is all very familiar.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Those words will haunt you for the rest of your life. The way Minho’s eyes bulge slightly in surprise, since he’s clearly forgotten about this step in the confirmation of your union, so you take the lead. With a rehearsed giggle, you offer him a gentle pull, hand gripping his so harshly that you would not be surprise if it stopped his blood flow.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, nosing your cheek in a false adoring motion. The kingdom is watching, you remind yourself, and you raise your hand to back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair that escapes his heavy crown.

“Yes, my King,” You whisper back, and for the first time, you notice you’re shaking.

When his lips touch yours for the first time, it’s simple. It’s a light touch, and you’ve heard about this kind of kiss; the ones the maidens in the village talk about when they tell tales of their escapades. The Teasing Kiss, they called it, and you’ve never really understood what they meant until that moment. Until he pulled away, your mouth chasing his and wanting more. And then he kisses you again, coming right back, and the cheers and screams from the thousands of people watching you two gets drowned out by the increased pressure, the increased need. His lips are faster, more desperate, and it’s almost like they search for something within you, coaching an answer out of you, and the best way you can give him what he want is to give him what he wants. You follow his lead, and you are not sure for how long the two of you push, and pull, and give, and take, and it’s only when the priest coughs uncomfortably that you focus enough to pull away.

“Now please,” Minho says, even though he is still breathless and shocked. “Bow down to my Queen.”

His hand is in yours, guiding you through the hallways you’ve gotten so used to walk alone. You don’t know how to feel; you don’t know what to do. You’ve never imagined this possible, but he seems to be in such a hurry that you barely have time to gather you thoughts before you’re being led inside his chambers; before you are being sat down in his bed and he is moving quickly around the spacious quarters. Your eyes follow him, the sun shining through the window and hitting his back, and you can see his muscles through his shirt. You are distracted for a second, but once he opens the doors of his wardrobes you feel your heart stop– your eyes prickle with tears at the sight of an almost empty space. Only a few shirts and britches in view, and you start to wonder if he truly sleeps in this room.

“Wha–“

“Here you go, my Queen,” Minho mumbles shyly, face tainted red. His hands give you a set of clothes to change, and you frown at him, confused. “You can dress in mine instead… if you’d like, of course.”

“Thank you,” You mumble, blinking up at him. Your hands are slow, and you even dare to smile at him, now blushing yourself.

In hopes to escape from his intense gaze, you look around, and everything seems normal; desk full of unsigned decrees, a couple of painting by his wall, a small pile of dirty laundry to be taken by the maids. Typical to men’s fashion, he seems truly embarrassed by his lack of royal behavior in the privacy of his own chambers, and you her him muttering something as he quickly moves around, hiding his dirty clothes in the empty wardrobe and moving to tidy his bed. His large, wide bed. With only one messy side.

“Do you even sleep here?” You joke, getting up from where you sit.

“O-Of course!” His nervous stammering is endearing to you. “Where else would I sleep?”

“It’s just… only one side seems slept on,” You feel as ridiculous as you probably sound, standing next to him while hugging his clothes and pointing to his bed. You feel almost childish.

“Ah, yes, well,” Long ago you’ve learned that your husband and the King are two distinct people. It was obvious from the way he behaved, sometimes, and you might’ve been biased, but you preferred your husband. You love your husband. “That’s my side of the bed. The other side is… well, is yours.”

“But you never let me sleep in here,” You worry that you are whining, pouting, and you straighten your back, composing yourself.

“I didn’t want to force you into a loveless marriage,” His hands move to grabs yours, pulling you closer to him. The way he looks at your clothes is enough to have him sighing in frustration and you chuckle, amused at this new found behavior of his. “Didn’t want to disgrace you by making you lay next to a man you don’t love.”

“But I do love you,” You say, and the way his head shoots up, eyes searching yours and then simply staring, is enough to make your knees buckle. Thankfully he has his hands around your waist now, body pushing against yours until your back is on the wall, shivering in contact with the cold surface. “I’ve asked to sleep here before, I’ve asked to–“

“I thought you were simply trying to appease me,” He shakes his head, desperately trying to argue in your defense. His hair falls over his eyes and you really, really want to reach out and push it away– you want him to see you, you want his to see all of you. “I thought… I thought you were trying to keep up appearances.”

“The night terrifies me,” You whisper as your head cocks to the side, voice wavering as tears roll down under the relief of finally dragging this out of your chest. “The dark a-and the silent, and b-being alone, it’s all too much, Minho. I’m scared all the time! I never know when someone will appear in front of me with a knife or attempt to poison my food! I never know when will be the last time I see Chan, or my parents, or– or you! I know you married me in search for personal protection and I am confident in my abilities, I swear I am, but I am so, so scared.”

“Why did you never mention this to me?” His voice breaks and you can’t believe how hurt he looks. “I’m your husband, my love, I am here to soothe you and calm you. I am here to protect you even if that costs me my life.”

“Then what would be your use for me?” You shrug, looking down in shame. “Why would you need me?”

“Because I love you,” His mouth covers your gently, giving you a quick kiss. “Because I need you,” Another one. “Because you are my Queen and I am your King.”

“I love you,” You tell him again, holding his face in your hands. “I love you so much.”

“Let me protect you,” He but begs, eyes pouring out more emotion than you’ve ever seen. “You don’t have to watch over your shoulder anymore; you don’t have to fear the dark, my love, because I will be laying right next to you, and I’ll hold you in my arms until you feel safe enough to sleep. I… I was an idiot, and for that I apologize. For that and so much more, but I am sorry for putting you in such position, I should’ve never done that. I should’ve been a better husband– a proper husband.”

You say nothing, too overwhelmed by his sudden change.

“But I’ll make it up to you,” The smile that blooms in his lips has you sighing in happiness. “Starting now.”

“Welcome to the family, my darling,” Minho’s mother smiles as he introduces her to you. It is the first time you meet the former Queen, and you see parts of your husband in her face– you see his smile in hers, and hints of the way his eyes disappear under such smile, just like hers.

“Thank you, my Queen,” You bow down respectfully, afraid to look into her eyes in case there is a mistaken understanding of defiance. You know how the power succession happens, and you know the resentment that can linger once it’s gone– all that power, all those riches. And the last thing you want is to cross your new mother-in-law.

“Look at me, my Queen,” Her voice is cold like ice, and once her fingers touch your chin, you feel as if it almost burns. “Ah. Just as I thought…”

“I–“

“You’ll do well,” She whispers. “You’re strong. He needs someone strong… he’s been strong by himself for too long, now.”

Waking up next to your husband is everything you’ve imagined it would be. His arms, tight and secure around your waist, reminds you that from now on, you won’t be alone. You won’t be alone during the day, and you won’t be alone during the nights, because now you truly have a husband; one that loves you, and adores you, and one that you love and care for back.

The night went by too fast, is what you conclude as you notice him stirring awake; you could still hear him whispering all about the days he felt he had to keep you at arms length, and you just now realize how much attention he payed while you were in your own world, floating around in your head. He tells you about the day you wore the deep red dress, and how beautiful you looked; he talks about the week he spent getting your garden ready, hoping to not ruin the surprise; he talks about how sometimes he used to– and still does– gets jealous of Chan, and of all the memories he has with you, and all the intimacy you two share, and all the laughs, the smiles, the hugs. He wanted it all– he still wants it all.

And now he can finally have it.

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aaaaahhh I’ve had this saved on my computer for so long now and I finally decided to post it :D King!Minho really does it for me 🤡❤️ what do you think of this one my lovelies? Let me know! Share, comment, help a struggling writer lol as always, thank you so much for your support <3 means the world!!!

[silkling]

Hi Silkling, could you please write a TFP story where Sierra discovers the Autobot's secret and joins up with Team Prime? TFP never really did much with her, and I think that a shame. I think Smokescreen would make a good partner for her.

Absolutely! Great to see you again in my ask box! :D your last prompt was super fun to write to, so I’m looking forward to this one! Now, I admit, I never paid much attention to Sierra, and the show didn’t give us a lot to work with, so I’m going to have to come up with some of her characterization. And I agree. So I’m mashing her with Smokescreen. It’s gonna a be great. I love Smokescreen very much! I even have a whole AU of my own for him. He’s a tiny happy dumbass and since Sierra has basically no canon personality, I can make her be his long-suffering but still very fond best friend.

———————————————————————————————————

Sierra had been having a good day. Emphasis on the word had. It was the weekend. She had packed a small picnic, grabbed her favorite book, and hopped on her bike. She’d ridden out to the popular hiking trails, intending to take a short hike and finding a nice place to spend the afternoon with a her novel and her snacks. The sun was out, the weather was great, and she had nothing to do today. It was perfect. So, of course, the laws of the universe demanded that something go wrong.

‘Murphy is a cruel bastard and and I’m going to punch him in the face when I see him in the afterlife.’ She thought viciously, staring up at the hulking titan that had just crushed her lunch and bike under a single massive metal foot with a sense of numb disbelief. ‘At least I still have the book.’ She ignored how the thought echoed with a note of hysteria as she shoved said book into the messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Are you Sierra O’Niell?”

She was only slightly surprised when the massive robot spoke. Because why wouldn’t the giant robot that had just moments ago been a jet be able to speak? Honestly, what even was her life at this point. She was more concerned with the fact that the thing knew her name. Her initial instinct was the demand how it knew her name. But she’d seen the movies. She knew that would only confirm it’s suspicions.

“Who?” she forced herself to ask instead, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. It was the shock, she told herself. It had to be. It was making her emotionally numb. “What are you?”

The robot seemed startled, before it snarled something that was most definitely a curse. It started speaking, though not to her, and it took Sierra a moment to realize it must have been talking over some sort of built in communication system. “-wrong human, Soundwave! This pathetic fleshling you pointed out to me doesn’t even know who I am talking about.” It paused. “What do you mean it’s not the wrong human? I just told you-“ it cut itself off. “Ah. I see.” A sinister grin twisted at metallic features. “Thank you, Soundwave. I will return with my prize shortly.”

Oh, Sierra did not like the sound of that.

Sure enough, the robot turned to face her when it was done. “It seems you lied to me, little fleshling.” it sneered. “My associate tracked the signal of your personal communications device. You humans never go without it, I’ve been told.”

She blinked. “You hacked my phone?” she sputtered, and oops, she’d just confirmed her identity. ‘Stupid, Sierra.’

It’s face twisted into a cruel expression of glee. She did not like it. “Indeed.” It began bending down, and then a large hand was reaching towards her. “You shall be coming with me, human. Soundwave has seen how Jackson Darby is fond of you.” it purred. “You will make a lovely bargaining chip against that pathetic human runt and his Autobot protectors.”

And wait, this was because of Jack? How did he come into all this? If this thing was after her because of him, that had to mean he knew about it and it’s…friends. Did robots have friends? She didn’t know. And wait, Autobot?

She stiffened, scrabbling away from the large metallic hand, shunting those questions to the back of her mind to be answered later. Escape the terrifying metal monster now, murder Jack for pulling her into this later. Clearly though, the robot disliked her attempt to flee because it only growled and stepped towards her again.

That’s when she heard the roaring of a powerful engine. It made the robot pause too, and they both looked to where the sound came from. Then, over the crest of a hill, a white and blue sports car came flying in. It had red accents and bold 38s painted onto its doors. Sierra was impressed. She was no car person, but even she liked this one. Only, the car started breaking apart once it hit the ground, unfolding and growing into the form of, you guessed it, another robot.

Sierra despaired for her luck. ‘Murphy is going to die a second time for this. He’d better be prepared.’ She thought with vicious hysteria.

Except, to her great surprise, the new robot didn’t try to help capture her. No, instead it rammed full force into the tall jet robot that had tried to snatch her up. Said jet yelped before quickly getting back to its feet. Sierra heard the should of metal and gears shifting, and saw the newcomer’s large hand change to some sort of weapon, though not one she could recognize.

“Terrorizing humans now, Starscream?” it taunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you always were one to sink so low.”

The first robot, Starscream, apparently, snarled in outrage. “Pathetic Autobot!” it roared, and oh, so this newcomer was Autobot?

Except, from the two names she’d heard already, that didn’t sound like the type of name these robots seemed to have. She did notice the little face badges they wore, the white bot bearing a red one proudly on its shoulders while the jet robot wore a smaller, pointier face on its chest. So maybe those had something to do with the whole ‘Autobot’ thing? Hell if she knew. Sierra was clever, and she’d always been good at puzzles and mystery solving, but she didn’t have enough information for this whole…thing.

“I’m not the one who’s picking on defenseless humans, ‘Con!” the car robot barked, smirking at the skinnier jet.

The jet only snarled, lifting an arm that she was just noticing had a freaking missile attached to it, and the white robot stilled briefly, before shooting her a frantic look and oh, would you look at that, she seemed to be right in the blast radius of the missile, and oh god she was going to die-

Except, there was that shifting sound again, but much larger, and then car robot was leaping towards her. It hit the ground in car form, it’s driver door open as it slid sideways in her direction, and then she was swept up into it and the door slammed shut. Tires squealed, and then they were peeling away to the sound of a missile screaming and impacting where they had been a half second before. The jet roared in outrage, but the car robot was speeding straight towards civilization, and it seemed to want to avoid that because when she glanced at the rear view mirror she saw it leap into the sky and transform before flying away.

Sierra slowly sat up from her ungainly sprawl, pulling the seatbelt across her chest on reflex before sitting back against the driver’s seat and wheezing. Her heartbeat, which she only just noticed had been thundering wildly in her chest, started to slowly calm, and she had to force herself to take deep, even breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now, Sierra wasn’t an irrational girl. She was among the top students of all her classes, she was smart, she knew a lot about various topics, and she had a good understanding of how people worked. She was clever, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders. She kept some of her interests closer to her chest, and she played the good, polite, quiet girl for the adults, because she wasn’t without manners, thank you very much. All that meant, though, was that she wasn’t prone to screaming in terror and running like a madman when she was freaked out by something. She would prefer to understand something rather than be irrationally terrified of it.

This, though? This was a bit much, even for her. As her heartbeat calmed, a sense of nausea built in her throat. “Excuse me, robot?” she squeaked. She wasn’t even sure if she could communicate with it while it was in car mode, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s Smokescreen.”

What?

“What?”

“My name is Smokescreen. Not “robot”.”

It sounded miffed. Which, okay. That was fair. If someone called her just “human” she’d probably be upset too. Hell, she had been upset when that other one, Starscream, had called her a “fleshling”. Smokescreen’s voice also sounded very male, and she paused before asking.

“And you’re not an “it” either, then?”

“No, I’m a mech.” A pause. “Uh, a male, by your definitions.”

“Okay. Smokescreen. Well, I’m Sierra, and as grateful as I am for your rescue you should really, really stop and let me out. Humans don’t handle extreme stress very well and I’m about to be sick.”

“Sick?”

Oh god, did robots even get sick?

“I’m about to vomit. Which means I am very close to expelling internal body waste, and it will be right in your seats if you don’t let me out so I can barf behind some rocks.” she informed him tightly, fighting down a gag.

There was a brief moment if silence as Smokescreen seemed to process her words, before he turned off the side of the road, drove behind some rocks, and popped open the door. “Please don’t be sick in me.” Oh, now he sounded sick. Sierra felt a little bad.

She didn’t say anything to that, instead stumbling out of the car and out of sight, before promptly bending over and tossing her breakfast. She gagged on bile, and after a moment of pause to make sure there was nothing left in her stomach, she stood and made her way back to where Smokescreen was waiting. She pulled her water bottle from her bag, taking a sip and washing out her mouth with it before spitting it to the side, and then she proceeded to drink everything left in the bottle. She tucked it away, turning to her impromptu ride, and opened her mouth to speak, when-.

“Oh slag.” He beat her to the punch.

She was confused, recognizing that as a curse of some sort, and then she heard the beeping from his radio.

“Um, hold on for a minute, alright? I gotta take this.” He sounded anxious, and didn’t give her a chance to answer before there was a click as he did just that.

She heard muffled noises over the radio, though she couldn’t make out the words being said.

“Um, yeah. There was a ‘Con signal. I was close so I checked it out.”

More radio noises, angry sounding ones.

“I know, I know! But I was closest and no one would pick up their comm. so I thought I should st least check it out! It was a good thing too, Starscream was there and he was about to snatch up a human!”

A pause, and then an explosion of garbled noise from the radio. Sierra got the feeling that Smokescreen was wincing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let her be taken? Plus she’d already seen him so it wasn’t like seeing me was going to do much damage!”

A growling noise, followed by a hiss of static.

“Yes, Ratchet. I know. And I am sorry, alright! I know I went against code again but if I had waited a human would’ve been in Deception hands and as new as I am to this planet, even I know that’s bad!”

Wait, planet? Was this giant ass robot an actual alien? That…honestly made sense. With that day she’d had, she wasn’t even surprised. Smokescreen was still having his discussion with…whoever was on the other end.

“Yes, I’ll bring her back to base. I’m not going to apologize for saving her, though.”

More angry static.

“Yeah yeah. I get it.”

He sounded tired, defeated. Sierra felt bad, and wondered what was being said to make him sound like that when he’d been so bright before.

“No, you don’t need to send a ground bridge. I’m close to the base anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a click as Smokescreen disconnected from whoever called him, and then she could tell he was talking to her when he spoke next. “Mind hopping in? I gotta bring you back to base. The boss can explain everything. I promise you won’t be hurt or anything.”

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then sighed. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but at this point what was the harm? Besides, her gut instinct was telling her that, based on what that Starscream character had said about Jack, she wouldn’t have to worry about being hurt. Not if Darby spent all his free time around these weird alien robots and came back fine. Mind decided, she slipped into the car’s open door. It shut on its own, and she buckled herself in once more.

“Thanks.” He sounded grateful. And then he was driving off.

He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Sierra, and she let herself be alone with her thoughts. They drove for a while, and Sierra let herself enjoy the landscape that passed by Smokescreen’s window. He really was a nice ride, she mused. Sleek and fast, and his engine purred quietly as he drove along the highway. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew his car mode was a good one.

Soon enough, they were coming towards a large mesa. Smokescreen drove right toward its side, not even slowing as he approached, Sierra tensed, about to protest, when a previously invisible door opened in the rock face. She shut her mouth, her eyes blowing wide. Oh. That explained that. Their base was hidden in plain sight. Which…she supposed was fitting, for alien robots who disguised themselves as cars and jets. Smokescreen took them through a tunnel, and then they were coming into a large central chamber. Sierra peeked out if the window to see two other robots there. One, stocky and painted in red and white. The other…was absolutely massive. He towered above the red and white bot, and she had a feeling he’d tower over Smokescreen too. He was broad as he was tall, with wide shoulders and a heavy looking chest, his metal armor painted in red and blue. Sierra didn’t know how she knew, but she just knew that this large one was a he, a mech, as Smokescreen had said.

The door at her side popped open, and after brief hesitation she unbuckled herself and stood up. There was that sound of transformation behind her, and she glanced back to see Smokescreen rising to his feet in his robot mode. Then a voice spoke and she snapped her head around to see the large bot speaking.

“Greetings, young one. My name is Optimus Prime. My companion is Ratchet, and you have already met Smokescreen.”

Ratchet. That’s who Smokescreen had been talking to earlier. “I’m Sierra.” she said after a moment. “Sierra O’Niell.”

Optimus tilted his head downwards in her direction. “May I inquire why Starscream was attempting to abduct you, if you know?”

“You’re very polite.” she remarked dryly. “He said something about wanting to use me to get to Jack Darby, so that he could in turn use Jack to get to the “Autobots”. I’m guessing that’s you guys?”

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet, then looked back at her. “Indeed. Myself and my team are Autobots. Starscream is a Decepticon. Our factions are enemies, I am afraid.” he explained. “We are not from your world, Sierra O’Niell. We hail from a planet called Cybertron. Our two factions were at War on our home, and that War destroyed our world. The Deceptions came here, searching for energon, and we have followed them to keep them from destroying your planet and it’s people in their quest for it.”

Sierra turned that over. She’d guessed they weren’t from Earth, so that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of the information was new, though. And appreciated. “What’s energon? And how does Jack fit into all this?”

Optimus sighed. “Energon is an energy source, and the very lifeblood of every Cybertronian.” he explained. “It is a natural resource that was once common on our home, and somehow Earth too produces it in great abundance.” he explained. “Jackson, Miko, and Raphael became involved with us by accident. They were seen with my Autobots when they mistakenly were pulled into a battle with the Decepticons, and the Decepticons assumed they were our allies. In order to protect them, we took them under our watch and guard to ensure they could not be harmed.”

So, Esquivel and Nakadai were part of this too. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the cars that picked those two up, now that she thought of it. Speaking of which….

“Jack’s motorcycle is an Autobot, isn’t it? And Miko and Raphael’s cars?”

Optimus hummed. “Indeed. Arcee, Bumblee, and Bulkhead were the ones to initially partner with and save the children in that first encounter. After they were brought into the fold, it made only sense to assign them as their Autobot guardians.”

Sierra nodded as she took that all in. Then she frowned. “I’m involved now too, aren’t I? I would have been involved regardless, if the Decepticons were really after me, but Smokescreen saving me just means my involvement is going to be more pleasant than it otherwise would have been.”

Optimus and Ratchet shared yet another look, before casting their gazes to Smokescreen. The white bot fidgeted under their combined stares, head ducking and looking uncomfortable. “While we are not pleased that the youngling acted on impulse and charged into battle against protocol, we are pleased that he saved your life, young Sierra.” Optimus said after a moment.

Sierra blinked. “Youngling.” she repeated in confusion. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting him into trouble for saving me, are you?” she asked heatedly. The very idea insulted her.

Optimus twitched as if startled, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Youngling, yes. It is a term used by Cybertronians to refer to those of us who are not yet fully grown. Smokescreen is the equivalent of a human teenager.” he explained. “And worry not. In this instance, we can overlook the breach in regulations. It would send a poor message to punish a bot for upholding the Autobot creed.”

Sierra relaxed at that, nodding. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to want to have a discussion with you later about why you’re letting teenagers fight in a war, but I know now isn’t the time.” she said threateningly.

Both older bots startled back and her tone and words, and Smokescreen squeaked from behind her. She turned and drew a harsh line across her mouth before he could say anything, and she watched as he stared, slack-jawed, before closing his mouth with an audible clack. That done, she returned her attention to the apparent leader. There was one more thing she wanted settled.

“You said the others got guardians, right?”

A nod.

“Well, if I’m going to need one, and something tells me I will, then I want this one.” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Smokescreen.

Optimus’s eyes narrowed in what she realized was a faint smile. “If Smokescreen agrees, then I have no issues with that.” he hummed. “All I ask is that you remain here until our liaison with the human government arrives. Agent Fowler will want to discuss some matters with you before you return home.”

Sierra blinked. So the government knew about all this. That was good to know. It meant she wouldn’t get in trouble for conspiring with aliens if it ever came to light. She could also understand why they kept this whole thing a secret, even if governments hiding things from the public wasn’t always a good thing. In this case, it was a good thing.

“As long as I’m home before my curfew.” she agreed.

Another bow of that great head, and then Optimus was turning to stride away. Presumably to make contact with this Fowler. That left her and Smokescreen with Ratchet.

The stocky bot glanced at them, then turned to that odd console she’d noticed earlier. “Smokescreen will show you around.” Was all he said, waving them away with a dismissive flip of his hand.

Sierra, taking that as her cue, turned to the youngest bot. She thrust out her hand. “What do you say? Partners?”

He seemed confused, before slowly crouching and extending his hand to tap a finger to her palm. “Yeah, sure.” he seemed a little awed that she’d want to partner with him.

She smiled. “Good. In that case, why don’t you give me a ride and show me around your base?”

Smokescreen seemed confused. “Ride?”

“On your shoulder. I’d like to see it from your perspective.”

He blinked, then shrugged and put his hand, palm up, on the floor. Sierra took that as her que to climb up, and he carefully transferred her to his shoulder. Cool. Very cool. She just wanted to ride on the giant alien robot, and now she got to. That was cool.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his bright, shining blue eyes, and she smiled warmly. “Well? Show me around your home, big guy. I’d like to get to know you.”

Smokescreen perked up, the little protrusions on his back wiggling with his apparent joy, and Sierra grinned a little wider. Oh, he was cute. How a giant robot could be endearing, she didn’t know, but he did it. He was sort of like a puppy. A giant, metal, alien puppy. She held on as he started walking, and she listened with half an ear, processing and noting what he told her as the rest of her mind turned over the events of her day.

It had been stressful, and scary, but now that it was all done and she was fine…

‘Yeah.’ she thought, watching her new partner eagerly show her around the small, hidden base he called home. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that! I hoped you like it! It was fun to write. The show didn’t give Sierra a last name or a real personality, so I had to kind of do that bit myself. And I was right! I did enjoy writing this. The prompt inspired me to write this faster than I thought I’d be able to. I do not expect to be able to fill a prompt this quickly again. Unfortunately. Also, Sierra is definitely going to be the straight man to Smokescreen. He’s going to need it. Badly.

Until next time, friends!

[jimlingss]

Moirai [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 5k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

“Thank you for inviting me, Lady Anastasia.”   Lucienne sits across the rounded table from you, oblivious to the blossom petals that have drifted down and tangled itself into her hair. The tea party invitation rests beside her teacup, neat and crisp like she held and opened it with the utmost care.    “Yes, thank you.” The other lady beside her pipes up. “It’s an absolute honour.”   “The Royal gardens are lovely this season,” another adds. “I’m glad I can enjoy it like this.”   “It’s not a problem, everyone.” A friendly smile stretches across your face. “It can get quite lonely being the only lady in the castle, so your company is welcome.”   More like Lady Devon and your other tutors was pretty damn insistent that you build a good reputation and inner circle, but whatever. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.   But you do remember that in the original game, Anastasia used this opportunity to shame the heroine. She invited her to a tea party and made snide remarks about how she danced with the Prince. Of course it seems petty now but it’s understandable that Anastasia resented the heroine so much. Even if she didn’t intend it, she humiliated Anastasia by stealing her fiancé.   And the fact of the matter is that you’ll also become the laughingstock for what she’ll do.   “If I may ask, have you started the wedding arrangements yet, Lady Anastasia?”   You nearly choke on your tea, sputtering for a moment until you’re able to set the cup down on the saucer and cough into your napkin. The ladies around the table appear concerned, but you plaster on another smile. “Well, there’s been no discussion yet. The Royal family and the Devereux house are in no rush. There’s still quite a bit of time, so who knows what could happen.”   “What could happen?” One of them catches on quick and you cordially nod.   “The engagement was made when both Prince Jungkook and I were very young, but now that we are older, we can voice our own opinions on the matter.” You choose your words carefully and your smile widens. “I am not opposed if changes are made. If the leaders of the empire cannot exercise their own freedoms, then how can the people?”    They nod in agreeance, a few in awe at your deep thought process. “That is very mature of you, Lady Anastasia.”   You laugh stiffly and lift your tea cup for another sip.   “Oh, but the Crown Prince is so wonderful.”   You choke. Again. You wonder if you’re going to die at this tea party from the warm liquid constantly going down the wrong pipe.    “I am sure he wouldn’t change his mind with how lovely you are, Lady Anastasia.” The girl beside you smiles, laying it on thick to win your favour. “You two are a very fitting couple.”   “I agree.” Lucy smiles softly. “Prince Jungkook is very courteous.”   “And very majestic.”   You remember when you dueled with Jungkook, he lost within a minute. He threw a tantrum in the following days and gave you the silent treatment. Or that time you went horseback riding, you decided to race each other and he fell off his own horse into mud and started crying.   Uh-huh. Majestic indeed.   You chalk up your wheeze to nothing and dab the corner of your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. “Yes, well, Jungkook will make a fine King someday.”   “And you’ll make a fine Queen,” a soft-spoken voice pipes up and your eyes connect to Lucy’s. Unlike the others surrounding you, you know her words are genuinely spoken and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.   “I’m not so sure about that,” you honestly admit as you fidget with the edge of the porcelain saucer. “A queen must be kind and generous and know the suffering of the people. I’m afraid I have a lot left to learn.”   Your gaze meets Lucy’s again.   Her smile is all too gentle for high society and its naturally cunning, heartless nature. She’s awfully naive, but that aside, you know her benevolence will make her beloved in the empire.   //   Once the tea party is over, you’re able to breathe a sigh of relief. Christ, thank god that’s over.   You escort most of the ladies towards their carriages, bidding them goodbye with polite waves as the palace servants clear the dishes, chairs and table away from the garden. And you turn around to head back to your room to sneak in a break, but your name is frantically called—   “Lady Anastasia!”   You turn and a girl in her purple, simple gown comes barrelling down the open hall. Her chest rises and falls, completely out of breath even when she only ran two meters. It makes you laugh unabashedly. “Is everything okay? You don’t need to run.”   She hunches over, lungs probably burning, but she fixes her posture a moment later. “S-Sorry, my lady.”   “Anastasia is fine.”   Lucy nods. “I...just wanted to thank you again. I was very excited when I received your invitation. It’s an honour….Anastasia.”   “There’s no reason to thank me so much.” You walk alongside her. Your hat with pinned pink peonies, matching your gown, shields the sun away from your face.   “It’s just that I don’t get invited to these sort of events often considering….considering I’m just a baron’s daughter and adopted one at that.”   She doesn’t need to tell you — you know her backstory well. You’ve played through it from her perspective. Her father abandoned her mother who died of illness when she was five and she was picked up on the streets by the sympathetic baron. It seems like every character in this game has some tragic backstory. They are defining moments that make that person.   But you suppose life itself is like that.   “Can I give you some advice, Lucy?” you ask after a quiet moment and she nods. You stop walking and the girl halts beside you. “Your humility makes you likeable, but be careful not to self-deprecate yourself. Your worth is more than what you consider yourself to have.”   Her eyes widen and you add, “Plus, it’s not good to thank a host more than once like they’ve done you a big favour because they’ll start to think you owe them for it.”   Lucy nods and you smile, resuming your stroll. “I’ll be inviting you to more tea parties in the future.”   “Thank—” She catches herself. “Yes, I will be looking forward to that.”   A grin spreads into your cheeks. “On a different note, I never got to ask you how your dance was with Jungkook at the debutante ball.”   “Oh, yes, the Prince was very kind. But I’m sorry if it was inappropriate, I know he’s your fiancé—”   This time, your laugh is unrestrained. She looks up at you in surprise. “Do you think I’m getting jealous?” Lucy opens her mouth and then closes it, not sure what to say and you bat the air with your hand. “Jungkook is like a little brother to me.”   If she was surprised before, now she looks entirely off guard. “It thought the Prince and you were the same age.”   You laugh stiffly. “Yes, we are, but I guess that’s what childhood friends are like.”   “Oh, I’ve never had a childhood friend.”   “Have you ever had a friend?” Your eyes meet her’s and you smile. “Because I’d be happy to be your first.”   The conversation soon ends and as Lucy walks away, you breathe another sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back at the positive interaction. Even if she’s just a countryside girl, it’s nerve-racking when you’re supposed to be the villainess. You like her and you even offered your friendship, but with each interaction, your demise is always lingering at the back of your head.   “I didn’t take you for being such a mentor.”   You whirl around, nearly startled to death by the voice and you discover a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the marble pillar with a sly smile.   “How long have you been there?”   Taehyung grins. “Not long. I was just passing by. It was a coincidence.” He turns in the direction where Lucy went. “I heard you had a tea party, how did it go?”   “It was exhausting.” You stretch your arms over your head and walk over to lean against the stone ledge next to him. “I don’t think I’m quite fit for the palace life.”   Taehyung smiles and you look up at him. “Are you going to the garden again?”   He nods and there’s a strong urge to ask him if you can come along. Just for a small break before they find you and you’re swept up in another lesson. But you’re not sure if you should—   “Would you like to come?”    Taehyung asks the question for you and your eyes meet one another’s.   There’s no one around. Not a soul in sight who could stop you from going or leaving.   You know you should keep your distance from him. You know. But…   “Okay.”   You take him up on the offer, following after him, just for a moment of indulgence.

With the arrival of Spring also comes the Hunt. It’s a rather eventful time in the castle considering it's generally symbolic of the harvests of this year, thought to prevent famine if those attending can bring back large game. An irony that isn’t lost on you. But it’s an undoubtedly lively time and one that you don’t mind.   “You better bring back a whole moose,” you mumble as you tie the blue ribbon on the belt of Jungkook’s armour, making sure it’s tight and secure. The ribbon is a gift of good luck and one of affection. You’re obligated to tie one for Jungkook considering you’re his fiancée.    “I’ll bring back a dragon,” he declares brazingly and you lightly scoff.   This is his second time participating after winning last year, but you remember he was practically shaking back then out of fear and pressure.   “Okay then. Just make sure you don’t fall off your horse this time.”    “That was only once!”   You take a step back when you’re done tying the ribbon. “I should be the one going on the hunt instead of staying back for idle chit chat. I’m pretty sure I would be able to catch something bigger than you.”   “Probably.” Jungkook grins. “You’re good enough with your sword to be a knight.”   “They’d never let me.” You sigh. God knows your mother would be mortified and probably faint and die.    But while staying back and waiting for the men to return with their kill is boring as hell, at least you’re removed from the pressure of having to hunt large prey in the first place. It’s a competition after all and one that can get quite competitive from your knowledge.   You follow Jungkook to his prized white horse and watch him caress its muzzle.    “If you win, you should give the prize to Lucy.”   His brows furrow and he turns his head to you. “Lucienne? The girl I danced with at the ball? Why?”   You shrug half-heartedly. “Because she has no one and I feel bad for her. I already have a few knights who are going to dedicate their game to me.”   Jungkook hums, not thinking much about it. “Fine by me.”   He puts his foot on the stirrup and swings himself over, sitting on top of the majestic horse.   Preparations almost complete, you turn to the King who’s seated at the top of the stands in a throne-like chair. He looks across the field with an approving expression.   Your parents are beside the King and you spare them a mere glance before turning away. You haven’t spoken to them since the end of the debutante ball and you don’t plan to. It might be childish to give them the silent treatment, but you wonder to what end they’ll try to force you.   The attendant steps up. “Is everyone ready?”   At that exact same moment, as if he was called upon, a familiar dark-haired man with eyes the hue of deep honey enters your peripheral vision. Taehyung emerges onto the field filled with knights on horses and soldiers in armour. His navy cape draped over his left shoulder sways with each movement, twinkling in the sunlight as if there were stars sewn into the fabric. He’s grasping onto a steel pole, a magical staff and his presence garners whispers from all.   “Isn’t he the bastard son?” — “The first son of the King.” — “The one born from the maid.”   They’re all startled to see him — the nobles sitting in the stands, women murmuring underneath their breaths, men watching with their eyes wide, knights and guards. And most of all, you’re stuck at a standstill.   Heart thunderous in your ears — blood drained from your face — you can’t look away when all Taehyung is looking at is you.    He comes close and his expression melts into a tender smile, a softened gaze when he reads your eyes’ fixation on him.    Jungkook, on the other hand, grins and mounts off his horse. “Taehyung?!” The Prince welcomes his brother warmly — an action not unnoticed by the crowds watching. He hugs him and lets go a moment later. “What are you doing here?”   “What can I say? I’m here to steal your victory.”   The younger laughs and you can tell he’s genuinely excited. Jungkook’s cheeks are practically pink and bulging, and his eyes have brightened. “Do you want to put a bet on that?”   “How much are you willing to wager?” Taehyung quips back.   “My pride and dignity.”   He scoffs playfully. “How about your private library collection?”   “Deal. And if I win, I want you to come to the feast tonight.”   Taehyung grins. “Looks like this year’s going to be difficult for you, Your Highness.”   “I’ll keep up.” Jungkook laughs again and gets back on his horse.   A stable-boy comes rushing over with a horse for Taehyung and before the King can utter a single word or you have a chance to speak to him, the games have begun. Taehyung glances over his shoulder at you for a single beat and then he’s off into the woods with the rest.    In the original game, Taehyung never participated in the Hunt.   He looked on from the window of his tower and even sabotaged Jungkook.    In the original game, Jungkook became injured but still conscious enough that before he fated, he declared he would give his prize to the heroine since Anastasia was so overbearing. It sparked the girl’s jealousy and was the reason why she decided to conspire with Taehyung. It was the first domino in the chain — the beginning of the villains working hand in hand.   But none of that is happening.   You wonder how far your choices will continue to deviate from the story. How many more mistakes—   “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   You jolt, torn out of your deep trance by a worried gaze. Lucy has leaned in towards you, her brows knitted together and you smile. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.” You quickly change the subject. “Have you given your ribbon to anyone yet?”   The pair of you are walking down the castle hall, heading towards the dining hall where you know the noble women will be having tea and making small talk while waiting for their sons and husbands.   Lucy shakes her head and unties the blue ribbon she had around her wrist.    “Why not?”   She stares at the soft satin for a second and then looks up at you, mustering a small smile. “I wouldn’t know who to give it to.”   “Well, you still have time to decide. You can give it to someone when they get back.” You hum to yourself. “How about giving it the Crown Prince?”   Lucy’s eyes are as large as saucers and she blinks thrice.   You’re a bit endeared with how surprised she seems at your suggestion. “Don’t you admire Prince Jungkook?”   “I...I do,” she admits quietly and peeks at you again. “But I wouldn’t want to overstep—”    “Not at all!” You reassure her. “Prince Jungkook likes the admiration. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind whatsoever. He might actually appreciate it.”   The girl smiles to herself and nods.   Evening sets in after meaningless conversations, cordial expressions and polite responses. The only interruptions are the horns that ring as each participant in the Hunt slowly arrives back.   Jungkook returns sweaty and out of breath, but with a whole moose like he promised. There are cheers and applauses, but more importantly, silent gasps when he beelines straight to Lucy to give her the prize. She blushes, a stuttering mess full of ‘thank yous’ and ‘it’s an honour’, and you discover Jungkook’s bashful behaviour at her sincere gratitude.    He scratches the back of his neck, diverts his vision, mutters ‘it’s fine’. It’s fascinating to watch considering he’s always been arrogant and bratty to you since the day you met him.   But you don’t get to observe their moment for long.   Not when the horns ring again and a figure appears over the horizon.    This time, no one moves. Truly stunned. Breaths hitched. Holy shit. Taehyung arrives back with a bear and he doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat.   “Wow!” Jungkook is the first to react, moving out of the crowd to his brother. He’s genuinely amazed and impressed, jaw dropped and brows shot to his hairline. “You did this?!”   “Didn’t I say I would win?” Taehyung grins languidly.   “This...is incredible!” Jungkook’s admiration for his brother causes the unsettled crowd to finally calm. It starts off slow, a clap here or there and then it’s applause, cheering and murmurs of acknowledgment.   “Has anyone ever brought a bear back before?” — “Did he use magic?” — “Why didn’t the eldest son participate in the Hunt before?”   And you know that it’s the first time people have clapped for Taehyung.   The attendant rushes forward, sputtering on his words. “T-The winner for this year’s Hunt is His Highness, Prince Taehyung!”   Taehyung wins a chest of gold, worth more than fifty commoner’s lifetimes and you watch as he bows his head as he receives it. You watch as he holds it and strides towards you. You watch until his arms have extended and a smile draws upon his features.   “What are you doing?” you ask, a whisper that’s befallen off your lips, spilled past the astonishment.    His gaze and smile never wavers. “I’m giving my prize to you.”   The crowd’s stirred to silence, watching the two of you, and you receive the wooden chest.   The attendant quickly announces the feast in the hall and servants begin ushering the people inside. But you continue watching Taehyung, your eyes connected to his, both grounded in the private bubble.   No one notices the King sitting on top of the stands, his brows tightly knitted.    //   The dining hall has shifted.   No longer are there laced tablecloths, towers of pastries and teapots from the afternoon. It’s large plates that have stretched along the surface, meats and cheese, breads and butters that have begun the feast. There are grandiose chairs all around three different tables, arranged based on importance and connections, conversations that have filled the enormous room.   The darkness of the night is casted away by the chandeliers overhead, illuminating the room in a golden hue. Yet, while each is high on the atmosphere, drunk by the wine, you can’t swallow the food down.    The tapping of utensils on glass has you looking over. The room simmers down.    By the coaxing of Jungkook beside him, Taehyung rises from his chair and clears his throat. It’s customary for the victor of the Hunt to give a speech and you’re guessing this is it.   “Thank you all for coming.” Taehyung appears unfamiliar and awkward addressing the crowd, quickly rushing over his words as if to get it done and over with. “I have never participated in the Hunt before this year and it was only because of beginners luck that I won. That—”    Suddenly, Taehyung looks right at you. “—and the support of those most important to me.”    Then, as quick as he stole his glance, he turns away. “I hope the harvests of Ashea will prosper this year.”   There’s thunderous applause and the feast resumes.   You’re overwhelmed, dizzy, the celebrations of the room getting to your head — laughter, questions, comments louder by ten decibels until it feels earsplitting.   You look over at Jungkook, finding that he has two blue ribbons pinned on his left side. He’s smiling widely, oblivious. Then, your head whirls over to your parents sitting down the table. They might have friendly smiles plastered on their features, but you can tell through their eyes that there’s seething anger. They’re unhappy, most likely with you, most likely with what happened earlier.   “Anastasia.” Lady Devon, who sits beside you, calls you out of your thoughts, disapproving at how your listening skills could be so poor.   You blink, pretending you were in deep thought about her discussion of silver forks and the corner of your mouth tugs. “If you’ll excuse me…”   After a delayed moment, she nods and you push your chair back, blurring into the massive paintings on the wall as you slip out to the terrace.   The night is cold.    Each exhale of yours is visible and you tug the soft pink shawl around your shoulders closer to your body for some warmth as you lean against the railings. You look up at the star-filled sky, finally able to calm yourself from the noise inside. You’ve always been glad that no matter where you are, what universe it is, there’s always the same sun, stars and moon. A constant.   One thing you don’t have to worry about.   “Is there something wrong?”   You know who it is before you’ve even turned around.    It’s a relief. You’ve waited all day to be able to speak to him, to be away from prying eyes and in a private moment. It’s easing. Your nerves take comfort in the familiarity, somehow finding his very presence soothing. Yet it’s unsettling at the same time. You have too many questions, too many suspicions and you don’t know if you want to uncover the truth.   But you gather your strength and face Taehyung. “I’m just thinking.”   “About what?”   Taehyung approaches your side. The warm light from inside the palace spills out and your shadows cast onto the grass beneath the terrace. There is not a soul in the hall when they’re all inside the dining hall, celebrations and conversations muffled through the many walls.   You inhale a breath. “Why?”   Taehyung frowns.   You ask again, “Why did you give me your prize?”   “Should I not have?”   Half of his face is illuminated, the slope of his nose and dip of his cupid’s bow sharp against the glow of the chandeliers, reminiscent of the chiaroscuro of a painting.   “That’s not it. Just…..” Why does he treat you so kindly, why does he want to go out of his way to talk to you, why does he look at you like that— “Why?”   In the original game, Anastasia was Taehyung’s chess piece and nothing more.   “Does there need to be a reason?” The corner of his mouth tugs gingerly. “I wanted to, so I did.”   “But there’s so many eligible bachelorettes you could’ve them them to, like Lady Myoi or Lady Paxton—”   “None of them matter,” he injects without needing to blink or think twice. “Not like you do.”   Your head snaps up and your eyes meet. Taehyung gazes at you tenderly, searching your irises with a small smile and he swallows hard. His voice lowers when he asks, “Are you cold?”    Oddly enough, even with the chilly wind whisking through the branches and swaying the leaves, you aren’t cold if he’s here.    Yet suddenly, Taehyung snaps his fingers and you’re engulfed with the warmth of an embrace. It’s the heat of a winter fire crackling underneath the mantle, the Summer sun casting down on your cheeks, and it travels from your toes to your head, and you can’t help the giggle that spills from you.    “What did you just do?”   He grins and leans closer to you. “It’s a simple warmth spell.”   Your brow cocks. “How much magic do you exactly know?”    He even managed to get that bear without looking like he had to fight. Your efforts to get him not to tap into magic all those years ago were in vain, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool.   Taehyung looks away, smile easing. “It doesn’t matter how much magic I have. It’s not enough for what I really want.”    Your breath hitches in your throat. The implications of his words welcomes the tension back into the air that had snuck itself away for a simple moment. But it isn’t uncomfortable. It isn’t the kind of tension that comes when you’re speaking to the Duke and Duchess, not the stiffness that arrived when you were being scolded by Edith. No. It’s different. It’s….intimate.    Especially when he sneaks a glance at you and you hold it, eyes fixated into his.   None of you speak, breathe, bat a lash. Not when Taehyung starts to lean in close. Not when you begin to feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin, when you can hear the thunderous noise of his heartbeat bruising his rib cage. His lash tickles yours. But before your lips can brush—   You push him away.   Taehyung stumbles back, nearly falling over, but he grasps the railings.   Your breath heaves and you stare at him in shock, in horror with what was about to happen. And before anything can be said or done, you turn away.   “Wait! Anastasia!” Taehyung calls after you. “I’m sorry!”   “I….I need to leave.”   You can’t deviate from the story more than you already have. This is a mistake.   In the midst of your panic, you return to the dining hall and cut through the room. It’s the quickest way back to your chambers, so you don’t hesitate to move your steps, never once looking behind your shoulder. Luckily, Taehyung doesn’t follow after you. He can’t.    But while each is celebrating and distracted with their company, a certain girl notices your distraught and frantic form beelining to the massive doors.   Something doesn’t sit right in her, so she immediately stands and bows her head to the woman she was speaking to. “If you can excuse me, thank you, I’ll be right back.”   Lucy follows after you, eyes pinned on your backside.   The only people who pay any mind is your mother, the Duchess of Devereux. Her senses are sharp and she taps your father on the shoulder until he follows her line of sight to the girl.   The castle grounds are dark, the moon waxing but not yet full enough to provide a bright light. But enough is shed for you to see. It’s enough for shadows to cast along the stone walls. You would never walk outside at this time of night, but you need air. More of it. Something you can breathe in and hope will clear the cloudiness inside your mind, the noise that’s earsplitting.   A gentle tap on your shoulder has you screaming.   “It’s me!” Lucy puts her hands out, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”   You catch your breath, steadying it and you swallow hard. “W-What are you doing outside? I thought you were still celebrating the feast.”   “I saw you walking by and I thought something was wrong and I got worried, I’m sorry.” She looks at you when the silence is ongoing. The concern is evident through her knitted brows. “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   It seems like everyone is asking you that question today.   A question you don’t know how to respond to yourself.   But you manage a nod and a smile. “I’m fine. I was just tired. I was thinking of retiring to my room early.”   “Oh, okay.”   You step towards her and grasp her hands within your own. “Can you do me a favour, Lucy, and keep Jungkook company tonight? He might be looking for me too and I don’t want him to be worried.”   “I will.” She nods. “But do you want me to escort you to your room? I could call someone—”   “No, it’s quite alright. I’ll be fine.” You smile and let go of her. “You should go back now before someone goes looking for you.”   Lucy nods for a second time and she bids you a goodnight as she walks back.   You’re left by yourself and you turn to tread your own way. The weight of so many decisions lie upon your shoulders and slow down your steps. You wonder why you have to bear the heavy burden of knowing your future, of knowing all of theirs while trying to escape your own fate.    It feels like you’re a pawn trying to control the whole chess board.   You exhale a breath, watching the cloud dissipate and unbeknownst to you, there’s a rustle in the garden’s bushes.   “That’s her, isn't it?”   Two shadows emerge from the darkness and before your ears can pick up on the noise, before you can turn around and meet the figures, a cloth is clamped over your mouth. Your shout is muffled and arms begin to drag you in the opposite direction of the castle.   What the fuc—    Immediately, your elbow juts out and the man behind you sputters, cowering over with a curse. You manage to slip out of his loosened grip, about to sprint and yell. Until another overtakes you and grabs hold of your wrists, yanking you back.   “Wench!” A cold blade sits at the juncture of your throat and you freeze, breaths tearing out of your throat frantically. You can fight him. Years of swordsmanship didn’t render you useless after all. But his threat delays you— “Shut your mouth if you don’t want Baron of Liza dead too.”   What?   Your mouth is stuffed with cloth and you’re roughly ripped into the darkness.   At the same time, Taehyung, still at the terrace and about to leave, turns around.

[thefanficmonster]

My Kind

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warning: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having been chosen by the gang to be a guest streamer on today’s stream of Among Us, it’s safe to say Y/N’s super excited but also a bit nervous. The whole of her anxiety gets lifted off her when she meets someone with the exact same vibe as hers - yeah you guessed it.

Requested by @monizzle96 Hi dear! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! I’m so terribly sorry it’s taken me so long to write and post it but here it finally is! I hope you come across it and read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

This has to be the fiftieth time I’ve checked my setup in the past twenty four hours. But no, I’m definitely not nervous, what are you talking about. Pshhh. Nah, being nervous isn’t in my brand. Plus, what do I have to make me nervous - a group of famous streamers inviting me onto their stream to play Among Us with them because they enjoyed my own streams? Ok yeah, that’s a pretty good reason. Not gonna lie, I almost chucked my phone out of excitement when I received that DM from Toast, telling me they’d picked me to be their guest streamer for today’s date. My stomach was doing somersaults for a good forty-eight hours following that text and then the anxiety slowly started setting in fueled by the expectations they probably have of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not inexperienced in the streaming field, I’ve been a streamer longer than some of the members of Toast’s streamer gang actually. But I never managed to garner that big of a following which I’m honestly quite ok with. I have a modest - ok, maybe larger than modest - following consisting of incredibly loyal fans which I will never stop being grateful for. They are all so respectable of me, my privacy and my boundaries. They know the main rules: no shit-talking in the chat or in any of my comment sections, no bashing other YouTubers in my comments/chat, and most definitely not asking for a face reveal. Fun fact: I didn’t even set up that last rule, they all just collectively know not to ask for it. 

I’ve been keeping my brand pretty low-key to avoid garnering some unwanted attention - some of which I’ve already experienced on certain social media platforms following the full body pictures I posted on there - face not visible of course. I tend to also have my webcam on, facing towards my hands working away on the keyboard sometimes when I stream. I don’t know why people obsess over faceless content creators’ hands, but I appreciate the enthusiasm - it also drives me to do a manicure every now and then which ain’t so bad, self-care and all that you know.

Now, back to the subject of my ridiculous nervousness.

You see, it has layers.

I’m nervous of ‘preforming’ underwhelmingly and I’m nervous of what my own fans will think of the person I will become during this stream. They know me as a super chill and laid-back person, which I am by the way, but they might think I’m putting on a show if I exhibit any nervous gestures/vocabulary. I highly doubt they would, but the possibility is not letting my mind rest. And now that it’s about ten minutes till the stream starts, I’m getting doing my best to calm my nerves.

They are all just people. You know they are super chill too. Just be yourself, that’s why they invited you, because you are yourself on all your streams. They liked you for your personality, humor, maybe even your gaming skills. So chill the hell out and be yourself, damn it!

Easier thought than put into action that’s for sure.

I start my stream five minutes early just so I can vibe with my viewers for a little while before I have to meet the gang. My fans always have a way of injecting me with confidence, they remind me of where I was when I started and how far I’ve come. How much I achieved when I thought I’d be nothing and no one, someone the algorithm would simply overlook. But then they entered my life and I entered theirs and it all became much better than I ever thought it would get to be. I rarely tell myself ‘good job’ for the milestones I’ve reached or the hard work I’ve put into my content, but that’s probably cause I orient myself based on that quote from the movie Whiplash: ‘There are no two words in the English language more harmful than good job’ - simply put, I’m never satisfied with what I do and I always strive to do better. My fans, however, make sure I don’t go overboard with it - always serving as a reminder that I’ve done plenty for myself and others. And that’s what makes an amazing fandom, one I consider family.

Whoa, when did those five minutes fly by?!

Ah shit, here we go. Deep breaths, Y/N you got this.

“Hello!“ I say as I enter the Discord call, subconsciously biting my lower lip, grateful the camera isn’t capturing it. However, I make a mental note to keep my hands steady cause that’s the one part of me people can actually see and the last thing I want is for them to see how much my fingers are trembling.

“Oh hi, Y/N!“ Toast is the first one to greet me, “Welcome to the stream! Thank you so much for accepting our invitation.“

“Thank you for having me and inviting me, Toast. This is a huge deal for me. You guys are basically YouTube legends, this is unreal to me.“ I reply, cringing immediately afterwards because of my fangirl rambling. Great way to make first impressions, Y/N. Bravo.

To be fair, they already have an impression of you. Quit stressing.

Aright, you’ve got a point, me.

“Oh please, we owe all that to our fans. We’re really nothing special. All streamers are almost completely alike, we all owe where we are to the people who helped us make it there - our fans. We’re no legends.“ Toast says, bringing a small smile to my face as well as a light pink blush to my cheeks, “And from what I’ve seen, you yourself have quite the following. And your fans seem to adore you.“

“And I absolutely adore them.“ I chuckle, “They mean the world to me. They are the reason I’m here today.”

“Then we have to give them a special thank you, don’t you think?“ The teasing, familiar giggle, widens my smile - it’s Rae, “Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Rae, and, no cap, I’m quite a fan of your content. No joke, I binged your entire series of Resident Evil 7 as soon as I found your channel when Toast said he’d invite you.“

This rattles me a bit. I can hardly believe it - am I really receiving a compliment from an A-list name in the streaming world? My fans must be hella proud of me right now. A quick glance at my chat confirms that they indeed are. That in and of itself fills me with joy and newfound confidence.

“Oh Gosh, thank you so much Rae! That means the world to me. You’re all so sweet.“ I reply, lifting my ice cold hands to cool down my burning cheeks, my lips spread into a grin, my stomach filled with butterflies.

“Oh please, we have some real savages around here.“ A male voice, seemingly Charlie’s scoffs, “Don’t overlook us please.“

“Wait, we do?“ A deep voice, one I immediately know the owner of speaks up, “Who? How come I don’t know about that?“

I can’t help bust snort, “Nice to meet you, Corpse. Sarcasm central, I see.”

He laughs, “Just returning it to where it’s due. Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Sick Outlast series, by the way.“

Ok, wait, I have two A-list streamers complimenting my content. Ok, I’m bound to crack open a few beers to celebrate later cause OH MY GOD.

“Thanks! I’m a horror junkie so I’d be lying if I said I haven’t binge watched all your story-times. Personal favorites are the deep web ones, they fascinate me.“

“Oh, you’re one of my kind even more than I expected, huh?“ He replies, the tone of his voice changing, raising a bit due to what I can only describe as excitement and enthusiasm. “I’ve had people tell me it’s twisted, but I really like seeing the lengths to which the fucked up human mind can go to. Like, the shit I’ve read is insane! Some stories I didn’t narrate cause I would’ve probably had my video taken down, it was that messed up.“

My eyes widen, sharing the same excitement at the thought of digging deeper into this phenomenon, “Careful, Corpse, you’re walking a dangerous line of tempting me to deep-dive on Reddit in search of those exact stories.”

“No need.“ Corpse says, his tone now taking up a bit of a cocky note, “I still got them all saved, I can send them to you no problem.“

“Please do! I seriously gotta read them now. If I can’t sleep afterwards, I’m blaming you, Corpse. Just FYI.“ I say, giggling slightly, finding myself all but completely comfortable now. I wonder where all that anxiety went? 

“Blame fully taken. Given that I’m not much of a sleeper, I’ll keep you company whenever you think there’s a killer hiding in your closet or fear a red room pop-up will appear on your computer screen.“ He replies, chuckling.

“Um, that’s oddly specific.“ Charlie comments, “Been there yourself, buddy?”

“Perhaps.“ Corpse wheezes, getting a laugh out of me too, “I will neither confirm nor deny.“

“You know what, I’ll just private message you my number so if you see it call you at some ungodly hour, you don’t freak the fuck out. Sounds good?“ I ask, already prepping to type it out and send it to him. 

“Perfect. Wait...“ he pauses for a second, sounding puzzled for a second, “You don’t have mine.“

“Oh, do I not?“ I reply with a sinister tone - thought to answer the question, I of course don’t have his number.

“Oh, do you?“ He sasses me right back. “If so then you don’t need me to send it to you. Cool.“

Ah, shit

“Wait, no! I-I need to confirm it’s the correct one!“

Damn, never did I think I’d be complimented by some of the most important streamers on this platform, but to get a number of theirs too? That’s a whole another level that will take me time to process. But I’ll do that another time, right now, I have to kick these people’s butts in Among Us and later I have some deep web stories to read.

Turns out, all it takes to get comfortable in a new surrounding is someone of your kind. And Corpse is definitely one of my kind.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[citydreamgrls]

they were roommates part seven

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen.

an: i was looking through my older posts and saw someone who said they really enjoyed my ‘adoptive daughter’ one shot ( thanks <3 ) and they also mentioned that they wanted it to be a full fic, like a proper story and all, so like i’m thinking about it. if i was gonna do it, would you guys prefer to see an extended ‘the adoptive daughter’ where i kind of drag it out more, and extend the storyline past that one shot. or would you rather just a completely new fic, no previous plot lines whatsoever? 

words: 6,279

After the night on the rooftop, things began looking up for all three of the people living in Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes. Fred started acting like his usual self, now with the knowledge that he and y/n stood a chance together. George enjoyed having his two closest friends back in their right minds, and overall, no one was breaking in.

“So what could you possibly have to complain about!” Ginny guffawed, earning some glances from other customers inside the cafe she and y/n had stopped at one sunny afternoon.

The girl giggled, blushing at the brief attention before lowering her voice.

“I’m not complaining, I’m very lucky.” “Of course you are, not only was Bill in love with you- now Fred is!” The youngest Weasley was yet to calm herself over the news that her best friend was still going to be in with the family.

“I was only saying how I needed a bit of a break from the boys-”

“Spare me the lies- you couldn’t keep away from me for more than a week could you!” Ginny laughed, her head throwing back in the process.

It was true that y/n longed to see Ginny whenever they were apart, the girl and Hermione acting like her long lost sisters when they got together. But since she and Fred had gotten a little closer than friends; the loft seemed more cramped than ever. Not to mention that the twins had been pranking her all week long, showing no mercy to her begs for them to stop.

“Here she is!” The redhead announced, making Hermione frown at her friend before noticing the empty wine glasses on the table.

-

“I’m not that late am I?” She joked, taking a seat at their little table before ordering another round for them all.

“Oh no, Gin was just very excited to get started.” Y/n giggled, the alcohol only rouging her cheeks slightly.

“I can tell, your laugh was echoing down the alley,” ‘Mione smirked, leaning back and taking a sip of her own with a relieved sigh. “It feels good to have a break.”

“I haven’t stopped practising in months, this feels like an early christmas.” Ginny mused, reminding them all of why they were gathering in the first place.

Upon learning that y/n had the afternoon free, Ginny had raced over to the loft to take her own, sending an owl to Hermione telling her to sack off work so they could go for drinks. The desk maniac had grumbled, not one to walk out on a whim, but gave in when she thought back to how long it had been since she had seen the girls.

“Perks of being the head of your own department,” She grinned, eyeing up the girl beside her. “And how did you convince tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee to free you?”. Y/n ignored Weasley's look of confusion and giggled.

“I already had the afternoon off, luckily.”

“And Fred loves you.” Ginny slurred, calling the waiter over yet again.

“What!” Hermione squealed, having not been caught up since the girl and Bill decided not to pursue things. “When did this happen?”

“He doesn’t love me, Ginny, you minx.” Y/n slapped her friends wrist lightly.

“Oh he so does!”

Hermione frowned, remembering the conversation she and Fred had shared back at the burrow, how devastated he’d been just at the sight of the girl with Bill. If only she could reveal all that he’d told her, then y/n would know the truth. But Hermione knew all she could do to help was urge her into seeing what was obviously already there.

“He’s been looking after me, since the incident- then there was this thing on the roof the other night.” She explained to her friends.

“Not to mention you guys kissed!” Ginny piped up, and the look of shock on Hermione’s face was purely comical.

“Oh come on it wasn’t like that!” The girl defended, not wanting to rush into the idea that her feelings for Fred were reciprocated. “I kissed him.”

Hermione pulled her work blazer off and rested it on the back of the chair, preparing for what could only be an intense afternoon of grilling their new friend for details. That was as long as Ginny had anything to do with it, and Hermione would never say it, but she too lived for the same kind of gossip.

“Did he kiss you back?” She sipped on her wine politely, all the while watching her over the glass.

“Well- yeah but-” “Then he likes you!” Ginny squealed, positively ecstatic at the situation, her nose wrinkling up as she couldn’t stop smiling. Y/n admired how fearless the girl was as she gazed upon her hopeful sister-in-law.

“Oh will you just drop it,” The girl jokingly whined, rolling her eyes.

“Not until I see you in a wedding dress my girl!” She announced.

-

The three girls spent the rest of the day sharing stories and gossip, most of their time was used up discussing whether Hermione’s new secretary was pregnant or just ate really weird food. In the end they never came to a conclusion, Ginny having gotten side tracked when the other two had tried explaining what a Jaffa cake was to her.

By the time they paid the poor waiter, who seemed traumatised in their drunken company; the sun was just setting and they stumbled through the alley to drop y/n off at the twins’ front door.

“S-see home safe…” She giggled, leaning against the door and falling a little when the last customer tried to leave. “Oh sorry!” She tried to call out, but the three women were already in an unstoppable roar of laughter.

“You’re no safer in their company than ours!” Hermione tried to argue, gesturing to the two men inside, who had stopped what they were doing to try and comprehend what on earth was going on outside.

“And we’re sober!” Ginny cried. “Oh no- we’re not sober- they are.” She corrected herself, propping her head onto ‘Mione’s shoulder with a sweet giggle. The redhead’s eyes closed momentarily, before opening when her crutch decided to move off.

“See you soon y/n!” Hermione waved, dragging Ginny behind her, who tried to give her best goodbye given the state she was in.

“Better retrieve little miss clumsy before she breaks a bone.” George scoffed, seeing the way the girl struggled to open the front door. Fred could only smile, glad that she had agreed to go out with Ginny, not that their sister would have let her decide regardless.

“Come here you!” He laughed and helped her inside, she slumped against his side slightly with a giggle.

“Missed you twooo…” She drawled, sprawling her body against the counter once she was let down by the man at her side.

Fred kept a subtle, watchful eye on her, noticing the way she swayed back and forth and was in danger of smacking her head against a nearby shelf if she chose to fall backwards.

“Our sister is a bad influence on you.” George grinned, ruffling her hair as he counted up the cash from the day’s earnings.

“She’s gr-reat.” The girl blushed, turning her head to smile at Fred, even if her eyes were tightly closed.

“Did you know that Ron still sleeps with a teddy?” She blurted out, catching both men's attention as they plonked her down on a stool. Her drunken body was more of a caution than they cared to admit, so decided to keep her out of the way as they cleared up.

“He does?” George laughed, dumbstruck by this new and incredibly embarrassing piece of information about his youngest brother.

“Yeah. Hermione told me all about it- ssays that he throws a ffit whenever she tries to hide it from him.” The girl couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she slurred her words.

“That’s brilliant! He’s never gonna hear the end of this.” Fred shook his head in disbelief as he swept the floor around the girl’s feet. Her laugh was like music, sounding out in between small rambles of her time with the two girl’s. It seemed to make time pass faster.

“All done?” She asked, cocking her head like a puppy when Fred stopped in front of her.

“Yes darling, all done. Come on, let’s get some food in you, you must be starving-” The girl nodded silently, like a peaceful child, as he gave her a piggyback up to the loft, basking in her tiny squeals of excitement.

-

As y/n sobered up over multiple slices of pizza, Fred enjoyed the moment of blissful solitude he felt from the rest of the world. Curled up on their sofa, the girl was the only thing important to him. She would look up every few minutes to check that he was still there, despite the fact that he had a permanent arm sloped around her shoulders. He didn’t mind, she was cute.

George was just happy for things to be back to how they were. The three of them all getting along, with an endless supply of boozy evenings in the kitchen and dance parties late into the night whenever they felt like it.

Y/n had brought more life into their lonely loft, and for that the twins would be eternally grateful. In fact, as George peered over the other two he longed for her to stay with them forever, fearful of a future where she wasn’t giggling on their sofa, or watching the lights with stars in her eyes, or dancing in the kitchen, or helping little kids play pranks on their parents.

Things were finally… normal.

-

“He’s always the first to crash.” Fred scoffed, hearing his brother’s snores from down the hall. The girl in his loose arms laughed, the feeling flowing through her body onto his own.

“At least he was polite enough to do it in his own bed this time.” “That’s true, I have back pain from the amount of times I’ve had to carry him from the sofa.”

Since the night on the roof, both Fred and the girl had become much more relaxed around one another. The man finding comfort in holding her, in one way or another whenever they were together. It made things easier that she visibly brightened up whenever he did so, her little cheeks warming as she would play with her sleeves to distract herself.

As it was they were laying back on the sofa, Fred propped up against the arm to serve as her chair so she could see the stars better.

“I did say we could go onto the roof, they’d be easier to see from there.” He reminded her, his face rested on her shoulder.

“I like it here,” The girl smiled, sinking even deeper into his chest with a happy sigh.

After some time the pair fell asleep, their faces still positioned up to the living room’s windows as they breathed lightly against each other. Fred’s body wrapped around the girl’s, as she rested beneath the blanket she’d grabbed about an hour earlier.

The man’s body twitched, a small grumble leaving his parted lips when he felt a sharp twinge in his lower back, one that woke him from his slumber. The girl followed suit, mumbling something about heading to bed, but making no move to do so.

“Come on,” Fred sighed, giving in to the pain the sofa was causing him, and stood up to hold out a hand for the girl.

He gave her a long hug as they stood alone in the dark room, only the light from the kitchen giving them some clue of the nearby obstacles. The girl’s arms stayed around Fred, unwilling to let go, almost as if she could tell that he too didn’t want her to go.

“Y-you could sleep up here if you want?” He asked quietly and cautiously, not wanting to spook her with anything too serious. The girl looked up, into his nervous eyes, and nodded.

“Yeah… but n-not because I’m scared or anything-” “Oh yeah of course not.” Fred nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“I just want you to know that I want to stay because I want to, no other reason- you know?”

Fred laughed at how she rambled before him.

“I think so… but you lost me somewhere in there.” “Shut up.” She grumbled, hiding her smile badly.

The two of them went up to Fred’s room, resting in one anothers hold just as easily as they’d done on the sofa so many nights before. Y/n pushed past the memories of his bed, not wanting to remember the circumstances under which she was last in there.

Instead she focused on the man beside her who, despite his tired nature, couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep until she did in case she needed him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” He whispered, her face appearing better as his eyes adjusted to the pitch black room. “I’m glad I stayed.”

A large hand rested upon the girl’s face, the skin smooth and warm as she closed her eyes beneath his touch. She couldn’t help but hold her breath, feeling the intensity between them growing as he ran his fingertips slowly over her face and onto her jaw.

Fred’s lips felt even better as he pressed them against her neck with restrained passion, the short gasps from the girl only urging him to finally give in to his desires with every passing second.

When the man leant up, pulling away from her skin, he saw the way her eyes shined as they locked into his. She greeted him with a small smile, still in awe of the moment.

“You okay?” He whispered, worried that she was having second thoughts.

“I’m great.”

The girl took his face in her hands, holding tight so she could keep him as close as possible while she kissed him, properly this time. With no regrets, no second thoughts, and not even a glimpse of hesitation, she finally let her body take over.

-

George sat at the kitchen table, his mug of coffee hovering over his mouth as he watched the clock on the wall; wondering when either one of the missing pair were going to turn up before the shop opened. His question was answered when the sound of Fred’s door closing echoed throughout the loft, followed by a quiet curse.

“Ah! Caught you!” He shouted, making the girl jump out of her skin as she attempted to creep through the living room.

“Oh… Georgie- I-uh I didn’t realise you were awake.” She stuttered, halting at the door when she remembered she was covered in Fred’s old quidditch jersey.

“Well, we do open in twenty minutes.” He smirked, nodding at her appearance.

She looked down at herself with a nervous laugh.

“I-I was just borrowing this for… um… for-” “Cut the crap. I already know.” George laughed, deciding that he’d teased the poor girl enough for one morning.

Y/n just rolled her eyes and sat down across from him, stealing his toast from the plate.

“How did you know?” She asked, crumbs falling onto her lap as she curled up in the wooden chair with bleary eyes.

“Well first off you two aren’t exactly subtle with the lovey-dovey gazes at one another.” He scoffed.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” She argued playfully, taking his coffee too and taking a large, well-needed, gulp.

“No, I suppose it’s not-” He gave in, the smirk still painfully strong however. “But the sound of you two going at it all night, that kind of gave it away.”

The girl choked on her mouthful of toast, close to spitting it out at George’s blunt words.

“Oh god.” She sputtered out, grabbing his drink once again to settle her surprised coughs.

“I mean- really! Did you both forget that magic exists?” “Was it that loud?” She seemed to be surprised, even at her own capabilities.

“Please- don’t make me relive it.” George groaned, dodging the girl’s light slap as she leant over the table to strike him.

“What are you shouting about-” Fred froze in the doorway when he noticed y/n was still wearing his clothes, even after she’d told him she was sneaking down to change before his brother noticed.

“Gig’s up freddie boy! You’ve been caught!” George announced, throwing his hands in the air like he was at an actual quidditch game, which was very fitting.

“Oh y/n! Come on! He saw you?”

The girl scoffed along with George.

“Do not blame me, he knew well before I came down.” The girl defended herself with a smile, hiding her face behind the coffee cup which she had now claimed as her own.

“What? How?” Fred asked, seeing his brother’s face drop slightly.

“Please- not again.” He begged, this time blind to the girl’s smack on the back of his head as she moved to the sink.

“Right drama queens,” She teased, “Long day ahead of us, huh?” The girl winked at Fred, making his brother groan out in playful disgust.

“I have to live with this now- OW!” Fred was much better at hitting his brother, knowing where it would hurt most.

-

“So, where are you two gonna go on a date?” Ginny asked, leaning against a shelf of electric shock shakes that the girl was stacking up.

“It’s not like that Gin- we’re taking things slow.” She told her friend, making sure they were out of earshot of the man in question.

“Boring!” The youngest Weasley wasn’t one for subtly, especially when she had more free-time on her hands while on break from quidditch practices.

“Ooh what about somewhere really romantic- like paris!” The redhead exclaimed, startling some passing customers.

“What’s in paris?” Y/n laughed, passing it off as a joke.

“Umm- what’s not in paris more like.”

“I’m not in Paris.” George stuck his head between the two girls, making them jump in shock. Ginny shoved him away slightly.

“Get lost, no one wants you to third wheel their date.” She complained.

“You and Freddie are dating? I thought this was purely casual.” He frowned.

The girl whipped round.

“It is casual, but Ginny’s got it in her head that we’re on the road to marriage or something.”

“Well duh, eventually you will be.” Her friend scoffed, acting as though she was the only one in their right minds. “We should go shopping, I saw this perfect dress down at Madam Malkins’ the other day- I could get it for you.” “No, you’ve done enough for me-” The girl tried to protest, but Ginny was too lost in the idea to stop rambling on about Paris and new dresses and romantic restaurants.

“I’ve seen her like this before,” George whispered, seeing the look of fear on the girl’s face as she saw no way out. “Sometimes, if you back away very slowly, she doesn’t even notice that you’re gone.” He explained, grabbing her wrist and taking her away very slowly.

It turned out George was very experienced with Ginny taming, and they managed to get away unscathed.

“That’ll keep her busy for at least twenty minutes.” He laughed, from the safety of the counter, where he could pretend to be busy if she tried to hassle him.

“What? The sound of her own voice.” “Honestly, it’s a strange sight- but she can entertain herself like no one else.” He laughed, reminiscing on times when he’d find a six year old Ginny Weasley interviewing herself in the bathroom mirror like she was writing an article for the prophet.

“You’re a lifesaver Georgie.”

“What are we hiding from?” Fred whispered, poking his head between the two just as George had done earlier. It garnered a similar reaction, with both jumping at the sound of his voice.

“Little miss chatterbox over there.” George sighed, slumping into the stool that laid behind the till.

“Oh yeah, it’s best to let her wear herself out when she’s like this.” Fred nodded, putting down the boxes he’d been carrying. “Has she mentioned paris yet?” He asked.

“How did you know?” Y/n gasped, eyeing him up suspiciously.

“Oh she cornered me earlier, honestly I thought I’d never get away-” He huffed at the memory, “I ended up knocking over a lamp just so I could have a reason to get away.”

Freddie handed a dustpan and brush to his brother.

“That reminds me, cleanup on aisle two.” He teased, giving George a playful smack on the back as he sloped off to reluctantly do Fred’s dirty work.

“You’re cruel,” The girl grinned, leaning into his side like it was second nature to them.

“Don’t deny it- you love it.”

She looked up at the man with a wide smile, one that he would have to dream of every night if it hadn’t been there beside him when he woke up that morning.

“I know we said casual-” The girl started, instilling a little fear in them both. “-so this isn’t me asking for a date, don’t worry. But there is somewhere we could go. She offered up with a hopeful look. “If you wanted to watch the stars, that is.”

Fred leant up against the back wall, his body about a head taller than the girl’s as he smirked down at her.

“Are you telling me that my beautiful roof isn’t enough for you?” He teased, clutching his heart like it had been stabbed by her words. “I’m hurt!” “Well- if you come with me then we can decide which is better, yeah?” She smirked and Freddie couldn’t help but give in to her perfect little face.

“Of course darling, oh- watch out, Ginny’s clocked us.”

Fred scurried away, ducking his head, and leaving the girl to fend for herschel against his sister’s constant stream of date ideas.

“Traitor!” She called after him, huffing in defeat when Ginny whipped out a dress catalogue, flicking through to show her all the pages she had marked. Where had she got that from?

-

Once the shop served it’s last customer, and the twins forcibly removed their little sister from y/n’s side, all three of them settled in for the night. George, being the secret granddad he truly was, went off to bed early with complaints of back pain. That only made the teasing easier.

“I was the one doing heavy lifting too!” Fred called after him from the kitchen, cleaning up their dirty plates.

“We are all painfully aware- given how often you mention it.” The girl laughed, rolling her eyes as he bared his teeth to her. “Play nice.” She sneered, jumping out of the way while the man tried to flick water onto her with his wand.

Once their miniature water fight ended with a truce, the girl wrapped her arms around Fred’s waist, nuzzling her head into his back with a comfortable hum. The man smiled to himself, one hand conducting the dishes before him and the other rubbing gently over her fingers.

“So,” He started, his voice rumbling through his body. “You gonna tell me where we’re going later?” “Nope, it’s a surprise.” She giggled.

“Or a kidnapping- it sounds like a kidnapping.” He insisted, teasing the girl as she spoke.

“I promise that I won’t kidnap you, especially since you and Georgie were kind enough to not be creeps when I moved in.”

“I wouldn’t speak too soon darling.” Fred warned, finally setting down his wand and grabbing her body to hold her properly.

She wrapped her legs around him, leaning back to get a good look at the man’s face.

“What?” He asked her.

“Nothing. I’m just looking.”

“Well, I don’t blame you.” He scoffed, planting soft kisses onto her cheeks and all over her face, basking in the squeaks of happiness that she made with each one.

-

It was well past midnight when the girl finally convinced Fred to leave the loft, their make out session having gotten a little heated once they moved it to the bedroom. At least this time one of them remembered to cast a silencing spell, the fear of another lecture from George becoming a real threat to the couple.

“I’m coming- chill out,” Fred laughed, seeing the girl waiting in the middle of the living room with a nervous tap in her feet. “Let me just grab a jacket.”

“I’m getting impatient Freddie,” She whined out, excited to show him her favourite spot.

The man chuckled as he took her hand, giving her one last look of pride before they disappeared from the loft with a flash of air. Y/n had never apparated before she left home, but the twins had been eager to teach her how, seeing as she had enjoyed it much more than the floo line.

“Where the hell is this place?” Freddie frowned when they landed in the middle of a wooded clearing, only the sound of rustling leaves to be heard around them. The man spun round, taking in the serenity of this place compared to the bustling city.

“This is Godstone cove,” The girl explained, taking his hand again and leading him through the woods, closer to where they could see the moon shining through the trees.

“This is a forest y/n.”

“I know this isn’t the cove, but there is one- come on!” She pulled him, still just as impatient as when she had been waiting for him to leave.

As the moon’s light became brighter, the trees began to dwindle away, revealing a small patch of patch in front of them. The water licked across it gently, barely making a sound. Fred stood watching the sky’s light ripple over the waves.

“Here we are.” She announced, taking a seat on the sand with a happy sigh. Fred followed suit, his eyes locked on the stars above them. She was right, it was a perfect place to watch them.

“How did you find this place?” He asked her, an arms fixed round her waist as they laid back on the sand.

“My aunt took me here when I was younger, it was the closest thing to a beach that I’d ever see.” “You never mentioned an aunt.” The man’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as if they didn’t want to disturb the peace all around them.

“I only knew her for a short time. She was my father’s sister and she was great, she’d always bring me presents and play with me- but she travelled a lot.” “Why did she leave?” It was like he already knew, he knew something had gone wrong.

“I don’t remember much about it-” She started, hesitantly, but still with a welcome smile on her face. Just the memory of her aunt, even the unpleasant ones, still filled her with warmth. “But she and my father got into an argument, a bad one, and she said something about leaving the country for good.”

“And your father didn’t like that?” “I think he hated the idea of being away from her, not being able to look after her when she needed it. Except it came out as hatred… which only pushed her away even more.” “I’m sorry y/n,” He held her closer, knowing that talking about her family had never come easy to the girl.

“She brought me here the day before she left, our last adventure, that’s what she’d told me.” Her little chuckle still sounded sad. “Then that was it, my parents never spoke of her again- even if I tried to bring her up, they would just tell me to forget her.”

The water sloshed against the small wooden pier beside them as they laid in each other’s arms.

“You know my family loves you.” Fred said, out of the blue.

“They’re all brilliant,” She beamed, thankful that they had brought her such kindness.

“Well then you don’t need anyone else, as long as you have us… and you always will.”

When the girl looked at him her eyes sparkled, maybe because of the stars, or maybe because of the threatening tears. But she didn’t care, she no longer wanted a family that outed her for being curious or one that planned her life to the day.

She had Fred, and that was all the girl could ever ask for.

“I love you.” The man blurted out, still staring deep into her soul. The girl went to respond, a few seconds later, to which he just interrupted. “-No, you don’t need to say it back, I don’t expect you to, I just wanted you to know- that’s all.”

“Freddie?” She asked with a grin, loving the way he rambled when he was nervous.

“Yes darling?” “I love you.”

-

The pair laid together for hours, watching the sun rise and drifting off  to the sound of rippling water. Freddie watched her sleep for a while, the orange glow of the waking sky lighting up her cheeks as he stroked them.

When they finally awoke together it was early enough for them to head back to the loft and still get some rest before the day began. Freddie held her, still drowsy, in his arms and apparated them back to his room, vowing to return to Godstone cove with her again when they next got the chance.

George had woken them both at 8 o’clock, with a less than lovely song about them shagging. Despite the fact that by the time Fred and y/n had made it back, neither of them would have been conscious enough to do so. Still it worked to get them out of bed, even if it was to hit him into silence.

“Ron said he’s gonna drop by today, something about dinner at the burrow.” He explained, rubbing his messy hair from his face, ignoring the scowl’s that Freddie was sending him.

“Oh yeah Hermione wrote a couple days ago to tell me, said Ron keeps forgetting to let you guys know.” The girl explained, watching the toaster with hopeful eyes.

“So you knew as well?” Fred asked.

“And didn’t tell us either?” George finished.

Y/n just laughed and leant against the counter.

“Well then what would be the point of Ron?” She proposed, to which both men amazingly agreed. “Your poor siblings.”

“Hey, you’re practically part of the family, remember- don’t think you’re excused from our teasing.” Fred scoffed.

“God don’t I know it.” She groaned.

“Ahh y/n as part of the family,” George dramatically stated, “does that mean you’re sleeping with your sister now?” He asked his brother.

“Fucking hell Georgie-”

“What’s wrong with you!” “Disgusting!” They cried out, the girl barely needing to move in order to place a good whack on the back of his head.

The man grimaced but basked in the chaos his off handed comment had created.

“Don’t even say that, she’s my girlfriend for merlin’s sake!” Fred chimed, unknowing of what he’d just announced in front of the other two.

All of them froze, George holding his mug still in the air, the girl with her hand ready on the fridge door and Freddie gripping the cereal box in one hand. All the while contemplating asking Hermione if she could help him find another time turner, just so he could avoid this tense silence.

The toaster popped up, jump-starting all three of them again, as if they had been reset.

“I am?” The girl finally spoke up.

“W-well… unless you have a problem with that?” Freddie joked, half cursing himself for not being a little more serious.

“You can run now, it’s not too late.” George whispered, but to whom it was unclear.

“Shut up George!” Both of them responded regardless, making it very clear how the girl felt.

“I don’t have a problem with that, I love you… remember?” She smiled, a little glint in her eye as she did.

George groaned, throwing his head onto the table with a thud.

“I can’t take you two!” He cried out.

“Then get laid!” The girl said sweetly, catching them all off guard. “Come on you two, stop gawking and get downstairs, we’re gonna be late opening.”

-

The night that everyone gathered at the burrow had been a celebratory one of sorts. Molly Weasley had been over the moon to see Fred so happy with the girl, after the confirmation that Bill wasn’t upset about it of course, and Ginny was using up her last evening of getting drunk before she was back to practising for the quidditch world cup.

Everyone else humoured the occasion, which had ended with a pile of empty firewhiskey bottles and some pitchy karaoke from Arthur and George. It hadn’t been a surprise that they ended up back at the loft in a pile of limbs, none of them anywhere near sober enough to stay standing while they apparated home.

“Leave him!” Fred wheezed, seeing how his brother hadn’t waited a single second before falling asleep on the hard wooden floor of the living room. “You know he’s impossible to wake when he’s like this.” The girl giggled, but agreed, letting his leg hit the floor after trying to drag him to his room.

“Come on, I’m exhausted.” The man groaned, taking her hand.

“Yes well that’s because you and Harry insisted on having a race around the house.” “Which I won, I’ll have you know!”

“Only because you jelly-legsed Harry- that’s right, I saw you do it!” She accused, with a smug grin on her face.

“Let me have it, just this once?” He pleaded.

“Fine… I’ll be up in a minute, I wanna get some clean pyjamas from downstairs.” The man nodded at her words, silently stumbling up the set of stairs to his room.

Y/n chuckled to herself, giving George another nudge as she passed him and lit her wand to shine the way down through the shop. Her room was untouched, given that she barely spent any time in it now that she slept with Freddie most nights. A part of her felt bad, but it was sad being away from her boyfriend when he was just a short walk from her.

Once the lamp was switched on she saw the unfamiliar owl at the window, its little beak too quiet to be heard as it tried to tap on the glass. Hurriedly she opened it up, taking the letter from between its beak and frowning.

The hand in which the letter was written made the girl’s stomach drop immediately, a feeling of impending doom washing over her as she slipped the parchment from the envelope with shaky hands.

Y/n, this nonsense has gone on far too long. Your Father and I have spent months tracking you down, and if this letter EVER finds you then just know that we are extremely disappointed. Though I’m sure that is a fact you must be aware of already. We request you return home immediately, from wherever it is you are holed up. You are too young to be alone in this world, there are all sorts of people who wish to pray on you.

As if it is bad enough that you have run away like some sort of delinquent, you have put a stain on our family name. Forever more will we have the reputation that our daughter cannot be controlled, however do you wish to find a husband that way? Who would want you when you’ve already been exposed to the smog of a spinster’s life, absolutely no one respectable, that’s who.

Now you will come home at once or else we will have no choice but to take more forceful measures to make sure you’re returned to our care. This is non negotiable, you will be punished, I will see to it.

Mother.

Why hadn’t it been a howler? The girl wondered, peering over the words with her eyes unwilling to blink between each letter written down. She had heard about the punishment from the twins, of course, and presumed that she hadn’t received one because she was always home. Maybe her mother was trying to lull her into a sense of security, hoping she would take her advice and just go back home to be punished like it seemed to be her parent’s wishes. The twins could help her understand it better, the girl thought, well Freddie at least, seeing as he was the only one alive.

She grabbed a change of clothes, and held onto the letter, lighting the way once again with her wand when there was a knock on the shop’s front door. The girl turned, pointing her wand to a figure who stood outside, in the alley.

“Neville?” She asked, frowning at the man, who had a look of worry on her face. She neared the door, a polite smile on her face, despite the fact that it was the early hours of the morning and all she wanted was to sleep. “What are you doing here?” She asked as she opened the door.

“Oh god y/n… I’m- I’m so sorry.” He stuttered shakily, turning his head a little to reveal the man crouching down at the edge of the building.

The alley was dark and it was a struggle to see much, but y/n couldn’t miss the glint of silver that reflected the moon. It had been a quick flash of light, enough to draw her eyes down, where the man held a blade threateningly towards them both.

“Now now, don’t make a scene sweetie.”

Taglist :  @hufflrpuffforfred​

[rodeoxqueen]

Stuck Thinking Of You-Vergil/Reader

TheLastCrusader Requested: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

Dante’s Version:https://rodeoxqueen.tumblr.com/post/638040898096201728/stuck-thinking-about-you-dantereader

Read Both Versions on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187496

Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Taking Care of The Twins, Vulnerability, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Characters Call Out The Writer for Her Lazy Writing

One Way To Dante's Heart Is His Stomach. For His Brother, It Is Not As Simple.

Slicing through groups of demons while twirling in the air, Vergil obliterated his enemies. He landed deftly onto the blood-soaked ground. His brother Dante had shot through another horde himself. 

After minimal time spent fighting, the infamous duo already prepared themselves to go home, a job well done. 

“You should join a circus for how much spinning and jumping you do.” Dante quipped. Vergil raised a brow. 

“With a face as hideous as yours, you would be an excellent freak show exhibit.” The elder twin snarled. 

Dante laughed, hands on his hips. 

“Oh please, I’m the prettier twin. My hairline hasn’t flinched, unlike yours.” Vergil stilled. 

“I’ll have you know-” Dante saw a demon Vergil had sliced into slowly raising its tail. It was spiked with various deadly purple needles swishing about. Disemboweled yet still alive, it hissed and whipped its tail. A whistle rang through the air as foot-long spikes flew through the air. 

“-Look out!” Dante quickly shot the demon, its head caving in like a rotten pumpkin. Vergil dodged the dart-like appendages, a mildly displeased look on his face. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Vergil.” Dante teased, shaking his coat of any poisonous darts. 

“If you weren’t so exhausting to deal with, I’d-” Vergil suddenly tensed and fell to the ground. He landed knees first before his torso and head slid onto the earth. Dante let out a breath, and then he wheezed out a laugh. 

“Oh my god, Vergil!” Vergil attempted to move from his embarrassing position, face down and rear pointed to the sky. 

“What on earth? I cannot move.” He felt numb as if he had lost control of his form. Had he missed a dart? 

Dante came around his brother’s kneeled over position. Right on his posterior, had a stray dart pierced him. 

“Poor Vergil, as if a stick up your ass wasn’t enough.” Vergil’s sounds of struggle were fruitless as his form was dumbly paralyzed. 

“Don’t you dare say it-” 

“jAcKpOt!” Dante wheezed and held onto his sword to prevent him from falling over and crying with laughter. 

“Help me at once, you oaf!” Vergil exclaimed. Dante wiped away tears of joy. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He vanished The Rebellion and gently kicked his brother to the side. Vergil landed on the dirt looking like he was in a fetal position. Dante continued laughing the whole way down the mountain, carrying Vergil over his shoulder. 

“This is incredibly undignified.” Vergil snarled. 

“Wait till (Y/N) finds out you got shot in the ass-” 

“You will do no such thing!” Vergil exclaimed. 

You were on the couch, reading a book when Dante kicked the door down. 

“Guess whaaaat!” He yelled, holding Vergil over his shoulder. He marched his way over to the beat-up sofa, gesturing for you to move over. You scooched to the end, Vergil was tossed onto the cushions. 

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked, seeing how he refused to make eye contact with you. 

“Big brother here got jabbed by some demon. He’s not dead yet so I doubt it’s that bad.” 

Dante reached into his pocket, steadily taking out the needle that he took out of Vergil’s behind. 

He threw it like a toy dart and it landed on his desk. 

Vergil remained silent, simply biding his time before he could forget about his embarrassing ordeal. 

“Wouldn’t he be more comfortable in his room?” You asked, knowing Vergil always took to his room after a mission. Despite your many attempts to make conversation, he was quick to leave before any talk could be initiated. 

“Nah, I need you to keep an eye on him. I’m going to do whatever I want now that he can’t stop me.” 

“If you are going out and gorging yourself on those unhealthy sundaes again-” 

Dante made an evil laugh as he ran out of the shop. 

Vergil sighed. This was terrible. He watched as you examined the needle, opening your computer and a few books. 

Half an hour passed of pure silence, you flipping through books and seeing what on earth caused Vergil to stiffen up like a corpse. 

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked again, seeing how still he was. 

“What does it look like?” He snapped. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed again. 

“My apologies. I am not very comfortable trapped in my own body.” You nodded. 

“Well, it says here that the demon that poisoned you could kill men in a second upon injection.” 

“Joy.” Vergil deadpanned. You chuckled at his expression. Vergil softened at your laughter. 

“Since you’re still alive, I’m guessing your demon side is working really hard to get all that toxic stuff out of you.” 

“The blood of Sparda will not wane to a petty demon.” He said lowly.

It wasn’t for an hour until Vergil felt his form begin to feel sensation. His hands barely twitched despite the sweat he built up from trying to move. 

Your demon side..

Vergil remembered your comment. A spark of genius hit him. If he devil triggered, he might be able to metabolize the toxins faster. He willed it within himself, grunting and trying to trigger. 

He could feel his senses slightly amplify as if his triggering process was truly forcing the poison out. Suddenly, the warm surge of his blood flowing became known to him. Yes! This was working. 

With more heaving and straining, he felt his arms slowly loosen from his sides and his legs straighten out. 

“Uhhh. Vergil?” Distracted, he felt his muscles tense again and as a final resort, his reflexes rolled him off the couch. The back of his head flared out in pain as he hit the floor.  He laid on the ground, a defeated blue devil. It was pathetic, he couldn’t even trigger his scales to come out. Grumbling, he noticed you standing near him, looking down with concern. 

“Do you need help?”

"It appears that I am stuck."

"Do you want some help?"

"I don't want your help, I’m fine."

"All right, then.”

"...."

“Are you sure you don’t want to be moved?” Vergil sighed and closed his eyes. 

"That..would be preferable.” 

You rolled up your sleeves, ready to lift him up. He smirked. 

“You should have just said so, silly!” You grin as you place your hand on his back and the pit of his knees. 

“I’m afraid I am not that light, surely lifting me would-” He stopped as you literally bridal carried him. 

“-be toiling…..” He flushed at close proximity of you. 

“How are you this strong?” He blurted. 

“The writer wanted to have a reverse damsel in distress scene. I will never exhibit this strength in future plot lines.” You said sweetly, looking at him with a smile. 

Vergil stopped, staring at your face. Although he was stone-faced as usual, his eyes drank in your wonderful features. It took him a minute to realize you had said something. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I was asking if you wanted to be sitting up or on your side.” 

“..Sitting upright would be fine.” 

You placed him on the sofa again. 

“Is there anything you want while you’re in this situation?” Vergil tried to shrug. 

“It’s fine. I will abide by my time.” 

“You don’t have to be bored, I can play something if you want.” 

“Such as what?” You pointed to your computer. 

“I have an audiobook subscription. If you like, I can play some William Blake poetry.” Vergil raised a brow. He had never been an avid user of technology. If he were to hear any recited poetry it’d be from his own whispers. 

“You also read Blake’s works?” 

“I know you do.” Oh, you thoughtful little sparrow. 

“That would be alright with me.” You were quick to type away on your computer to find a recording. Soon, a male voice permeated the air, reading off verses robotically. 

It was a bit of an awkward moment, Vergil’s continued stone face and you observed it gravely. The recording ended shortly as you paused it. 

“You don’t seem to like it.” 

“Poetry should be spoken, not read off of like an instructions’ manual.”

“How would you do it then?” Vergil took his chance. You were not keen on working now, focused on him instead. 

“My book. It’s in my room. Retrieve it and I shall demonstrate myself.” He teased, a ghost of a grin upon his face. Damn this paralysis. 

You left, rounding up the stairs. 

You entered his room, making sure not to knock anything over. Not that you really could, the room was pristine. You easily saw the brown leather book on the dresser. The leather was well-worn and soft to the touch, a single page dog-eared. 

“So, you’re Mr. Poetry, huh?” You teased as you went down the stairs. 

“The one and only.” Vergil did not miss the old reference to Griffon, the dear bird you cried over. 

You made your way to the couch, sitting on the arm of the sofa. 

“Now which page?” You asked. Vergil stared at you.

“Just start from the beginning.” You obediently flipped to the first page. 

“So do you want to read it?” 

“How am I supposed to hold it up?” Vergil smirked at your sputters. 

“I keep forgetting!” You made your way over to him, choosing to sit on the floor by him. 

He cleared his throat. 

“I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine.

And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole

When the night had veiled the pole;

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.” 

Vergil’s voice had a timber, soothing lowness to his usually raspy tone. He was in the zone, eyes blank as he had read this millions of times. 

“It’s a nice poem. It’s a bit brutal though.” You commented. 

“It is.” 

This went on for some time, Vergil reciting while you observed and turned the pages for him. You stopped between to grab yourself and Vergil some water, giving him a blue bendy straw. As the clock hands went around, soon one voice grew the soft company of another. The crest and the trough of tones had embraced, two speakers and one poem. Eventually, you met the unique page from before. 

“The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love.

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And Thou shalt not, writ over the door;

So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore,

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys ; desires.” 

You tried to copy Vergil, reading off of the page, and avoiding stuttering. The observer shakily held the harp of their own vocal cords, the previous strummer lounging and watching the words take flight above his blue-eyed gaze like flittering sparrows. 

By the time you were finished with the last verse, you turned to see that Vergil’s eyes were directed at you. It’s too bad you didn’t know they were upon you for some time. You gently grazed the dog-eared page. 

“Why did you mark this page?” 

“It is a poem that reminds me of another.” You were slightly puzzled but smiled nonetheless. 

“Well, they’re very lucky to be beheld, I guess.” Vergil stared at you, his eyes bewitched to your profile. With the slope of your face, Vergil swore even the most wonderful sculptors could not capture you to your truest attractiveness. 

“I am luckier to have been in their company for the last few hours.” He rasped. You turned your face, a privilege Vergil wished he could have, to prevent from seeing a negative reaction from you. 

“Me?” You softly said. The book was forgotten, landing on Vergil’s chest. 

“I understand I do not speak to you as much as I wish. I am not as socially affable as my brother. But I do share my affections upon you, in words not of my own. In my most vulnerable, I find cherished company with you.” 

You were quiet. 

“If that’s not the case with you, I am in complete understanding. You are a kind person. You would do the same for my brother if he was in the same situation. I do not wish for this to be ill to our cooperation in this business-” 

“Say less.” You giggled, putting your finger on his lips to shush him. Vergil scrunched his nose as his ears turned red, had he said too much? Had he made a fool of himself? 

Instead, he had seen the color of pink, a shade even the finest roses could not bloom to, appear upon the apples of your cheeks. 

“I like you too, Vergil. I didn’t do all that for you to just be nice. I like getting to know you.” Despite his numbness, his heartbeat in his chest felt like the rain of an angry storm against the earth.

His chapped lips found the capacity to move. 

“Perhaps, when this wretched poison leaves my form, we may find time to do this again.” 

“I’d like that too.” Your eyes squinting with a diamond grin, Vergil made a noise of contentment. 

“It is a day I look forward to-“

“I had so much ice cream today!” Dante yelled as he walked into the shop again. 

“Whoops, you guys look like you were having a nice moment.” Dante winked at Vergil, who growled. 

“Oh hey, Dante!” 

Dante waved at you. 

“I got you guys some dinner since I know (Y/N)’s tired of dealing with shithead here. Vergil couldn’t cook for shit even when he was able-bodied.” 

“I can boil an egg.” Vergil bit back. Dante handed you some Asian takeout, still warm. 

“Don’t worry Verg, I’ll blend yours so you can drink it.” 

“It’s fine, I can help him.” You winked at Dante who waggled his eyebrows. 

The evening ended fairly well. You fed Vergil bits of vegetables and noodles while Dante read his questionable magazines. It was much too late to be going back home, so Dante threw you some blankets and pillows to stay the night. 

Although Vergil offered you his room to rest in, you shook your head. 

“Who’s going to keep you company?” Dante wolf-whistled before retreating to his room upstairs. 

“Leave us!” Vergil exclaimed. You laughed again. 

You turned off the lights and dodged random objects lying around in the dark. You found the familiar softness of pillows and your makeshift bed. 

Vergil fell asleep, feeling wanted. It was a warm sensation that spread to even his fingers, soft and supple. 

He didn’t even notice his hand had come loose and drifted to trace your cheek in both your slumbers.