#and then imagine all of them having a heart attack when Silver suddenly wakes up

[lunetteslooneyfangirlingblog]

Twst Spoilers!

I imagine that Silver developed his unique magic as a child and that whenever he uses his magic his body’s functions slow to a near death point and stay there till Silver returns to his own body.

Now imagine Malleus, Sebek, or Lilia stumbling across Silver while he’s dream walking and believing the other’s dead.

[king-bito]

Vanta Black is a butt

I’m sorry, this is my first Drabble or whatever this is, I didn’t proof read it, I don’t really know what my intention was here.. I’m not a writer, I do digital art, but there’s so little Shihai smut out there I thought I would add my bad writing to the small pile xD

I’m SO SORRY.

Pairing: Shihai Kuroiro x Reader

Characters are in their mid twenties.

Rating: Explicit

MINORS DO NOT INTERRACT

Warnings: Dub-Con, Predator/Prey Dynamic, Quirk use, Smut

It’s been a long day, it’s 10pm and you just exited the cinema alone, your friend, who decided to make the whole movie about kissing, making out, and blowing their newly acquired boyfriend, ditched you early in favour of going home with him.

Oh how wonderful it felt to be a third wheel. You’d resigned and accepted your fate, opting to take your time, grabbing a coffee at concession before leaving.

It’s Friday night and there’s still a buzz of nightlife, just barely starting to pick up. Luckily you lived nearby so you wouldn’t have to suffer atrocious cab fares, and the awkward conversations that you always felt cornered into.

You take a deep breath, finishing off the last of your beverage and tossing it into the trash and beginning your walk home, pulling together your jacket to ward off the cold bite of the night air.

————

It’s only 2 blocks from your apartment when you hear what sounds like distressed meows coming from a dark alley. Was it a cat? Fuck, it’s too cold on a night like this to just ignore it. You aren’t the bravest person, and dimly lit alleyways threw up about a dozen warning signals, but these small, infantile kitten meows had you falter and pause.

Biting your lip, you decide to suck it up. You can’t abandon a little kitty out here..

Oh how wonderfully gullible you are.

As you near a filthy dumpster with so many tags on it you can’t even make out a single letter, a cold breeze makes you shiver, it travels up your spine making you feel unsettled. For some reason the meows stopped when you began to enter the alley, and as you pull your arms around yourself for comfort to try and quell the fear, you peer around some stray boxes and trash bags, hoping to locate the abandoned animal.

You let out a gasp as something moves, you suppress a scream and tumble back against the brick wall, panting, heart beating rapidly.

There is nothing.

You swallow, you must have imagined it right?

Suddenly you feel something warm grab your wrists from behind, instinctively you try to pull forward but whatever is holding you is like a vice. Looking down you see pitch black hands wrapped firmly around your dainty wrists and then a low, whispering voice hits your ear.

“Hello little mousy~” Out from the dark brick behind you, a mans face with charcoal pigmented skin is pushing out from the darkness, his deep, dangerous tone terrifying and a little too provocative. Your first reaction is to bolt, and as you yank yourself away (purely at the mercy of this strange man in a wall letting your wrists go), you fall to the ground, turning to back yourself up against the opposite wall, resting on your now scraped palms. “W-what the hell?!” You stammer, taking in the sight before you.

Oh how cute.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, hoping to draw the attention of someone, anyone, nearby.

...

A deep chuckle cuts through the cold silence between you, and you watch as the head moves forward, more of his body emerging from the wall, and now, you get the chance to fully drink in his features. He’s handsome, well, what little you can make out in the low light against impossibly dark skin. His eyes are hooded and seductive, they study you with each breath you take. His lips are lightly pursed into a small smirk, they look perfect on his sharp jawline. His face is framed by a mop of thick silver hair that flicks out in an unruly manner over his cheeks and the back of his neck. The man is clad in a black coat, grey denim jeans, and a low cut v-neck tee, where you can make out his defined collarbones disappearing beneath the lapels of his long coat.

“Aww.. did I scare the poor little thing?” The man coos out gently, and the twisted smile he wears tells you very clearly this was all just fun cruelty to him.

“O-Of course you did! Who the fuck does tha-“

“Shihai” he interrupts you.

“What?”

“My name is Shihai Kuroiro, but you may call me Kuro.”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is.” You blurt out, getting yourself back to your feet and pressing yourself against the cold brick as if it would get you any further away from this..thing.

“You should. You will. Pretty thing like you couldn’t help but come to the pitiful little meows of a kitten, you didn’t even think, did you?”

“I-I…”

“I’m not even very good at making those sounds.. and yet you wandered all the way down an unlit alley, where oh, I don’t know…” Shihai steps forward and places his palms either side of your shoulders. He’s taller than you, lean, but sturdy in build, and his every languid movement was filled with its own strength and purpose. “...anyone could take advantage of you."

"I saw you in the cinema," He continued."you and your so called friend, she certainly had a good time, didn’t she?” He muses, leaning down so his wild grey-ish locks tickle your temple, his breath fanning over your neck as he spoke.

You can’t help but go red at the closeness, there was no doubt he was hot, he was very much your type and when was the last time you had a good fuck? Too long, that was for sure. But this guy was being a real creep! Not to mention scaring you half to death like some sort of twisted predator…

“Such a shame they didn’t invite you along with them.. then again, if they had, I wouldn’t have been able to get you alone like this… so cute, so flushed.. and my.. so easy.” He growls darkly, carding his fingers through your hair, and slowly curling his hand into a fist to grab a handful and yank gently. “Have some fun with me…” You knew this wasn’t an offer, but an inevitable demand, and against your quickly disappearing better judgement, you nodded meekly. Fuck it.

———————

The next few minutes are a blur, as you find yourself naked beneath Shihai, panting and mewling as his mouth works your nipple, sucking and nibbling while his hand massages and kneads your other breast. “K-...Kuro…” You gasp, arching your back and grabbing a fistful of his hair. You throw your head back and pant to the pulsing in your core, deft fingers of Shihai’s free hand thrusting in and out of you while curling them expertly.

The man is ravenous as he attacks that spongey spot inside you, his mouth hotly working up your neck and leaving an all manner of marks in his wake. You let out a guttural moan, writhing underneath his frame, pressing your chest to his and rocking your hips against his fingers, chasing your orgasm like a woman starved.

So Shameless

You weren’t quite sure how he got you to this room so quickly from the city street, no doubt it had to be some weird quirk that came with his abnormal allearance but you were hardly complaining once he stripped you, and himself down and practically threw you onto the bed to jump you.

“So beautiful.. so good for me, little mouse…” he coos, growling shortly after as he notices your body giving him telltale signs of your impending release. “Kuro.. please.. I-I’m..” You whine loudly as he pulls his fingers out of you abruptly, ceasing his administrations in full and repositioning himself above you. “Uh-uh-uh..~” Shihai keens, tutting before capturing your mouth in a lust filled kiss and pressing his tongue to your lips, demanding access. Your pitiful whine of protest offers him the perfect opening as he slides his tongue into your mouth and dominates you entirely, a free hand pushing your hips down to stop your pitiful bucking. “Mmmphhh~” You moan into his mouth, running your hands up and down his chest and ribs, feeling the muscles move and tense and admiring each contraction as he moves to line himself up.

“You only get to cum on my dick, understand~?” His voice is smooth like butter when he breaks the kiss, bringing his hand up to lick your ample juices from his fingers in a lewd display. He nearly moans when he tastes you, eyes fluttering closed as he savours your taste, slowly and teasingly sucking every digit clean. “Oh.. so delicious, little one. I’ll be sure to clean you up properly when we’re done…” He grins, sliding his tongue out of his mouth provocatively, causing you to whimper.

It’s only when you feel his hips move do you realise he had slowly been lining himself up with your dripping entrance, rolling them to push the tip of his leaking cock into your stretched hole, the movement drawing a long, loud moan from you. Fuck, you didn’t even get a good look at it in the heat of things, but fuck if it didn’t feel massive as it slowly stretches you out around the sheer girth.

Shihai hums contently, clearly holding back his sounds in favour of composure and control as he slowly, smoothly, sheaths himself into your heat. The stretch hurts, and is taking a little too long to grow accustomed to as you look up at the stunningly biz are creature above you. You raise a hand to his cheek, admiring his smooth warm skin and slight changes in shade as he grows hotter and hotter from the workout, and you offer the first gentle touch of the night to him, as re-assurance he can move, yes, but also an attempt to connect, and as his eyes dart to you’s, you swear you could see his cheeks reddening a little.

Shihai shakes his head and lowers himself down to bite and nibble at your neck, slowly beginning to rock his hips back and forth. “So.. so tight, you really are a sweet little thing aren’t you” he manages between thrusts that grow in intensity. “Fuck, you’re practically sucking me in, beautiful.” he grunts, a shudder racking his spine as you continue to touch him tenderly.

“A-ahmmm… Kuro!” You groan, breaths becoming an uneven pant, you lean back to give him better access to your neck and guide his hand up to your breast again as you start to move your hips in time with his, lifting your knees to let him hit deeper and deeper inside of you. “I wanna… mmmmphhhh! Shit.. I need to…” you feel the tightness building in your stomach.

The pace quickens and the new angle has him hitting that perfect spot inside of you. He’s bracing himself on one hand, and with his other, he’s squeezing and gently teasing your pebbled nipple beneath his fingertips.

“Hahn… gonna cum? Go on… you can do it. Cum all over my cock.”

You throw your head back again and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust until your walls clench and contract around his dick, making it twitch and pulse as you both reach your high, coming undone at once.

—————————-

Kuroiro takes surprisingly good care of you after multiple rounds of intense orgasms, he cleans you up with a warm damp cloth, feeds you, and gives you water before you damn near pass out in his bed. As he settles in beside you, scooting up to try and make you roll over so he can spoon you, you reach up to cup his cheek in your hand, your sleepy expression sweet and lazy. “...You’re still a creep..” You murmur gently, causing him to look at you with a little shock. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you cut him off before he can get a stupid cocky remark in. “...but this was amazing. Do you think next time we could start…. with an actual date?”

His mouth opens again, this time he’s speechless. “Wait.. r-really? You’d.. you’d like to…?”

“Shhhh…” you nod, smiling gently as you roll over and shuffle back into him.

What you’re too tired to notice, is the heat coming from his cheeks, ears, and neck. Shit, he thought if he could just remain in control he wouldn’t become a stammering blushing mess. You weren’t supposed to like him! Nor ask him out!

But you had to be a cute little sweetheart and flip the tables on his plan.

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [One of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James 'Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him. But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

<- Prev / Next ->

Nothing felt real until you saw him again.

It was as if ever since 2015, you’d been living your life in some kind of limbo, nothing mattered, the same old routine day in and day out. The world seems to move in slow motion around you, everything slightly lagging behind.

Like you can only see in black and white.

Like you were numb.

And then all of a sudden, in one brilliant flash of light everything speeds up, colour blinds you and the numbness disappears, replaced instead by pure, unadulterated fear.

He walks slowly down the hallway of doors, his eyes locked on yours like he knew you’d be here, knew exactly when to catch you. That in itself sets off a million other fears in your brain, and no matter how many times you’d gone through this scenario in your head, how many times you’d stayed up formulating a plan for escape, you can’t seem to move. Your body is frozen in place, the only movement available to you is the shake in your hands as he gets closer and closer.

You can’t even seem to cry.

He stops several feet away, looking for all the world like he wanted to be anywhere but here, but he squares his shoulders anyway and takes a deep breath.

“Hi.” He greets grimly, voice more nervous than you’d imagined, though deep and distinctly tainted by a Brooklyn accent you might’ve found endearing if not for everything else.

You realise suddenly that you’ve never heard him speak before.

You only stare, unblinking. He takes another deep breath and continues.

“My name is James Bucky Barnes. I am no longer the Winter Soldier–”

The mention of him, the name itself, makes you drop the thick set of keys and the small stack of letters you hold, sending them clattering to the floor. He stops speaking and blinks down at them, then back at you, before he crouches down to collect them.

“… And I’m here to make amends.” He stands slowly and holds out your keys and letters, lips pursed tightly as he waits for you to say something, or react at all. But you’re still staring at him, still unable to tear your eyes away until he waves the items, making your keys jingle a bit, and you snap out of it.

“I’m sorry.” He says, seemingly sincerely, but your voice is gone, and you can only nod as you carefully, hesitantly, take your things back from him, thankful when he steps back again. He stares at you with a sad frown, and you want so desperately to open your mouth and to say something, anything, but you just can’t.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes another step back.

“I’m… I’m going to go home now.” He tells you pointedly, and you can only nod once more. He turns his back and begins to walk.

You take that moment to shakily shove your key into the lock, quickly heaping yourself inside and slamming closed the door.

Making sure you lock your door once again, you can’t stop the sobs that wrack your body, sliding down the heavy wood and curling yourself into a ball.

You don’t hear him stop at the end of the hallway, you don’t hear the way he curses under his breath.

-

You laugh wildly and wave off your friends, shaking your head as you enter your apartment building. Even as the doors shut you can still hear them talking and laughing loudly as they return to their own buildings, but let the first peaceful sounds of quiet hit you as you jab the button for the elevator and make your way up to your place.

The alcohol buzzing through your veins amplifies reality and you ponder what an odd sensation it is to be so cognisant of yourself when you’re finally alone after a night of being surrounded by others. You lean heavily against the elevator wall and pull your graduation cap from your head when you realise you’re still wearing it.

It wasn’t the first time you’d graduated, but it was the last.

Excitement bubbles in you once again as you exit the lift onto your floor, all the possibilities and futures that lay before you making you feel unstoppable. You were going to be big, the things you were going to do were going to be big and now that you were fully and properly accredited, you couldn’t wait to prove to the world what you could do.

You unlock your apartment door on the third try, and stumble as you throw your cap and purse on the counter. Tomorrow you would call back Stark Industries and formally accept their offer, but for now, you needed water, a shower and bed. In that order.

You don’t bother turning on the lights in your apartment as you stumble through it, moving for your bathroom, however, when you reach the main hallways that lead to your bedroom, you pause and frown, switching the light next to you on as you stare down the passage.

You could have sworn you’d shut your bedroom door… In fact, you’d made a point of it before you’d left that morning… but here it was, wide open, and even swinging slightly like it were caught in a breeze.

In your drunken haze, you only frown deeper and move further down the hall, tiptoeing as quietly as you could, as if you were going to catch a ghost or an intruder off guard, but when you reach the doorway and switch the light on, you’re greeted by nothing.

A breath of anxiety leaves your lungs. It had been a busy morning, you could have easily forgotten that you’d gone back in after you’d shut it.

You relax, and kick it open further, shuffling forward before closing it behind you, but it stalls, refusing to click into place. A little frustrated now, you push on it harder, looking down at your floor to make sure there was nothing stopping it from shutting, but everything was clear. With an annoyed growl, you tear the door open again, intending to inspect the door frame itself, but you’re stunned frozen.

A man stands before you, completed shadowed in black, all but his eyes covered. You don’t even have time to react, you open your mouth to scream, but his hand shoots out, grabbing your jaw, the noise dying out before you can even make it.

Your body trembles, tries to back away, tries to run but he already has you, a grip stronger than what seemed real pulling you by where he holds you.

“Pack only essentials.” His voice is monotone and dark, and from his free hand, he throws a black duffle bag at your feet between you. His words left no room for argument, no terms for negotiation and yet your inebriated mind throws this out the window. You manage to latch onto the nearest item, a small lamp on the cupboard next to you, and with strength you didn’t know you had, you smash the thing into the side of the man’s head.

He releases you, hissing, and you run, somehow past him, your sloppy, drunken movements tamed somewhat by the adrenaline coursing through you.

You make it to your kitchen, to your purse and your phone, but then he’s there, hand grabbing yours and squeezing so hard your phone breaks under his grip. Intense and unrivalled pain lances through your fingers and palm, joined by a strange burning sensation. You become acutely aware of the snapping sound of bones until he lets go.

“Do not run.” He warns, though it sounds more like a threat, and with his body now bearing down over yours, and the pain in your hand, you lash out with your other, trying to push him away, maybe injure his eyes. Your fingers catch on something hard though, and you only manage to dislodge his mask, revealing his full face to you.

You don’t know or recognise him, and there was something so cold and unfeeling about his expression despite the situation you were in that makes your skin crawl. It was like the lights were on but nobody was home, like his brain was completely disconnected from his body and actions, right up until his eyes narrow, and he lifts a fist.

You can’t help but glance at the appendage before it crashes into your face, something catching your eye about it as the moonlight pouring in from your living room window hits it, and you realise, it was silver.

The last thing you remember before he knocks you out is the strange, but all-too-familiar whirring of a mechanical arm.

You wake up with a start, air trying to claw its way out of your lungs desperately. Your wide eyes search the room, and momentarily you see nothing but four grey walls, slowly closing in on you, before your senses begin to return, and your familiar bedroom fades through the nightmarish vision.

Sounds of the city waking up outside serve to ground you, and you slump back against your pillows for a few seconds, allowing your breathing and heart rate to calm down before you peel yourself out of bed slowly, cringing at the way your hair sticks to your clammy, sweaty skin.

The cold Brooklyn morning is comforting to you, and although you’d usually sleep longer than this on a work night, you know you won’t be going back to bed any time soon. You make your way to your small, cramped bathroom and switch the lights on, quickly discarding your clothes.

When you reach for the tap, you pause, eyes fixated on your hand, the one you hand remember clear as day being all but crushed in his grip. It had healed, but the broken bones weren’t the worst of it.

They’d taken your soulmark.

You don’t know why they did, you guess it had something to do with making sure there were no loose ends as far as your abduction went. They’d cut the mark from your hand, burned the wound, until it healed into just a lump of scarred, white skin.

Out of all the things they’d taken from you, it was this that hurt the most. They’d taken everything and left you with nothing, not even that which you were fated for. Knowing that somewhere out there, your soulmate would be waiting, wondering where you were, but you’d never be able to find them, never be able to know for sure if they were the one...

The first blasts of cold water shock the thoughts from your mind, and you immerse yourself, basking in the feeling against your hot skin, before the water finally begins heating, fogging up the room.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the white tile.

“They’re gone. You’re free, and they’re gone…” You begin repeating softly, the familiar mantra only just audible over the running water.

You hadn’t had a nightmare in months, not one so vivid anyway, not one that made sense, that was more a memory playing itself back than a dream. You didn’t sleep well as a rule, but normally your bad dreams consisted of other things.

You know it’s not a coincidence, not when he’d shown up at your door a week ago.

You knew he was innocent. You knew that. He’d been brainwashed and tortured and he was innocent… But that didn’t make everything you’d experienced less real. Coming to terms with the fact he wasn’t some monster was hard when all you wanted was someone to hate.

You suppose you just never thought you’d ever see him again in the flesh.

It was easier to fear the memory of something, but when it showed up at your door, apologising and wishing to make amends…

Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop thinking about him. What had he meant about making amends? Why had he sought you out after so long? What did he want?

Maybe that’s why when he shows up at your door again, you aren’t so terrified.

He definitely gives you a fright, but no more than anyone would seeing as you’d opened your front door just as he’d raised a fist to knock on it. A momentary flash of fear makes your eyes widen, but you’re rather surprised when it seems to pass over you, settling down into something more like unease.

For his part, Barnes looks a little bewildered, like he’d been caught out, and you wonder briefly, with no small amount of discomfort, how long he’d been standing there.

You both stare at each other, until he finally forces open his mouth and speaks.

“I can go, if you want,” He blurts, eyes darting over your features quickly, but always returning to your eyes.

“But I just came to ask if there’s anything I can do for you?” He nods slightly after speaking, as if he’d been practising the words and had delivered them just as intended.

You blink at him, completely taken aback, but somehow managing to find your voice this time. Is this what he’d meant by ‘making amends’?.

“I… I don’t know…?” You shuffle from one foot to the other.

“My… My friend told me that I should seek out people I hurt… to be ‘of service’.” He tells you quickly, as if he suddenly felt the need to explain himself. Honestly, it’s helpful, helping you put together more pieces of whatever the hell this puzzle was.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You say carefully, trying not to sound like you’d been practicing. You see his brow furrow, and his lips pull into a thin line.

“HYD– They were the ones who did it…” You take a deep breath, adjusting your hold on your reusable shopping bags. His eyes flicker to them briefly, but are back on your face in a blink.

“I read about you… after, I mean… I know you weren’t…” You lift a hand and tap your temple, though immediately cringe.

Barnes lips quirk, but any semblance of a smile disappears soon after, his eyes turning strangely soulful. With his haircut and altogether more well-kept look, it was hard to see why you’d been so scared of him the other day… he didn’t even look like the same person anymore.

“Sure. But I still did those things… I still owe you.”

You stare at each other again for a long while, almost like you were both just reacquainting yourselves with what you looked like. You weren’t exactly put-together yourself right now, but you can’t imagine you look any worse than when you were a literally prisoner of HYDRA.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asks again a moment later, and you suddenly remember that you were standing in your doorway, disrupted in your task.

“I– I don’t know, I’m sorry, I have to go,” You shake your head, and attempt to dismiss him for now. The store was only open for another hour before your shift started.

“I need to get my groceries before the shop closes.”

Barnes steps back, gives you plenty of room as you pull your door shut behind you, locking it securely. But when you turn back to him, his face seems to have perked up. It’s odd to see on him, honestly.

“I can carry them for you.”

You stare at one another again, and you find for some reason you can’t say no.

Perhaps you just wanted to see the former Winter Soldier carry your groceries.

The thought almost makes you laugh.

Not as much as seeing him trail behind you in the aisles does. You wonder if your sudden ease at his presence is similar to the ease you have when there’s a spider in your bathroom… You don’t want it around exactly, but if you’ve got your eyes on it, at least you know where it is.

You keep to your short list of needs, mostly trying to ignore the fact that this was very, very strange all things considered, and when you’ve finished and gone through the checkout, he grabs all six of your bags and waits for you to lead the way.

“Do you… do you live in the city?” You can’t help but ask him on the walk back. He looks at you, almost surprised, but nods, and averts his gaze again.

“In Bed-Stuy.”

It’s your turn to be surprised.

“That’s only a couple of blocks. I’ve never seen you around before.” You marvel. He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained to the pavement.

“I know.”

Silence falls between you again, and prevails until you reach your building.

“Thanks. This has been… weird.” You tell him truthfully, watching how his lips quirk in that almost-smile again. He hands you your bags of groceries and then looks about.

“You do this every Thursday?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“No, I just forgot all week, and I really needed milk.”

He hums under his breath, frowning slightly again as he digs into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad. You watch him scribble something on a page, before he rips it out and holds it out to you.

“That’s my number… if you ever need anything, call me. I’ll come.” Barnes says seriously. Nodding, you reach out to gingerly pluck the paper from his fingers, but he keeps a hold of it for a moment longer, locking eyes with you.

“Anything.” He reiterates. Swallowing, you nod again, and he releases the page.

“Thanks, uh–”

“–Bucky… Please just call me Bucky.”

You watch him with a strange feeling filling your chest as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets and steps away from you. It takes you a few seconds to build up the courage to actually say his name.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

---

Bucky waits until you’ve disappeared inside your apartment building before he quickly pulls his hands from his pockets, hissing in discomfort as he finally attends to the searing, itching burn that had suddenly begun attacking his soulmark.

A few good scratches does the trick, but it leaves him with an entirely different sensation.

Bucky stares up at your apartment building, despair and dread settling deep in his belly. Realisation spurns on a hundred memories, a hundred memories now with a new context, a worse context, and Bucky feels completely nauseous.

You were his soulmate.

And HYDRA had made you afraid of him.

If you enjoyed, a comment or reblog would be greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.6k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mentions of sexual content

A/N: please do tell me your thoughts on this chapter ! lots of things are going on at once and you may not be happy with me about all of them fskjfksdfjsd

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

You wake up to hair tickling your nose. Flinching away automatically, you’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s distinctive curls as he snores against your chest. His weight presses you against the bed, one of his hands tucked around the nape of your neck and a leg hooked over your hip. Even though Tae was a cuddler, this was closer than he tended to be.

Coming to sit on the side of the bed above you, you catch sight of Jimin leaning in with a fond, albeit sleep-deprived smile to ruffle Taehyung’s hair and then gently buff you on the cheek. You can’t help but return his smile, but it only takes a moment for the reminders of reality to flood back into your mind.

Jimin, already fully-dressed and with subtle sweeps of pearlescent silver on his lids, frowns at your change in demeanour. “He’ll be okay,” he whispers, not needing to ask you what’s on your mind.

You nod, careful not to jostle the sleeping man on your chest. Part of you just wants to fall back unconscious with him until things are back to normal, though the thought of going into town to visit Yoongi gives you something to stay awake for. “Are the others up?”

“Not yet,” Jimin mumbles, glancing towards the door as if he could see them from his spot on the bed. “I wanted to let them sleep. I’ve been messaging hyung.”

Fighting the urge to sit up, your eyes widen. “Is he doing okay?”

Jimin shrugs. “I doubt he’d admit over text if he wasn’t, but he seemed hopeful. His father is starting to stay awake for longer bouts of time, almost enough to hold a conversation.”

“That’s good,” you respond in a small voice, though it’s just a guess, your voice lilting at the end in uncertainty. You didn’t know anything about heart attacks, had never been confronted by them in your life, and could only assume that responsiveness was a positive sign.

Taehyung shifts on top of you, and you freeze, waiting for him to adjust himself, grumble a bit, and continue snoozing.

Jimin quirks a smile, gets up, and makes his way around to your side of the bed. Lying on top of the covers, he turns his face to you, so close you feel the tip of his nose bump yours. “Y/n,” he starts off slowly, eyes swimming in some unreadable emotion.

You find yourself unable to break the gaze. “Mm?”

“I don’t want to wait.”

Your brows furrow. “Wait for what? The others?”

“No, no,” he dismisses, plush lips protruding a little in insistence. “I… This has me thinking. The whole situation with Yoongi’s father, I mean. I can’t imagine any of us here are exactly at risk of heart failure, but it does make me think about just how much is left up to fate.” He drops his eyes, then, tilting onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. You feel a nudge on the back of your hand, and look down to see Taehyung unconsciously reaching out, wrapping his fingers around yours. When you look up, Jimin still hasn’t continued. His jaw works, like he’s toying with the right words to say.

When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, smooth murmur, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Our plan of waiting until we can date like normal seemed logical at the time. But I care so much about the two of you. Too much. It seems foolish to postpone anything just to play it safe.”

You blink, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice and the words it delivers. “So… What are you saying, Jimin?”

He swivels, quick enough to jiggle the bed, and Taehyung whines against your collarbone, slowly beginning to rouse from sleep. Jimin doesn’t notice, his eyes burning twin fires as he leans in close again. “I don’t want to wait to tell you I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back without hesitation. Jimin’s hands reach out gently to cup the sides of your face so tenderly, eyes crinkling, and suddenly you feel the sting of tears. Taehyung’s weight begins to shift and lift off of you, rolling onto the other side of the bed, and the sudden change has you feeling unmoored. “This is going to get messy, Jimin. You know that.”

“What’s going to get messy?” Beside you, Taehyung pushes himself up onto one elbow, blearily rubbing at his eyes.

Instead of responding, Jimin’s teeth peek out from a grin as he launches himself over you and collides with Taehyung mouth-first, gripping his t-shirt and holding him close for a few, meaningful moments.

When they break apart audibly, Taehyung looks stunned still, and Jimin lets out a disbelieving laugh, like he can’t even process his own enthusiasm. “Tae-tae, I love you,” he announces in visible delight, smile stretching.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and glisten, and his fingers jump up to wrap around Jimin’s wrist. “Minnie,” he breathes, and the three words that follow don’t need to be voiced for you - and Jimin - to hear them.

Straightening up further and turning to address the both of you, Jimin looks like a mad scientist on the verge of a breakthrough, his previously coiffed appearance looking decidedly rumpled. “It- I don’t care if it’s messy,” he confesses, “I don’t. And I don’t care that it’s scary, or that I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to- to this, or that we’re still in the show. You make me happy, both of you, and I love both of you, and…” He cuts himself off to swallow and suck in a breath, fingers clenching in the fabric of Tae’s shirt that he never let go of. “And I think I deserve to have this.”

When he puts it like that, you have no rebuttals. Sitting up to meet him halfway, you seek out his lips and let your eyes fall closed to savour the closeness.

Jimin kisses you like he never has before. It’s free, unfiltered, and not in the greedy, intense way he kissed you when you were scening together. Jimin kisses you like he’s entirely liberated, like he could spend an eternity with his lips joined to yours, unhurried and assured.

Your lungs lighten with a lack of oxygen, but you refuse to part from the softness of his embrace until you’re physically tugged out of it.

Taehyung pouts up at you, tilting his chin up. Even as he feigns being playful, you know what he’s asking for, and it’s more than just a kiss.

You turn to him, bending until your cheek is pressed to his. “Taehyungie, I love you,” you profess into his ear, lips curled at just how true it is, at how light it makes you feel to say it.

“That’s a relief,” he mumbles, pulling back just enough to give you an indulgent yet chaste kiss, mouthing the words I love you too against your mouth. With a dreamy sigh, he collapses back onto the mattress and bats his eyes up at Jimin. “I hope this confession doesn’t make you too soppy.”

“And why is that?” Jimin asks, a hand lazily running up and down Taehyung’s side, skimming his hip and dipping beneath his shirt to rub his soft stomach.

Arching into the touch like a pleased pet, Taehyung shrugs in mock-innocence. “Y/n and I still need someone to rail us,” he states. “When is mean Minnie going to come out again?”

Jimin’s eyes glint at the prospect, and suddenly you see the expression of the man who originally entered the Villa. The cocksure, unforgiving dom who had you weak at the knees from the start. If it didn’t send a spark of arousal through you, you’d probably be impressed at how naturally he brings it to the surface. “If you’re needing a little discipline, Taehyung, you only have to ask. I won’t be so soft on you next time. I hope you don’t regret it.”

Shameless, Taehyung pouts and whines deep in his throat, wrapping his lower half around where Jimin’s seated. “Well, don’t do it now,” he scolds in a small voice, “it’s not fair making me horny before we go to the hospital. You better fix this.”

The mention of the hospital sobers you all up a bit, but Jimin just furrows his brow down at Taehyung, pushing him flat on his back with a single strong hand, and using that same hand to palm roughly at Taehyung’s crotch, a tent beginning to form in the boxer shorts Tae had worn to bed.

Taehyung keens, but lays back obediently and lets Jimin massage him to full hardness, heavy breaths pushed out of his nose.

“Come on, then,” Jimin says after a moment and removes his hand entirely to stand up, ignoring Taehyung’s indignant gasp, “let’s take a shower and get that little demon back under control. Y/n?”

“It’s not little,” Taehyung grumbles under his breath as he gets up and hobbles toward the bathroom with a visible erection.

You sit up, shaking your head at Jimin’s question. “I want to check on the others when they wake and let them know we’re visiting Yoongi today. Maybe pack some of the leftovers in the fridge so the Min family have some decent food there.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, half-turns as if to leave, then freezes, waiting until Taehyung disappears inside the bathroom, turning the shower on with inaudible muttering. “Y/n,” he starts, huffing out a breath and letting his shoulders relax. “I know it’s not only us.”

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “Huh?”

He sends you a smile, halfway between shared humour and resignation. “You really should tell Yoongi-hyung.”

Before you can process the response, he’s in the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Down in the kitchen, Jin has bet you to the leftovers, bent over the counter with a red-stained pair of chopsticks hovering above the bowl. Mouth full, he puffs his cheeks in a smile of greeting.

You slink behind him to grab a mug for coffee, admiring the broad planes of his shoulder blades beneath a fine knit sweater. “I was going to bring those for the Mins today,” you say with a mock sigh, mind already straining to think of what else you could bring.

Jin is one step ahead of you. Without pausing his chewing, he props himself up on his elbow and points the set of chopsticks at the dining room table, which you didn’t notice is laden with tupperware containers, stocked with different foods. “Couldn’t sleep,” he states after finishing his mouthful. “What time are we heading in?”

You shrug, using the coffee machine to brew a cup entirely on auto-pilot. “Jimin and Taehyung are awake, but I’m not sure about the others. Let’s wait a bit and then check in with Yoongi.”

With a slow nod, Jin carefully sets his chopsticks down, balancing on the brim of the bowl. “You worried me last night,” he admits softly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he rebuts without hesitation, turning to offer you his open arms. Abandoning the coffee, you step forward into his embrace, the tension in your muscles loosening the second he tugs you in closer with a strong arm around the small of your back. If he tilts his chin up, he can rest it on the top of your head, and you smother a giggle at the odd feeling of it moving against you as he continues to talk. “All that matters is that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

You melt against his chest, linking your hands around the back of his neck to return the hug. “Mostly,” you say after a moment.

Jin hums, making no move to break apart the hug, and begins to gently rock the two of you back and forth, free hand running lazy figure eights up and down your back. “I’ll take it. Maybe after we visit Yoongi, you’ll be a little more okay.”

“I think so,” you murmur into his sweater. Truth be told, you feel so safe and at peace in Jin’s unhurried embrace that you feel somewhat better already. Closing your eyes to enjoy the slow swaying, you let go of the thought that’s been festering in the back of your mind for a while now. “Does it feel like everything’s falling apart to you? Not- not all at once and dramatic, but like we’re all unraveling on a single thread.”

When Jin sucks in a deep breath, his chest puffs and jostles you slightly. “I understand what you mean. I don’t think it is, though.”

“You don’t?” Suddenly, the snug grip around you loosens, and Jin pulls back to release you from his hold, hands slipping down to link with yours. You miss his warmth immediately, feeling slightly unsteady on your feet. “But Yoongi might not come back. And- And I voted you off and now I’ll have to keep voting you off and it just feels worse every time, and it feels like nobody is really doing this just for the competition anymore and... “ You find yourself falling short, unable to articulate your thoughts. Jin waits patiently, his deep brown eyes watching you kindly. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For everything to turn sour.”

“It might,” Jin admits, gaze darting up and around in thought, until it catches on the coffee machine, sputtering out the last few drops. He squeezes your hands reassuringly before letting them go, and moves over to grab the coffee cup as he continues talking, pouring some milk from the fridge just how you like it. “But then again, it might not. I think focussing on that worry too much will only make it more likely to happen, or will at least prevent you from enjoying the good things to come.”

“Maybe.” You take your coffee from him with a grateful smile, though you’re still not convinced. “How do I just ignore that dread, then?”

Jin leans back against the counter top, shrugging with a thoughtful look on his face. “We have no control over whether Yoongi returns or not. The best we can do is support him through a difficult time. Then, even if he doesn’t come back to the show, I’m sure we’ll stay close. That’s what you really fear, isn’t it? That this house is the only thing tying us together?”

Taking a sip of the coffee, you nod silently. Even hearing Jin say it aloud strikes a note in your heart, and the pang of Yoongi’s absence flares up with it.

The therapist just gives you a warm, genuine smile. “Then I have good news, Y/n. It’s not true. Ask any one of us. The grounds we met may have been set up, but it’s far beyond that now, and I think you feel that yourself, deep down. At the very least, I fully intend to bless you with my companionship for the rest of your life. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Despite yourself, you let out a surprised laugh, and feel your worries ease. “As long as you still cook for me sometimes,” you bargain, and Jin mock-winces, before reaching out to link your pinky fingers together in promise. “You have a deal,” he declares, moments before you hear a rolling thunder of feet banging down the stairs.

Practically tumbling into the kitchen, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook barrel into each other with heavy breaths. All three have jackets on and are holding pairs of shoes, like they’re ready for a school trip. Jimin and Namjoon join behind them a few moments later, far more calmer than the formers, but are equally dressed-up.

“Guys!” Jungkook pants, hand whirling at the door like he’s directing traffic. “We gotta go!”

“Is Yoongi okay?” you ask immediately, heart skipping a beat at the fearful looks on their faces.

“No,” Taehyung says in a frantic, thick voice, “hyung said the hospital served him plain toast and orange juice for breakfast. With pulp! We gotta get something to him and his family fast, that’s like prison food!”

A heavy breath whooshes out of your lungs, and your body goes weak, nearly tipping your coffee over by the handle. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that! Okay, let me just get my jacket and we can head there. Jin already made some food.”

You’re just reaching the doorway before Namjoon sucks in a dramatic gasp. You turn around to watch him raise a hand to cover his mouth, looking around at all of you.

“How… How are we going to get there? We don’t have a car, and Sejin isn’t here today.”

Jimin’s shoulders sink, and his eyes fall shut in visible pain. “Shit. Then we only have one choice.”

Taehyung frowns and reaches back to rub Jimin’s shoulders in encouragement. “Hey, how bad can it be?”

Jimin stiffens and glares out the window as a beefy stranger in sweaty workout clothes bumps into him after the bus takes a tight left turn. “Hey, hyung?”

Jin, with one hand in his pants pocket and the other on one of the overhead loops, glances up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t suppose you’d have room for one more patient at your practice?”

With a click of his tongue, Jin shakes his head. “You’ll survive, Your Majesty.” The bus  hits a road bump at speed, sending the gym rat knocking into Jimin, pinning him against the side of the bus, before using Jimin’s shoulder to catch his balance again. Instead of apologising, the man gives a short laugh and moves back, lifting a hand up to grab onto the bar and exposing the dark sweat stain on his armpit. Jin’s face goes pale. “Tuesdays at seven.”

The professional porn star grits his teeth, staring past Jin’s broad shoulders to the scrolling LED display at the front of the bus, an automated voice announcing the stop in unison to the text running across the screen. “We’re the next stop,” he declares with a shiver of relief. “Come on; I’m heading to the doors.”

With a brute determination, Jimin winds past high school students, office workers and small families alike, collecting you all on the way. Most of you had managed to get seats together or sitting next to strangers, but Jimin and Jin were the last ones to get on (Jimin out of sheer reluctance, Jin because he’d taken on the role of counting heads) and missed out on the luxury of sitting down.

The bus driver truly had no qualms about speeding through the streets of Seoul, shaking the metal carriage from side to side with abandon. It was nothing you weren’t used to, but for Jimin, his first time riding a bus certainly didn’t seem to be a pleasant or tolerable one.

Before long, you’re on steady ground again, breathing in the cool air outside Severance Hospital. Now so close to Yoongi again, you feel anxious to get inside and find him, but Jin insists on double-checking you’re all still in one group. Once he’s satisfied, he leads from behind and you make your way to the front entrance of the massive building.

Inside, the lady at the reception directs you to the cafeteria, where Yoongi said he’d meet you. Secretly relieved that you weren’t going to his father’s hospital room, you make your way there and pick two tables by the windows, pushing them together to make enough room for the eight of you.

Even just counting the eight chairs has your eyes pricking, and you find yourself unable to sit still waiting for Yoongi. A single day feels like a lifetime of anxiety, and even as you and Taehyung watch Jungkook play a game on his phone with running commentary, your gaze keeps darting to the automatic doors every five seconds.

Because of your intense vigilance, it’s you who spots him first, the mop of dirty blonde hair (the mint barely still clinging to the ends) catching your eye the second the doors open.

You get up without words, leaving the group. Noticing your sudden absence, you hear them the moment they see Yoongi waving shyly and tiredly, but you have a few metres advantage, and it’s you who meets him halfway before anyone else.

It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from running in the hospital cafeteria, but by the time you get close enough to see the puffiness under his eyes, you dash the last few steps and wrap him in a tight hug, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Your heart is racing wildly, and you can feel an unmatched but equally frantic rhythm beat against you too, Yoongi holding onto you just as strongly.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

His voice brings tears to your eyes, harsh and unforgiving, and you have to fight the tremble in your lip to return the sentiment. You feel arms around you from behind, the pressure increasing as the others join the hug. The vulnerable tone of Jungkook, Namjoon’s broad hand on your shoulder, the relieved sigh from Taehyung, Jimin’s deceptively strong body weaving into the center. There’s an absence, still, and you all break apart the group hug after a few moments, seeking the final member out.

To your surprise, Jin is only a step behind you all. Preventing him from joining the hug, however, are the tears wetting his face and blurring his vision, eyes squeezed shut in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the wave of emotion. He sobs silently, breaths uneven and shoulders shaking, trying to wipe his face with clumsy hands but only soaking them too, knuckles pressed to his eyes.

Yoongi lets out a wounded noise, hurrying forward despite him exhaustion. “Hyung, hey, shh, I’m here.” He hooks onto Jin around his waist with one arm and gently tugs one of Jin’s hands away from his reddening face, pressing it to Yoongi’s own cheek in an invitation to look at him. “I’m okay. I’m here now, I’m with you.”

Jin hiccups, visibly fighting to calm down as he blinks through streaming eyes to look down at the younger man. “It wasn’t the same,” he sniffles, “it’s not right without you.” He takes in a single, laboured breath and swallows the thickness in his throat, slowly settling with Yoongi in his arms. “Is your dad okay?”

Yoongi lets out a laugh of disbelief, pulling Jin back towards the tables you’d been waiting at. The rest of you migrate there too, nobody wanting to let Yoongi get too far. “He’s doing fine, actually. Fine for a Min, at least. Near-death experience and he’s already getting my older brother to get him tickets for the Samsung Lions game next week.”

The eight of you sit, finally filling all the chairs the way it should be. Jin takes some tissues from Hoseok’s small satchel to clean up his face, nodding soberly. “That’s really good to hear, Yoongi-ah. All of us were so worried.”

Pressing his lips together in a sad smile, Yoongi looks around at you all. “I was too. I- I really appreciate you all coming in to visit. Dad’s recovering, but… it’s still scary. They’re keeping him here for a bit longer, and after that he’s going to live with my brother for a bit since he lives closer.”

Hoseok, on the other side of Yoongi, leans in for a side hug, pouting. “I can’t even imagine. How are the others holding up?”

“Mom’s doing okay. She’s always been the strongest out of all of us. Yoonji took it really hard. Her and dad have always been the closest. She hasn’t left his bedside since we got here. She says to say hi, though.”

Your heart aches for the poor girl, unable to picture her so despairing after how she’d been in her short time at the Villa. There’s a question on your tongue, but you feel hesitant about bringing it up at the wrong time.

Jungkook, however, has no such concerns, sitting beside you, opposite Yoongi, with bambi eyes. “Does that mean you’re coming back home, hyung?”

Yoongi lets out a small breath at the use of home, and nods after a moment. “Tomorrow, I think. I haven’t talked to Sejin about it yet.”

Jin presses his lips together. “Leave that up to us, Yoongi-ah, just focus on you and your family right now. Oh! That reminds me-” he pushes the bulging grocery bag down the table to Yoongi. “That’s for you all to have. Taehyung told me the food here wasn’t so good.”

“You didn’t have to,” Yoongi breathes, eyes wide as he glances between his hyung and the stacked tupperwares, “but thank you. I’m sure they’ll love your cooking as much as I do.”

“Ah, now you’re laying it on too thick,” Jin deflects with a wave of his hand, though you catch the pink in the tips of his ears. His eyes are still reddened, and when the attention is off him you think you catch his lip tremble a few times, but other than that he seems to have settled down again, relieved just as you are to have Yoongi in your company again.

Jungkook, on the other hand, hasn’t looked away from Yoongi for a single second, eyes wide and focused in as if he might vanish at any moment. The rest of you chat about how strange it is to be outside of the show, and how long ago that first night now feels, but Jungkook offers up nothing. He’s across from Yoongi, Taehyung lazily tugging his hand into his lap and leaning on his shoulder, but even that doesn’t deter his watchful gaze.

It’s not until Yoongi is sharing a story about the horror on his brother’s face when they received their first meal at the hospital that suddenly Jungkook is pitching forward in his seat, elbows crashing on the slightly wobbly cafeteria table. “Hyung!” he blurts, cutting the elder off mid-sentence.

Yoongi’s brows lift in shock, eyes darting to the youngest. “Yeah, Jungkookie?”

“Can I- can we, uh talk in private?” Jungkook swallows, looking smaller and more vulnerable than usual, wearing a zip-up hoodie that’s entirely too big for him and with his hair tucked behind his ears. After Yoongi acquiesces, the two disappear down a hall that leads to a private outdoor smoking area, leaving the remaining six of you in confused silence.

“What was that all about?” Hoseok asks after a moment, glancing back and forth at all of you. “Did I miss something?”

“I think we all missed something,” Namjoon responds quietly, equally befuddled. “Jungkook did seem pretty distressed.”

Taehyung, without a shoulder to lean on, sits up and tries to bury his worries. “Let’s just wait and see what happens when they get back. If it’s important, I’m sure they’ll tell us, right?”

“Maybe they’re just re-enacting The Bachelor,” Jin theories, “if Jungkook comes back with a single rose, be suspicious.” He pauses, eyes narrowed in thought. “Or Yoongi’s fly was down and Jungkook didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone. There are too many variables here.”

“They could be planning a surprise birthday party for one of us,” Hoseok offers up.

“Or one of us has been replaced by an alien and Yoongi is the only one Jungkook can trust,” Taehyung suggests, voice wary.

“Or they’re elo-” Jimin cuts himself off, head darting to the side. “Oh, here they come. Yeah, they definitely just eloped.”

The two guilty parties are doing a miserable job of playing casual. As they approach the table again, Yoongi is in front with red cheeks and bright eyes, surreptitiously pressing his lips together, and Jungkook is trailing behind with a hand fisted in the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt, unable to contain his grin.

“So…” Hoseok trails off meaningfully, beaming at the two of them. “When’s the honeymoon?”

Jungkook’s smile drops, replaced by genuine confusion. “Huh?”

Hoseok blinks. “Didn’t you two just-?”

“Just what?” Shaking off his frown, Jungkook cheers up again. “Hyung is letting me stay in the hospital overnight!”

“What?” you blurt out incredulously, not expecting that to be the reasoning for the strange meeting.

“I’ve never stayed overnight before,” Jungkook gushes, feet tapping on the floor tile in excitement, “and I read somewhere that the fourth floor is haunted. But you need to either be the one in hospital or be family for them to let you stay. Yoongi’s gonna vouch for me and say I’m his brother.”

“In exchange for…” Yoongi starts emphatically, eyes intense and serious.

Jungkook huffs, but it doesn’t dampen his obvious thrill. “In exchange for buying Yoongi lamb skewers from the restaurant down the street tonight and tomorrow morning. What a deal, right?”

Taehyung perks up, eyes wide. “Wait, can I stay too? I wanna see the ghosts!”

“There are no ghosts in the-” Jin begins with a sigh, but Jungkook interrupts, placing a gentle hand on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” he murmurs softly, “but the doctors would never believe you’re one of the Mins. You’re too hot.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open in apparent offense, before he cocks his head to the side. “You do realise you’re also insulting yourself, right, Jungkook?”

“Listen, that’s not important now,” Jungkook insists simply. “Tae-tae-hyung, I promise I’ll facetime you from the fourth floor. Be ready for the witching hour.”

Taehyung swallows in reverence and nods. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, pinching his brow. “What have I signed up for?”

By the time conversation naturally starts to die off, your social batteries draining, it’s time for Yoongi (and Jungkook, apparently) to go back up to the room for dinner. The remaining six of you make your way home on the bus with distinctly less fanfare than when you arrived, all a little exhausted from the onslaught of public spaces after being in the Villa for so long.

It’s weird how tiring it is just being in society, even when you weren’t really interacting with anyone else. But everyone seems to breathe a sigh of relief when you let yourselves in the front door and collapse in the living room inside, Jin making some coffee and the rest of you taking a moment to rest your weary feet.

The absence is still felt, even more so with Jungkook gone too, but it’s far less distressing. Instead, the quiet is a little calming, like a lazy day in after a stressful week. Jimin and Taehyung head upstairs early, and you let them go alone, sensing they’re wanting some time to themselves.

Downstairs, Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon and you spread out on two couches, cradling hot mugs to wake you up a little. It’s easy enough to sit in silence for a bit, but then Hoseok is sitting up, biting on his lip.

“If Yoongi-hyung is coming back tomorrow,” he starts softly, “then what does that mean for all of this? Do we just… start it back up? The competition, I mean.”

“I guess so,” you venture. “But we can’t exactly start a week on a Friday. Maybe Sejin will wait for Monday?”

“Eh, it’s all the same to me,” Jin quips. “Not much skin in the game anymore, huh?”

A flash of guilt strikes your face as you recall only days ago the way he’d been so blindsided by your elimination. It was hard to say if you regretted the decision; you’d originally hoped taking the competition out of the equation would make things simpler, but the fallout that followed and the unsteady peace between the two of you doesn’t really feel worth it. Despite that, there was no easy choice, and for all you know the exact thing could happen with whoever you vote out. You just wish you had some conviction for it.

Jin notices your expression and frowns, but before he can open his mouth, Namjoon pitches in. “I’m kind of dreading going back to it,” he admits, scratching at his knee through a small hole in his pants, “but at the same time I wish we could go back to it already. At least it was consistent. This whole break just makes me anxious.”

“It definitely isn’t fun,” Hoseok supports, sending Namjoon a reassuring smile. “But hyung said he’s coming back tomorrow, and Sejin has been good to us so far. Let’s have some faith that it’ll turn out fine!”

You bite down hard on your tongue. Even if it turns out fine, there’s only so much time you’ll have before you’ll have to boot another man out of the running of the game. Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi, Jungkook or Namjoon. Despite everyone feeling that your bond is stronger than just circumstance, you know it’s impossible not to take that decision personally, and you’re dreading going back to it.

Though, deep down - and it flares that guilt even stronger to think of it - part of you is growing restless, fidgety at having suddenly been deprived of the physical pleasures you’d grown used to receiving in such abundance. It’s only been two days, and you feel stupid for even noting your body’s yearning after such a short time, but it’s nonetheless there, and at least if you went back on schedule, you’d be able to indulge again.

Things felt so somber and serious when all you had were those swirling emotions, and no way to release them. But it feels wrong to even think about pursuing anything when the whole status of the group is on rocky footing.

“You’re thinking too hard.” The voice tugs you unceremoniously out of your haze with a gentle shove to accompany it. Jin, sitting beside you, has scooted closer to eye you with a warm albeit slightly concerned gaze. “What’s on your mind?”

“Everything,” you admit, and Namjoon makes a noise of agreement from the other couch. Hoseok has an arm slung over his shoulders, and you blink in surprise at the casual contact the two of them are sharing. Neither of them have seemed to be the touchy type since you’ve met them, but they appear perfectly comfortable. You make a mental note to keep an eye on them, but it quickly dissolves in your brain the moment Jin puts a hand on your knee and gently squeezes it.

“Hey,” he buffs in a low voice, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah? You boys up to join? It’s still warm out.”

“We’ll head up,” Hoseok says after a glance shared with Namjoon, “it’s been a long day.”

“That it has.” Jin squeezes your knee once more and gets up as the two others heave themselves off the couch and thud upstairs. Holding out a hand to you, the eldest helps you up and leads you out back, linking your arms tightly and walking side-by-side with you out the back door.

The stars are blocked from view by cloud, but the moon provides enough waxy light to see by, the grass glinting silver. Like two lovers from a Jane Austen book taking a turn around a room, the two of you begin a lap around the expansive backyard, following the path.

“This feels very cheesy,” you admit to Jin, glancing up at him with a bemused smile. If you’re honest with yourself, the distinct oddity of wandering around a lawn late at night for no apparent reason is enough to distract you from your worries.

Jin returns your smile broadly, and presses you a little closer to his side. “All the more fun, don’t you think? The cameras aren’t even on. We can actually enjoy the privacy for once.”

You sigh out filaments of tension with every breath, the cooler night air easing your lungs. “That’s true. I haven’t actually come out here often.”

“I noticed. Afraid of the sun?”

“Oh, please,” you defend, “if either of us is a vampire it’s clearly you.”

Taking a few, quiet steps, Jin hums calmly, then suddenly lunges for your throat. A startled yelp leaves you as his face buries in the crook of your neck, and your shoulders rise up to wiggle away from the cold tip of his nose. “St-ah-stop!”

He pulls back, satisfied at his own joke and how effectively it caught you by surprise, but the adrenaline from the sudden fright has you giggling hopelessly, using your free hand to press against your mouth.

“Oh my god, you’re so mean,” you whine, but there’s only playful pouting in your tone, no real malice.

Jin clicks his tongue, entirely unruffled as if he’d never launched himself at you. “What can I say? Daddy is getting old, I think I’d prefer being called Sire.”

You splutter on air, reaching over to whack him. “Be careful what you wish for. I know several kinky little shits in this house that would take you up on that.”

“Strange,” Jin muses, “that you seem to think you’re not one of them.” He sends a smirk down at you, but as you stare up at him too, the gaze softens. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t make those jokes when we can’t actually- Never mind.”

Without intending to, you come to a stop, stepping across from him so you can see him head-on. “The cameras aren’t on,” you point out. “The show is paused.”

Jin’s brows come together, his lids lowering. “Y/n…”

“We could. Not even the- the whole kinky thing, just…” You bite down on your tongue at the reluctance on Jin’s face. “If you wanted to.”

He exhales raggedly, stepping closer and placing his broad hands on the sides of your shoulders. “Of course I want to,” he says, enunciating each word with intentioned care, “but you voted me off, Y/n.”

A chill runs through you, though the air is unchanged. “But Jin, the- we aren’t- that doesn’t matter, the show isn’t even-”

“I understand that,” he allows, closing his eyes briefly with a slight shake of the head, “but I’m going to respect your decision, even if you don’t. I want to do this the right way.”

Your heart sinks, unable to be mad even as humiliation stings your cheeks red. “I don’t even know when the show will end, it could be longer because of this break.”

“And I’m a patient man,” Jin states. You can feel the finality in the air. His choice wasn’t going to change, and you no longer have the energy to try. Instead, you just nod silently, missing the atmosphere only five minutes ago when you hadn’t put yourself on the line and gotten rejected.

His hands on your shoulders feel hot, anchoring you, and acknowledging them only makes your eyes prick more, wishing you could feel his whole body against you again. Knowing that you - god, that you loved him - and that he felt strongly about you too, but that you’d voted him out just to make things easier… It didn’t feel easy now. It didn’t feel worth it now.

“I think it’s time for me to go to bed now,” you say hollowly. You can’t imagine sleep will come kindly, but you feel the desire to be alone and bury yourself deep under the covers until morning. Perhaps longer.

Before you can pull away, Jin leans in, and your heart stops.

With eyes fluttering closed instinctively, you feel lips press chastely, but meaningfully against your cheekbone, before a soft whisper wishes you goodnight.

When he stands up again, you open your eyes and blink harshly, willing the pooling tears not to fall before you’re out of his sight. Emotion is swelling and crashing inside you like a storm at sea, and all you can manage is to choke out, “that’s not fair,” before you’re rushing across the grass, uncaring if your socks get dirty or stained, and barreling up the stairs with tears rendering your vision useless.

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 2

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?” “Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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

Tulipa Princess Irene ~ An eye-catching tulip whose unique lavender markings on apricot petals make it unforgettable to any who gaze upon it.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

With one last glimpse in your direction, Levi followed your grandmother out of the room. Just as he was about to ascend the stairwell he was met with a gasp. Your grandmother was hunched over the railing, eyeing a suspicious piece of material.

“Is that a piece of titan skin on my mahogany railing?” She shrieked in horror, craning her neck to look at Levi who stood bewildered at the top of the stairs.

“And you got my floor all bloody.” She complained shaking her head. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would have the audacity to leave your disgusting boots on while walking through a lady’s house.”

Levi stared at her in disbelief. Is she fucking serious? Y/N was just bleeding out and she’s worried about her damned floors being dirty?

His glare remained cold and unwavering but he felt anger swell in his chest. He dug his nails into the wood of the railing and his pupils dilated. Before he had time to do anything, however, she suddenly burst out in a hearty cackle.

“Hah, gotcha. Don’t get your panties in a twist, shorty, I’m just teasing you. That was a test and you passed. Good to know you care about her health more than cleanliness. You can help me clean it up later, we are going to be spending a lot of time together after all.” Then she waddled down the stairs without sparing a single glance back. Levi was dumbfounded. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack from the combination of the lingering shock of the expedition and all the palpitations your grandmother was giving him. No amount of formal training, combat or political, could have ever prepared him to deal with this woman.

He followed behind as she scuttled through the archway to the right of the foyer. This room was the kitchen. It was open just like the rest of the house; windows decorated with cream doilies framed by dark paneled walls and a large island counter with stools in the center. The style of decor was modest but the layout screamed extravagance just like the previous rooms. Every space he entered he couldn’t help but gawk at its contents, it was far nicer than any place he had ever called home. He felt so out of place; like a poorman who had just walked into the prince’s quarters. This uncomfortable feeling kept him standing in the entrance; hand nursing his torn shoulder as another streak of red hot pain traveled up his back.

“Why are you standing there all hunched over like that? Are you sulky because you don’t get to get stitched up in a king size bed with pillows sewn with love and a cutie little nightgown? This kitchen isn’t as luxurious but I promise I’ll get the job done just the same; so get in here.”

He reluctantly entered the room and scooted into one of the stools, the metal bottoms scraping against the timbered floors as he took a seat. He rested his head on one hand while the other massaged his shoulder.

“Haven’t spent proper time with my granddaughter since walls know when and this is hardly the reunion I was imagining." Your grandmother muttered as she lit the gas burner on the iron stove. Levi watched the tiny blue flames dance into existence before settling into a warm orange.

“How long do you think she’s-” He attempted to ask, the tone of his voice rising significantly before it cracked.

“Going to be asleep?” He croaked. “By Ymir, are you going through puberty again?” She snorted and Levi’s features became icy.

“You like tea don’t you?” Levi nodded slowly. She didn’t look at him to check his response as she stood on her tiptoes to grab a glass from a higher shelf and the kettle from the side of the stove.

“Of course you do. My girl goes on and on about how it’s your life force.” She filled the kettle up with water before placing it on the burner, the stray droplets sizzling when they came in contact with the open flame.

“I’ll make you some tea with ginger root, that should help your sore throat. But for now drink some water, you sound like you’ve been huffing cannon smoke.” She filled the small glass with water and handed it to him. He gratefully accepted it and hummed in satisfaction when the cool liquid soothed the fissures in his throat.

“And to answer your question; I don’t have a damned clue. That gash on her side is beyond nasty. Her body is going to need a lot of rest to recover from all the shock, trauma, and blood loss she’s undergone.” Your grandmother placed a smaller kettle on the counter.

Levi watched as she sifted through her tea cabinet, swearing under her breath when she couldn’t find what she was looking for. For someone who was in the later years of their life she had remarkable posture. She carried herself with a confidence that retained her youth. She dressed simply, donning a long sleeved dress of a muted navy color, but aspects of her clothing reflected her wealth. Her shawl looked as if it was made out of cashmere; a commodity that not many people outside of Wall Sina had access to. She looked nothing like you, and her personality was sure as hell different. Her long silver locks were braided and wrapped into a neat bun at the top of her head. Her features were chiseled; a high brow ridge and straight nose were supported by a strong jawline. The only physical similarity you shared was your eyes. They shared the same structure, although yours were a little more almond shaped, and sparkled with the same excitement.

“Take off your shirt. Your boots, too, while you’re at it.” She commanded out of the blue, dipping a needle into a bottle of alcohol once and shaking it.

Levi was reluctant to undress, even though he knew he had to eventually. He never had any problem disrobing for the corps’ medical staff, unless it was Hange; he only let her near him if she didn’t have scissors in hand. That was story for another time.  But this was your grandmother. It feltweird .

Levi hesitated at her request. She pursed her lips when she got no response.

“Relax, you’re not my type. Too short and toned. I like my men lanky-” She looked him directly in the eyes while she snipped the surgical thread.

“-so I’m able to snap them in two.”

This woman was truly an enigma. Levi’s mind couldn’t process how she could switch from sweet to salty within moments. He found himself more at a loss for words in these last few hours than he had been in his entire life. And he’s not a man of many words.

Y/N please wake up quickly . He pleaded in his mind as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He then shrugged it from his shoulders, hissing when the fabric scraped against his wound. Your grandmother came to his side and examined his exposed back. The gash stood out against his pale skin, the area surrounding it dappled with light bruising. She pressed a cold fingertips to the area, goosebumps freckling his skin in response.

“One of those big nasties barely grazed ya, if your position had been a couple centimeters to the right you probably wouldn’t have a spinal cord.” She mused, threading the needle through the surgical thread. What lovely images your grandmother painted with her words.

She dabbed a washcloth in the alcohol and began ridding Levi’s gash of the dirt and dried blood. His features contorted when the stinging liquid met his skin. Her cleaning was abruptly halted with the shrill scream of the kettle filled the room.

“Oh! The tea is finished.” She squealed, leaving her place at Levi’s side to take it off the burner. She then appeared before him and pushed the mug into his empty hands. The hot spice of the liquid hurt his chapped lips as he drank. But damn did it feel good. His whole body was blanketed in a serene numbing.

“Alrighty-you want the belt? You shouldn’t need it, though, it's not that deep.” She offered. Levi shook his head and took another sip of the tea.

“Okay, ready shorty?” She asked, pressing her hands to his back.

“Yeah.” He replied breathily, relaxing his muscles in preparation. Then Levi felt a pinch, followed by a tug, and then a dull burning as she weaved the needle in and out of his skin.

“So is my tea up to par with what you drink back at headquarters?” She spoke up after a moment.

“It’s good.”

“Just good?” She huffed and gave him a ginger slap on the shoulder.

I’m glad Y/N didn’t inherit her personality. She’s too fucking much to deal with.

“Hmm what was that?” She pulled the needle just a little too hard for Levi’s liking. He gasped and sucked a breath inward.

“I didn’t say anything.” He winced, gritting his teeth as she entered a particularly tender area.

“Now you’re starting to sound normal. You have a sexy voice, I see why Y/N likes you.” She cackled into his ear. Levi faltered and coughed, tea burning his throat as it entered the wrong airway. She took so much enjoyment in tormenting him and all this relentless teasing was going to push him past his breaking point.

“Why don’t you tell me a story to pass the time? Although your wound isn’t deep, it’s going to take me a little while to get it all cleaned up.”

“I don’t know any stories.” He responded blandly.

“I didn’t mean tell me a bedtime story. I wanna know about you and Y/N. That way I can get to know the person who is courting my granddaughter.”

She let the request sink in before speaking again.

“How did the two of you meet?”

“Officially?”

She hummed in agreement.

“She was delivering paperwork for me and she knocked over a box of my tea.” Levi explained, a small smile dancing across his lips. Your grandmother let out an artificial gasp and Levi clicked his tongue.

“Clumsy girl.” She chuckled, pulling the thread taut.

↞♞♘↠

Stop being nervous, Y/N, you’re just dropping off some papers and then you can leave right after. Your hands on the stack of parchment felt clammy and you picked the edges of the paper uneasily with your fingers.

Confident and assertive. That’s what your grandmother told you to be before you enlisted in the corps. However you found it difficult to live up to these words as the recipient of these important documents scared the absolute living hell out of you. You had had minimal interactions with him, and all of them unpleasant. It didn't help either that the horror stories you had heard from other cadets made your skin crawl. Surely he couldn’t be that bad though, right? After all, your cousin was constantly in his presence and they weren’t scared of him.

As long as you look like you can kick someone’s ass, you can. You repeated another one of your grandmother’s mantras in your head as you knocked on the large wooden door with a firm hand.  

Nothing.

You knocked again, this time slightly louder, and abruptly drew into yourself as you awaited a response. Nothing.

Maybe he’s out? You thought, contemplating coming back later. You waved the idea off, however, as your squad leader had told you to meet them back at the training grounds immediately after you dropped the papers off. And they intimidated you too, although not to the extent of the Captain. You began to get jittery as you tried to think of the best thing to do.

Maybe the door is unlocked? I’ll just sneak in, drop the papers on his desk and run out. If he blames someone for breaking into his office he can blame Squad Leader. The plan seemed foolproof in your mind.

Wrapping your hand around the door knob you hesitantly turned it clockwise. A crisp click broke the tense silence, signaling that the door was indeed unlocked. To your delight you pushed it forward cautiously, the wood creaking painfully loud as you did so.

Before entering the vacant quarters you poked your head in and scanned any visible inch for tiny officer before calling out. Yet again you were met with silence. You swiftly padded to his desk and stacked the parchment neatly in the middle, taking caution not to knock over the inkwell or misplace any other of the contents of the table. Fighting against your conscience, you found it irresistible not to to look at the contents of the office. You were already in here, and if the universe was on your side, would never have to come back here again. Despite your fear for the man, you harbored an immense curiosity for him. Everything about him was shrouded in mystery; from his childhood to his enlistment to even just his favorite book. So, while you were here why not just have a quick look and then be gone?

Only the main room, though. You thought, gaze falling on the door to his private quarters. If he found you in there you would surely be skinned alive.

Your eyes floated from the bare and spotless walls to the velvety fuchsia victorian couch, to the brick fireplace, and finally to a small distinctive box on what you presumed to be his tea cabinet. You gasped in surprise, stepping closer to get a better view. It sat right next to a beautifully painted porcelain teapot among other boxes of tea in his collection. The tin was very familiar to you; your grandmother’s favorite tea. The box depicted a beautifully intricate war ship, its sails open to the wind and bow wet with the crashing waves. It was like laying eyes on an old childhood friend and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Oi Cad-” A low voice broke the stillness of the room, causing you to squeak and slap the box of tea right off the shelf. It’s top fell off with a pop and the ground tea leaves scattered across the floor. You stood there, mouth agape, frozen in fear. Maybe if you didn’t move you could dissolve through the floorboards and fade into another dimension.

“What. The. Fuck ?” He seethed, though his composure and expression remained devoid of emotion. His words made you shiver and you shakily straightened up.

“I-Captain I’m so, so so sorry. I came to deliver these documents because Squad Leader said that they were very important so it felt weird holding onto them for such a long time and then I saw this tea that I used to drink as a child and I swear I wasn’t trying to take it and then you startled me-”

“Just-stop.” The Captain held one arm out while the other rubbed his forehead in frustration. He looked like he was trying to collect himself. You sucked in a breath and awaited for your imminent death. Although it didn’t come as swiftly as you had presumed, and in a last ditch effort to redeem yourself in whatever way you could you spoke up.

“Let me clean it up, please!” You pleaded, your hands clasped together in front of you.

The Captain removed his hand to look at you and nodded his head in approval. When you made eye contact it felt like your soul was about to climb out of your body. You exhaled the breath you had been holding and picked up the tin and neatly placed it back on the shelf. Meanwhile, the captain had fetched a broom and a dustpan from the closet. You gratefully took them.

As you started to sweep the pellets of tea into a pile the captain took a seat at his desk, sinking into the chair with a tired exhale. He grabbed the top document and read it over, still expressionless. He mumbled  fucking request forms when you swept the last pebble of tea into the dustpan. Rising, you moved to the corner of the desk to dispose of them in the trash can.

“Um, these go in there?” You asked, pointing towards the closet and the captain grunted in affirmation. It looked like he had gotten over his initial anger which eased your beating heart.

“Why were you touching my tea in the first place? Trying to steal it, Cadet?” His sudden comment caught you off guard, the dustpan fumbling in your fingers.

“N-No not at all! I was just admiring, I swear. It’s my grandmother’s favorite I just wanted to take a closer look…” You trailed off as you placed it neatly in the closet, shutting the door. He looked at you, his features set in stone so you couldn’t gage his reaction. You wondered how he would look with emotions. You weren’t going to stick around to find out.

His brows were so furrowed that they almost met his metallic eyes. His intensity made your intestines twist around each other.

"I-if you need me to I promise I can report for extra cleaning duty if my squad lea-"

"I know who you are. That won't be necessary." He interjected. You felt like a cow being sized up by its butcher.

"You...you do?" You asked tentatively. The moment the words left your mouth you felt like an utter dunce for questioning him. You hoped it was from your familial connection rather than your training slip ups.

The captain nodded once.

"You started working with Hange recently." He stated, his tone running along a flat plateau.

“Yes sir. I am from the 104th class, so technically I’m still in training. But I started apprenticing with Squad Leader last week.” You had gone into training with your childhood friend, but had graduated more quickly than others in your training group because of your extensive knowledge of life systems and quick mastering of combat training. What still held you back, though, was maneuvering the 3DMG gear. You just didn't understand how someone was supposed to stay in the air for longer than five seconds. So, in that aspect you still had a lot more training to complete. But when Hange caught wind of you she practically captured you and took you in as her apprentice.

“So you’re the brat the two of them been going on and on about?” His quizzical behavior set you on edge. One wrong answer and you would be sent to the slaughterhouse.

“Y-yes I guess. Before enlisting I was training with a biologist.” He made that grunting noise again and nodded once more. He really was a man of little words.

“Well sir, if you don’t need me for anything else I’ll be taking my leave. I’m sorry again I spilled your tea.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded again.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you!” You proclaimed, forming the best salute you could muster and turning to exit the premises.

‘Cadet Y/N.” He called, stopping you before you could depart. The hairs on the back of your neck as he proved he had knowledge of your name.

“Yes sir?” You stood awkwardly and awaited his response.

"Don't come snooping in my office again." He ordered sternly before shooing you gently with his hand.

↞♞♘↠

“So she was scared of you at first? Hah, what a softy. I see why though, the first thing you said to her included the word fuck.  Not exactly smooth or inviting.” Your grandmother's words were harsh but they held a tone of endearment to them.

“Alrighty that lil’ scratch is all closed up now!” She declared proudly, leaning back and admiring her handy work. Levi stretched his back and ran his shoulder in circles to get some movement back into his stiff joints.

“Thank you.”

She smiled softly, the wrinkles under her eyes crinkling. She then turned her attention to the stove to begin preparing dinner. As Levi continued to stretch, a sudden, pressing problem he forgotten about popped into his mind.

‘Ah!” Levi gasped in recollection.

“‘Ah!’ what?” She mocked his surprised comment, not taking her gaze away from chopping onions.

“The horse.” He said frazzled with his gaze fixed on the front door. He shot up, ignoring the screaming protests by his shoulder, and was about to grasp the brass doorknob before your grandmother cleared her throat.

“A little eager aren’t we, Mr. Shirtless? You planning on flashing my neighbors?” She chimed throwing him his shirt with a playful smirk. Levi felt heat on his cheeks and averted her gaze.

“The stable is out back behind the shed.” She yelled from the kitchen as Levi slipped on his boots with haste. Buttoning the dirtied fabric he didn’t bother to tuck it into his trousers as he padded down the stairs to search the property for your horse. With the day coming to an end the landscape before him looked like something out of a postcard; birds fluttering about returning to their nests, the evening sunlight breathing warmth onto the flower fields. He would have never expected a place so idyllic existed within Wall Rose. He envisioned settling down with you at a place like this once this hell was over.

As expected, your horse wasn’t in the place you had left him. Levi puffed his cheeks and lazily looked around for the shed. He vouched to start from the left side of the house. He rotated his shoulder blades, feeling the tightness of the stitches and cracked in his neck. When he reached the side of the house the shed your grandmother had been talking about came into view. It looked more like a house than a shed to Levi as it was even bigger than most houses in the underground. A glorified shed indeed; freshly painted, nothing hanging off the sides and no equipment haphazardly strewn around the base.

“Alright you little shit where are you?”

Walking aimlessly around the shed proved fruitful, as peeking out from one side of the grand structure was movement. Approaching carefully he rounded the corner of the building to find what he was looking for. Your horse stood with his back towards him but sluggishly looked his way upon sensing his presence.

He looked awful. Dried blood caked of his cobalt coat and scratches littered his body, exposing the surface of his skin. His muscular neck hung low and he was favoring one of his back legs, hoof resting just above the ground. Levi felt bad for him.

“Damn you look fucking horrible.” He said aloud, looking him up and down.

Your horse snorted and glared back.

“What? You do.” He answered, instantly cringing after. He couldn’t believe he was talking to a horse. You did it all the time, however. You even claimed that he understood you on a spiritual level , but Levi thought it was just bunch of, well, horse shit.

Did he have a surprise concussion he didn’t remember getting? Did he have a hallucinogenic fever making him inclined to speak to animals? Placing the back of his palm on his forehead, he checked his temperature. No heat, just clammy.

As he closed the distance between the two your horse didn’t make a run for it like he usually did. He really is in bad shape if he isn't running.

Levi grabbed the grimy reins just below your horse’s chin and lightly tugged. He almost tripped over his boots at the sudden lack of movement. Whipping his head around he saw your horse hadn’t moved at all. His shoulder started to sting again.

“Let’s go.” He commanded, giving the reins one more small tug.

No movement. Even in his injured state the horse was still a pain in the ass.

He tugged more firmly, even clicking his tongue a couple times.

Nothing.

Levi then began stepping backwards slowly, pulling the reins as he did so. Your horse followed him with his head until he had stretched his neck as far as he could go without moving. Although Levi affectionately referred to him as a little shit, your horse was in fact a large shit. He was one of the largest horses within the Survey Corps which also made him very troublesome to move. And Levi realized that no amount of pulling was going to get him to budge.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. He was about to do it again.

“I know your favorite person isn’t here right now but, please? Y/N would want you to be someplace safe and cleaned up.” He blankly stared into its amber eyes and it stared right back.

When Levi tugged again, he slowly began to follow.

“Are you fucking serious.” He rolled his eyes and headed towards the stable.

↞♞♘↠

“Squad Leader I messed up, literally.” Your opening statement had the woman slightly worried, but mostly intrigued.  

“Y/N. For the fiftieth time I told you to call me Hange, just Hange.” She responded cheerfully before laying eyes on your nervous form. She quirked an eyebrow and gestured to the lounge chair slightly to the left of her desk. You sank into it and let out a shaky breath before explaining the situation. Throughout the story, Hange had to stifle her laughter which caused your frown to deepen.

“That’s the most excitement shorty has gotten in a while.” She giggled, the severity of the situation going completely over her head. You curled up and groaned, placing your head in your hands.

“Aw, Y/N don’t be upset. You messed up and you apologized, that’s all you could have done. It’s not like shorty is going to kill you or anything.” She came to the back of the lounge chair and enveloped you in a hug.

“He does love his tea though…” She trailed off, cocking her head in contemplation. You let out a muffled cry and wiggled in her grasp.

“Ah-no I didn’t mean to stress you out! In all seriousness nothing bad will happen to you, I’ll see to that. You know how many brats annoy him on the daily? You are just another one of those cadets to him at most.” She reassured, rubbing your shoulders gently. She lowered her voice and matched his tone perfectly when she imitated his favorite insult. A little bubble of laughter rose from your chest.

“But if it’s really bothering you-” She gave your shoulders one last squeeze before returning to her desk. “You could buy him some more. Only if you can afford it, that is.”

You would have to use up a significant amount of this month's savings, because from experience you knew that stuff was not the cheapest, but if it meant that you wouldn’t suffer a lifetime of torture it would be a worthwhile monetary sacrifice.

↞♞♘↠

Levi led your horse into the stable, passing your grandmother’s other horses before stopping at an empty stall and placing him inside. He gingerly removed his saddle and bridle, careful not to nick any exposed skin.

I have my work cut out for me. He rolled up the fabric of his shirt up to his elbows before gathering the grooming supplies. Levi brushed out as much of the dried bits of blood as he could, sponged him down with warm water, and finished with bandaging the tender area just above his back hoof. The last part was particularly hard on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

He evaluated the equine's condition from head to hoof. Levi had cleaned him up to the best of his abilities and resolved that there was nothing more he could do at the moment. He ran his hand along his neck, giving his coarse pelt a few long strokes, before stepping out of the stall and locking the stable door.

“Good night, little shit. Don’t even think about unlocking that door.”

↞♞♘↠

A few days after the tea incident you had decided to go into town to try to find a new tin. At dinner the previous night, Mikasa had offered to accompany you to help you find a replacement. Besides Hange, she was the only other person who knew of the event. As insignificant as spilling tea was compared to the other stories told by your fellow cadets you still didn't want your mishap spreading around. If your best friend knew about your little mistake you knew you were in for a life of relentless teasing. Not that you didn't already experience that, but you didn't want it going around that you had gotten on the Captain's bad side.

Mikasa had sworn to keep it on the down low, and you were grateful to her for that. The two of you had grown quite close in training as both of you excelled at hand to hand combat. From constantly training together you quickly found out the two of you had much in common and that you got along extremely well. Plus you were happy to have another girl around with all the testosterone floating about the 104th class. Mikasa and you had both grown up around boys, and even though you loved them, albeit them being idiots, it was refreshing to have other friends that were girls. Eren and Armin were attatched to her at the hip so you became more friendly with them as well.

“Hey ugly.” An upbeat voice called in your direction.

“Hey horse-face.” You shot back, looking up from your place at the fence.

“Please don’t start calling me that too. If you do, it will stick for sure.” Jean whined, crossing his arms.

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop calling me ugly.” You teased, sticking your tongue out at the taller boy. Jean huffed in annoyance but smiled when you tried to hit him.

“You actually look nice today, all jokes aside. Got a date today?” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in closer to playfully look you in the eyes. Shoving him away you clicked your tongue.

You had in fact traded in your regular street clothes for something a little fancier, yet still casual. You donned a soft yellow sundress that made you feel less sweaty in the summer heat, pulled some of your short hair into a braid and had put on a ghosting of makeup. It had been awhile since you had the opportunity to dress up, so even if this was just going into town you wanted to take that chance to feel not dirty and grimy like you did during training.

“Would you believe it if I told you that I got all pretty for you, Jeanie~” You cooed, sticking out your bottom lip and looking up at him from under your lashes. Jean gagged in an exaggerated manner and mouthed a yuck before you started playfully kicking him.

“Uhm-guys?” A timid voice piped up, causing both you and Jean to stop mid limb-throwing to stare at the source of the sound.

“Ah! Hey Armin, Mikasa!” You instantly collected yourself and smiled brightly.

“By all means, don’t stop fighting. It was just getting good.” Mikasa added, a small smirk on her features. You abruptly disentangled yourself from Jean and placed your hair back in its position.

“Eren’s not coming?” You tilted your head in confusion. This trip into town was supposed to be the four of you until Jean insisted on joining.

It’s actually better off he’s not coming otherwise those two would be down each other's throats the entire time. You eyed Jean who was fiddling with his shirt.

Armin shook his head before explaining. “No, he has special training with the Captain.” The Captain. His name was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Horse-face is coming with us into town?” Mikasa asked flatly. You nodded and Jean looked at her with minor offense.

“Yeah, he begged to come along. That’s how much I mean to him.” You linked your arm with his and gripped his forearm hard, cozying up to his side.

“N-no it’s not like that at all.” He stuttered, blush alight on his cheeks. He desperately tried to maneuver out of your grasp but you kept him hanging off your arm like a limp noodle. Armin laughed nervously and Mikasa flashed an amused smile. The way you manhandled Jean was quite an amusing sight.

“Please put up with him for a few hours for me; I had to tolerate him all throughout my childhood.” You pleaded, tugging on his arm causing his balance to falter in your direction.

The nearest town was within walking distance. You and Jean strolled side by side a few paces behind the other two in your party down the main street. Armin’s enthusiastic chattering could faintly be heard from your position. Jean, however, was the total opposite of Armin, and had begun sulking since you had embarrassed him earlier. He would not stop pouting, so you nudged him in the ribcage to snap him out of his pity party. He yelped in surprise and shot you a dirty look.

“Look I’m sorry for teasing you in front of her earlier.” You apologized, poking him on the arm. He gave you a confident smirk, which you knew as the start of his suave act, cool boy act.

“Pft- you mean Mikasa? I don’t care what she thinks.” He responded all too nonchalantly. You deadpanned. If your best friend was proficient in anything it was bullshit.

“You’ve been staring at her this whole time.” You commented, your companion’s confident facade faltering.

“Huh? I’m just walking.”

“I may be ugly but I’m not dumb, dumbass.” You snorted. “I know you like her, but there are no signs pointing towards she’s interested. You might as well date Marco.”

Jean swallowed wrong and began to have a coughing fit. Your firm pats on his upper back only worsened his condition.

“W-what? Why would I date him?” He gasped and jerked his head in your direction.

You were about to explain when Mikasa suddenly stopped.  

“We’re here.” She called out. Jean and Armin looked towards the painted sign of the tea shop in confusion.

“We came all the way out here to get tea?” Jean questioned, unamused and still trying to recover from his coughing fit.

“You know how much I love tea.” You trilled. You made an attempt to ruffle his hair but he batted you away.  

“Since you think it's lame you and Armin can go somewhere cooler, like the book store or something.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Mikasa interjected, sending an apologetic look towards Armin before shuffling you into the shop.  

“Jean don’t be a dick, please!” You called out before disappearing into the shop.

It was a humble store stocked with countless varieties of tea and various kitchen wares. It was also the only shop that sold tea in this small town, so if they didn’t have the type you were looking for you were screwed. The two of you split up in search for the tea, but your searches came up empty as you scanned every display in sight.

“Is this it?” Mikasa asked, holding up a similar looking container. You shook your head, feeling defeat set in. A small man appeared in your peripheral vision.

“Excuse me, madam, is there something I can help you find?” His hands were clasped together neatly at his front and he wore a wide smile that was barely visible underneath his graying mustache.

“A-ah yes. Do you have Queen Mary tea?” Your question seemed to light up his eyes.

“Oh yes! Quite and aromatic and rich tea, isn't it?” He beamed, leading you to a display where familiar tins were expertly stacked along one of the top shelves. The anxieties that had plagued you for the past few days were all swept away when you saw that little warship. Thanking the employee, you purchased two tins, one for the Captain and one for your grandmother.

“Let’s hope this will set me in the clear.” You said with slight apprehension. Mikasa silently placed a hand on your shoulder as you left the shop and made your way down the cobblestone street.

↞♞♘↠

Upon Levi’s return to the house the sun had set and the moon was already creeping up the sky.

“Why did you take so long?” Your grandmother prodded as if she were interrogating her teenage son.

“He was hiding.” Levi explained as he shoved his boots off his feet.

“...the horse?” She questioned, eyebrow raised. Levi nodded in conformation, plopping rather ungracefully onto one of the kitchen stools. She shook her head in disbelief but didn’t pry any further.

“Here, eat up.” She said, sliding a plate across the table. Bratwurst dressed with sauerkraut and two slices of buttered bread on blue china laid before him. His mouth must have been visibly watering because she puffed with laughter.

“When you’re done please go to bed. You look like shit, bet you feel like it too.” She cackled. There was a small piece of Levi that was beginning to find her dryness endearing.

“Thank you.” He expressed his gratitude before digging into the food. She grunted in response.

“Well-I’ll quit bothering you tonight. The two of you almost made it to Valhalla today so you deserve a full night’s sleep.” She stifled the flames on the stove and took her leave but not before stopping in the doorway.

“I’m going to go check on her again before heading off to bed myself. I’ve prepared one of the guest rooms for you, it’s the last door on the left.” Levi looked up mid bite of his sausage and swallowed before speaking.

“Thank you.”

“Sheesh is that all you know how to say?” She turned back once more in the entryway with a warm smile.

“Eat quickly and get some sleep, otherwise you won’t grow any taller.” Her barking laughter bounced off the walls and harmonized with the creaking of the stairs as she ascended them.

After he finished his meal he went to check on you again. Your condition looked the same; gentle limps strewn across lavender silk and color flushed from your complexion. He slowly pulled the covers up to reveal your bandaged torso. An opaque layer of red rested beneath the layers of gauze, meaning you were still bleeding through the stitches. The hand he used to place the covers over you once more moved to rest against your cheek. He had some false hope in his head that you would react to his touch, but you laid still as ever. Levi prayed you were sleeping as blissfully as you looked, that your peaceful expressions and steady breaths didn’t hold a secret sea of turmoil behind them. He placed a loving kiss to your forehead and reluctantly drew away from you.

He initially thought he would have trouble sleeping, both from his unconventional sleeping habits and the earlier events, but when his head hit the downed pillow the mattress absorbed all the tension in his muscles. His eyes instantly fluttered shut and Levi was engulfed in a tranquil darkness that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. The last thing he heard before he was washed into the the void was that melodious laughter of yours.

↞♞♘↠

Okay, Y/N you can really do it now. He’s positively in there this time.

So after returning from town, here you stood at the climax of your tea saga. The freshly brewed kettle shook with the small tremors of your hands and the cream almost spilled as they gripped the edges of the tray.You attempted to form a determined visage before knocking twice with your foot.

Confident and assertive. Confident and assertive. Confiden-

“Name and business.” Oh god this is actually happening. The situation had manifested from hypothetical to real in a matter of a few words.

“Cadet Y/N, sir.” You specified, eyes locked on the chipping varnish of the door.

“Come in.” A voice with the richness and texture of red wine answered.

It was then you fully realized how preoccupied your hands were and began fumbling to open the door. The Captain heard a symphony of clanking and thudding and rose to his feet.

The next thing you knew the door was being swung open, causing you to falter and barely stop the tray from tumbling from your hold. The Captain regarded you with his usual unwavering expression. His inability to change facial expressions sent you spiraling further into a world of nerves. He said nothing as you straightened yourself up.

“Good evening, Captain.” Meeting his gaze, you smiled. You hoped it looked natural but to your superior you just looked constipated.

“I wanted to apologize again for what happened two days ago, sir.” You started, adjusting the grip on the tray. The Captain’s metallic features dropped from your face to the contents of your hands.

“So I bought you more tea as a replacement, and I brewed a fresh pot for you. Squad Leader said you usually drink tea in the mornings and evenings, and I had to train this morning so I decided this was the best time…” You trailed off towards the end of your speech, remembering how he silenced your rambling before.

The Captain didn’t know how to react. No brat, nor anyone for that matter, had ever gone to this length over something so simple as spilling a sachet of tea. Sure he was annoyed when it happened, but never did he expect you to purchase a whole new tin for him. He new tea was not an affordable commodity, especially this brand. He was the tiniest bit touched.

“You bought this?” He asked, hints of shock evident in his voice. He gestured to the box and you nodded rapidly.

“Yes, sir. I bought you a new tin. I hope you don’t mind I placed some of the bags in the kitchen.”

“That’s fine.” He confirmed. Suddenly the tray was being pushed into his chest. Taken aback he moved backwards slightly.

“Please take it as compensation for the trouble I caused.” You requested, your outstretched arms voicelessly asking him to accept your gift. You waited expectantly for him to relieve you of the tea. When he performed no such action you gulped.

“Place it on my desk.” He instructed, nodding his head in the direction of his work space.

“O-oh yes sir!”

He stepped aside to let you scurry over to the desk. Once you set the tray down you saluted him and made your way back to the door. Before you could dismiss yourself the guttural clearing of his throat stopped you dead in your tracks.

“I did not dismiss you, Cadet.”

Rather than butterflies, bats began swarming in the pit of your stomach. They screeched at your nerves and their leathery wings pricked the inside of your skin. Your head explored all of the terrifying scenarios that could come after that phrase. Thankfully you had an overactive imagination.

“Do you know where Squad Leader Mike’s office is?” He questioned, lifeless eyes boring through your chest. You nodded timidly.

“Go give these to him. When you come back, you don’t need to knock.”

Upon your return after a refreshingly brief encounter with Mike you found the Captain totally immersed in the tea. His eyes were closed, breaths rising from deep in his chest, and a smoothness to his features. If you were not completely petrified by his demeanor, you fancied you would have found him quite handsome.

Handing him the documents Mike had traded for the ones you gave him earlier, you made your second attempt to escape from the Captain’s clutches.

“Cadet.” He called just as your fingers brushed the doorknob.

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

Your eyes went wide and the bats transformed into butterflies, flitting about in a less chaotic manner.

“A-ah yes, of course sir!” You saluted in one fluid and exaggerated motion. He clicked his tongue and waved your salute off. A short silence fell upon the room that caused you to fiddle with the hems of your sleeves. Levi regarded you with unfeeling eyes, yet beneath them your sweet appearance made his chest clench.  Just as you were curious about him, a strange interest in you had blossomed within him.

“Do you need anything else sir?” You offered as he rose from his seat to grab two tea cups from the cabinet.

“Sit.” He instructed, his command firm but no hint of authority in his tone.

“P-Pardon, sir?”

“Sit.” He pointed towards one of the chairs in the corner. You brought it over and seated yourself on the opposite side of the desk. The inside of your body felt as if it was filling with iron, making you feel heavy as you awkwardly awaited his next move. The air was painfully thick between the two of you, if you had let out a large breath it would have solidified within seconds.

“Tell me, how do you make it?” He asked, his words thinning the air. His visage remained focused on preparing the tea, a meager knit of the eyebrows the only movement on his face.

“Pardon, sir?”

“The tea. It’s very good.” The butterflies crept back into your bloodstream. Did he just compliment you?

“Thank you, sir!” You exhaled with a smile, extremely relieved that he was satisfied with your repentance.

The Captain then poured the dark liquid into your cup. He handled the teapot with such a delicacy that contrasted his stark disposition; thin, pallid fingers caressed porcelain while acute ashen eyes supervised.

“Sugar?” He asked, his attention still fully on the tea.

“Yes, please.”

“Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

A tap tap of the steel spoon against the rim of the cup was followed by a soft thank you as he pushed the vessel towards you.

“I add a bit of honey to the tea leaves to give it sweetness. Black tea tends to be bitter on its own.” You answered his earlier question, taking a small sip, cautious not to slurp. Instantly the metal oxidized from your body and was replaced with air.

“Interesting. Where did you learn that?” He lilted, adding a stingy amount of cream to his cup.

“I learned how to make and serve tea when I was young. My family is acquainted with some affluent individuals.” Your thumbs traced patterns on the surface of your teacup.

“Affluent, huh?”

“Yes, sir. A bunch of snobby assholes if you ask me.” Your face turned a ghostly pale before flushing bright red. Just when you were nearing the top of the whole you had dug yourself into you had fallen right back in.

“P-pardon my language, sir! I had no intention of speaking vulgarly.” You covered your mouth with your hands, mortified by your tone of speech.

The captain huffed. It was sound that came deep from his chest that made his eyes crinkle slightly and the corner of his lips twitch upward. It was a sound that made your butterflies flit about and generate a lovely fuzzy feeling with each wing beat.  

Maybe your Captain wasn’t as scary as you had originally thought.

[moscnios]

                                             SO THIS IS LOVE? ━ﾞ

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           senju tobirama           fem!reader           mentions of hashirama

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           fluff           angst ( a little )           oneshot

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           ( y/n ), in his own words, was an           annoying woman who couldn’t take           anything seriously and only seemed           to torment him...so why did he miss           her so much?

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           mentions of blood ‘ attacks

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           0.9k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           requested by the lovely           @theastroooooworld​ sorry for           it being so late !! did i listen to           so this is love from the cinderella           soundtrack for this one ?? yes i           did. i really hope you enjoy it !! <3

“I’ll be back, Tobi-chan,” he remembered her nickname for him, “Don’t miss me too much.” Her enchanting voice followed him into the world of dreams and thoughts, his only safe place. However, his safe place had become filled with the thought of....well her.

( y/n ), a woman known to light up a room and tension with her humor alone. She was a delight to Konoha, even the Hokage Hashirama found her delightful and a great kunoichi to have around. However, his advisor and little brother did not

The silver-headed stubborn, thorn stuck in his foot shinobi was as hard as ice. Getting him to even smile was hard work, let alone laugh. Getting him to laugh was harder than moving a mountain. And despite her best efforts, ( y/n ) could never make him laugh, though she had become attached to the grump.

Finding him....“cute” and “fun to tease” despite his best efforts to get her to leave him alone.

However, it had been a little over two months since he had seen her. Weeks without having to hide from her, without having to avoid her, without hearing her teases and jokes as she made everyone else laugh....it was getting to him.

Tobirama didn’t understand it at first. He was glad she left at first. Not only was she leaving him alone but she was going on an important mission that could aid Konoha. Why did he want her to come back so bad?

Why did he wake up in cold sweats in the middle of the night after having nightmares of hearing that she died on duty? He knew this mission was dangerous, Hashirama knew as well when he assigned it to her. She was a jonin after all, so why was he so nervous?

Some nights he could not sleep, imagining her there with him calling him that horrid nickname....one he had come to miss hearing.

“Tobi-chan....”

What was this feeling inside of his body? Why did his heart ache? Why did he feel this way? Why did he miss her?!

Upon opening up to his older brother, Hashirama couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?!”

“Wow, you really don’t know...do you? My poor little brother, well now I can’t just tell you. You have to figure it out yourself.”

Figure it out? Figure what out? He was worried sick for the well being of ( y/n ) and status of the mission to point where he waited hours and hours for them to come back, yet his brother told him to figure it out? That was it?

He had no clue what he even meant. How was he supposed to figure it out?

The silver-headed man had stepped out of his home, stretching slightly as he walked down the road, heading to the Hokage office for work. Worry filling every corner of his mind.

‘They should be back by now...where is she?’ He thought to himself, drifting away into the thought of her once more. Her kind smile, her adorable laugh, her eyes filled with wonder as she looked up at him, her plump lips as they move with every word she...’No! What am I even thinking?!’

“Tobi-chan,” He heard from behind him. That voice was unlike the one in his head, much clearer, more emotion and a sweet giggle behind it. Without hesitation, he turned around coming face to face with the very woman who clouded his mind like no other, ( y/n ).

Suddenly his heart raced faster than it ever had before, as she continued to inch toward him.

“I made it back this morning. I already checked in with Lord First. The mission tooled a bit longer than expected. I hope you didn’t miss me too mu—” She began, cutting herself off as she felt Tobirama wrap his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. Her eyes widened feeling the usual grump, hug her tightly. She didn’t even have time to return his embrace as he pulled away with a light blush.

“You’re safe...good,” Tobirama tried to brush it off. However, he had finally noticed a bloodied bandage wrapped around her waist, squeezing her tight, “What happened?”

She looked down at the bandage, “Ah, that. I guess I forgot about it. We were ambushed on the way back which is why it took so long. With the medic-nin we had, he tried to heal me to the best of his abilities but all he could do was take the poison out of the wound and we had to keep moving before we lost anyone. He wrapped this around it and I haven’t taken it out off since. It probably left a nice scar, don’t you think?”

There it was, that smile. That smile that he missed far more than he could explain. She could have died out there, yet here she was smiling in front of him, talking about a scar. It made his heart skip a beat.

Was this.......?

Is this.....?

“Tobi-chan?” She waved her hand in front of his face.

“H-Huh?”

“Are you okay? Do you feel under the weather? You even hugged me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that. You...you don’t have some incurable disease making you act like this, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, “Haha, very funny.”

She reached up, placing the back of her hand against his forehead. His face flushed. She tsked, “You’re burning up. Do you have a fever? Have you been taking care of yourself since I’ve been gone?”

....Love?

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

[kinkykinard]

When Everything is Gone (I’ll Be What You Want)

Fandom: 9-1-1. Prompt: missing scene for @buddiebingo. Pairing: None - mentions of Eddie x Ana, lots of mutual pining, Buddie feelings realization. Word Count: 2800. Genre: fluff. Rating: teen+. Summary: In the wake of the shooting, Eddie and Buck grapple with some big feelings, though it appears that they're the only two who can't make out just what those feelings mean. Note:  Beta’d by @dearestdiaz and @fireladybuckley - thank you both for your tireless cheerleading, encouragement, and suggestions.  Without the two of you, this fic never would have seen the light of day.  Title from “Astronauts” by Rachel Platten.  Gif by @fireladybuckley​.

Read it on AO3.

            Buck drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel in his Jeep as he sat outside Eddie’s house, glancing at his watch every few seconds as if keeping constant tabs on the time would help it go by faster.  It was early and he didn’t want to intrude in case Eddie was still sleeping, especially since Pepa had taken Christopher with her after the previous evening’s festivities so that Eddie could have a little bit of time to recuperate without having to ready the boy for school.  Buck knew Eddie was an early riser by nature, but he was also acutely aware of how enticing sleep was on high doses of painkillers and the last thing he wanted was to bother Eddie too early.

            He needed to see him, though.  He had lingered close to Eddie the night before, hugging the other man for just a beat longer than the others had.  He’d needed the reassurance that Eddie wasn’t just alive, but that he was okay.  Buck had been there when Eddie had been discharged, he knew that Eddie’s shoulder would mend, he would regain his range of motion, but no one had said anything about the trauma.  Buck had only witnessed the shooting and he could barely close his eyes without being catapulted into a panic attack.  He couldn’t begin to imagine how Eddie wasn’t more perturbed, and by staying close Buck hoped he could be there to support him if - when - he broke down.

            Unable to wait any longer, Buck pulled his keys from the ignition and hopped out of the Jeep, jogging up the sidewalk to Eddie’s front door.  He raised his hand to ring the doorbell, but stopped just shy of making contact.  Still not wanting to wake Eddie, Buck changed his mind and reached for his keys instead, easily locating the one for Eddie’s front door.  He slid it into the lock and turned it slowly as though even the quiet click of the bolt sliding open might wake the other man.

            Stepping into the house, Buck craned his neck and listened for any noise.  He couldn’t hear any snoring, but that didn’t mean Eddie wasn’t asleep.  Creeping in further, he closed the door in his wake and slowly walked through the house, making his way through the living room and toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

            “Ouch!”

            Buck frowned as Eddie’s pained cry reached his ears.  He paused at the end of the hallway, slipping the keys in his hand into his pocket as he strained to listen more closely.  He could see shadows being thrown from inside the bathroom and he realized belatedly that Eddie wasn’t alone.  Cursing himself for not calling ahead, Buck hovered, unsure of what to do.

            “I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this.”

            He was surprised to hear Ana’s voice, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been.  She’d been at Eddie’s side throughout most of his hospitalization, and there was no reason for her to step back now that he was home.  Still, Buck’s heart sank a little at the thought that he wouldn’t get Eddie all to himself for a while like he’d hoped.

            “Here, maybe I can get this off and then all you have to do is stick the new one on.”

            Buck debated just leaving, giving Eddie and Ana some space, but something about the conversation he’d dropped in on piqued his curiosity and he forged ahead.  The floor creaked beneath him as he walked, and he knew they’d heard him when they suddenly fell quiet.

            “It’s just me,” Buck announced as he stepped around the corner, pausing in the door frame.  He took in the sight before him; Eddie was seated on the toilet, his shirt off, the dressing over his wound pulled back at one corner but otherwise intact.  Ana, clad in an oversized pair of nitrile gloves, hovered nervously in front of him, various dressing supplies laid out on the counter at her side.  Her glove was stuck to the small bit of exposed adhesive on the dressing, and it was obvious she was having trouble working at it with the excess of nitrile between her hands and the bandage.  It was clear, too, that she was concerned with hurting Eddie if the apologetic crease to her brow was any indication.  Buck smiled at the scene.

            “Hey, man,” Eddie said with a grin.  “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

            Buck chuckled.  “Ah, but you were expecting me.”

            Eddie rolled his eyes good-naturedly.  Buck waved a hand over his shoulder, gesturing vaguely to the rest of the house.

            “I can wait in the kitchen while you two finish up,” he offered.  “Don’t let me interrupt.”

            Ana shook her head, reaching up to pull off her gloves.

            “No, please, stay,” she insisted.  “I’m terrible at this anyway - I’m sure you could do a much better job.”

            Buck smiled, ducking his head a little, catching the amusement in Eddie’s eyes at her statement.  He met the other man’s gaze.

            “Only if it’s okay with you.”

            Eddie grinned.

            “There’s no one else I’d trust more,” he murmured.

            Ana clasped her hands together with a smile.

            “That settles it, then; I’ll step aside and let a professional handle this.”

            Her words drew laughter from both men and Ana took that as a cue to step down.  Buck moved back, giving her room to pass in the doorway, and filled the gap she’d left behind as soon as she was gone.  It was so easy, so natural to pick up where she’d left off.  

            Without missing a beat, Buck pulled on a pair of gloves.  He glanced down at Eddie’s chest where the bandage Ana had only just begun to pull off was curled back at the very corner, the adhesive catching on the chain of Eddie’s St. Christopher medal where it hung around his neck.  He regarded the image on it for a moment, his eyes tracing the outline of the saint and the child on his shoulders, the lines and grooves in the medal blackened and tarnished with age, standing out in stark contrast to the silver relief.  Buck’s first instinct was to take it off, to set it away to have it polished later, but he thought better of it as the memory of Eddie’s chest in the wake of the gunshot - bloody and barren of the medallion when Buck had torn his uniform open - flashed in the forefront of his mind.  With the image came the impression of the coppery scent of Eddie’s blood on his hands, the warmth of it in stark contrast to how cool Eddie’s skin had been.  Echoes of Eddie’s pulse, quick and weak against his fingers but nowhere near as fast as his own - driven to its limits by adrenaline - pounded in his head.  The recollection of the way the fire truck had lurched beneath them, nearly dislodging the hand Buck had been using to apply pressure to Eddie’s wound more than once, reverberated through his body and made his hands shake just the littlest bit.

            Dispelling the memories, Buck settled for reaching up with a gentle hand and pushing it out of the way instead, not wanting to tempt fate.  He pulled the medallion around to the back of Eddie’s neck, letting it drop and pull the chain away from the wound under its weight, leaving him a clearer field to work with.

            “This might hurt a little,” Buck murmured softly, glancing briefly up at Eddie as he reached for the bandage.

            Eddie chuckled softly.

            “Do your worst.”

            Buck rolled his eyes good-naturedly and grasped the corner of the bandage, carefully peeling up enough of it to hold onto.  He held his fingertips to Eddie’s skin, applying a bit of pressure to offset the stinging of the adhesive being pulled away from where it had been stuck for nearly a day since Eddie’s last dressing change at the hospital.  It held fast, but eventually started coming away.  Buck flashed Eddie an apologetic glance, but to Eddie’s credit he didn’t so much as flinch.

            It took a minute, but eventually Buck was able to remove the entirety of the dressing without disturbing Eddie’s skin too much.  He gently smoothed his fingertips over the redness that remained in the wake of the bandage and reached for a few pieces of gauze.  Wetting them with a bit of water and a gentle soap, Buck carefully washed around the wound, his eyes flicking up to Eddie’s face every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t causing the other man any unnecessary discomfort.  Eddie smiled through it all, though, sitting perfectly still.

            Far more still than he had for her, anyway, Ana thought.  

            She watched the two of them from the hallway, standing in the shadows outside the sliver of light that spilled out from the bathroom.  The way Buck touched Eddie was so easy, so familiar.  The way Eddie didn’t shy away from the contact spoke volumes on the level of trust they shared.  The soft smiles they shared were intimate, private in a way that she knew they had both already put her presence out of their minds.  Not intentionally, she knew - neither man had an unkind bone in their body - but because their focus had been so consumed with one another in the wake of their shared trauma that there was no room for anyone else.  It made her heart ache a little to see what she’d wanted so badly for herself with Eddie playing out in front of her with Buck instead, but she understood.  She knew that the heart wanted what it wanted, even if the head wasn’t always on board at the start.  It was obvious, watching them, and she smiled a little sadly as she slipped away quietly, leaving the two of them to work through their feelings without an audience.

            Buck switched the wet gauze in his hand out for a clean and dry wad and pressed it to Eddie’s chest below his wound.  WIth his free hand, he carefully poured saline over the sutured skin, washing away some of the debris that had crusted over it, catching the drips with the gauze pad.  He worked slowly to cause as little discomfort as he could, and eventually he got the wound clean.  He inspected it closely for signs of infection before pulling back a moment to let Eddie’s skin dry.

            “How’s it look?”  Eddie asked, pulling his head back and glancing down in an attempt to get a peek at the wound.

            Buck glanced up to meet his eyes, smiling.

            “It’s healing well,” he acknowledged, his expression softening a little into apology as he continued.  “Gonna leave a scar, though.”

            Eddie nodded with a hollow chuckle.

            “It’ll match the other one.”

            Buck’s gaze flicked to Eddie’s other shoulder, taking in the puckered, darkened skin left behind in the wake of Eddie’s first gunshot wound.  The edges of Eddie’s recent wound were already beginning to fade into the same tone as the older scar and Buck had to stop himself from reaching out to touch the imperfectly healed skin on Eddie’s left shoulder in reassurance.  He settled on speaking instead to dispel the pull he felt toward the tender gesture.

            "Scars tell stories.”

            He picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment, squeezing a bit out onto a clean gauze square before carefully dabbing it onto Eddie’s wound.

            “Scars raise questions,” Eddie corrected.  “I’ll be the one having to tell the stories, and I’m not sure I want to.”

            Buck hummed, setting the used gauze aside and carefully positioning a clean square over Eddie’s wound.  He tacked it into place, using the ointment beneath to keep the gauze steady as he cut a fresh strip of adhesive with which to secure it on. 

            Eddie was an intensely private person, Buck knew, and it suddenly struck him how uncharacteristic it was of him to even be having such a discussion.  For Eddie to be letting Buck take care of him in such a vulnerable state.  The simple act of changing the dressing suddenly had a lot more gravity to it, and Buck’s touch was even lighter, more gentle as he smoothed the bandage into place over the gauze, finishing the procedure.

            “And that’s it,” Buck murmured as he sat back, stripping off his gloves.  “How’s it feel?”

            Eddie slowly, carefully, experimentally shrugged his shoulder a little.  The dressing pulled taut a bit and wrinkled when he rolled the joint forward, but otherwise stayed firmly in place.  He winced at the movement but smiled as he settled again, giving Buck a thumbs up.

            “Feels good.  Thanks, man.”

            Buck dipped his head, smiling and feeling his cheeks flush a little.  There was something unmistakably intimate about the moment and it took Buck a second to shake it off.  Glancing up, he watched Eddie reach for his shirt and noticed something he’d forgotten.

            “Hold on,” Buck interjected.

            Eddie stilled, watching Buck as the other man reached for him once more.  Buck’s fingertips brushed the base of his throat, gently tugging at the chain that held his St. Christopher medal.  The pendant shifted with the chain, tumbling over Eddie’s shoulder and landing against his chest over his heart, right where it belonged.  Buck straightened it, facing it forward, his fingertips lingering for a moment as he ruminated on its significance.

            Eventually, Buck pulled away and gave Eddie a hand with his shirt, his mind still reeling from the unchecked thoughts and feelings swirling there.  He’d never considered his feelings about the shooting, about Eddie as anything noteworthy before, but somehow, in the cramped quietude of Eddie’s master bathroom, he’d begun to see things in a different light.  Somehow, he’d gained some perspective.

            “How about a coffee for your troubles?”  Eddie’s voice broke through his reflection.

            Buck laughed with a nod, busying himself with putting away the unused supplies for the next dressing change.  Eddie brushed past him on his way out of the bathroom, leaving Buck to fathom in silence for a moment longer before he, too, made his way out and toward the kitchen in Eddie’s wake.

            The remainder of the morning passed as they always did, in companionable silence over breakfast, broken occasionally by teasing banter and the clink of silverware against ceramic.  All too quickly, Buck had to take his leave, but not before checking to make sure Eddie would be alright on his own.  It hurt him a little bit to leave the other man so soon after they’d regained some semblance of normalcy, but the world wasn’t about to stop turning so that he could probe a little further into whatever feelings he’d only just begun to uncover.

            Eddie watched Buck go, smiling to himself as he shut the door only after Buck’s Jeep had disappeared from view down the street.  He reached into his pocket, slipping his phone free and firing off a text to Ana.  He’d realized at some point that she’d disappeared, and he was surprised - though not overly bothered - to find that he hadn’t missed her.  What he was surprised about, though, was the fact that she didn’t seem to have been missing him, either, when a message back appeared on his screen a moment later.

            I think there’s someone else you ought to be asking out to dinner tonight, Edmundo.  

            Three dots bounced at the bottom of the display as Ana’s words sank in and a second message popped up before he could write anything back.

            Go get your man before someone else does.

            Eddie blinked at the screen, his mind stuck somewhere between I’m sorry and what are you talking about?  His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he debated on a response, but he couldn’t settle on either.  Eventually, he found the right words after all.

            I think I will.  Thank you.

            Simple, concise, and enough to earn him a smile and a thumbs up emoji.  Chuckling softly, Eddie closed Ana’s chat window, pulling up Buck’s instead.  He had no idea how he was going to do it, to confess everything that had been building up inside of him for longer than he cared to admit, but he supposed he might as well start as he always did and see where things went from there.

            I 'm thinking pizza for dinner tonight, you in?

            Three dots again, and then -

            Like you even have to ask.  I’ll bring dessert.

            Eddie chuckled as he set his phone on the counter.  Whatever else changed in his life, whatever happened to him, some things would never change.  Buck would never change.  It was that constancy that Eddie was banking on as he sat down to drink the last of his coffee and to consider what, exactly, he was going to say later on that night.

[shinsoukokuvalentine]

What the Water Gave Us

Hi all! Time for a fic! This one was part of a zine and can also be found on Ao3. Warning for graphic depictions of violence.

-

The screaming. The screaming wakes him, shrill and agonized.

Ryuunosuke’s eyes shoot open, and in one swift motion, he jerks upright in bed and tosses his thin sheet to the side, chest shaking as if he had just experienced a nightmare.

But the nightmare’s claws remain deep in his mind, for he can still hear the screaming. It cries out again, very real and very loud, echoing from the cove. It almost seems to call to him, and shivers travel down Ryuu’s spine every time it splits the night. He’s never heard someone scream like that.

Swiftly reaching into his nearby chest, Ryuu grabs his clothes before even making it completely out of bed. He rushes through his motions, the screams piercing his ears, hurrying him as he throws on his trousers and boots.

The bright moon guides his path. He runs out the door of the mill, plain and modest, leaning a bit in its old age. He runs down the trail, through the thick pine forest, nightingales ceasing their calls in fright as he darts past their trees. He runs, and the screams grow louder, drawing him closer.

He reaches the cove as his heart, pounding in his ears, nearly drowns out those screams. Squinting, he looks down to the small, rocky beach, encircled by high cliffs. With the moon’s aid, he can barely see a figure writhing in the sand.

Ryuu wastes no time in running down the stairs carved into the cliffside. The screams compel him, even in their wild dissonance, begging for him, pleading for him.

Soon Ryuu can only see the figure. He has eyes for nothing else, charging straight towards the hurting man, the glass-shattering cries. He feels ready to give his life for-!

He stops. The illusion breaks as the man’s struggles slow and his screams die down. His voice quiets, dropping the spell, trading his cries for dry rasps and gurgles as he coughs up blood.

And Ryuu’s once-enraptured gaze quickly becomes one of pure malice.

“You,” he snarls.

The siren stares up at him with its mouth hanging open and its body convulsing. Ryuu instantly sees the source of its pain: a harpoon embedded deep in its side, fresh blood still flowing from the wound, turning the sand dark and wet beneath it. The siren’s scaled tail lashes, glittering like hundreds of opals, and its wide eyes stay fixated on Ryuu, deep purple and vibrant gold. It gasps for air. Ryuu scowls.

“You picked the wrong man to come to your rescue,” he snaps. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t wait here and watch you die.”

The siren only stares, twitches. It whimpers, possibly the only noise it can make, a far cry from its seductive song or its calls for aid. Ryuu scoffs.

“You’re pathetic,” he says. “Your song has haunted my dreams for months, and this is how you choose to show your face again?”

Its wide eyes reflect the moon, its choppy hair shines in the silver light. And it stares. It wheezes, it trembles, blood drips out of the corner of its pink lips, and it stares.

With a growl, Ryuu reaches down, scooping the monster into his arms in one motion.

“I swore to kill you, siren,” he snaps. “Not some fool with a harpoon.”

The siren’s eyes close as Ryuu carries it home, harpoon and all, holding it close even as its blood begins to stain his clothes. Its tail drags on the ground as he walks.

-

When they first met, Atsushi hadn’t eaten a human in moons.

His stomach growled as he stared up at the ship from the ocean floor. The bland taste of the fish in his hands still lingered on his tongue, its blood dissipating into the water around him, its dull scent unappealing even in his hunger.

Flashing lights to his right drew his eye, and floating there, Dazai raised one eyebrow.

“If you hate it that much, why keep eating it?” He asked, the bioluminescent stripes along his tail lighting up in patterns so he could “speak” underwater. Atsushi’s shoulders sagged a small bit, relaxing at the familiar presence, sinking deeper in shame.

“Because I don’t have to promise it anything to catch it,” he flashed back, dim lights flickering among his scales, an aquatic equivalent to mumbling. “Have you ever considered how bad that sounds? Seducing someone just to kill and eat them?”

Dazai, ignoring him, swam closer. His dark hair flowed around his face as he moved past Atsushi, and he looked at the ship above with growing hunger in his eyes, his scales lighting up to say, “I wonder how many humans it holds.”

Atsushi shrugged, continuing to nibble on his fish. It tasted like coral and sand ground into a paste.

“Wanna look with me?”

Dazai’s lights drew Atsushi’s attention once again. He stared at him, at the eager but cunning glint in his smirk, the way his tail wagged slightly. And Atsushi sighed, the gills on his neck ruffling.

“Just one look,” he flashed back. Dazai grinned and darted upwards, with Atsushi following in his wake. He left his half-eaten fish behind.

Their heads only barely broke the surface. The ship’s hull creaked as they looked up from its side, careful to stay in the shadow cast by the sails. Dazai’s eyes immediately resembled angelfish; large, bright, and flashing like diamonds.

“Atsushi,” he whispered, staring straight at the ship. “Those flags.”

Following his gaze, Atsushi saw them too; black flags, marked with a skull and crossbones.

“Pirates,” he breathed. Dazai nodded, but his following smile almost appeared giddy.

“Do you know what this means, Atsushi?”

Atsushi only stared forward. He watched the men on the ship, those he could see, scrambling back and forth like rats. Even with sea salt filling the air, he could still catch their scent when he opened his mouth.

“With the pirates around, less ships have been coming to the island,” Dazai said. Atsushi could see him from the corner of his eye, looking back and forth between him and the ship. “Less ships, less humans, less food.”

Atsushi closed his mouth when it began to water. Despite the fish in his stomach, it still growled when he began to imagine biting into a human again, its blood dripping down his chin, its bones crunching in his jaws.

He clenched his fists as if that could silence those thoughts.

“We wreck this ship,” Dazai murmured, “the humans - the food - will come back.”

Atsushi shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He could still smell them.

“We don’t have to eat humans,” he stammered. His body quaked when he heard Dazai’s low chuckle.

“Oh, but Atsushi,” he said, “you really want to.”

Atsushi’s eyes snapped open, his gaze whipped upwards to the ship again, and he breathed in their scent. His stomach growled again, louder.

“When was the last time you used your song?” Dazai asked. Sympathy oozed from his words as he cooed, “When was the last time you tasted human meat?”

Atsushi said nothing, eyes darting from man to man, as if tearing his gaze away from one would make him less hungry for the next.

“Why fight your instincts?”

Suddenly Atsushi’s eyes stopped. They stared, fixated on one man, unwavering. The man stared back.

He looked over the prow of the ship at the sirens. His mouth hung open, his white shirt billowed in the wind like sails. His gray eyes, like storms over the ocean, bored into Atsushi while his black hair danced around his face. They seemed to stare at each other for moons.

Then the pirate screamed.

“SIRENS!” Rang his warning cry. Atsushi’s song filled the air before the pirate even finished.

The next few minutes happened in a blur, whirling past Atsushi’s head in a song-filled bloodbath. He only remembered Dazai joining his melody, lending his voice, causing men to tumble into the sea as if begging to be devoured. He remembered the ship crashing into the rocks, splinters flying, more men screaming. He remembered many of them dying by his fangs.

He remembered the taste of man. Sun-hardened skin squished between his teeth, hiding large, juicy muscles beneath it, their bones and organs bursting with flavor in his mouth.

But none of them were him.

When his high finally fell, like a wave building to its peak only to break, he stared at the remains of his meals. He couldn’t fathom eating so much, but he felt full for the first time in a long while.

Even so, he was hit with the realization that his prize had escaped; the man he had truly wanted, the man who had raised Atsushi’s song from his throat. He was not among the dead, the loose body parts floating in the water like shark bait. Atsushi couldn’t smell his blood.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Atsushi,” Dazai flashed his scales, beaming as he gnawed on a leftover bone, picking it clean.

But Atsushi only looked up at the surface again, watching the wreckage sink. The sky above had begun to turn dark.

His heart pounded, his stomach ached; his prize was still out there.

Their attacks increased in number. It became Atsushi’s addiction; eating whatever humans he could whenever the craving arose, although they could only satisfy him temporarily. None of them were him, and his cravings all but consumed him.

“Hello? Earth to Atsushi.”

Atsushi jumped a little when Dazai’s hand clapped onto his shoulder. The other siren grinned, rubbing his thumb on the fabric of his stolen tunic.

“We’re not here to think about him tonight, okay?” He said. “You’re relaxing if I have to force you.”

Atsushi nodded, faking a smile for him. His insides felt as if they were tearing themselves apart, collapsing inwards, but he smiled.

“And you like this place?” He asked as his eyes began to dart around. The humans walking around the port city each smelled delicious, and he had to resist opening his mouth, tasting the air for their scent. The days when he resisted eating their meat seemed years ago.

But none of them gave the pair of sirens a second glance, not when they looked completely human, even though Atsushi still wobbled on his new legs. A siren’s shapeshifting abilities could only provide the form, not the skill.

“Trust me,” Dazai said, holding onto his wrist to drag Atsushi’s tottering body alongside him. “Travelers pass through this town all the time. No one will bat an eye at this tavern.”

Atsushi’s lips flattened into a tense line, but he only nodded as Dazai pulled him into the inn. The sign above the door, reading “The Bucking Seahorse,” swung back and forth in the evening breeze.

Warm light filled the tavern, lit by a fire at the left wall and candles hanging from the balcony above. Tables sat scattered around the ground-level floor, with various townspeople and seafarers clustered around them, some laughing and grunting, others keeping quiet.

“You haven’t tasted human ale yet,” chuckled Dazai, pulling Atsushi to a table near the fireplace. “You’re in for a treat tonight, Atsushi.”

Silent, Atsushi could only nod. He let Dazai order, trying to ignore how his stomach growled, how the scent of humans filled his lungs until it nearly stifled him. When his tankard arrived, he chose to drink instead of breathe.

He couldn’t be sure how much he drank. It tasted vile at first, yet the more he downed, the better the ale tasted. It poured into his head and overpowered every feeling except a strange, warm buzz, spreading numbness from his fingers and up his limbs. It felt like drowning and breathing deeply all at once.

And for a moment, he forgot.

Then, like a bell ringing all around his head, he remembered when he smelled that scent once again.

Immediately his senses were flooded. He opened his mouth, breathing it, sure of it over the scent of alcohol and tobacco.

“What’s wrong?”

He heard Dazai’s voice, but he didn’t respond. The noises of the tavern filled his ears, loud and boisterous, growing rowdier and the night grew longer and the tankards emptied. Atsushi only stood and looked towards the door, eyes struggling to focus.

It was him. Atsushi could pick that dark hair out of a crowd, his storm-like eyes from a sea of gray.

He seemed paler than before as he walked forward, into the tavern, his hair pulled back in a small ponytail, his white-tipped bangs still hanging around his face. Eyes traveling, distaste pricked at his expression, his lips in a frown.

He bumped directly into Atsushi. Either because he hadn’t been looking where he was going, or because Atsushi’s body moved without his consent and he stepped in front of him. The man snarled.

“What do you think you’re-?!” He began to snap, immediately grabbing Atsushi’s shirt, but he stopped when he saw his face. Just like before, he stared.

Despite the ruckus of the tavern around them, everything seemed to silence. Atsushi could finally see his face up close, with his fair skin and pale, thin lips. Atsushi’s lungs held his breath captive.

Then the man’s features darkened. His brow furrowed, his lips turned downwards in a deep scowl, and hatred like Atsushi had never seen flared in his eyes.

“You,” he snarled like a wild dog.

Atsushi’s hands seemed to move on their own. They settled on the man’s cheeks, stroking them. They felt softer than sea moss.

And before the man could sputter out another word, Atsushi’s voice filled the space between them.

His mouth formed words, notes, a song spilling from him before he understood its meaning, and  

the man’s eyes and body began to relax. His expression softened, almost melting in Atsushi’s hands. A smile even formed on his ever-so-slightly parted lips.

Atsushi reveled in it. He wanted him to keep smiling, to stay content in his touch, in his song. The look in his eyes almost seemed hypnotic, unfocused and turning upwards.

“Atsushi!”

Though he still sang, Atsushi turned ever so slightly to Dazai, who stared at him and grabbed onto his shoulder.

“What are you doing?!” He hissed.

Atsushi couldn’t answer without breaking his song. But as he looked back at the man’s face, to his own hands, he could see the scales forming on his skin, watched as his claws grew longer.

“Your transformation’s breaking,” Dazai snapped.

Atsushi could feel his breath hitch. His song faltered. In that split second, he saw everyone else in the tavern watching him with that same vacant look on their faces. Each of them had fallen under the spell of his song.

But he didn’t stop. If anything, his voice grew louder. He just wanted to watch his one human, watch the contentment and happiness on his face. Atsushi’s voice alone seemed to cause shudders of pleasure all throughout his body.

Atsushi’s mouth began to water again. He opened his jaws wide, fangs extending as his transformation shed off his body like dead skin. The trousers he had been wearing fell to the ground as his legs turned back into his long tail, and he leaned forward even though he struggled to stand, bringing his mouth to his human’s neck.

He jumped when the gunshot rang through the air. His voice broke, his song ending abruptly as he tore his gaze from his human and to the door where armed guards suddenly stood, guns in their hands..

“I TOLD YOU I HEARD A SIREN!” One of them shouted at the man directly beside him, wax filling their ears to block out Atsushi’s song.

Paralysis shot through Atsushi’s body like a lightning bolt. His human began to stir, Atsushi’s spell wearing off as he looked directly into the barrel of a gun.

Dazai scooped him into his arms and ran before the bullet flew through the air, bursting from the gun with a deafening bang. Atsushi covered his ears as Dazai jumped out the nearest open window, landing in the alley, tumbling to the ground.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, eh?” He huffed as he sprang to his feet, hurtling onto the cobblestone road. Atsushi clung to his neck like a hatchling.

People in the street began to scream, shouting and pointing at Atsushi as Dazai darted past them, Atsushi’s tail failing.

“THEY’RE RUNNING AWAY!”

Heart pounding, Atsushi looked behind them. He watched as the guards burst back out of the  tavern, their boots pounding on the cobblestone street, their bullets flying past the sirens’ ears.

“We just have to make it to the ocean,” grunted Dazai, scrambling in and out of alleyways to avoid the guards’ bullets. Atsushi could only nod, panic and confusion and dizziness overwhelming his body, flooding his head. He couldn’t taste anything but ale, couldn’t smell anything but his human.

They wound around paths, the smell and roar of the ocean growing nearer, yet still too far. The world seemed to spin around Atsushi, blurring in front of his eyes.

Then he could see it. Dark, glittering in the moonlight. Dazai gave a small, strained smile before a cry of pain split the air.

Dazai stumbled. His lips turned downward in a grimace, but he still hobbled out onto a pier, gripping Atsushi to his chest. The scent of siren blood began to spill from him.

Atsushi didn’t have the chance to see where he had been shot. Before he could even ask, Dazai tottered off the pier and into the ocean.

The cold water slammed into Atsushi, petrifying him. He could only see bubbles, could only hear the roar of the ocean, could only see tinges of red in the water. His head seemed to spin in circles.

He gasped when he broke the surface, looking around frantically.

“DAZAI!” He shouted, eyes darting back and forth. Nothing rose from the water.

One glance behind himself, and he saw they had been followed. The guards ran out onto the pier, pointing their guns at the water, shouting orders to the nearby ships.

“FIRE ON THE SIRENS!”

Atsushi dove back under the surface, darting back and forth. His blurred vision trailed behind him as panic rose in his throat like bile.

“Dazai!” His scales flashed.

That had been his mistake.

Pain suddenly flared up from his side. He screamed, bubbles pouring out of his mouth. The smell of his own blood mingled with Dazai’s.

He thrashed, whipping around to the harpoon buried in his side. Instinctively, he sunk his teeth into the rope, tearing into it easily before it could pull him back to its ship.

He could hear his own heartbeat now. Blood trailed behind him. He only thought of swimming, of swimming far away from the gunshots and guards and ships.

He swam until the pain overwhelmed him. His body fell still, feeling as if fire flared from both of his harpoon wounds, piercing beneath his ribs and out of his back. Only the tide moved him as he cried out, a sound absorbed by the sea.

He only knew he had washed ashore when he could clearly hear his own screams.

He wove his song into his cries. Perhaps instinctively, perhaps desperately; he couldn’t be sure.

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He simply blinked, and the sky changed, the stars moved. Blackouts washed over him with the frequency of the sea, rushing over and off his body, stinging his side with every salty wave.

Atsushi’s voice slowly gave out. Rasps and choked noises replaced his screams, and his wide eyes stared upwards. Dreams began to pile on top of him, dreams of seeing his human, of hearing his voice.

He stared upwards at him. Even if this were a dream, Atsushi only wanted to see his face, to imagine him standing close once more. He gasped for air when he meant to speak to his illusion, remembering the low tones of his voice in a faroff mumble.

Everything grew dark again as warmth wrapped around Atsushi. His head rolled back, the pain overwhelming his body until it enveloped him, pulling him down into itself. But at the same time, he thought he felt himself lifting into the air, something like arms holding him tight.

If only his human would truly hold him that tenderly, thought Atsushi as he could no longer keep his eyes open. Maybe that’s all he had wanted.

Maybe if he lived, he could fix things, he mused as his cruel dream carried him away, taunting him with his human’s voice, his touch. Maybe they could just be happy together. Maybe his human would forgive him.

Atsushi smiled sadly as darkness overcame him. Dreams could be cruel.

[re-diesirae]

Chapter 2

Chris

Chris watched his sister's back as she disappeared down the corridor. Something about her overall appearance was bothering him, but he pushed the thoughts away. Claire always hated it when he hovered over her, and, considering that he hadn't seen the woman in almost three months, he didn't want to spoil their time together by annoying his sister.

"Huh, she's going to be mopping about this later," Saya sighed, "she will be feeling guilty after all this."

The comment caught Chris's attention, and the soldier turned to the Asian doctor with a quizzical look.

"Guilty? Why?" Chris asked.

"Well, it isn't like she gets a lot of friendly visitors often. I can tell she was overjoyed to have you here, but with all this mess, unfortunately, with this mess, Claire has barely been a proper host, and that will haunt her."

Chris felt a pinch of guilt at the woman's words. He knew Claire was a strong girl. Claire had always been independent, but she valued family like nothing else. She probably missed him as much as he missed her; maybe he should consider dropping by more often.

"You seem to know her well," Leon said casually, looking around the place.

"We are old friends and colleagues," Saya said, picking a notepad and scribbling something, "we have grown close after sharing so many night shifts side by side. I am not sure which of us spends more time in this building. Maybe we should start a contest on that."

"Night Shifts?" Chris asked, "She has night shifts?"

"Well, her promotion carried a lot of extra work," Saya explained, "Sometimes the amount is ridiculous, especially when the other chiefs are calling and asking for help. She's too kind to say no. Sometimes she has so much work that she just gave up going home at night. I do the same, so eventually, we ended up making each other company."

"So, she hasn't been going home?"Jill asked.

"She does, but rarely. Deep down inside, I believe she prefers it here because that way, she won't feel lonely. You know she lives alone, and sometimes when something bothers her or she wakes up from a nightmare, it is nice to have someone to chat with and have some hot chocolate."

"Nightmares?" Barry asked.

"She still has them?" Moira asked.

Chris looked at the girl, and he saw Barry put his arm protectively around his daughter.

"Yes, it has become a regular thing lately. I heard yours have become less frequent," Saya said, tilting her head.

Moira nodded and looked at her dad.

"Natalia and I used to have them for a while, too," Moira said, and Barry rubbed her back comfortingly, "but they have almost stopped completely."

"Well, that's good," Saya nodded, "unfortunately, our Claire wasn't so lucky."

"I didn't know she still had them. I mean, we all lived a nightmare on that fucking island. She should have told me. Talking it out might help."

Saya smiled and sighed.

"You know she wouldn't say a word," Saya shrugged.

"Well, why not? We went through that hell together."

Chris was the one with the answer to that.

"Because she always keeps quiet," Chris sighed, "It's been like this since she was a kid. Claire never says anything when she is having trouble with something."

"She doesn't want to worry us, probably," Leon said.

He had spoken with her a few times on the phone. She usually asked how things were doing, and when he returned the question, she merely said she was bored or lots of work. On the phone, it was hard to tell when the girl was hiding something, and the younger Redfield was proficient in that area.

Their chat was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the automatic doors opening. They had expected it to be Claire, but instead, a tall blonde man wearing a black security uniform came in, walking impatiently.

"Ok, Redfield, why did you need me? It better be for a good reason, because I've got to reboot the system, and that is not doing itself."

The blonde stopped dryly and stared at the group in confusion.

"Ok, now this is weird..." he said, turning to the Asian doctor.

"Wallace," Saya said, surprised, "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? Red called me up here. Isn't Redfield here?"

"Well, that depends on which Redfield, kid," Barry snorted.

"What?"

The man was visibly confused, but it was Moira who cleared it up for him. She pointed at Chris lazily.

"What my dad means," Moira said, pointing at Chris, "he is Chris Redfield. I mean the Chris Redfield, you know. Claire's beloved brother?"

"Oh! Now, that makes sense. I'm Grant Wallace, Head of cybersecurity. he said, shaking Chris's hand ceremoniously, "It's an honor to meet you, at last, brother. Forgive my lack of courtesy. I am in a rush since I need to fix the crap those hackers did to my precious system. Let me be a little more specific, then, is Claire here?"

"No, she isn't here," Saya said, crossing her arms, "She left some minutes ago to find you."

"She... what? Why?"

"Why?" Saya said, indignantly, "You called her, and now you ask why?"

"What? I never called her. She was the one who asked me to come up here."

"This isn't time for jokes," Saya chastised him. "We all heard it. You said that there was something in the Command Center you wanted her to see."

"I never said..." Wallace said, "I was in command, and she told me she was having issues with the security system in the lab. She even told me to drag my lazy ass up here, or she would make me pay."

Everyone fell silent, and it was then that something clicked inside Chris's head. If the man had not called Claire, and he was there. Who was waiting for Claire at the Command Center?

"Where is the Command Center?" he said with a grave tone, "Save the talk, just answer…"

"Basement, but…"

Saya's eyes went wide, and Grant fell into realization.

"It is a trap. Someone lured Claire there," Chris said furiously.

Before anyone could react, Chris was already running out of the room, followed closely by Leon and Jill.

Everyone fell silent. It was then that a switch clicked in Chris's head.

"Where is the Command Center?" he said with a grave tone, "Save the talk, just answer…"

"Basement, but there's no one at the Command Center," Wallace said, "and you say I called her down? There's something wrong there."

Wallace's eyes widened, and he looked at Chris in shock.

"Someone lured Claire there," Chris said furiously. "It is a trap!"

Before anyone could react or say anything, Chris was making his way through the corridor, heading for the stairs. The others exchanged glances, and with no more to say, Jill and Leon ran after him.

"Claire, you better be in one piece when I get there," Chris thought out loud as he ran down the stairs, followed by Leon and Jill.

Leon was the first one to follow him as soon as they had found out that Claire was potentially in danger. They were good friends; that fact was not a secret. Both had gone through a lot during the first outbreak in Racoon City, and those kinds of events usually created everlasting bonds between people. If there was anyone as worried as Chris was, it had to be him.

The second set of footsteps were Jill's. The woman seemed worried.

"We need to hurry. I want to be wrong, but if I am not, Claire will need our help," Chris told his companions.

Claire wasn't a damsel in distress. If she had to kick some asses, she would do it without trouble. But if she got tricked down there, she would not have been able to foresee the ambush that awaited her, and the element of surprise would leave her in a disadvantageous position.

They reached the Command Center in a short time. The office door was ajar, and there was no sign of Claire anywhere. That made Chris have a bad feeling.

The trio stepped into the room cautiously. There were evident signs of a struggle: papers scattered on the ground, furniture turned over, and few bloodstains on the floor. There had been a fight, and Chris prayed with all his heart that the red liquid on the ground wasn't Claire's blood. After inspecting the place, they came to the sad conclusion that it was empty.

Chris cursed himself for being late as he watched helplessly around the empty room.

"Shit, where are you, Claire?" Chris growled.

"Chris..."

The soldier turned to Leon. The man had crouched, and he was holding something silver in his hand. Chris recognized it at once.

"That's Claire's necklace."

"It seems she got ambushed," Jill said, after looking at the scene, "No deaths, as there are no corpses, but judging by the looks, someone got beaten into a pulp."

As long as that someone wasn't his sister, it was fine. Chris could live with it.

"Three attackers," Jill said, "Male and trained. I think Claire knocked out two, but she missed the third one. They can't be too far."

"We gotta move if we want to find her, then."

Jill nodded. The group was ready to step out when Jill stopped them and brought a finger against her lips, telling them to be silent. Someone was outside the room. The trio exchanged looks and took cover to listen.

"That bitch didn't go down without a fight, huh?" an unknown male voice said, "she's feisty. I guess that is why they are interested."

"She's tougher than the other ones," a second voice said, "what do you suppose they do with them?"

"That's none of your business. Our task is to collect the subjects. The rest is up to them," the first man said. "Now, move. You don't want to be in the city when they drop those presents in the city."

"Now that's going to be a show. What do you think those guys will send this time?"

"Some of their ugly pets, probably."

Chris looked at Leon and Jill. Those last words made the hair on the back of Chris's neck stand up. They were planning an attack on the city, and if it were as bad as Chris imagined, Hughesville would soon turn into a second Lanshiang Catastrophe.

"Let's see how those stupid TerraSavers handle that," the first voice said with amusement.

The trio held their breath as the voices receded. Chris had to restrain himself from attacking the men with his fists. Those men were his best chance at finding Claire. He would make them pay, but until his sister was safe and sound, he would let them go.

"Are they planning to launch an attack here?" Jill asked, "I can't believe this."

"We should get used to this crap," Chris said with anger, "Jill, go back to Barry and the others. We need to warn the BSAA about a possible bioterrorist attack asap. We need the forces to get moving before things get out of control."

"Yes, of course," Jill nodded, "what are you going to do?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Chris said, fiercely, "I am hunting down those assholes and getting my sister back."

"Chris, don't get me wrong, but going after them all on your own..." Jill said, and Chris growled.

"If I wait, I'll lose them. I can't let that happen."

"Yes, I understand that, but you can't expect me to let you go alone."

"He won't," Leon said. "I'll go with him. I'll help him get Claire back, so you can focus on evacuating the people before this becomes another tragedy."

Jill looked at them and hesitated.

"I have Leon as my backup. I will be fine. The attack will happen soon. If we want to save as many people as we can, we need to hurry. I am sure everyone in TerraSave will help us."

Jill nodded. The woman turned on her heels and ran back through the corridor, leaving the soldier and the agent behind. Chris knew that Jill was reluctant to leave. She loved Claire, too, and the idea of the girl getting kidnapped by a bunch of terrorists didn't make her happier than it made Chris. However, duty was a duty; the woman turned on her heels and ran back through the corridor, leaving the soldier and the agent behind.

Chris turned to Leon and found the agent fidgeting with his mobile phone.

"I contacted Hunnigan and asked her to help us track down Claire's kidnappers."

"Great, that will come in handy," Chris nodded, "Did you bring any weapons?"

Leon gave him a smile of irony and showed him the holster under his jacket.

"After all these years," Leon said, "They never leave my side."

"Tch, it must be nice to have the government's permission to carry your toys," Chris scoffed, "Fair enough. Let's move, then."

The two men rushed out of the room, following the path that the two chatting men from earlier had taken. It wasn't long before Leon and Chris caught up with them. It was a group of six men wearing black suits and masks. One of them, as Chris noted, was carrying an unconscious Claire over his shoulders. The sight was enough to make the man's blood boil, and the soldier clenched his fists, ready to throw a few punches.

The eldest Redfield looked at Leon, sending him a tacit plan, and the man nodded. They pulled out their guns and shot, aiming at the legs. The first man fell to the ground. The group was confused for a moment, but they soon reacted to their attackers. Three of the closest men began to fire back while the remaining ones sneaked away with Claire. It was evident that their priority was getting her out of the building.

Chris cursed. He had no time to waste, and the men were right in the way. He looked at Leon, and the blonde nodded, raising three fingers, counting down. When the last finger was out, the two jumped out from their cover and began firing at the men. The encounter lasted a couple of minutes, and soon the three attackers laid dead on the floor.

Leon seized the chance to check the bodies.

"What's that?" Chris asked, seeing that Leon had pulled out something from one of the body's pockets.

"A badge. I recognize it. It's one of those small terrorist groups that have ties to Neo-Umbrella," Leon muttered, "I'll let Hunnigan know. Let's get Claire back before they escape."

"Roger to that," Chris nodded.

The two men made their way through the empty corridors until they reached the underground parking lot. Chris and Leon made an abrupt stop when a black van passed them at full speed and broke through the parking entrance.

Chris glared at it and ran to the guard's office. The guard was on the floor. The soldier checked his vitals and concluded that the man was dead. There was nothing that he could do, so he picked a set of keys and rushed to grab one of Terra Save's vehicles.

It took them nothing to catch up with the van, and Chris was glad that no traffic had tried to stop him for his reckless driving. He could picture his sister's lecture about it in his mind, but considering the circumstances, Chris thought that his recklessness was reasonable.

"There they are," Leon said, putting out his gun, "keep it steady. I'll try to stop them."

Chris watched Leon stretch out through the window and began shooting. His accuracy was on point, and Chris was grateful that the agent was pointing at the tires only. It was the safest way to stop the car without the risk of hurting Claire in the crossfire.

"Leon, watch up," Chris said.

Two men were coming through the van's windows with their guys aiming at them. The exchange of fire was unavoidable, and Chris had to maneuver the car the best he could to avoid the incoming fire.

"The bastards came prepared," Leon groaned, reloading his gun. "I guess this won't be easy."

"Has it ever been easy?"

"Right," Leon snorted. The blonde aimed his gun and shot the man on the left.

The bullet hit the man cleanly on his forehead, killing him instantly.

"Nice shot," Chris smirked.

Leon smirked at the compliment, but the light mood short-lasting.

A loud crash resounded in the street as one of the closest buildings collapsed right in front of them, blocking the way and forcing the black van to make a turn to dodge the flying debris. A strong inhuman roar echoed through the city, and Chris found that howl unpleasantly familiar.

"Shit," Chris groaned, pushing the door open, "not this guy again."

"Friend of yours?" asked Leon, doing the same.

"Old acquaintance."

The ogroman let out a savage howl, hitting the nearby buildings with his large hands. The men in the black van had stepped out with their cargo. Claire was still unconscious. They seemed to have forgotten about their human chasers and were only concerned with finding a way to escape the infamous creature. The ogroman, however, had other plans. It snatched a couple of the more unlucky men and broke their bones with its hand.

Their fate wasn't one Chris wished for anyone, not even those damned terrorists.

"Great, just what we need," he growled.

"I am guessing you know how to deal with this guy," Leon asked with a frown.

"Yeah, and I can tell you we are not ready for this fight."

"Why am I not surprised?" Leon sighed. His attention got momentarily diverted from the monster as he watched the men take Claire through an alley. "Chris..."

Chris followed the blonde's sight and frowned. They ran to the alley to chase the escaping group but got violently stopped by the Ogroman punching the street. Chris and Leon rolled in opposite directions, evading the hit and the flying rocks.

"Shit," Chris cursed, "Are you okay, Leon?"

"I've been better," Leon groaned, "Any ideas?"

"Yeah, you follow those assholes. I'll take care of this guy."

"Are you nuts?"

"Don't worry. I know how to deal with it," Chris replied, "I'll distract it. You get Claire."

Leon pondered their options and nodded. Chris wasn't a rookie. He was a veteran with even more experience than Leon in some things. If someone could deal with that thing, it was him. Leon took some of his extra ammunition and threw them to Chris.

"Take this. You'll need it."

"Really. Where were you hiding these, huh?"

"I've got my tricks. Be careful, Chris."

"You, too, and make sure Claire is safe, or I'll kill you myself."

Leon snorted. He gave Chris a wave and ran into the alley, leaving the soldier to face the ogroman.

Chris could only trust that the man would save his sister; then again, Leon had proved himself a competent fighter and probably was the person that worried most about Claire, after himself, of course.

"Time to do some clean-up."

[scarletemeterio-thesecond]

Hey, sorry if I'm bothering you, but I wanted to ask if you could do a part two of Heartbreak and Betrayal. I really like the story, but it's sad that it ended that way 🥺,maybe a fluffy ending for the second part(?). 🌻 Btw english it's not my first language, sorry if I made mistakes! Have a nice day!🥺💕

Omg, thank you for being so sweet, and you're definitely not bothering me! Don't worry, english is not my first language either! Hope you have a nice day too! <3

Thank you so much for requesting a part 2! I actually had a few ideas to continue that imagine but I wasn't sure if anyone would want to read it. It's literally the longest thing I've ever written, I hope you like it!

•••

Making Things Right (Zuko x Reader)

Warnings: Mention of toes, mentions of scars

Genre: Fluff

Fandom: Avatar, The Last Airbender

Summary: Zuko and reader meet up again after the events at Ba Sing Se

Word Count: 4389

part 1

Joining the Avatar was one of the best things that have ever happened to me. I didn't only find amazing friends, I found a new family. I haven't been with them for long but we've already had a lot of adventures.

Right now, we were at the Western Air Temple since our plans for the invasion didn't work very well. We tried to talk to Aang about defeating the Fire Lord, but he didn't pay much attention. We needed to find a firebending teacher for him before the comet, and we had no idea where to look for one. We decided to follow Aang since we needed to find a solution to this problem. Once we all were back on land, Toph spoke, and we soon realized we had company. He was here, in front of us. The person I thought -and wished- I'd never see again, right there a few meters away from us.

He said he wanted to join us and even started talking about how much he had changed; I didn't believe anything he said. I hated to admit it, but the opportunity to let a potential firebending teacher go was kind of stupid but we were talking about Zuko here, the guy who had betrayed us; and he even said he sent that assassin after us! Apparently, I wasn't the only one who didn't want him here so we kicked him out.

"Why would he try to fool us like that?" asked Katara.

"Obviously, he wants to lead us into some kind of trap" said Sokka.

"This is just like when we were in prison together in Ba Sing Se" started saying the waterbender.

I wanted to agree with them, to say that I didn't believe any word he said but I just couldn't. I wanted to hate him, but a part of me knew we needed him, so I just stayed silent while they continued talking, with Aang joining them.

"He wasn't lying" said Toph, snapping me out of my thoughts. "And I'm just saying that considering his messed-up family and how he was raised, he could've turned out a lot worse".

"You're right, Toph. Let's go find him and give him a medal. The 'not as much of a jerk as you could've been' award" said Katara, clearly starting to get annoyed.

"All I know is that while he was talking to us, he was sincere. Maybe you're all just letting your hurt feelings to keep you from thinking clearly. Well, all except (Y/N), not a single bad word about him has left your mouth" she commented and I immediately wanted to kill her for pointing that out.

"Why would you even try to defend him, Toph?"

"Because, Katara, you're all ignoring one crucial fact: Aang needs a firebending teacher. We can't think of a single person in the world to do the job. Now one shows up on a silver platter and you won't even think about it?"

"I'm not having Zuko as my teacher" said Aang.

"Ugh, I'm beginning to wonder who's really the blind one around here" and after saying that, she left.

There was an awkward silence in the air, and I knew they would practically hate me for what I was about to say.

"She's right".

"No way, (Y/N)! The guy literally broke your heart and you're still defending him?"

"I'm not defending him, Sokka! I'm just saying that we should consider him as Aang's firebending teacher. Where would we find another person willing to do it?"

"You're just saying that just because somehow you still love him" said Katara in an angry tone.

"You have no idea how I feel" I said immediately. "And I thought I made myself very clear when I said I didn't want to talk about any of that the moment I joined you. Toph is right, you're all blind here".

After saying that, I started walking away. Once I got to a quiet place in the Temple, I sat down with my back against the wall, and as soon as my body touched the floor, I started crying. I didn’t know why, but I felt so frustrated, I was angry, sad, and even though I hated to admit it, I missed him so much. I often wondered what would’ve happened if things had been different and it only made me feel worse because I knew it made no sense to wish for something impossible, but sometimes I just wanted him by my side. I realized that Toph was approaching me and I quickly tried to get rid of my tears.

"Are you okay?" she asked me as she sat next to me. I loved how good of a friend she was and how much she cared about all of us, even if she didn’t show it all the time. "I know you were crying and I can imagine what happened but I’ll let you tell me about it if you want, yeah?" I nodded.

"I just told them you were right, about Aang needing a firebending teacher and… well, here I am. I know that he did bad things in the past, I personally experienced some of them, but we can’t let this opportunity go to waste and Katara started telling me that I was just saying that because I still loved him".

"Well, she’s not wrong, (Y/N)".

"I know, it’s just that- It made me feel even worse than I already feel because I know that I shouldn’t have feelings for him after everything that happened but I just can’t help it". I could feel the tears running down my face again. "I’m just so hurt, Toph. And I’ve even dreamt of seeing him again and exchanging a conversation with him but at the same time I feel like it’s not worth it; like he was just pretending with me the whole time".

"You have every right to feel like that" she started saying.

"But?"

"But maybe talking to him wouldn’t be such a bad idea" I knew she was right but deep down I tried to convince myself that she wasn’t. "I’m not saying you have to do it, not if you don’t want to. Maybe if he ends up joining us, you could take some baby steps, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad" I admitted out loud. She smiled briefly and then she punched my arm and I couldn’t help but smile at her action. Toph was just so Toph sometimes. She got up and left, leaving me by myself, now a lot more at peace with my thoughts than before. I stayed there for a while and finally decided to go back to the others since it was getting late and it was my turn to make dinner.

We all ate in silence, there was a slightly uncomfortable silence, which was broken by my voice, asking if anyone had seen the little earthbender. Everyone said that they hadn’t seen or heard of her since earlier today and I found that pretty unusual.

"I’m sorry for reacting the way I did today" I said.

"No, (Y/N), I’m sorry for talking to you like that. I shouldn’t have told you what I did" said Katara, grabbing my hand and smiling at me. "We know you meant no harm, and we shouldn’t have been that mean to you". I accepted her apology, but I knew she still didn’t like the idea of Zuko joining us. After dinner, we all went to bed and it didn’t take long for me to fall asleep.

I woke up with the sun hitting my face. I stayed in my room for a few minutes and I finally decided to get up and go outside. Everyone was already up, which didn’t surprise me at all since I was extremely tired last night, so it made sense that I was the last to wake up. It was Katara’s turn to make lunch, but I decided to help her; I wanted to do something and I also wanted to spend some time with her. We shared some much-needed laughs and I felt so grateful to have a friend like her in my life; we had our fights, but at the end of the day, we were always there for each other and I loved that about our friendship. When we were done, we quickly started serving the food and she began to wonder where Toph was.

"I haven’t seen her since she stormed off yesterday" said Sokka.

"Maybe she’s just exploring the Air Temple" commented Haru. "There are some pretty fun spots to practice earthbending".

"I think we should go look for her".

"Oh, let her have fun with her rocks. I’m in no rush to have her yelling at us again".

"I don’t know, I think Katara is right. I haven’t seen her for a while and I’m starting to get worried" I said.

Then, we heard a loud noise and everything moved around us, and Toph fell from a little pile of rocks.

"Toph, what happened?"

"My feet got burned" she answered and Katara quickly started healing her feet.

"Oh, no, what happened?" she asked worriedly again.

"I just told you, my feet got burned".

"I meant how".

"Well, I kind of went to see Zuko last night".

"What?" I asked as the others reacted surprised too.

"I just thought he could be helpful to us and if I talked to him, maybe we could work something out".

"So he attacked you?" asked Sokka, also worried.

"Well, he did and he didn’t" said Toph before saying that it had been an accident.

"See, you trusted Zuko and you got burned… literally" said Sokka. "And it’s not the first time this happens, we can’t trust him".

As he said that, I immediately touched my arm, which now had a scar thanks to everything that had happened back in Ba Sing Se. They all kept talking but I didn’t pay any attention to them, I was concentrated on my thoughts. I didn’t think much about my scar but when I did, it just took me back to the catacombs. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and we tried to hide as soon as possible. Just before doing that, we saw Zuko telling Combustion Man to stop hunting Aang, but he paid no attention and continued anyways. We tried to fight back since we had to do something if we didn’t want anything bad to happen to us. Thankfully, Sokka had the amazing idea of using his boomerang, which literally saved us. Well, along with Zuko. He was climbing from a root, trying not to fall and he didn’t.

"I can’t believe I’m saying this but thanks, Zuko" said Aang.

"Listen, I know I didn’t explain myself very well yesterday. I’ve been through a lot in the past years, and it’s been hard. But I’m realizing that I had to go through all those things to learn the truth." He looked at me while saying that and it didn’t take me long to break the eye contact between us. "I thought I had lost my honor and that somehow my father could return it to me. But I know now that no one can give you your honor. It’s something you earn for yourself by choosing to do what’s right. And all I want now is to play my part in ending this war, I know my destiny is to help you restore balance to the world".

I could see that Aang’s expression was a lot softer now as Zuko kept talking, and I realized mine was too.

"I’m sorry for what I did to you. It was an accident." He said to Toph. "Fire can be dangerous and wild. So as a firebender, I need to be more careful and control my bending so I don’t hurt people unintentionally".

"I think you are supposed to be my firebending teacher" said Aang. "When I first tried to learn firebending, I burned Katara. And after that, I never wanted to firebend again. But now I know you understand how easy it is to hurt the people you love" I lifted my head at his words, feeling the young Avatar’s eyes on me and I quickly looked at Zuko before looking away once more. "I’d like you to teach me".

"Thank you. I’m so happy you’ve accepted me into your group".

"Not so fast. I still have to ask my friends if it’s okay with them" he then proceeded to ask every single one of us our opinion on the matter, and I felt my heart beating fast when he said my name.

"You need a firebending teacher, it would be dumb of us to refuse his offer" I said, and that made it official: Zuko was now part of our group.

Having him around was a bit weird at first, but as the days went by, I got used to his presence. I hated to admit it but having him around wasn’t so bad after all. We were now having dinner, and we were glad Zuko and Katara were fine after their trip together. It was weird to be camping, but I liked to be outdoors, so it didn’t bother me; well, except for the cold, of course. We stayed around the fire for a while after we finished eating, but we finally decided to go to bed since we had to get up early in order to go to Ember Island. Everyone had gone to their tents but I stayed outside for a while, drawing whatever went through my mind.

"Here" I heard a voice say. I looked up and I was met up with Zuko’s face, and he was offering me his robe. I looked at him confused and he sat by my side. "You’re cold, I can tell because you’re curling your toes" he said.

"Thanks" I said, grabbing his robe and putting it on. He stayed there beside me and asked me what I was drawing. "Just Momo sleeping". As I said that I gestured with my head to show him where the lemur was, and he let out a smile.

"I know I said this a couple of times already but I’m glad to see you again and I-" he said, but I interrupted him.

"Please, Zuko, I don’t want to talk about it now. It’s late, I’m tired, and I’d very much rather have this conversation at any other moment; not now, please". I begged, not wanting to deal with this right now. He nodded and told me he understood, but that we would have to talk sooner or later. "I know, I’m still very confused. Give me some time to figure out my feelings, please".

"I will, I promise".

We stayed there in silence for a few minutes while I finished my drawing. Once I was done, I started getting up to go to my tent, and when I was going to give Zuko back his robe, he told me to keep it. I smiled at him and started walking away, but I turned around and walked back to him.

"Here, I want you to have it" I said while giving him my drawing. He smiled and thanked me. We stood there, looking at each other for a few seconds until he said it was late and that we both should go to bed.

"Good night, (Y/N)". Right before walking away, he gave me a quick kiss on my cheek and I was glad it was dark enough for him to not see that I was blushing. I went to my tent and tried to be as silent as possible since I thought Katara would be already asleep.

"Did you guys kiss?" I heard her ask.

"Spirits, Katara, you scared me!" I yelled in a whisper.

"I'm sorry. Did you, though?"

"No, nothing happened" I said, hoping she'd believe me. I took off Zuko's robe and started getting inside my sleeping bag as Katara spoke again.

"Then why do you have his robe?"

"I was cold and he gave it to me, okay?" I looked at her and I realized she wouldn't leave me alone unless I told her everything, so I did. "I'm just so confused" I said after telling her, letting out a sigh.

"I think you're just scared of him hurting you again" she said. "And I get it, he really hurt you and you have every right to be mad, but I see the way he looks at you, (Y/N)".

"That's the thing, I don't even think I'm mad anymore. I guess you're right and I'm probably just scared, but I don't want to be".

"You still need some time".

"How much?" I asked. "Because if I'm being honest I miss him a lot and I just want to be with him, and it's already been a while since he joined us. It's like I'm just a tiny little step away from being ready".

"As much as you need, (Y/N). You'll know when you're ready, trust me". She grabbed my hand in order to reassure me and I smiled at her. "Maybe you're ready and you just don't want to admit it to yourself" she whispered.

She then proceeded to say good night and quickly fell asleep. I was tired, but I just wasn't able to stop thinking about my shared moment with Zuko and what Katara said to me. Maybe she was right and I was ready; maybe I was just scared of being ready, of getting hurt again. I could feel my head starting to hurt a little, but still I thankfully managed to fall asleep, which was actually a blessing since I didn't want to be tired for our trip.

Being at Ember Island felt extremely weird, but it was the best place we had to hide until the comet. Aang and Zuko were training, and Katara, Toph, and I were sitting in the corner. We were all talking when suddenly Sokka and Suki told us about a play that, supposedly, told our story.

"We were just in town and we found this poster" said Suki and then Sokka showed us said poster.

"Listen to this. The Boy In The Iceberg is a new production from acclaimed playwright Puan Tin, who scoured the globe gathering information on the Avatar" he started saying, reading what was on the poster.

"Do you really think it's a good idea for us to attend a play about us?" asked Katara.

"Oh, come on. A day at the theater? This is the kind of time-wasting nonsense I've been missing" said her brother. And so we decided to go that night. I honestly didn't know what to expect, but we honestly needed to take a break.

The day went by pretty quick, and soon we had to get ready to go.

"I think that maybe you should take of that shirt" said Katara, looking at the one I was wearing under my fire nation attire. "We don't want people to suspect we're not from the Fire Nation, and your shirt is blue".

I sighed in frustration but I knew she was right. However, I didn't want to take it out, mainly because I was a bit self-conscious about my scar; it was the only reason I used my long sleeve shirt.

"Could you come and help me?" I asked the waterbender. "I can't put this top back on my by myself". She nodded and we went inside for a moment. I had taken off my blue shirt and when she was helping me with my red one, she noticed something was wrong.

"I can stay here with you if you don't feel comfortable going out without covering it" she said, talking about my scar. I honestly considered accepting her offer for a moment. I wasn't that self-conscious about my scar anymore, but covering it was easier: I didn't have to worry about people looking at me, or things like that. But tonight I didn't really care about what anyone could think, so I refused.

"It's nothing, Katara. We should go, we don't want to be late" I said right before she finished helping me with my top. I thanked her and we went back outside to meet the others. We were all ready and so we left.

When we got to the theater, we quickly went to our sits since the play was about to begin. I sat between Zuko and Katara, with Aang and Toph at each end of the bench.

Everything up till the intermission was kind of weird; the guys have told me some things that happened before I joined them, but seeing some actors recreating that was extremely funny.

"Look guys, I know it must hurt but what you're seeing up there is the truth" said Toph before going back to our sits.

When it was Toph's moment to appear in the play, she got excited. She was played by some guy and she actually found that extremely funny, and so did I; maybe coming here hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

Or maybe it was. I wasn't in the play, and when they were acting the whole catacombs situation, they made it seem like Katara and Zuko liked each other. I knew they didn't, but it still made me feel weird and I could tell they felt the same. Suddenly, Aang got up and left and a few moments later, I decided to do the same. I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, waiting for the next intermission. It wasn't long till everyone got out, and Toph, Zuko and I stayed there while Katara went to look for Aang and Sokka went backstage with Suki.

"Geez, everyone's getting so upset about their characters. Even you seem more down than usual, and that's saying something" said the earthbender to Zuko.

"At least you guys are in the play, they didn't even mention me" I said under my breath.

"You don't get it, Toph. You get a muscly version of yourself taking down ten bad guys at once and making sassy remarks".

"Yeah, that's pretty great" said the little girl.

"But for me, it takes all the mistakes I've made in my life and shoves them back in my face. Even the ones they don't talk about!" After hearing that, I didn't even think before acting, I just grabbed his hand and started caressing it. He kept talking about his uncle but I didn't say anything; I just stayed there in silence, letting them talk.

We went back in for the last part of the play. To be honest, I was a little bored and just wanted to head back to the house. I could tell I wasn't the only one, and there was a weird tension in the air. We all were a bit shocked at the end of the play, and on the way back to the house we all talked about how bad it actually was. Once we got there, everyone quickly went to bed, and when I was leaving, Zuko told me to stop.

"Is now a good time to talk?" he asked and I slowly nodded. We sat near the fountain, next to each other. "I don't know what the playwright was thinking, but that thing with Katara never happened at the catacombs" he said after a while.

"I know" I whispered. "It was just a play" I reassured him. He nodded and let out a sigh before talking again.

"I have so many things to say but I don't know where to begin with I-" he took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "I just want to make things right".

"I'm not mad at you anymore, Zuko" I said. "I used to be so angry and sad, I guess I needed some time".

"I understand. I'm so sorry for everything that happened, I feel so guilty for betraying you and for hurting you" he said the last part while looking briefly at my arm. "If I could go back to that day, I… I don't know what I would do, honestly".

"We can't change the past, Zuko" I said. "I just have one question and I need you to answer me with the truth. Did you ever feel something for me? Or were you just faking the whole time?" I could tell my heart was beating fast, and I even had some tears that threatened to fall down my cheeks.

"Every single moment with you was true" he said. "I really loved you, and I regret never saying it out loud because I know that it's too late now".

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking at him in the eyes.

"I never stopped loving you, (Y/N). Yes, I came here to help Aang, but also because I wanted to see you again. But after being around you for a while I realized that maybe you're better off without me".

"Don't say that" I whispered, preparing myself for what I was about to say, but before he words could leave my mouth he started talking again.

"But it's true. And I know deep down that I'll always love you, but I can't make you love me back if you don't and I-" I cut him off by grabbing his neck in order to press my lips against his.

"I do love you, Zuko. I never stopped loving you" he looked at me surprised, and I didn't know if it was because of what I just said or the kiss. Nevertheless, I kissed him again, and this time he kissed me back; the kiss was sweet and at the same time kind of desperate, and when I backed off a bit, I could tell he had a little smile on his face.

"I missed kissing you so much" he said, cupping my face to then give me a quick kiss on my nose. "I missed you so much" he whispered.

"I missed you too" I said right before hugging him and placing my head on his chest. He kissed my forehead and suddenly, right here with his arms around me, I felt at home.

[acefeather2002]

Valentine's Day Special: A Delicate Kiss (Moxiety)

I totally forgot that I wrote a Valentine’s Day story on Wattpad! Would’ve been nice if I remembered and posted on that day...anywho, here it is (like a week late). Hope you like it.

Human AU

💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩

Virgil woke up early around four in the morning. He glanced to his left to find his boyfriend of two years sleeping comfortably with his back facing him. He then looked at the time and realized he had about two and a half hours to prepare everything for the day. With that thought in mind, he got up quietly so as to not disturb his snoozing lover, and he headed downstairs to put his plan into action.

~Saut de temps: deux heures (time skip: two hours)~

The sound of the alarm shouted in his ear as Patton reached over to turn it off. Patton rolled over and smiled in the direction of his beau but found the space empty. He shot up somewhat worried but was quick to calm down as he heard running water in their shared bathroom. He stepped inside in his baggy baby blue t-shirt and shorts to find Virgil brushing his teeth, and he wrapped his arms around his waist while kissing the back of his neck. Virgil shuddered at the touch before spitting out the excess toothpaste and turn in his lover's hold and pecking his forehead. "Good morning, babe," Virgil said softly. "Good morning,"Patton replied, "Happy Valentine's day, hun."

Virgil leaned down and kissed his Valentine, admiring the softness of his lips. They pulled away, and Virgil let Patton get ready for the day. Once he was ready, Virgil led him down the stairs, and his eyes widened at what they saw. Heart-shaped pancakes stood in a tower on both plates on the table. Red, heart balloons populated the ceiling. Red and pink roses in a baby blue vase decorated the center of the table. The kitchen was cleaned and swept; the living and dining rooms we're vacuumed, and Winnie the Pooh was ready to be played on the TV in the living room.

Virgil led Patton to the table, and they devoured the perfect pancakes that he made while enjoying a happy conversation. After eating they moved to the couch to cuddle and watch Patton's favorite movie. Virgil sat with his arm around Patton as he leaned into his hold. He blushed a little as Patton snuggled into his shoulder.

As the movie went on, Patton looked up at Virgil and stared for a small while. Virgil, suddenly disconcerted asked, "What? Is something wrong?" Patton just smiled and lightly pecked Virgil's neck, causing a shudder and deeper blush to take place. He responded happily, "Nothing's wrong. You just make me happy." Virgil smirked as he rolled his eyes fondly, "C'mon, no need for the mushy stuff."

Patton gave a small giggle as he kissed the same spot again, earning the same but slightly harsher reaction. "But I love you," he said he planted another kiss on another spot of his neck, "because you're sweet." He left another kiss, "and kind." And another, "and loving." And another, "and caring." Virgil half-heartedly pushed at his lover to end the kisses while trying to stifle his chuckles, "Patton, stohop. That tihickles."

Patton gave another giggle and replied, "That's another thing: you're adorable!" He then tackled his boyfriend down and started kissing all over his neck. Virgil could do nothing but laugh from the sensations. "Haha Pahahat, cut it ouhouhout!" Virgil yelped through his giggles. Patton just laughed with him, "I can't help it. You're so cute that I wanna eat you up!" He then blew multiple raspberries against his boyfriend's neck, earning him squeals and squeaky giggles.

By now, Virgil was getting tired of defending (even though he wasn't really trying that much anyway), so he decided to fight fire with fire. He reached down and scratched at Patton's sides, hearing a squeal with chuckles to follow instantly after. "Eehehehe nohoho!" Patton squeaked happily, recoiling from his attack and curling in at the ticklish touch.

"Hehehe stahahap!" Patton giggled as he tried to grasp Virgil's skilled fingers. Virgil snickered at his boyfriend's giggly state, "You started it. I thought you should at least get a taste of your own medicine." Virgil slipped Patton's shirt up and pinched and scratched at the soft and plump tummy skin. Patton couldn't contain his squealish laughter, "AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHA!" "And guess what flavor your medicine is, Pattycake," Virgil grabbed his attention again, but he couldn't respond due to his continuous cackles. He just shook his head violently because he knew exactly where this was going.

Virgil wrapped his arms around Patton's waist while still squiggling circle into his side to leave him in stitches. He leaned in to Patton's ear and whispered the one word that he was dreading, "Raspberries." With that, Virgil dropped down and blew a long and teasing one right in the middle of his tummy. Patton all but screamed in hysterics at the vibrating feeling. "AAAAAHAHAHAHA! OKAY OKAHAHAY! UNCLE! UNCLE!" Patton cried, and Virgil stopped his attack, rubbing away the ghostly tickles left on his lover's skin. He then left a kiss on his forehead and another, more gentle kiss on his lips full of love for the bubbly character in his arms.

"Patton," Virgil started, "I have something to ask you." The atmosphere seemed to have dropped from happy and adorable to more serious, leaving Patton to worry. He asked, "What is it, hun?" Virgil then pulled out a small, navy blue velvet box and got down on one knee in front of him, and Patton sat up instantly. Virgil then began his speech.

"Patton, these past three years have been the best years of my life. I've never gotten a chance to get to know someone as well as I know you. It had been a long while since the last time I opened my heart to someone. This time, it's as if you barged in and laid claim on your territory, and I'm so glad you did. Thank you for showing me how to love and the happiness you've given me. But something that would make me happier is if you answer my question: Patton Morale Hart, will you marry me?" Virgil opened the box to reveal a beautiful silver band with a baby blue aquamarine stone in the middle.

Patton stared speechlessly in shock at the ring. Virgil got nervous from his silence and asked, "Patton?" Patton shook out of his trance and said with a nervous chuckle, "I guess it's my turn to say something, isn't it?" Virgil gave a small nod but froze when he saw him pull out a small black velvet box. Patton started his speech.

"Virgil, I love you so much. I've always been the one to help make people happy, but I've never experienced true happiness until we started dating. You've given me that chance to actually be truly happy. I love the idea of waking up next to you. I enjoy the time we spend together. I treasure the happy memories that we share, and I want to make more with you. I can't imagine my life without you. So, Virgil Angus Black, if you please. Will you marry me?" Patton opened up his box and displayed a black band with an amethyst teardrop.

Both stared at each other with wide eyes but enormous grins grew to split their faces in two. They looked into each others eyes and simultaneously answered, "Yes." Patton launched himself into Virgil's arms, and they rolled a little on the floor from the momentum while laughing with such glee. When they sat up properly, they each picked up their purchased rings and slipped them on the respective fingers. A tender kiss overflowing with love, adoration, admiration, and affection was shared between the two, excited for the bright and happy future that they were going to have together.

💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩💙🌩

I was making myself happy as I was writing this. I was practically fangirling to myself...is that weird? That's probably weird. Oh well. I'm kinda proud with how this one came out. I hope you liked this fic.

I'll see you later Kings, Queens, and Non-Binary Nobles. And spread the love!❤

[mikasaessucasaa]

Title: Flatlanders

Summary: After being forced to retire from singing, Sansa returns to Winterfell Ranch, a place she hasn’t called home in over ten years, and finds the man that she left behind all those years ago.

Part 1 .... Part 2

1991

King’s Landing, TX

Sansa’s hair was a frizzy mess. It wasn’t usually so humid this far inland, but of course the moment she came back was the same week that the summer storms started. It only ever rained once a year when she lived in LA.

And now she was trekking around town when the sky looked like it was about to open up. She needed to fix a broken fence that’s been neglected for weeks. And she needed to talk to the bank and get their finances sorted. What the hell has Arya been doing all this time?

Fence first. Bank later. And maybe she’ll get so busy getting wood that she might not even have to see Petyr.

And of course it started pouring as soon as she pulled up to the Night's Watch General Store. Damn. It better not be a flash flood. She should have listened when Mama told her to bring a damn umbrella. Bless Sansa’s heart.

Accepting her fate, she steeled herself and made a dash from the truck to the front door. Even the thirty seconds it took her to get inside was enough to make her look like a drowned rat. Forget frizzy hair, her auburn hair was soaked and limp.

She was greeted by a familiar face, but she couldn’t place his name, not having seen him in over a decade. He was scrawny and of average height with short cropped hair.

“Sansa! Woah, never thought I’d see you again in these neck of the woods.”

Honestly, neither did she.

She looked at his name badge. Ah. Pyp. One of Jon’s lackeys who used to follow him around high school. She thought it was adorable back then. She wondered if he still talked to Jon.

“Jon’s gonna be so happy to see you.” She doubted it, but she nodded and smiled. “How can I help ya today?”

“Got a whole section of my fence broken. I think from lightning a couple of weeks ago.”

Pyp showed her a couple of different options. She wanted to buy the cedar since it would last longer through the unpredictable Texas weather, but she saw their finances, and Mama definitely understated just how much trouble the ranch was in. She didn’t know how long her own cash was going to last with her singing voice now gone.

So she went with the pine instead. She’ll deal with it later.

“I’ll give you the friends and family discount,” Pyp said when he rung her up. As she was signing the check, he pulled out another piece of paper and asked, “Do you mind also signing this? My niece loves your music. She’s always jamming to your album on her little boombox.”

Sansa hadn't thought she was that popular. She had one or two songs played on the radio nationally, and produced a couple of songs for commercials. She bet it was her local celebrity fame that made her popular down here.

She gave her signature and hauled ass out of her store with her fence posts while the rain momentarily stopped. She covered her new purchase with a tarp and settled back into her truck.

She checked the time, and damn the bank was still open.

So she made her way over to the Eyrie Bank. Her parents had only ever gone to one bank their entire life because it was owned by a family friend. Papa had been good friends with Jon Arryn for a long time before he passed, and then Aunt Lysa remarried a childhood friend, Petyr Baelish.

To Sansa, Petyr had always been the creepy uncle, but if anyone could help her sort out the mess with the ranch, he could.

There weren’t many customers when she entered the bank, so of course they let Petyr know right away that she was there to see him.

He smiled that creepy smile that he always had, as if he wanted to devour her. It was the same look music producers always gave her when she entered the room. They always undressed her with their eyes first before they bothered listening to her demos.

And she smiled back, as he leaned forward and held her in a too intimate hug. Gross. “Sansa, my dear. It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much over these last twelve years.”

“Same here, Uncle Baelish.”

“I wish you had come to visit more often.”

“Well you know what it’s like for artists trying to break in.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to give up everything to chase your dreams. You’re so brave.” Liar. Everybody knew that Sansa was forced to leave.

Sansa smiled more. “Thank you Uncle.”

Baelish led them to his private office, and the way that he patted her shoulder after he closed the door made her uncomfortable, but she held it in as she watched him take a seat.

“So how can I help you, my sweetling?”

“I need you to walk me through the Winterfell finances.”

“Certainly, I’ll make it as easy as I can for you to follow.”

Sansa started tapping her finger against the arm rest.

She resented his insinuation. She didn’t finish high school, but she learned to manage her finances, learned how much the Lannisters stole from her, knew how much she willfully turned away from because she needed the Lannisters as much as she hated them.

Still he did make it easy for her to understand, all the while outlining all of the paperwork.

Mama had been behind on bank payments for a long time, even after being given extensions consistently. Eventually, even Petyr’s generosity, so he says, couldn’t save the ranch. So Robb took out a private loan to cover the bank payments.

“Another bank?” she asked.

“No more personal than that. I believe Robb was good friends with Rhaegar’s boy.” He probably wanted to say bastard, but knew better since he was Robb’s best friend.

But she couldn't believe that Robb would be stupid enough to take out a loan from the Valyrian Dragons. Maybe he had a death wish after all.

“And that’s what’s keeping the ranch afloat now? Do you know how much we owe?”

Petyr gave a number and it wasn’t absurd, but, “This interest rate is insane. We won’t ever be able to touch the principle.”

Petyr shrugged. “I did try to warn your dear brother. I told him that it would be better for the bank to repossess the ranch. We would have certainly allowed your family to manage it still.” But he would own it all. “But alas your brother couldn’t see sense.”

She couldn’t tell if Robb was a prideful fool, or smart not to fall into bed with Petyr.

She thanked Petyr for his time and headed to the Dragon’s clubhouse. She had dreaded this part of coming home. Sansa hadn’t seen Jon in twelve years, and she didn’t know what kind of man he grew up to be. He had always been kind and sweet as a child, but kind and sweet men don’t join the Valyrian Dragons.

But she had to know if Robb had a plan all along, or if he was dumb enough to leave his family and the ranch at the mercy of the Dragons.

The clubhouse didn’t know if it wanted to be an auto shop or a bar or a boarding house, just the kind of trashy place that you would find in the south, because what else could it be?

She never thought she’d actually step in this place.

When she was still in school, the girls used to whisper about how they dreamed they would lose their virginities to one of the Dragons’ members. Egg would be ideal, with his pretty boy charm and silver hair, but Jon would do — he may have been shy back then, but the girls all took it as mysterious and dangerous. She wondered if the girls’ assumptions became true in his adulthood.

She assumed Egg must have been successful in popping a lot of cherries, but in her loneliness she sometimes liked to think that she was the only one for Jon, that she was somehow special, despite the mess she left.

There were a couple of pretty girlies loitering in the bar area of the clubhouse when she entered. They teetered around on high heels and tight skirts and tops, and suddenly Sansa wished she had the foresight to dress for battle. Instead she was wearing her stupid ripped jeans, work boots, and a white tee with a flannel shirt.

The girlies turned to look at her and their excited chatter died down. She’s guessing the red hair gave her away, or she really was more popular than she thought.

Out of the crowd of girlies, a silver haired woman emerged in black stilettos, leather pants and a black corset top. Shit, who could wear leather pants in this weather except for Daenerys Stormborn?

“So it’s true, the prodigal Stark daughter returns,” Dany said sweetly, but Sansa knew there was nothing sweet about the woman. She was all fire and ash. Dany probably thrived on the club wars.

Sansa shrugged. “Everyone’s gotta come home sometime.”

“Only when they’re incapable of surviving the world out there.”

“But at least I went out into the world.” Instead of being trapped in this hellhole.

“Only goes to show that you don’t belong here.”

“Winterfell is my home.” Even Sansa would have rolled her eyes at herself if she heard her speak.

“But the clubhouse isn’t. What do you want?”

“I need to speak to Jon.”

“No. You left him a mess all those years ago, and you think you can come waltzing in here years later and just talk to him? Wake up honey. He won’t want to talk to you.” Dany crossed her arms. “Whatever you want to say to Jon, you can tell to his girl.”

Dany had always wanted to claw her way into the Targaryens, maybe she finally did.

“It’s got nothing to do with you Dany.”

Dany waved her hand, flashing an engagement ring. “See this here? Says it’s got everything to do with me, missy.”

Sansa’s heart started pounding uncomfortably in her chest and she felt nauseous and lightheaded. Shit. Of all the damn times to have an anxiety attack.

She stumbled backwards into something solid.

“Sansa.”

The low, broken sound snapped her towards the man.

“Jon,” Sansa said, equally as broken.

Part 3

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part Five - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

Summary: Nadja sneaks the reader to the vampire rave and things go--predictably--sideways. As in, the reader is in danger! Featuring more Nadja/Reader bonding and some snuggling with Nandor. The reader is feeling more and more at home with the vampires and maybe even starting to see the allure of the vamp life...

A/N: Hey guys! Really read the warnings here. This chapter has some serious angst! I Hope you guys enjoy it and thanks forever for commenting and reblogging--it means the world!

Warnings!!: Memory loss, Hypnosis, Drug use, vampire attack, angst, hurt/comfort

---

You’re seated at the top of the stairs resting your chin in your hands and watching the rest of the household bustle around the front hallway as they prepare to leave for the vampire rave. Nadja is dressed in a stunning midnight black gown studded with sparkling gemstones. You decide that you must have dreamed about her promising to take you because she doesn’t even glance in your direction as they start to file out the front door.

Nandor tries to catch your eye from below but you stubbornly turn your head. You don’t know how it’s possible after living here for such a short time but it hurts to be left out. Even Guillermo is tagging along. You’re the only one being excluded and it stings. 

Nandor refuses to let you sulk in peace. He walks up the stairs towards you and your treasonous eyes track his progress, drinking in the image of him in his tall boots with the cape flowing out behind him. His legs are long and thick and your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and touch him. He stops a few steps down and you finally look up at his face. 

“Stop this moping around!” he orders with a whine in his voice. “The whole house smells like sad human.”

“Take me with you, then!” you demand, standing to your feet. For once you’re actually taller than him. “You’re taking Guillermo!”

Nandor shakes his head, “Guillermo is a familiar! They’re off limits to other vampires. You’re just…”

He stops himself from completing the sentence so you do it for him.

“Just...food?” you supply and you’re aggravated to feel tears stinging your eyes. 

“Yes!” Nandor blurts, somewhat oblivious to the way your face crumples. “And I’m not going to spend the whole party guarding you from other vampires!”

You retreat back towards your bedroom with a disgusted shake of your head. 

“You’re horrible!”

---

“It wasn’t really a punishment, not inviting the human to the rave party,” Nandor sits in a tall-backed armchair and looks into the camera. “I was more worried about another vampire eating her…”

He’s silent for a beat, looking off to the side in contemplation.

“But Nadja is a bad influence! The human is becoming very insolent!”

---

You’re deep into your sulk and watching Netflix on your laptop when a scraping sound from the window interrupts the gloom. You look up but, of course, you can see nothing through the layer of newspaper pasted over the glass panes to keep out sunlight. The scraping starts up again and this time it’s accompanied by the faint sound of something flapping up against the glass.

You creep up to the window, body tense with anticipation, and you slowly peel off a piece of newspaper to peer out into the darkness.

THWACK!

You flinch backwards as a bat flies into the glass, squeaking and flapping its wings to be let inside.

“...the fuck? Are you serious!?”

You’re either about to find out that vampires turning into bats is a real thing...or you’re about to get rabies. You heave the solid window open and the bat glides inside, exploding into a cloud of black vapor and appearing as Nadja, looking cool and completely nonchalant.

“You can turn into a bat!?” you screech, forgetting your foul mood at once.

Nadja flips her wrist at you, “Of course, my cheeky darling. That’s, like, the most basic power for a vampire. Very simple.”

“Wow...” you marvel under your breath, eyes wide with admiration. Could she be any more cool?

“Now, come to my crypt, baby human. I’ve laid something out for you to wear,” she snaps her fingers and turns on her heel, expecting you to follow obediently. Which...you do.

Now that she’s really here to take you to the rave, of course, you’re awash with second thoughts. Maybe Nandor was right...maybe it’s too risky.

“I don’t know, Nadja...won’t it be dangerous? I mean, Laszlo said it’s basically a feeding frenzy, right?” you hate how diffident you sound but--hey--on the other hand you really like being alive.

“Pshh, don’t worry about that, human,” she scoffs. “I won’t let anyone eat you. Besides, most of those humans will be fine. You don’t want to drink too much drug blood. You only take a little sip and then erase their memory.”

You stay silent as she leads you into the crypt. You know from experience how disorienting “a little sip” can feel…

But your qualms fly out the window when Nadja holds up the dress she’s selected for you. 

“What do you think, darling? You will look like a real little baby vampire in this…”

It’s a floor-length gown in shimmery black and silver brocade with a high neckline and short sleeves trimmed in lace. It’s like nothing you’ve ever imagined wearing and your mouth drops open in awe. Nadja grins and pushes it into your arms.

“Put it on and then I will do something with your hair. Don’t worry about bloody, stupid Nandor. He’s just being a pig dick because he wants to do sex with you but if he does, it will ruin your blood.”

“Wha--how--?” you choke in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, sweet, stupid human,” Nadja croons and cups your cheeks in her hands. “Nandor is as obvious as a turkey strutting around and waving his feathers in your face. He smells like desire whenever you are near him. Very distinct, very nauseating. He’s just too dumb to know what to do about it.”

Your shoulders droop. It’s obvious Nandor is interested...it’s just a question of whether he’s more interested in you or your blood. You think you know the answer.

Nadja senses the morose train of your thoughts and she interrupts, “But if he sees you in this? He will tear the hair from his chest in anguish until you let him ravish you! Trust me, girly. I know what I’m talking about.”

---

Nadja tucks your hand into the crook of her elbow and leads you up to the doors at the back of the building. A burly vampire stands before the entrance and holds up a hand as you approach.

“Password?” her voice is deep and gravelly. Goosebumps course over your arms and you tuck yourself closer to Nadja.

Rather than respond verbally, Nadja flashes her fangs which seems to be good enough because you’re beckoned through the door right away. Once inside your senses are immediately overwhelmed. Music pours over you, the bass pulsing through your bones. It’s dark except for the flashes of strobe lights and the neon glow of dancers decked in glow sticks and covered in luminescent body paint. Before you’re even out of the doorway someone lurches up to you with a small tube of paint in their hands and presses a finger to your cheek, drawing a heart on your skin. Nadja shoves them away with a curse.

“Fucking, cheeky human! I should kill him for touching you,” she growls.

You’re too busy taking in the sights and sounds to be perturbed. You just pat her arm and yell over the music, “It’s fine, Nadja!”

The vampire shakes away her annoyance and leans into your ear with a giddy grin, “Let’s party, baby.”

Nadja moves through the throng like a queen, expecting the masses to part before her. And they do. You follow along in her wake feeling a bit like a fraud in your borrowed finery. But you suddenly flash back to your early derby days when you’d been petrified of actually going out and skating in front of a crowd of people. Your sister skater clunked her helmet with yours, spit out her mouth guard and said, “Fake it till you make it!”

You lift your chin and for a moment you imagine what it would be like if you were the predator stalking through the night in search of weak, mortal prey. And suddenly it feels like the crowd is parting for both of you.

“Oooo, this looks like a tasty little morsel!” Nadja exclaims, eyeing a petite girl in her 20′s dressed head-to-toe in blinding neon colors. Nadja glides up to the girl and waves her hand in front of her face as she drawls, “You will come with me into the bathroom.”

You trail after them, not wanting to let Nadja out of your sight knowing that there are other vampires here hunting within the crowd.

Nadja clears the bathroom with a wave of her hand and an imperious command. You stand to the side and watch as she takes the girl in her arms and buries her fangs into her soft neck. It should be shocking and terrible but...you’re not bothered. Why aren’t you bothered? Watching Nadja make her attack is like watching a lioness take down a gazelle. She’s powerful and deadly, yes, but also impressive. 

She throws her head back and her blood-stained lips part in a dazed grin. The girl in her arms starts to squirm away and Nadja tightens her hold, drawing the human in with her gaze and speaking just one word, “Forget.”

You watch the girl’s eyes glaze over as Nadja releases her. She stumbles out of the bathroom and back out into the crowd. 

“What if another vampire decides to bite her?” you worry. All these people--yourself included--seem suddenly so fragile and vulnerable in the face of a vampire’s power.

“So?” Nadja asks. She’s licking her lips and swaying a little where she stands, obviously feeling the effects of the drug blood.

“So?” you echo. “So...she could...die…”

Saying these words out loud to your vampire roommate sounds suddenly daft.

Nadja snorts and then she’s overcome with giggles. She leans into your side as you make your way back out onto the dance floor.

“My silly human...you feel bad because you’re still human. I get it. But...you’ll understand eventually,” she says the words directly into your ear so as to be heard over the music. 

“When we...you know,” she mimics biting you and then puts her own wrist to your mouth. You want to ask her what the hell she’s talking about but she’s suddenly dragging you into the center of the dancers and urging you to dance with her. 

The night flies by in a blur of dancing and stalking and drinking. Nadja finds you a “human alcoholic drink” after considerable pouting when you tell her you don’t want to do any party drugs. There are cases of beer and hard cider stacked in one corner and you lose track of how many drinks you have as the evening goes on. You feel pleasantly loose-limbed and giggly. At one point you see Colin feeding off someone in a quiet corner and he sends you friendly wave even as his eyes glow with hungry power. But more and more people pack into the space as the hours go by and it’s so crowded you don’t run into anyone else from the house. You certainly aren’t searching the crowd for a tall, handsome warrior standing head and shoulders over the others.

Certainly not.

Nadja’s just finished feeding from a yummy young man and you’re leaving the bathroom once more when you finally bump into Laszlo.

“My darling, ferocious beast!” Nadja cries, throwing herself at Laszlo, who’s wearing a crown of glow sticks.

Laszlo catches her in his arms and mauls her mouth in a lewd kiss.

“My goodlady wife! At last! Where have you been? I spent twenty minutes fondling a coat rack before I realized it wasn’t you!”

“I’ve been escorting my pet human,” Nadja giggles and reaches out to pat your head. “Cute little human.”

You’re as drunk as you’ve ever been so the insult flies over your head. You rub your face into her palm and smile. Nadja turns back to her husband with a feral snarl and bites into his lips. 

“Come and ravish me, husband,” she growls, pulling him back towards the bathroom. She turns to you as an afterthought, “Wait right here, human. This won’t take long.”

“Hey!” Laszlo complains.

They disappear into the bathroom and you’re left standing by the wall riding a wave of happy drunken delirium and watching the glowing colors swirl around you.

---

Something’s wrong. Something bad happened but whenever you try to recall the details your mind goes blank and a headache twinges at your temples. 

But you know in your bones that something is wrong. 

You can’t bother Nadja and Laszlo while they’re desecrating the bathroom and Colin Robinson is no longer lurking in the corner where you’d seen him. Anyway there’s only one person you want right now. Only one person who can hold you in his strong arms and make you feel safe but you can’t find him in this horrible, pressing crowd. Your face is wet with tears that you don’t even remember crying but now you’re crying again. Big, racking sobs that hurt your throat and you’re shouting his name, trying to be heard over the deafening music.

When you finally spy his broad shoulders under the blood red velvet cape you break into a sprint and collide with his back, wrapping your arms around him and clinging to him without a care in the world for how pitiful you must look.

Nandor stiffens and turns around in your grip. When he finally sees you, your face stained with tears and the collar of your dress torn and soaked in blood, his face darkens and he feels the loose, merry hold of the drug blood leech from his body as fury takes hold.

“Who has done this?” his voice is a low, angry hiss. 

You just shake your head and bury it into his chest. You don’t have any answers for him. 

“Guillermo!” you hear his voice shouting over your head but you’ve retreated, narrowing the world down to the feel of his arms wrapped around your body. Safe. A faint question stirs at the back of your mind. Are you safe here? With him? But...yes, of course you are.

You’re outside the building now, sitting on top of a stack of wooden pallets with Guillermo and Nandor standing before you. Your mind is still buzzing with alcohol consumption and the heavy, empty echo of hypnosis. Nandor tries to fix your dress. The collar is torn and it gapes open revealing the tops of your breasts. You’d surely be mortified if you weren’t currently retreating into your own psyche. He finally gives up with a huff of annoyance and unclasps his heavy cape, dropping it onto your shoulders and wrapping it securely around you. You clutch the fabric in your shaking hands and pull it tighter. It smells like him.

“I need to know who did this,” Nandor mutters to no one in particular. “I will unleash hell upon them. I will snap their neck and stab them with a thousand stakes. I will--”

“Master,” Guillermo interrupts. “She’s been hypnotized…”

“I can make her remember,” Nandor answers and turns to you with his hand raised in front of your face. 

A sudden, intense fear claws up your throat and you grab his hand with both of yours, pushing it away and shrieking, “NO!”

You scramble backwards and nearly fall off the pile of pallets in your desperation to get away. Nandor grabs your shoulders to steady you and you’re shaking under his hands.

“Leave my head alone,” you whisper. Your eyes are wide, haunted and unseeing. 

Nandor continues to hold onto you, rubbing circles into your shoulders and whispering nonsense comfort words. When you’ve finally calmed down he moves to raise his hand up once more and Guillermo shouts, “Master!”

“I can make her feel better, Guillermo!” Nandor shouts back. He looks back at you and the defeated slump of your shoulders and growls in frustration. “Fine! Fu-cking guy…”

He gathers you in his arms, tucking the cape more securely around you and bending his knees in preparation for flight.

“We’ll see you at the house, Guillermo,” he calls and then he’s launching you both upward and soaring into the sky.

The abrupt weightlessness is enough to shake you slightly from your stupor and you squeal in fright, clutching onto Nandor’s lapels for dear life.

“We’re flying!” you cry, looking down at the city lights below before screwing your eyes shut in alarm. “Don’t drop me!”

“I’m not going to drop you,” Nandor scoffs but he looks a little chagrined at the memory of his familiar’s fall during such a flight. 

You wind your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist, clinging onto him like a koala and periodically shrieking like you’re on a rollercoaster. When he finally touches down on the front steps you’re still attached to him with a death grip.

“We’re home, human,” he murmurs, smoothing his hands over your hair. “You can let go…”

You shake your head against his shoulder and utter a muffled, “No.”

Nandor’s rage over what has been done to you is a simmering fire in his belly but now he also feels something unique: a swelling in his chest that feels like pride. You sought him out for safety and protection...and he wants to take care of you…

He walks upstairs to your bedroom, cradling you in his arms all the way. Once inside he lowers you onto the bed and you finally let your grip on him loosen. 

“I’m going to get your bite ointment and some towels to clean your neck,” he whispers and you don’t miss the way his lips curl back from his fangs at the sight of your blood spattered skin. But he ignores the urge to cover the offensive bite with one of his own. 

He leaves for a few minutes and when he returns his arms are laden with bath towels and bandages. You sit with your legs dangling over the side of the bed and mutely observe as he tends to the wound with a gentle touch.

His eyes stay on his work and his jaw clenches as he finally breaks the silence, “You disobeyed me, human. And I’m not happy about that.”

He uses a wet face cloth on your neck and shoulder, cleaning away the dried blood before he applies the antibiotic cream. Your head is still spinning and you can’t really say if it’s from the alcohol, the hypnosis, or the terrifying flight, but you don’t have the energy to reply.

He rips open a band-aid wrapper and continues, “But I’m sorry this happened to you. You’re...special to me. And... I’d be very sad if you died.”

Nandor leans back on his heels and you look into his soft gaze. He looks more open and vulnerable than you’ve seen him and you suppose this admission is as close to a declaration of his feelings as you’re going to get from the vampire.

“Thanks, Nandor,” you reply, tugging the edges of his cape around you.

“I’ll leave you to get changed…”

---

Nandor is standing by his open coffin looking a little lost without Guillermo to tuck him in. He turns in a circle and with the faintest exhalation extinguishes all the candles lining the room. He’s just climbing in when you appear in the doorway, dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You hug your arms around you and lean against the door frame not meeting his eyes.

“Hey…” you trail off, unaccountably bashful about your request.

Nandor’s eyes trail down your bare legs before flicking back up to your face.

“Hello, my little one,” he greets you. “Do you need me to tuck you in? Guillermo isn’t back yet…”

Does he think Guillermo tucks you in at night? Oh, has he...ordered his familiar to do so? It’s kind of adorable and your lips tug up in a smile. He’s an ancient, all powerful vampire who needs to be tucked in every night...er, day?

“No, I--” you clear your throat and start over. “Can I sleep in your coffin? I don’t want to be alone…”

An increasingly familiar warmth floods Nandor’s chest and he smiles revealing his razor sharp fangs, which should really be more terrifying to you, but who are you kidding?

“Come, my mortal,” he stretches out his hand and you take it, stepping up into the coffin and settling yourself around him, no longer even pretending that this is anything other than some serious undead snuggling.

He turns onto his side and spoons up behind you, snuggling with his face buried into the crook of your neck so he can breathe in your sweet scent. He reaches up to take the handle on the inside of the coffin lid and gently closes it over you both.

“You’re safe now, my mortal,” he breathes, dropping a light kiss on your shoulder.

And...you are. With his arms around you and his comforting weight at your back you feel as if nothing can harm you. Nothing, that is, except maybe for him.

But somehow that doesn’t worry you. You bring your hand up and twine your fingers with his, lifting his hand to your mouth and pressing your lips to his knuckles as your eyes drift shut in exhaustion. 

“‘M safe with you, Nandor,” you echo and there are other words, unspoken, that drift through your thoughts as you fall asleep.

---

Tags--let me know if you’d like to be added to the list

@festering-queen​ @glitterportrait​ @kandomeresbitch​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows​

[ghostpeblewrite]

Paradoxical - Chapter 11

~~~~~~

Toast doesn’t remember getting into bed, but he wakes up and finds himself there. He lays awake for a bit, unsure of what woke him. Could’ve just been his own mind. It feels so foggy and heavy.

He’s made aware of what woke him when it sounds again. A small shuffle out in the hallway. Weird…

By the looks of it, it’s late at night, so neither Spooker or Colon should be awake. He sighs, forcing himself to get out of bed. He tries his best to ignore how empty the bed feels, forcing himself to not think about… It.

He grabs a flashlight from his bedside table, not aware enough to grab a weapon too. He shuffles to the door, opening it lazily. He doesn’t wanna be doing this, but he feels he has to. He shuffles down the hallway quietly.

He gets to the end, where it opens up into the living room, before things start happening. To his left he hears something hit the ground, causing him to jump. He swings the flashlight beam that way, seeing a picture frame on the ground. He shuffles over to it quietly, bending over to pick it up before hearing a creak behind him. He turns around, swinging his flashlight beam over the room. He doesn’t see anything.

He’s a bit on edge, but pushes on. It’s… It’s probably just some stray or something… Yeah…

He moves towards where he heard the creak, only to feel something brush his back. He spins around.

There’s nothing there. He relaxes a bit. Probably just… imagining things.

A figure shifts at the edge of his light. Toast moves it onto the figure, only for the figure to dart out of view. He tenses.

There’s definitely something in the house with him. He starts backing down the hallway, only to run into something. Something that reaches around with a pale, scarred arm to snatch his flashlight. Toast tries to grab it back but it’s too late. It’s flicked off, and thrown somewhere.

Toast tries to lunge forward and grab the figure, but they back out of range. They scamper away, towards the room with the control panel in it. Toast scrambles after them.

He has no idea who it is, but he can’t let them turn the barrier off.

When he gets in the room, however, something hits him in the side of the face. He falls to the ground, pain exploding through his jaw. He sees the next moments through blurry vision, so at first he doesn’t even believe it.

In an instant, a new figure appears. A very familiar figure.

The new figure delivers a hard blow to the first one’s face, causing him to fall to the floor, limp. Then, the second figure rushes to Toast. As they get closer, they get clearer, dimly illuminated by the control panel.

Toast can make out the smile first, cut on one side by a scar. Light stubble. The scar across the nose bridge comes next.

Then the eyes. So warm, and full of love, yet also frustration. The dark, furrowed brows, the shaggy reddish brown hair-

“Ghost,” Toast says softly, barely letting himself believe it.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says quietly, then does something Toast was not expecting. He places his hands on either side of Toast’s face, pulling him into a gentle kiss.

Toast can feel so many things. Other than Ghost’s warm hands on his face. Mostly, his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

He pulls away too soon, beginning to talk way too fast for Toast, who is still processing what just happened.

“This is the last time, I swear to god,” Ghost says quickly, “If I have to go through this one more time I’m gonna lose it. I can’t do this again. This is the last time.”

“Wh- Sir-” Toast says, grabbing his hands, sitting up straighter. “Slow down- Did you just kiss me-?”

Ghost stares a moment before laughing, his face breaking into that wonderful, if rare, smile again. Toast wishes it weren’t so dark, so he could see it better.

“Right- Yes, I did, but I don’t have time to explain all that right now-” Ghost says.

“Sir!” Toast says, feeling a smile on his own face. “You… Kissed me!”

Ghost chuckles, though it sounds a bit strained, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on Toast’s nose, “Alright, Johnny, alright.” He stands, holding a hand out for Toast, who takes it with a stupid smile on his face.

“I need you to do something for me, okay? And then I promise I’ll explain,” Ghost says.

“I thought you were dead… And then you kissed me-” Toast says, sort of in a daze.

“Oh- Okay, Johnny,” Ghost grabs his arms, “Hey, listen to me, I need you to wake up Spooker and Colon, okay? Bring them to the living room.”

Toast nods, the smile not leaving. Ghost nods back, letting go of him. Toast heads off to where Spooker and Colon sleep.

Ghost looks down at the limp body on the floor. He hates what he has to do, but he knows by now what he has to do. He’s tired of restarting when he messes up. He’s doing it right this time, even if it kills him.

Soon enough, Toast has the other two in the living room, half awake. Toast’s still buzzing from what happened, but he’s a bit more in the moment.

Ghost rushes in, adjusting his gloves a bit, “Alright, team, listen up-”

“GHOST??!!” Spooker yells, jumping to his feet. Ghost’s eyes widen, and then he lets out a grunt as Spooker barrels into him, hugging him a bit too tight.

“Heyyyyyy, Spooks,” Ghost says, patting Spooker’s back a bit. Toast is shocked by that, usually Ghost would’ve shoved him off by now.

“You were gone for so long!!” Spooker says, pulling away, “We were worried!!”

“Yeah, what was with that?” Colon asks.

Seeing as the conversation has derailed so much, Toast expects Ghost to yell, but not for the first time that night he’s surprised.

“I uhm… It's a long story, you guys,” Ghost says, “One I don’t have time to tell.” He glances at the clock quietly.

“But you will later, right?” Spooker says.

“Yeah, of course,” Ghost says, reaching out to ruffle Spooker’s hair using that as a chance to shove him away a bit. “Sit back down.”

Spooker sits.

“Right, so, in about,” he glances at the clock, “A few minutes, the opposing side will attack. We have very little chance of surviving this, but as a team we can get through this, alright?”

“But- Sir, who even are they?” Toast pipes up.

Ghost eyes him, “You already know two- Gavin and Jimmy.”

“But- Jimmy’s dead,” Colon says.

Ghost cracks a small smile. He suddenly pulls a gun from his pocket- Isn’t that the gun Toast keeps in his bedside table??- pointing it at the hallway behind him, not even looking. “No he isn’t.”

There, at the edge of the hallway, is Jimmy, posed like he was about to lunge at Ghost. Ghost looks back at him. He takes a second to just… look at him, before nodding his head at the door. Jimmy stares at him. Ghost motions for him to move towards the door with the gun, and Jimmy starts moving slowly.

“Sir-!” Toast protests, “We can’t just let him go-!”

“We have to,” Ghost says through gritted teeth, watching Jimmy scamper out the front door. He pockets the gun again, staring at the door. He takes a deep breath.

“Right,” he turns back to them. “Now-”

“Wait, but I snapped his neck,” Colon says. “How was he alive???”

“He’s very bendy,” Ghost says simply, “Now, we need a gameplan. Toast??” He looks at Toast before he’s even moved.

“Oh- Uhm, I was thinking of one, yes,” Toast nods.

“What is it?” Ghost asks.

“I mean, we could surprise them, sir. They probably don’t know you’re… Alive, so if we could draw them out and then surprise attack them, that… Could work?” He shrugs.

Ghost smiles, grabbing his arm to pull him closer, pulling him into another quick kiss. “That’s exactly what you needed to say, Johnny!”

Toast stares at him, red faced. Yet another time he was not expecting that.

“Hey-!” Spooker jumps up again, “You can’t do that!”

Ghost looks at him, “And why is that, Spooker?” He sounds like he knows exactly what’s going to happen.

“Because Toast is married!!” Spooker cries, “To- To a child slave!!”

“Yeah!!” Colon says, standing as well.

Toast stares at them for a moment before Ghost nudges him in the ribs.

“I- Y- What-?” Toast sputters. “Child slave??”

“Yeah! We saw the marriage papers!” Spooker says, “‘Gregory Casket’, he was a missing child!!”

“Oh- You saw that and didn’t think to come ask me-??” Toast sighs, “Guys, no. Gregory Casket is Ghost’s legal name.”

“Wait-” Spooker looks between the two, “But- Ghost isn’t wearing a ring-!”

Before he’s even finished the sentence Ghost has started taking his glove off, holding his hand up. There’s a silver wedding band on his ring finger.

Spooker stares.

“So- What, you two just got married and didn’t tell us???” Colon asks.

“Tax benefits,” Ghost says quickly, glancing at the clock as he puts his glove back on. Toast nods, smiling a little.

“Right, now that that’s out of the way- Spooker, why don’t you come into the kitchen with me?” Ghost starts backing towards the kitchen.

“Okay!” Spooker smiles, following.

Toast watches the two go, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Ghost is… something, that’s for sure.

“Right, Spooker,” Ghost turns to them once they’re in the kitchen, out of earshot of the other two. “I have a super secret mission for you, okay?”

Spooker gasps, “Really?!”

“Yes, really!” Ghost nods. “I need you to come up with a super secret backup plan, in case Toast and I need help, okay?”

Spooker nods, “Okay!! Can I tell Colon though?”

“Yes, you can tell Colon,” Ghost says, “Just… remember what ghosts are weak to.”

Spooker looks away from him to think. Ghost nods, heading out of the kitchen.

Another thing checked off. Nearly halfway.

Ghost feels so tired. He’s been through this so many times, and he’s so tired of watching the people he loves die. He’s doing it right this time, no matter how much he hates it.

He’s learned his lesson.

~~~

O.O

[janeykath318]

Once Upon A Time (WinterShock Fantasy AU)

Once upon a time there lived a happy, mischievous Princess named Darcy. Sadly orphaned at a young age, she was surrounded by loving caregivers, who taught her how to be a good, but kind ruler. 

When Princess Darcy was just twelve years old, the regent Lord Phillip noticed she showed signs of being gifted with magic, a rare ability in that land. 

After some consultation with Darcy’s other guardians, he decided she should learn how to use her gift and Darcy started magic classes. By the time she was sixteen, she had learned many useful spells and was becoming better at controlling her magic. 

In history class, she learned of the great wars between the evil practitioners of black magic known as Hydra and the wizards and knights of the kingdom. 

Hydra had been defeated, but at the cost of many lives, including those of the stouthearted Sir Steven Rogers and Sir James Barnes, whose great deeds lived on in story and song. Darcy passed by their portraits in the great hall and wished she could have known those great men. Sir James she found especially appealing with his mirth filled grey-blue eyes, well-shaped face and dark brown hair.

As her twenty-first birthday approached and she readied to take up the mantle of queen, many suitors sought her hand. Most of them didn’t make it past Lord Phillip, who carefully questioned them to gauge their character and intentions, and the few who did did not arouse Darcy’s interest. 

Then came the shocking revelation that Sir Steven had been found alive, having been encased in an enchanted block of ice for seventy years. He was brought to the castle and tended to by physicians and healers before Lord Phillip and Lord Nicholas questioned him. Finally, they were finished and allowed Darcy to have an audience with him. 

Excited to meet one of the heroic men of history, she perked up when Lord Phillip brought him into her reception room. 

He was tall, with a powerful physique, golden hair, and melancholy blue eyes. 

“Sir Steven!” She greeted, as he bowed before. 

“Your highness,” he replied politely. 

“We are glad to find you alive against all odds. How do you feel after your awakening?”

“Physically well, but I struggle to reconcile with the passage of time, your highness,” he answered with surprising honesty. Nearly all of my contemporaries are dead or nearly dead and I as yet do not know how to restart my life.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine,” Darcy said gently, heart aching for the man who’d given up everything for the kingdom. “But just know that if you need a friendly ear to talk to, I am happy to lend mine. Anything you need, just say the word and Phillip will see to it.” 

Over the next few months, Steven and Darcy made friends and he told her many stories of his adventures with Sir James, or Bucky, as Steven called him. 

Unfortunately, with six months to go before Darcy’s coronation as queen, Hydra began to make its presence known again with the reappearance of their legendary assassin, The Winter Soldier, who felled several wizards and was rumored to be sent after the princess herself. Alarmed, Phillip increased the number of Darcy’s bodyguards and brought in the renowned Lady Natasha for extra security and help planning against Hydra’s threats. 

Much as she liked Steven, Darcy chafed at having him everywhere. Her complaints fell on deaf ears, however. Lord Nicholas and Lord Phillip were on high alert and stood firm. 

One day, Darcy and Steven walked through the great hall together and he shared anecdotes of several of the royals depicted on its walls. When they reached Sir James’s portrait, Steven fell silent for several moments, grief so raw in his face that Darcy turned away out of respect.

“It must still seem fresh to you,” she said quietly. “I am sorry for your loss, Steven.” 

“Thank you, your highness,” he sighed. “Yes, to me it seems like it only happened a few days ago. We were ambushed on a treacherous mountain pass. I tried my hardest to reach him, but he lost his hold and…….fell.” 

He swallowed hard, struggling with the memory.

“I know he would have liked you,” he told the Princess. “Bucky appreciated your type of humor and wit. He also was fascinated with magic, albeit only mildly had a very small ability in that area.”

“Sir James had magic?” Darcy asked, even more intrigued.

“He did,” Steve confirmed with a faint smile. “Mostly used it to annoy me: make my armor turn weird colors, grow out my beard to an unnatural length, give my horse a purple tail.” 

Darcy chuckled. “What a rascal. Did I tell you how I gave Phillip a toupee once?”

Steve looked at her in amused disbelief. 

“No, but I must know now.”

For several weeks, the period of watchfulness continued, but nothing happened and Darcy began to hope that the danger wasn’t coming after all, then one night she was awakened abruptly by Natasha.

“Get up your highness. Your life is in danger.” 

“Wha-huh?” Darcy replied sleepily, brain struggling to come to. A pile of clothing was thrown onto her bed.

“Hydra. They nearly killed Lord Nicholas in a late raid. Put on the disguise and pack one bag. We need to get you out of here. Steven is waiting with the horses.”

Numbly, Darcy dressed in the plain gown and dark cloak Natasha had provided and quickly packed a few belongings, hoping desperately her friends were safe. 

Natasha led her out through the secret underground exit that led out behind the stables where Steven was waiting, armored and well armed. 

“What happened?” Darcy whispered as she mounted the horse behind Natasha. He was a good rider herself, but in the dark and under threat, she was more than happy to have the expert take the reins. 

“The Winter Soldier attacked,” Steve said grimly. “I fended him off, but he will likely be back. We are headed for the stronghold of Lord Anthony deep in the mountains. It’s the safest place for you right now.”

The journey was long and hard, taking almost the whole night. They were only a few miles away, when they were overtaken by a black knight on a black horse, covered head to toe in armor, the only mark on him a red star on his silver left arm. 

Steve muttered an oath.

“The Winter Soldier!” He muttered. “Get down!”

Darcy obeyed. She heard the sounds of swords clashing as Steve fought the intruder, then there was a ping! Sound and metal hit the ground and Steve cried out “Bucky!” In an anguished tone followed by a deeper voice saying “Who the hell is Bucky?” 

Now it was Natasha’s turn to swear, but she stuck close to Darcy. Peering up a bit, she could see the tall knight, his helmet now gone, revealing dark brown hair and finely shaped jaw. Her heart jumped into her throat. It was Sir James! He looked completely cold and menacing, but there was something so dead in his eyes, she knew there was something wildly amiss. 

Reaching out with her magic, she sensed the thick cloak of dark magic upon him and guessed Hydra had him under some spell. 

“What do you want?” She heard Steve ask.

“My mission is the Princess. Hand her over. They want her alive.”

“Over my dead body,” Steve growled. 

“Very well.” 

The swords clashed again and the struggle began again. This time, she could tell it was going badly for Steve. 

Darcy couldn’t stand it anymore. She stood up, brushing off Natasha’s restraining arm and walked over to the scene of the fight. Steve was now bleeding on the ground, still trying to get Bucky to remember him. James had his sword at Steve’s throat and was ready to plunge it in when Steve murmured, “I’m with you to the end of the line.”

This made The Soldier pause and the cold expression in his eyes was replaced with a flash of recognition followed by pure panic. 

Darcy stepped forward.

“Don’t kill him! I’ll surrender.”

James whirled around to face her, confusion written all over his face. 

“What are you doing, your highness?” She heard Steve hiss out, but Darcy had a plan and she needed to get closer. 

“You surrender?” James repeated dully.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Do what you have to do.”

He stalked towards her with his knife drawn, and Darcy stood stock still, waiting for the right moment. She knew a spell she was pretty sure would work, but it would likely leave her exhausted. At this point, exhausted was preferable to dead and she had to try to help James. 

Summoning every ounce of magical strength she could, she cried out, “Restore!” and held out her hands.

Bolts of magical energy sparked from her fingertips and connected with James, wrapping around his head. The energy warred with the darkness and caused it to dissipate and vanish. 

James fell over unconscious.

“What did you do?” Steve asked, having dragged himself painfully over to his friend.

“A restoration spell. Hydra was controlling his mind. I cancelled it out,” Darcy sighed, suddenly exhausted. 

“Can we bring him to the stronghold? It might be some time before he wakes.”

Steve looked at his friend and nodded. 

“We will. I really hope you are right, your highness.”

Between the three of them, they managed to haul James to the gates of the stronghold. It took rather longer to convince Lord Anthony to let him in, but Darcy shamelessly pulled rank on the man and he finally relented. 

She was almost stumbling with exhaustion by the time they reached the keep and Natasha almost carried her off to the guest chamber provided.

“I want to be there when he wakes up!”’she protested.

“He may not wake up for some time,” Natasha answered. “Your spell is still working on him. Please rest, your highness. He won’t get away, I promise.”

So Darcy finally agreed and shortly fell into deep slumber. She awoke rather disoriented and very rumpled. 

“Ugh. I look like a hag, not a Princess!” She moaned, repulsed by her reflection in the mirror. She managed to get herself into a somewhat respectable state when Natasha came for her.

“Is he awake?” Darcy asked eagerly. 

“Yes. He awoke about an hour ago and seems to be himself again. He recognized Steve.”

“That is wonderful news! Please take me to him.”

Natasha obliged and showed Darcy into the room where a bandaged and rather battered looking Steve sat beside James. Darcy felt a pang of remorse for not trying a healing spell on him. 

Both men got to their feet as she entered, Steve rather shakily. 

“Bucky, this is her highness Princess Darcy. She is strong in good magic and wove the spell that freed you from Hydra. I trust you rested well, Your highness?”

“I did, but sit down, Steven, before you fall down. You need to see the healers.” 

“Just what I’ve been telling him….wait PRINCESS Darcy? You saved me?”

James’s voice was filled with awe and wonder as he looked at her, blue eyes now clear and sharp like in his portrait. Oh, heavens, he was incredibly handsome and for a moment she was speechless as they stared at each other. Finally, Bucky shook himself and knelt before her, bowing his head. 

“Where are my manners? Forgive me your highness. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. I am your devoted servant henceforth.” 

“Sir James, I am very happy to see you in your own mind. I am so relieved that it worked,” Darcy assured him, holding out her hand to show him she accepted his thanks. He kissed it, looking reverently into her eyes and Darcy felt her heart skip a beat. She could feel the unspoken connection between them. 

“You and Steven will be honored as heroes,” she declared. 

“Steven is well deserving,” James agreed, a shadow falling over his face. “I do not know that I am deserving to hold the title of knight anymore. The things I have done would sicken you.”

“You mean the things Hydra forced you to do?” Darcy responded. “Hydra’s deeds do sicken me, but the reason you became their captive in the first place was because you were fighting to end their reign of terror. You will not be held liable for something you had no control over.”

“You are very gracious, your highness,” James said gratefully. 

Darcy turned to Steven next and gently scolded him for not getting his wounds tended to before using a healing spell on him.

Lord Anthony came in to check on his guests and give them an update on the situation at the Castle.

“Hydra had infiltrated some of the guard and it has been difficult to weed them out,” he informed them. “Jasper Sitwell and Lord Alexander are both Hydra and have vowed to take over the kingdom. I am sending reinforcements as soon as I can.”

Anger stirred in Darcy. 

“The traitors! I will kick their posteriors!!” 

Steve looked startled at her uncouth language, but Anthony grinned and James’s mouth twitched in amusement. 

“I like the spirit, your highness, but it’s safer for you to remain here. My stronghold has magical defenses and right now, you are Hydra’s number one target. There is a large bounty on your head.”

Darcy turned pale and gripped a nearby table for support. 

She was almost shaking with rage and fear, but told herself to calm down. She had to be strong for her country. 

“I can’t just sit back here while you all risk your lives. You know I can defend myself with my magic,” she reminded them. 

“You can, but the ratio of Hydra to loyal soldiers is much too high and we cannot risk losing you,” Natasha reminded her. “You’re the last of your family line.”

Darcy deflated at this painful reminder. She knew Natasha was right and she couldn’t endanger the throne by rushing headlong into danger, but she hated the thought of waiting all by herself. 

In the end, James volunteered to stay with her as protection duty, being a most powerful warrior. She couldn’t help but be pleased at his company, despite the circumstances. 

Before Anthony and the army departed, she took care to lay helpful enchantments upon Steve’s sword and Shield and Natasha’s knives and the archers’ bows. 

Satisfied at last, she saw them off with well wishes and turned back to James, who walked beside her back to the luxurious library that she’d picked out as the room to hole up in. 

“Come sit by me, James,” she requested. “You can be vigilant in comfort.”

“Thank you, your highness,” he responded, carefully seating himself beside her. Up close, she could see how well built he was and how strong his arms were. She had to stifle a sudden urge to feel his biceps: both the flesh and the metal one. 

“Did Hydra equip you with the metal arm?” she asked. 

“They did,” James confirmed. “I lost my arm in the fall that led to my capture. They designed it to be another weapon. I shudder to think of how much blood it has spilled.” 

He clenched and unclenched his metal fist, sad blue eyes looking reproachfully at it. 

“Maybe we can get you a new one once we’ve stomped them out once and for all,” she suggested. “I know Stark would love to upstage them and make a better one. He is very gifted in that area.”

“You are very thoughtful, your highness,” he said, giving her another grateful look that brought a lump to her throat. The poor man was clearly not used to being treated like a human and it hurt her to think of. 

“Please call me Darcy,” she requested. “There’s no one else around and it gets old hearing “your highness” all the time.”

“Darcy,” he repeated, saying her name reverently. “What a lovely name.” 

The next few days were trying ones for the Princess as she waited for news from the battle. James told her many stories of his and Steve’s adventures and she told him about her childhood and her mishaps while learning magic.

James admitted one of the reasons he’d stayed behind was because he feared Hydra would speak the words to him that would trigger his Winter Soldier persona.

“You mean you didn’t stay because of my captivating beauty and charm?” Darcy said teasingly. 

“Now, I didn’t say that, Princess,” he said, flushing a bit. You are very pleasant to be around. I just thought you should be made aware there still might be traces of the spell in me.”

“We’ll have you examined by our best wizards,” Darcy promised, anxious to reassure him. “Their knowledge is greater than mine and they will be able to rid you of any lingering effects.”

“I hope so,” James murmured. “I really hope so.”

He looked at her for a long moment with an expression that made her heartbeat quicken before he sighed and looked sad again, as if longing for something out of his reach. 

She saw that expression several more times over the next few days and wished she could comfort him. 

Five days later, a messenger returned to the stronghold to bring news both good and bad. The good news was that the Hydra uprising had been crushed and its members dead or in custody. The bad news: the chaos had stirred up a legendary dragon, who was headed straight for the palace. 

James thought Darcy should stay at the stronghold, but she overruled him.

“I appreciate your consideration, but I must return and oversee the investigation. I need to talk to the wizards about you as well. I cannot hide any longer. I will go mad.”

He’d sighed and gone to bring the horses around. 

The journey back was done as stealthily as possible, and Darcy watched James with interest as he skillfully and silently guided them along the journey, always on high alert. She felt safer with him than any of her bodyguards, good as they were. This knight had had his senses honed to a razor sharpness that was unlike anything she’d seen. She wondered if part of it was due to his latent magic powers and if he’d ever used them. But magic was not a topic he seemed willing to discuss, other than the moment he’d thanked her for rescuing him from it. 

They returned to a palace that was very chaotic, evidence of fighting all around it and grim faced guards everywhere.

Darcy went straight to Lord Phillip and Lord Nicholas who were in consultation with Lord Anthony, all three looking very somber. 

“I am relieved to see you safely returned, your highness,” said Lord Nicholas. “Thank you,” she told him. “I am also relieved to find you well. I heard you met up with the Winter Soldier.”

“I did and I broke the spell that held him a prisoner,” Darcy told them proudly. “Phillip, Nicholas, may I present Sir James Barnes? I assure you, he is no threat.”

The men looked shocked and wary, but Darcy made them talk to James and confirm that he was, indeed, an ally and in his right mind. 

“Where is Steven?” James asked nervously, looking around for his friend.

Phillip sighed. 

“He is in the infirmary. He suffered grievous injury fighting Hydra and had previous untreated injuries that led to his collapse.”

Darcy sighed and James groaned.

“Typical of the imbecile,” he muttered. “Never could take care of himself.” 

“What?” He said bluntly at the questioning looks the Lords were giving him.

“He just laid there and would have let me—the Soldier—kill him, if the Princess hadn’t intervened. The one time he decides to back down from a fight….” James sighed and shook his head.

“Yes, I have noticed that trend with him,” Lord Phillip admitted, almost smiling at James’s aggravation. “We enchanted the door of his room so that he cannot get out until the healers have finished with him.”

Darcy smiled her approval. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason, Phillip,” she said fondly. 

“Unfortunately, we will need him at his full strength sooner rather than later,” Lord Nicholas sighed. “The dragons are but a three days journey away.”

As soon as Steven was recovered, they began making plans for defending against the dragon horde, who were led by a large purple beast named Thanos. 

Thanos had obliterated many cities in neighboring realms with his terrible breath and destructive claws and he had fifty fearsome fellow dragons with him. It was going to be a very difficult fight. Darcy went around giving motivational speeches to the troops and leaders in between making sure the citizens were evacuated to the mountain strongholds. She stood on a balcony looking out over the city, hoping it wouldn’t be its last day of existence.

“The last of the refugees are about to depart for the mountains, your highness,” Steven reported, James standing beside him. “Are you certain we cannot persuade you to go with them?” 

“Very certain,” Darcy said firmly. “My place is here.” 

He nodded, then smiled. “I understand. I too, would chafe at being denied the chance to defend my country.”

James heaved a deep sigh. 

“There are two of them,” he muttered in a disgruntled tone that had Darcy and Steven chuckling. 

“You will get used to it, James,” Darcy said lightly, giving him a pat on the shoulder. 

The following day, Thanos and his dragon army arrived, blasting fire and roaring ferociously. The army was ready for them and put up a good fight, slaying quite a few, before they could get into the city. The tide soon turned against them, though, as Thanos’s power was unleashed and death and destruction rained down. Darcy was safely inside the tower and fretting about the increasingly grim reports coming in from the battlefield. 

“If we could just get Thanos, we would actually stand a chance!” She said, pacing in frustration. 

“Unfortunately, Thanos appears to be untouchable,” Nicholas reported, stress making his eyelid twitch rapidly. “He has a power far beyond anything we’ve faced before. Melts people before they get near him. Normal shields are ineffective.”

“What about magic?” She asked.

“The only spells that might work have to be within twenty paces,” Nicholas mused. “And all our wizards are either wounded, dead, or busy.” 

A plan began to take root in Darcy’s mind. It was crazy and might not even work, but at this point, what did she have left to lose?

“Phillip, would the enchantment on Steve’s shield stand up to Thanos’s breath?” She asked. 

“Yes, for a few minutes, but Steve does not have magic.”

“He doesn’t have to. I do,” she told them.

Phillip frowned. 

“What spell would they have taught you that would fell Thanos?”

Darcy smiled. 

They pleaded and argued and begged her not to, but Princess Darcy prevailed. 

“What kind of ruler will I be if I am not willing to give my life to protect my people?” She’d told them. 

Phillip had closed his eyes, but nodded, unable to dispute this. 

After giving a few quick orders, Darcy put on some armor and went out to face Thanos. It wasn’t hard to find him, bring huge and purple and all. He was even more fearsome up close, huge claws and fiery breath wreaking havoc upon the city and its people. Darcy swallowed. She had to stop him before he spilled any more blood. Searching for Steven, she found him finishing off a young red dragon. 

“Steven!”

He looked up, shocked to see her.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, panting heavily. 

“I think I know how to stop Thanos, but I need your help. Where’s James?”

“Over there,” Steve jerked his head to the left. “Do you need him, too?”

“Yes. For my plan to work we need all three of us.”

James was not pleased to see Darcy in battle and even less so when he heard her plan.

“Eight out of ten cases, that spell kills the caster, too! We can’t lose you, Princess. Surely, there’s some other way.” 

His blue eyes were desperate and pleading as he spoke, and Darcy’s own heart hurt a bit. She would have loved to agree and have the chance at deepening her friendship with him into something more, but if they all died due to a dragon, that wouldn’t happen anyway. She would hold out hope she could be in the two out of ten. 

Darcy smiled sadly. “The only other wizards that know this spell are incapacitated or dead. I’m so sorry, James. I have to protect my people.” 

For a brief moment, he looked as if she’d ripped out his heart and trampled it under foot, then the expressionless soldier’s mask returned and he simply nodded.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Steve will cover us with his shield so that I can get close enough to cast the spell, which will block his airway and allow James to stab him in his soft underbelly. Be quick about it so he doesn’t crash down on top of you,” she urged James. He didn’t look like he cared much about being crushed at this point, but he nodded. 

She shook both their hands, then took a deep breath. 

“Let’s go.”

Steve held up his magical shield over them as they approached Thanos. She could feel the intense heat around them, but the magic did its job and soon they were within range.

She held out her hands and began chanting, energy swirling through her as she summoned everything she had to hurl at the dragon. 

Thanos laughed evilly and blasted fire at them, which bounced off the shield. Knowing the protection would not last long and not wanting to get Steve and James killed, Darcy quickly spoke the rest of the spell, then flung the energy toward the dragon’s snout. It wrapped around and went down his nostrils, thickening up and causing him to sit up and choke and gasp for breath, clutching his nose.

James darted forward and the last thing Darcy heard as the life drained out of her was the terrible scream from Thanos as the knight’s sword plunged into him. 

She came back to consciousness in a plain white room, birds singing outside the window.

“Is this the afterlife or did I survive?” She wondered aloud. 

There was a gasp and James suddenly lifted his head from where he’d been resting it on the side of the bed.

“I assure you, you’re very much alive, Princess,” he told her, voice trembling with emotion. The usual very polished knight looked haggard and unkempt, eyes red and bloodshot. 

“I was one of the lucky two out of ten?” She asked, warmth spreading through her at how he was looking at her. 

“Not at first,” added another voice. Steven was beaming at her from the doorway, relief showing strongly in his amiable face. 

“What do you mean?” She asked curiously.

“When we finished off Thanos, I picked you up and there was no breath in you. No pulse. Nothing.” 

Steven looked pained at the memory and Darcy looked back at James, whose lips were quivering. 

“Bucky here insisted on carrying your…...body…...back to the palace,” Steve continued. “Somehow, you started breathing again on the way there. We really have no idea why. Maybe the healers can tell us.” 

“Wow,” Darcy breathed, a smile blossoming on her face. “So the dragon army was defeated?”

“Soundly,” Steven assured her. “The kingdom is saved. You’re a hero, Princess. They’re ready to crown you queen right now.”

“Well, they’ll have to wait,” Darcy said with feigned haughtiness. “I refuse to be crowned until I’m able to be fully fabulous again.”

Steve barked out a laugh and Bucky’s shoulders shook. Lifting his head, he looked at her through tear-filled eyes.

“Princess, you’re always fabulous,” he told her sincerely. 

A healer bustled in, interrupting the moment. Darcy was a little annoyed, but she let herself be examined with no fuss and took the opportunity to ask about why she had come back to life.

Healer Cho smiled. 

“We believe that the one who carried you in has the gift of Healing Touch, which in some cases, can revive a person. Sir James, you have some magic in you, right?” 

Bucky nodded, wide-eyed at the realization. 

“I couldn’t heal people before, and as the Winter Soldier, I was forced to use what magic I had solely for evil,” he said thoughtfully.  “I’ve never tried magic since.”

“Sometimes these gifts develop later, James. You may not have known it was there, but it was,” Helen told him gently. 

“As for you, your highness, a day or so of rest and you should be back on your feet again. Do you feel in need of food?”

Darcy nodded enthusiastically and Helen departed to get her a tray, looking very pleased. 

“Buck, You saved the Princess,” Steve commented proudly.

Bucky, who’d been staring at his hand in disbelief, looked into Darcy’s eyes as she grabbed the hand and kissed it.

“My hero!” she sighed, giving him a dopey smile that somehow tripped something in him to release the emotion he’d been trying to hold back. Steve thoughtfully shut the door and retreated to the corner again. Darcy kept holding James’s hand and whispered soothing words to him as he cried. The poor man had been through so much, and she was determined to help make his new life as happy as possible. 

“It killed me to see you lifeless,” he whispered, when he’d finally calmed. “I’ve become very attached to you in the short time I’ve known you. I know you probably wouldn’t want to be courted by a man like me, but if you did, well…..”

“Who says I wouldn’t want to court you?” Darcy retorted. “I would very much like to court you, James. “You’re brave, you’re selfless, you’re funny, you’re an awesome warrior, and you’re exceedingly handsome. Don’t think I haven’t been wanting to run my fingers through your glorious mane since the day we met.”

James blushed bright red. 

“However, no courting can happen if you don’t take care of yourself.”  She told him. “As your princess, I command you to eat, bathe, and sleep before you return. “You’re clearly exhausted. Steven will make sure this is carried out, won’t you, Sir Steven?” 

Darcy’s firm tone had Steven nodding quickly. 

“I will, your highness,” he declared, looking pointedly at James. “I attempted to previously, but he refused to leave your side, the stubborn mule.”

“You hypocrite,” James shot back, grinning at them both. “But I will happily follow your commands, Princess.”

Getting to his feet, he kissed her hand and gently released it.

“I will be back.” he promised. 

“You’d better!” she called after him. 

Falling back on the pillows, Darcy held the hand he’d kissed to her cheek, dreamily thinking about him kissing her on the lips. 

Five Months later

The coronation of Queen Darcy was a day of jubilation and partying, a national holiday having been decreed for the occasion. Throngs of people had arrived in the city to witness the grand event and the city, which had recovered  from the Hydra and the Dragon invasions, was decorated to within an inch of its life.

Darcy stood in the hall, dressed in a deep green formal gown and rich red robes, trying to calm her nerves. There were a lot of eyes on her today and she hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself. 

Lord Phillip and Lord Nicholas were busily going over the schedule with Lady Natasha and the royal guards and Darcy was going over her speech once again in her head. 

There was a clanking of metal, and she saw her favorite knights approaching, both looking impeccable and stunning. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” she greeted warmly. “You’re looking magnificent.” 

They bowed gracefully.

“Thank you, your highness. So are you,” Steve replied.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” James said, giving her a look that made her blush. He was quite the master at those looks, as she’d learned during their courtship. There had been quite a stir when it was announced that the soon to be Queen was betrothed to the former Winter Soldier, but happily, the critics were vastly outnumbered by the supporters, as he was now seen as a hero after saving her life. Darcy had been highly  lauded herself and was still being swamped with gifts from her grateful subjects. 

“How are you feeling, Darcy?” He asked quietly.

“Nervous, but excited,” she said. “I’m going to be the best queen I can be.”

“I know you will,” James agreed, with one of his becoming smiles. “Save me a dance at the ball later?”

“Silly man,” she chuckled fondly. “You should know by now all of my dances are for you.” 

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 34: Eclipse

The boys finally face the demon- but how do you fight something that keeps slipping through your fingers?

In other words: BOSS FIGHT >:D

Read more on AO3 | Read from the beginning

It was comfortably cool where Dorian lay. The pillows underneath him were soft and pliant, retreating readily under his weight when he pushed himself up on his elbows. Pale moonlight filtered through the domed, clear glass ceiling overhead. The sky beyond was a dark blue velvet canopy, held in place by a myriad of stars, bright like silver pins. In the distance, nightlarks cooed.

He was in a glasshouse of sorts; the scent of flowers filled his nostrils with every breath, jasmine, hibiscus, hyacinth. An expansive garden stretched and blended into the night beyond the glass, the waters of a large lily pond shimmering under the moonlight. In the shadows underneath the slim branches of a rose flowering thorn Trevelyan stood; he turned to Dorian as soon as he heard him shifting on the pillowed bench he was lying upon.

“Dorian,” he breathed, coming to kneel before him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I…” Dorian blinked, wondering if it was all a mirage. “Where are we?”

Trevelyan’s hand was cool when he lay it on his own. “In a safe place.”

Dorian stared at him, not quite able to bring himself to believe the words. “We escaped the demon, then?”

In the waxing moon’s silver glow, he looked like a creature wrought in starlight, his skin pale and translucent. A strand of silken hair drifted before his eyes, and he slowly pushed it behind his ear as a small smile widened his lips. “We did.”

“So it’s over.” He let Trevelyan help him to his feet, then pulled him in a tight hug. “Fasta vass, it’s over. For a moment, I wasn’t sure we’d make it out unscathed,” he admitted quietly, letting his relief flood him.  

“Dorian Pavus, giving up hope? That’s so unlike you.” Trevelyan wrapped his arms around him in response, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “We made it,” he whispered against his skin. “We’re safe now. This is a dream, not a nightmare. No more nightmares.”

Dorian nodded, pressing his lips to the side of his head. He suddenly didn’t want to let go, lest he lose him again. He took in a deep breath, letting the calmness of the moment sink in. “Can we wake up now?” he asked softly, though he wished they could stay there, just a little while longer.

“In a moment.” Trevelyan took a step back and turned to gaze at the pond in the distance, beyond the glasshouse. A gazebo stood at its banks, amidst tall willow trees, their low hanging branches stirring every time the wind blew. Its still, calm waters were dark and glassy, stars reflecting on its surface. “It’s beautiful, the way it catches the light, isn’t it?”

Dorian could only stare at it, entranced. There was an odd sort of calmness to the sight, a beauty, that drew him in and captivated him. “It is,” he whispered. Dorian let himself relax, leaning against him. They had time. They had all the time in the world. He closed his eyes.

****

Tristan came to with a gasp. The world around him was a flare of pain, every second that passed digging into his brain like shards of broken glass. The mark on his palm pulsed steadily, blinding him with its fluorescent green light. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. The ache was unbearable. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once; there was no part of him that wasn't hurting. Taking a sharp breath, he pressed his palm to his side, where the agony was the sharpest. There was a narrow slit in his armour where a dagger had stabbed through, and the leather was slick with blood.

Panic surged through him in a wave. He spit the foul taste of sewer water from his mouth as he pushed himself, trembling, on palms and knees. His head spun with every move. In the dark, he leaned against the wall beside him and worked the latches of his armour open. He moved as quickly as he could, without even stopping to think. His shirt was damp with water and sweat when he tore a large strip and pressed it on the wound. It was a bad place for someone to get stabbed, and likely not picked at random. If he didn’t do something about it he would soon bleed out. He didn't want to think about what would happen to him in the waking world if he bled out in that place.

Which left the question: who had done this to him? And where were they?

It was almost entirely dark without Dorian’s spell to light their path. Dorian himself was nowhere to be seen. A new bout of alarm rolled through him. Tristan called out his name, but it was only the weak echo of his voice that came back to him. He glanced about him as he struggled to push himself upright, dread rising within him with every breath. Had he been attacked too? The dark passage before him was empty. He could see no one, nothing.

“Dorian?” he called, louder this time. “Dorian! Do-”

“It’s alright,” a voice said. “I’m here to help.”

“Cole?” Tristan looked up, leaning against the cold, damp wall. The spirit stood before him, his bright blue eyes gleaming in the dark. Relief washed over him. Tristan clung to it to keep himself from drowning. If Cole was there, then not all was lost. “Where’s Dorian? Is he hurt?”

“He has gone ahead,” Cole told him calmly. “I’ll take you to him.”

“Ahead? Where?” Cole’s presence was a sudden comfort, but the pain and his pulse that thrummed in his temples made it difficult to think. “Cole, someone attacked me. Did you see who it was? Did you see where they went?”

Cole just stared at him mutely.

“Where were you? You-” Tristan pressed his eyes shut, breathing through the agony. “You disappeared. I couldn’t find you. And then someone- something-”

“Whoever it was, they’re gone now.” Cole extended his hand to him, palm up. The skin that stretched over it was pale, smooth, unblemished. “I know the way out. Come with me.”

Tristan glanced at Cole’s hand before him, then up into his eyes. Cole’s lips widened in a small, encouraging smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

He let out a slow breath as he reached for him, them stopped midway. He glanced at the dagger hanging by his belt- there was fresh blood on its handle.

Tristan pulled back as if stung, scrambling away from him. His pulse was a buzz in his ears when he drew his dagger. “You,” he whispered, clutching the hilt firmly as the pieces started falling into place. “It was you. You attacked me. I should have known-” He stopped, breathing hard. Damn him, but he should have known. He lifted his blade, though his hand trembled. Cole. Cole, who he had trusted. Who he had counted on to lead him out of this mess. He should have realised, long before, that he should never have counted on anyone else, not for something like this. He should have been smarter, thought faster, listened to Dorian. Maker, he should have listened to Dorian.  

“What?” Cole’s voice dragged him violently out of his thoughts. “What is it you should have known?”

Tristan returned his gaze levelly. His eyes burned hot with the betrayal, but he dared not let any of it show on his face. He stole a glance down the dark corridor that stretched before him, behind him. Nowhere to hide. He’d been caught, like a rat in a corner. He could only pray that Dorian had found a way out, that he had finally woken up.

“I should have known you were not to be trusted.”

Cole straightened, looking down at him calmly. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“How long have you been planning this?” He forced his voice to an even tone despite his pulse that thundered in his throat. The longer he kept him talking, the better he could scan the place for advantages. If it came down to fighting for his life, he would have more chances if he knew where he was fighting. “Was your ‘coming to help’ a ruse too? Were you the one to keep me here, to lead me to this place?”

“How do you know it was me, and not the mage? Suspicious, is it not, that you’re here and he isn’t?”

“He’s not-” Tristan glared at him. His patience, whatever was left of it, was getting thin. “He would never betray me. He’s not like you.”

Something flashed in Cole’s eyes then, something dark and sinister, like hunger. “Are you aware of all the vipers you harbour in your midst?” He smiled, sharp, and there was something in that smile that caught Tristan's breath. It was familiar, the way the echoes of a terrible nightmare were familiar at dawn. Cole would never smile like that, even if he had planned to take his very life.

"You," he whispered, and the realisation hit him like an arrowhead. So many times the webs had been laid before him already, and still he had walked right into them. Not this time. “You are not Cole.” There was something there, an entity that was looking at him through Cole’s eyes, speaking with his voice. The same entity that had been hunting him all this while. He cursed himself for not realising sooner, for getting swept into the hurt of his imagined betrayal. The betrayal the demon wanted him to feel. The reality was much, much worse. “Do you think me that dense? Did you think I’d fall for your tricks again?”

All pretence slid away. The creature that wore Cole’s skin tilted its head to the side, peering at him with blatant amusement. Watching him, like he was a dancing bear in some travelling show. “My dear Inquisitor, you already have.”

Tristan leaned heavily against the wall, holding his ground, even as his heart threatened to jump out of his throat. He tried to breathe as he held his daggers with trembling hands. He had to focus, if he were to get out of there alive. And Dorian with him.

“Where is Dorian?” he demanded. “What have you done to him? And what have you done to Cole?”

“Your little mage is safe. For now,” the demon informed him casually. “And this ‘Cole’ you speak of has come to me willingly.” Pale lips peeled back in a wolfish smile. “He realised, you see, that it is useless to resist. As you will.”

So the demon had Dorian, was holding him somewhere out of reach. And Cole- he didn’t even want to think about what had been done to Cole. Locked away, possessed, corrupted- there was no end to the things it might have done to him. All because he had tried to help. Help him.

He schooled his features to placidity, returning the demon’s gaze levelly although he could feel himself hanging by a thread. “What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”

The demon straightened, that bloodcurdling smile never leaving its lips. It was odd to see such wickedness twisting Cole’s familiar features. “It is not for the mouse to know the will of the cat.”

“Mouse?” he echoed. “I’m the mouse?” Anger rushed to his head, half blinding him, before he could stop it. Tristan knew the arrogance, the blatant disregard for everything considered lesser, and it was not a trait reserved for demons alone. With a low growl, he lunged forward, slashing at the demon with his daggers. The sudden movement took the creature by surprise. Tristan’s blades slid through Cole’s armour, striking flesh. “You misunderstand. I am not stuck here with you.” The mark in his hand pulsed, matching the waves of rage that rushed through him. “You are stuck with me.”

The demon regained its bearings quickly, hopping back out of his reach with a pained hiss. The sharpened edges of Cole’s daggers caught the feeble moonlight that slithered in through a crack in the wall when they were drawn out of their scabbards. Its eyes, pale and ghostly blue, gleamed in the dark as they followed his every move, like a bird of prey. Tristan’s daggers hissed as he attacked him, over and over, ignoring the pain that drove through him like a lance every time he moved. He knew the rhythm of Cole’s movements; he had fought by his side often enough to know when he was about to lunge, when to strike, when to disappear, yet now the demon moved in an entirely new way, one that Tristan couldn’t quite track or predict. It was like Cole’s form was shrouded in a dark mist, indistinguishable from the shadows that surrounded them.

A blade flashed mere inches away from his face. He barely managed to jump out of the way, stumbling back. His foot struck an upturned rock, and then he was falling. His breath was knocked out of him when he struck the ground, the pain overwhelming him. He saw the demon grinning as it lunged forward, daggers brandished. The world slowed down; time was caught in a stand still as the demon covered the distance between them. His mind, his strength were failing him.

Adapt, he heard Heir’s voice in his head. Use everything you can to your advantage.

A pile of small rocks lay not far from him. He suddenly remembered having seen them before, when he’d been scanning the place. He grabbed at them, along with a handful of mud, and threw them in the creature’s face. It stumbled backwards with a growl, flinching away from him. It was instinct more than anything that urged him to push himself up, to bring his own dagger down on its elbow. The demon let out a furious snarl as it retreated, cradling its injured arm. Cole’s arm.

“I do not need this form,” it informed him calmly, if tightly. Blood was already trickling down the several cuts Tristan had managed on it, staining Cole’s leathers. The demon glanced down at them, as if they were nothing but scratches. “I can go on until there’s nothing left of it.”

Tristan took in a trembling breath. The thought of harming Cole, or what was left of him, made his stomach twist. Yet, if that was the only thing standing between him and Dorian, he was left with little choice. He had to get to him. He would find him, wherever he was, no matter the cost to him, or anyone else. Finding Dorian was worth anything. Anything.

The hilt of his daggers dug into his palms when he tightened his hold on them. “Then there will be nothing left,” he said quietly. He lunged.

Read the rest on AO3!