#and then somehow one of our plants just... disappeared into thin air it seems??? we lost it somehow lmfao

[angryborzois]

I genuinely find it nothing other than impressive that so many things are going wrong in my bio lab group

[helpimhyperfixating]

Sneak Attack In Morioh - Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 1767

The Speedwagon Foundation had silently snuck you into Morioh on the same boat as Mr. Joestar. The only difference was no one was awaiting your arrival. Spending the entire time in the hull, you waited and bided your time until you could silently and unnoticeably slip off board and into Morioh.

There was something going on in S-city and since Morioh was located not too far from it, you had been put on the same boat, only to travel to S-city at night.

That was the plan at least.

Slipping from the hull onto the deck, you looked over the docks, only to freeze in your steps. The one person you didn't want to encounter in your trip through Morioh was standing right there, looking out at sea.

Jotaro Kujo, your longtime friend.

You and him had been through hell and back together. First in high school, then fighting DIO, then college and other roaming Stand users; you went through it all with him. So, if he knew you were here and where you were going, he would either try to stop you, or want to come with you. Neither were a viable option at the moment. If he were to spot you, his stubbornness and persuasive abilities would certainly mean your stealth mission would end. And so you immediately brought out your Stand, manipulating the light and making yourself invisible.

You knew Jotaro knew your Stand better than anyone else. Almost as well as you did. So you knew you had to hightail it out of there before he figured out you were there, despite the fact that you were near invisible to the naked eye.

With a quick move you hopped off the boat and stayed low as you ran, making near to no noise as you got out of there, Jotaro never moving from his spot by the water.

- - - -

Running through the streets, you looked behind yourself only to barrel straight into someone.

The sudden impact caused you to lose concentration and your Stand dissipated, fading back into your body after releasing the invisibility.

"Ow." You whined childishly as you had landed harshly on your butt. Looking up, you saw a man with green hair and stylish clothing. His face held an expression of shock before it turned more serious, glaring at you - or more precisely, where your Stand had been.

Immediately getting up you looked at him with slightly widened eyes. He was most definitely a Stand user.

Taking note of his stance, you jumped into a defensive pose. And you were right to, for not even a second later, the man jumped forward.

"Heaven's Door!"

A Stand popped out from him but you were faster. Jumping backwards, you vaulted onto your hands and pushed yourself as far away as possible, summoning your Stand to send a glare of light at him and blind him so you could run away.

You had no time for this right now, if you weren't at the train station in 4 minutes you'd miss the train and have to wait until the morning for another, meaning missing your target and also being at risk of being discovered by those in Morioh. And so you booked it.

- - - -

Eight hours. That was all it took for you to complete the mission you were given. Someone had stolen important research from the Speedwagon Foundation and you were tasked with bringing it back. When you arrived at the scene, relief washed over you to see they had not been able to crack the lock of the briefcase where the information was in yet.

Getting only minimal injuries, mainly a knife cut on your arm from one of the scientists when you first took hold of the briefcase, you got out of there in record time without setting off any further alarms or causing more uproar.

All in all, a mission well done.

And now here you were, handing the briefcase over to the people of the Speedwagon Foundation on the boat.

"Thank you, Miss L/N. We are departing in about an hour."

"That's alright. I think I'm going to stay here in Morioh though, you never know when you might need an extra ally. So I'm going to stay here and help Dr. Kujo."

"Very well. Stay safe."

"You too!" You waved at the man before sprinting away from the docks.

It was now about 9AM and you figured it was about time to visit your friend. A perfect plan then came into your mind. This man had never been scared or surprised. No matter what you tried, everything failed. But now? He had no clue you were here. This time it should work! Right?

Using your Stand to turn yourself invisible again, you walked into the town, only to see the green-haired man again. He was talking to a kid with a pompadour while looking very disgusted.

Curious, you snuck closer.

"I need Mr. Kujo's phone number." Holy shit you hit the Jackpot. "I encountered a Stand user last night but she disappeared almost immediately. She has to be on the loose here somewhere." Ah, that's less fortunate.

"Why don't I phone him and we can meet up."

"Oi, Josuke!"

Two boys came running up to the pair you were observing, one of them very short while the other had scars over his face.

This was getting very busy now so you moved back a little bit. Letting them all do their thing. The one named Josuke phoned Jotaro and you saw him nod a few times before hanging up and motioning the others to follow.

Taking that as your que, you silently moved along, staying far enough away to not let any possible sound you made be noticed, but close enough that you wouldn't lose them. You didn't concern yourself with their conversation because it wasn't really your business, and if they were talking about you being enemy? Well then that would have to do for now. That misconception would hopefully be cleared up soon.

Following them for twenty minutes, you reached a hill and all the way at the top, you could already see your target waiting there.

Making sure you stayed behind the small group of boys you had been following, you hid completely from his view to make sure he really wouldn't spot you. There were very few signs how you could see where you were when invisible, but Jotaro knew them all. So, hiding was your best bet.

As you approached though, you could feel the maniacal grin growing on your face. You were on a hill. It was prime material to jump him and push him down it. Now that had to surprise him for sure, right?

Just then, they all congregated and you focused back on the here and now.

After sharing a few greetings, the green haired man got straight to the point. "Last night I encountered a Stand user. They bumped into me and I saw their Stand. When I tried to use Heaven's Door they somehow were fast enough to jump back and escape my range before blinding me and disappearing."

"They anticipated Heaven's Door?" The short one spoke up while you walked a little backwards, positioning yourself there where you could perfectly have a running start at the man in white. There was a gap between the green haired man and the one named Josuke for some reason but it provided you with a perfect path right towards your target.

"They must have. So it is safe to bet they know of our abilities. And now they're just roaming around, somewhere out there."

"Rohan." Jotaro interjected and you quickly got in a stance, ready to go. "You said they blinded you and disappeared? How?"

Knowing that if you didn't hurry you'd be exposed, you ran.

"Indeed. There was a glare of light and-" Whatever Rohan was about to say was interrupted when Jotaro suddenly flew backwards, the exact Stand user they had been talking about appearing out of thin air, having tackled the marine biologist.

Jotaro let out a noise of surprise, summoning Star Platinum and using the World mid-air before looking down to see you, a giddy yet evil grin on your face.

The utter surprise at seeing you actually here caused him to have no time left to do anything else so when time started moving again, he just fell down, making contact with the hill as he started rolling down it together with you.

"Mr. Jotaro!"

"Mr. Kujo!"

"Ah!"

Several shouts of surprise rang out as the two of you barrelled down the hill but you quickly came to a stop, you on top of Jotaro and laughing while Jotaro was on the bottom still a little stunned.

Quickly sitting up so you were sitting on his stomach, you pumped your fists in the air, shouting. "Fucking gottem!!!"

The Duwang, who had been running down the hill to reach the two of you, stopped in their tracks, seeing such a dumb yet lighthearted display.

They were even more surprised when Star Platinum appeared and lightly pushed you to the side, causing you to face plant in the grass while Jotaro stood up, completely unharmed.

"Oi, Jotaro that was mean!" You said as you lifted your face from the grass.

"It's your own fault." Was all he said back as he dusted himself off before looking over his back at his coat and sighing loudly. "You ruined my coat."

"Hehe, sorry. But hey, admit it, I got you! Surprised to see me here?" You waggled your eyebrows.

"Consider me confounded." He deadpanned and you pouted. "Josuke, do you mind?" He turned to the pompadour kid and said kid seemed to snap out of his stupor, stepping forward and bringing out his Stand for Jotaro, never really taking his surprised eyes off of you.

You watched the Stand remove all the green grass stains from his coat and softly 'ooh'ed at it, in awe by the Stand.

"Alright, who are you?" Rohan then glared at you and you squeaked a little at the hostility in his look.

"This is Y/N L/N, an old friend of mine." Jotaro introduced you, motioning his hand to you.

Slyly smiling to yourself, you grabbed onto his hand, making him turn his head to face you and sigh, getting your meaning as he pulled you up from the ground without any visible effort.

"Friend?!" Josuke exclaimed in shock while you let go of Jotaro's hand, dusting yourself off.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Northern Exposure | Steve

❄ PART 3 OF THE MINI-SERIES ❄

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); blow job, violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: A reminder that drabble requests will be opening for an hour at 1pm today. The link to the google form will be posted at that time.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You woke up sore and senseless. The air was frigid against your front as the warm body behind you blazed against your back. The tiny throw blanket barely dangled over you as Sam hogged most of it and much of the cushions beneath you. His thick snores kept you alert although your eyelid weighed heavy.

You sat up cautiously. You looked over your shoulder as he kept rumbling and you whimpered as your thighs touched. You bent and reached for the tee shirt heaped on the floor. You pulled it on and stood. You glanced around the room and rubbed your cold hands together.

You neared the door and eyed the pin pad below the handle. No numbers, only a scanner to place one's finger. You sniffed and felt along the hem of the shirt. Your eyes stung but you knew you couldn’t cry. Not then, not there.

You stayed staring at the door blankly. What was wrong with these men? They were heroes. They kept the world safe and yet they could take you and do that. Sam wasn’t the end of it, he was only the beginning. You hoped maybe Steve would care, that maybe you could persuade him that it was wrong. He was Captain America, he had to know it was.

“You mess with that thing and you’ll trigger the lockdown protocol,” Bucky’s voice cut through the morning air, “any foreign fingerprint requires a manual override and I’m not getting stuck in here with you.”

You turned and winced at his angry glare. You hadn’t heard him come out. He snorted and went to the short counter. He slammed a tin down on the counter as you watched his broad shoulders and the dark tails of his hair that hung between them. His unwieldy activity awoke Sam and he sat up with a grunt.

“Coffee?” Sam rubbed his eyes.

“You can get up and make your own,” Bucky retorted.

“Where--” Sam’s voice died as he saw you and he turned his legs over the edge of the couch, “what are you doing over there, baby?”

“Trying to get away from you, I’d say,” Bucky bristled, “you can’t trust her, you know that.”

“Shut up,” Sam stood and held the throw around his waist, “how about a shower, baby? Nice and hot.”

“It comes out of your time,” Bucky snarled, “I’m not waiting three hours for the tank to reheat.”

“Yeah, yeah, grumpy pants,” Sam rolled his eyes and neared you, he held out his hand to you, “you should wash up…” he leaned in and lowered his voice, “especially after last night.”

“You know I have enhanced hearing right?” Bucky stirred the instant powder into his mug.

“And we have real coffee,” Sam grabbed your hand and pulled you after him.

“Too tired for that shit,” Bucky brushed by Sam and sat at the table, “walls are thin in here and some of us actually work around here.”

“He needs his beauty sleep,” Sam remarked over his shoulder as he dragged you to the restroom opposite the bedroom door, “not that it can ever really help with all…” he gestured to his own face, “that.”

Bucky let out a long breath and his cup clinked on the wood. You let Sam pull you into the bathroom and close the door. You could still feel the tension through the wall. He dropped the blanket and you tried not to look at his bare ass as he reached to crank on the shower. 

You kept close to the door as he pulled back the curtain and he turned to look back at you as he stepped inside. His dick was twitching and getting hard already. You tried not to show your discomfort. In your dulled mind, you didn’t think he meant together.

He raised his eyebrow and for a moment the humour in his face withered. You looked away and reluctantly pulled the shirt over your head. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all already, felt it all, explored every inch of you. You stepped in front of him and he turned you to face him.

“You really are a cutie, you know that?” he said, “since you like to take photos, I might take some of you… keep me warm when I’m not around.”

He cradled your chin as the water splashed down on your shoulders and spattered against his torso. He slid his other arm around you as he tilted your head and kissed you. You stared at the ceiling and let his tongue past your lips. The revulsion made you tremble and he purred as he mistook it for excitement.

He pushed you further back until you were against the tile and the water spilled over his shoulders. He lifted your legs as his dick pressed against your stomach. You shoved on his chest but he didn’t notice your pathetic struggles.

You gasped as you heard a click and the door opened suddenly. Sam’s lips left yours but her kept you pinned to the wall as he looked over. You followed his eyes through the space between the wall and curtain as Steve blinked at you dumbly.

“Hey, man,” Sam sneered, “you heard of knocking?”

“Sorry,” Steve cringed, “I didn’t-- I wasn’t thinking.”

“Did bozo not tell you we were in here?” Sam turned back to you and gaze down at you as he bit his lip, “we’re busy.”

The door closed with a snap and Sam bent to devour you again. The steam fogged your vision and seeped into your skin. You closed your eyes and let it lull you away from your body, away from the man against you as he used you again.

❄

You were given another tee shirt, this one a faded blue with a grey star on the chest. That was all you were allowed as you sat and watched the men. You tried to be numb to it but you could still feel Sam inside of you, his fingertips on your thighs, his mouth on your throat. You shivered and bent your legs up under the larger tee and hugged them.

“You two are on recon for the day,” Steve said as they sat at the small table around an unfolded map, “the usual. Keep your comms on and report back with anything you see.”

“And you?” Bucky challenged as he planted his feet far apart, “sounds like you’re not comin’ along.”

“I’ll stay here with…” he lifted his head and peeked over at you, “the girl. She shouldn’t be here alone.”

“She can’t go nowhere,” Bucky huffed, “she can’t get past the door without one of us and even if she did, you think she’d get that far?”

Steve cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “when did we ever need all three of us out there?”

“What’s the point in keeping comms on if you’re not gonna listen for us?” Bucky sneered.

“I’ll be listening,” Steve said staunchly, “stop being an asshole and get your butt in gear.”

Bucky stood and the chair teetered behind him. He scowled at you as he turned and disappeared into the bedroom. Sam winked as he followed and you heard a muttered conversation through the open door as Steve remained as he was.

You knotted your fingers together and rocked. Your fear mounted with each minute in the bunker. Somehow the idea of being alone there with one of them was worse than all three. You cupped your chin and tried not to fall apart entirely.

Sam and Bucky appeared again with guns strapped from shoulder and chest respectively and bags of gear. They pulled on the layers needed to brave the arctic blast and tied their boots tight. They bid goodbye, though Bucky only grumbled and Sam seemed more interested in watching you than leaving Steve.

The door closed and beeped as the mechanism whirred and then you were all alone. It was silent as Steve scratched at the wood of the table and watched his hand. You heard him breathing. He leaned back suddenly and bent his arms behind his head as he stretched.

He seemed to gather himself as he lifted his chin and exhaled. 

“Can I see you naked?” he asked softly but his tone was rigid enough to make your nerves bounce off each other.

You looked at him round-eyed and he turned his chair to face you and settled back in. He pushed his shoulders back and traced his fingers along his jeans.

“I want to see you naked,” he repeated, it was no longer a question.

His eyes met yours and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. You rose stiffly and neared him. You stopped two feet away and played with the hem of the long tee. He watched your fingers and angled his head. His gaze returned to your face as his hand trailed up his thigh and brushed over his crotch.

He nodded and you feared another order, one which might be more physical. You swiped the tee shirt over your head and hesitantly let it drop. Your hands shook as you pushed them down to your sides and you couldn’t look at Steve. Instead, you focused on the worn old carpet beneath your feet.

He let out a gristled breath and you listened as the chair creaked. A softer noise followed, that of a zipper and a muffled groan. You brought your arm over your chest to cover yourself and moved your hand in front of your vee.

“Come here,” he said.

You looked up at his hand as he pointed between his knees. You took one step and nearly tripped. You took another but it was just as tenuous. The closer you got, the worse you quaked. You stopped between his wide legs and he grabbed your waist. His thumbs rubbed along your skin and he caressed along the curve of your hips.

“Down,” he tugged on your wrist, “use your mouth.”

As you got on your knees, he reached into his jeans and pulled his dick out above his boxers. You winced and he caught your chin before you could turn your face away. His thumb ran over your lower lip and he pushed into your mouth. He pressed down on your tongue and purred.

Your teeth grazed his knuckle and you thought of biting down. He gripped your jaw painfully and his jaw squared.

“Now don’t think of doing anything stupid,” he retracted his hand and stroked himself,.

“You don’t have to do this. Steve, you can let me go or--or-- take me back--”

“No,” he said firmly, “I didn’t say I wanted to hear you, did I?”

You gaped at him in confusion and mortification. He grabbed the back of your head and forced you forward as he wiggled his cock against your lips.

“I’m gonna make you forget all about Sam,” he shoved you onto his cock and you gagged as he hit the back of your throat, “he’s too soft on you. That’s why I’m here, to show you how to obey, because if you don’t, I can’t hold off Bucky forever.”

He pushed you down completely and you braced his thighs. You couldn’t breath as his thick cock blocked your airway. You trembled and he let you up for only a second before he urged you back down. His hands stretched around your skull and he guided you up and down his length, your spit dripping from your lips as you glided over him.

“See how easy it is?” he cooed, “how good you can be? I think Bucky might come around if you-- Fuck, no, fuck Bucky. I’m keeping you to myself, sweetheart--”

He snarled and stopped you suddenly. He pushed you until he was as deep as he could go and you kicked your feet frantically. He shuddered and released you. You pulled back and cough as you fell back onto your ass.

“You almost got me there,” he stood and you scurried backward across the floor, “I almost came already.”

“Steve--” you croaked.

“Shhh,” he took off his shirt and you watched his muscles flex beneath his skin, “the only noise I want to hear from you is begging.”

“Why--”

“Don’t make this bad, sweetheart,” he pushed his pants down with his boxers and stepped out of them, “now come back here.”

He sat and rubbed his thighs, his cock twitched and you climbed to your feet. You sniffed and went to him. He grabbed your hands and drew them up to his shoulders as he guided you into his lap. He guided you down as you straddled him and reached below you to prod his tip along your entrance.

You tried to push off of him a wave of fear rolled over you and he gripped your hips tight and slammed you down. He buried himself in you so deep it hurt. You couldn’t say if he was bigger than Sam or not, both stretched you uncomfortably. He kept you still and let out a sigh as he hung his head back.

“You feel good,” he said and his hands ran up and down your sides, “tight…”

You tried to pull your hands from his shoulders and he tugged them back. He pressed them to him until you grasped the thick muscle. He grinned and reached around you to grope your ass. He moved you up then down his length.

“It’s all you, sweetheart,” he smacked your ass, “you keep it up or I’m gonna start getting mad.”

You stared at him but the light was missing from his eyes. His pupils were dilated and dull, smoky with his immediate desire. You squeezed his shoulders and repeated the motion. He groaned at it and bared his teeth. You kept on at the same pace, whimpering as your walls were already tender and battered.

“Faster,” he breathed, “please, sweetheart, more.”

You sped up and gasped as he kneaded your ass and tilted your pelvis so that your clit rubbed against his. You felt so raw and worn but the heat rose nonetheless. He bent his head and brought a hand around to cup your tit. He took your nipple in his mouth and suckled at it, his teeth tickling the hardened bud.

He purred and it sent vibrations through you. His other hand urged you fasted and you gulped for air as you grew needy for your release. The pressure was so bad it made your eyes water and your arms shake. You leaned into him and he kissed along your chest as you hugged his head.

You whined as you came. You heard how wet you were but couldn’t stop as the swell was followed shortly by another crest. You couldn’t stop, if you did, you would feel the pain. If you stopped, you would have to think, to remeber that you were trapped.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered.

He hooked his arms under your knees and his hands spread across your back. You cried out as he lifted you abruptly and kept you moving on his dick. You clung to him as you felt precarious even in his thick arms and looked down at the joining of your bodies. You bit your lip and closed your eyes.

“I’m close,” he hissed as he bounced you against him, “so… close.”

He bit back on his voice and hammered into you. His groan came muffled through his clamped lips and you felt the flood of heat inside of you. He kept fucking you, not stopping even as he shook from his climax, even as his cum dripped out around him. 

He staggered blindly and turned you against the wall. He pinned you there, folding your legs further up as he planted his hands flat. He rutted into you, his fiery breath tickled your throat and his voice broke free.

“So bad, making me cum,” he growled, “bad girl.”

You moaned weakly as he crushed you to the wall and your muscles strained. Your walls clenched his dick as it was your turn to cum and you sobbed from pleasure, so pure and so deep that it hurt.

“Steve…” you uttered, “Steve, please…”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he sank to his hips and paused only to do it again, each thrust followed by a taunting lull, “tell me.”

“Steve, please,” yor slapped at his shoulder and clawed at his bicep, “stop, I can’t-- no more, I can’t, I can’t, I c--”

He crashed into you so hard you screamed and went weak against him. Your head hung on his shoulder and your arms slipped limp over his shoulders. He still didn’t stop, driven by your surrender to fuck you even faster.

“Bad girl,” he whispered and nibbled your ear lobe, “so bad-- so--” he grunted and came again, this time he sank and stilled your body against his. 

He shuddered and rolled his forehead against the wall. He breathed heavily down your back. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reached between you and shoved his finger inside of you above his dick, he added another and you winced and whined against his shoulder, “you need more,” he purred, “a bad girl like you can never get enough.”

[tchallasbabymama]

Troubled Waters Chapter Three

Hello, my lovelies, I’m back 🥰 Recovery is going well, so I started working on this chapter a few days ago, and voilà, c’est fini! I hope y’all enjoy the chapter but know I’m still working on some requests so these probably won’t be weekly updates. I’m shooting for every other week with requests in between, but we’ll see how it goes. Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything, and check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. There’s plenty of content for y’all to enjoy! As always, likes are appreciated, but your comments and reblogs really make my day.😘

Word count: 5,759

Sego watched with concern from across the garden as yawns replaced Nia’s usual morning ballads. After the third yawn stretched over her usually cheery face, he set his magazine down on the metal bistro table and interrupted her daze, “You didn’t sleep well last night?”

“No,” Nia pouted as she turned to face her friend. “I kept waking up every couple of hours and then when I finally got to sleep, I kept hearing a voice talking about ‘the thinning’ over and over. I don’t even know what that means.”

“Sounds ominous. Did you ask Celeste?”

“Of course I did,” she snapped and immediately regretted it. “Sorry, I’m tired.”

“Clearly,” he rolled his eyes and she narrowed hers before spraying him with the water hose. “Hey!”

Nia giggled and went back to her plants as she pondered the message from her dream. Sego picked his fashion magazine back up and flipped through the colorful pages. He wasn’t one for clothing around the house, but when he was in public in his human form, he liked to keep up with the trends.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them, and minutes passed before an idea came to Nia as she stroked a large monstera leaf. “You know, mama wasn’t much help, but someone else might be.”

Sego set down his magazine again and his face turned serious.

“Plan B?”

“Plan B,” she nodded.

Sego cracked his knuckles and stood up, “I’ll get the drum.”

Nia finished up outside and washed her hands before piling a plate full of the excess sausage and grits she had cooked with Sego in mind. He wasn’t hungry that morning, so it seemed her leftovers weren’t meant for him in the first place. Nia opened the ritual by placing the plate in the center of the altar and lighting her frankincense resin. She wafted the smoke around their bodies and Sego’s drum, opening them to the spirit world as she hummed the unnamed tune that always came to her during rituals. Once Nia set the small clay pot of burning resin back on the altar, they were ready to begin.

The two friends got into position with Sego placing the drum between his legs and rubbing his hand lightly over the head to set his intentions while Nia stood tall with her head and shoulders back as she waited for him to begin. A few moments later, Nia came alive at the first strike of the drum. She let go and allowed herself to get lost in the sacred sounds, stepping in rhythm. Her feet carried her counterclockwise as her upper body snaked forward and back, being pushed and pulled by unseen forces. When her head began to tingle, she fell to her knees, triggering Sego to pick up the pace as she swayed from side to side with her eyes closed and head tilted back. Nia’s ears began to ring with a high-pitched tone that grew louder and louder until her body grew warm and her eyes flew open. She saw a swirling aura above her, and even though she had hoped to contact Bast, she welcomed unknown spirit. She figured it had something important to say since they usually just communicate through the veil. However, this one felt the need to deliver it’s message in person. Nia’s irises turned white as she parted her lips, allowing the being to enter her body. Goosebumps appeared all over her skin as the high of possession took over her, and the spirit settled into her flesh. The room went quiet as Sego carefully observed his friend. She showed no signs of danger, but he held tight to his drum, ready to banish the strange spirit if necessary.

“Who are you?” he asked, and Nia’s head quickly shot to his direction.

“I am Oma,” she spoke in a gravelly voice that unnerved Sego. Despite the chill that went down his spine, he recognized the name as one of Nia’s distant ancestors, and his apprehension waned. However, his curiosity grew as he wondered how she was able to travel to them so easily.

“What do you want?”

“To warn you.”

“Of what?”

“The realms, they are moving.”

“Moving how?”

“Closer. Space between getting smaller and smaller,” she droned.

“What do you mean?”

“The dead will walk among the living, and the humans among your people.”

“But how is that possible?”

“Bast. Her magic weakens.”

Sego’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Well, how-”

“You cannot stop them. Worlds collide.”

“Who is ‘them’?”

Nia’s head rolled back, and her body began to convulse as the spirit prepared to leave her host.

“No, not yet!” Sego tried to stop her, “Who is doing this!?”

“Be careful. She is precious.”

“Who?!”

Nia’s mouth flew open, and Oma exited her body before disappearing back into the realm of the dead. Sego rushed to his friend and caught her head before it hit the floor, laying it softly on her altar pillow. He grabbed the blanket Nia’s ugogo had woven for her only grandchild and laid it over her shivering body. Confused by what he just witnessed, Sego returned to his drum and closed the ritual with his skilled hands striking the instrument in rhythm. The sound cleared the air, and the vibrations traveled to Nia’s passed-out form, waking her from her state. He played softer as her chest heaved, and she reoriented herself with the world. Nia sat up slowly when her breathing returned to normal, her chilled fingers clinging to the blanket as she looked to her friend. Sego nodded and laid his palms flat on the drum.

“It was...scared,” Nia spoke softly as she ruminated on the spirit’s emotions. “Who was that?”

Sego pointed to the photo of her great-great-great grandma and her sisters. His finger landed just above the shortest one, all the way on the left. Her smile was the brightest of all her sisters, and her wings the biggest.

“Oma?” Nia asked through her brain fog as she tried to piece together what had just happened. As usual, she could only remember how the spirit felt in her body. This one felt anxious and in a hurry. “She’s never spoken to me before. What did she want?”

She attempted to stand, but Sego picked her up and carried her to her bed.

“I will tell you later. Right now, you need to rest.”

Before she could even protest, Nia’s body betrayed her, and she fell into a deep slumber. She slept the day away and woke up to fragrant smells wafting from the kitchen. Sego knew she would need to refuel after what she had just experienced, so he had prepared a hearty dinner to build her strength back up. Nia dragged herself into the kitchen right as he scooped the stewed meat and vegetables over a large bowl of rice. No words were spoken as she slid into the chair and dug into her food as though she hadn’t eaten in days. Sego took a seat on the other side of the table and waited for her to finish. It didn’t take long at all, and when Nia’s body finally felt full, she leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath.

“So, what did she say?”

Sego’s face contorted into a grimace as he spoke, “She, uh...she said the human realm and the realm of the dead are moving closer to ours.”

Confusion clouded Nia’s face as she tried to wrap her mind around Sego’s words.

“But how? Bast-”

“Is weak. Oma didn’t say how or why, but her magic is failing.”

Nia’s breath caught in her throat, and she looked down at her hands, testing her powers and making them glow a vibrant purple.

“I don’t feel any different, though.”

“Maybe because your magic was gifted to you, she doesn’t have to maintain it like the veils?”

“I didn’t think they required upkeep.”

“I didn’t either, but they’re thinning somehow.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Nia thought about Oma’s message before another question entered her mind.

“Why her?”

“She didn’t say,” Sego shrugged, “but she said to be careful and that ‘she is precious.’”

“Who?”

He shrugged again, and Nia stood from the table with conviction, “We should go see my dad. Maybe he’ll know more about her.”

“It’s worth a shot,” he lisped as his forked tongue flickered out and his body melted to the floor. His spotted skin turned to brown and black scales as his arms absorbed into his torso. Nia left to grab her bag, and she returned as his legs melded together. Sego slithered up her body and draped himself over her shoulders. When he got settled, Nia closed her eyes and felt the atmosphere thicken as she transported them to the magic realm. It was much easier than it was the last time she visited over a week ago. Usually, traveling through the veil felt like swimming through water, but it felt more like walking through a downpour this time.

“Did you feel that?” she asked Sego, and he nodded lazily.

Nia walked out her front door and warded it up tight before turning around and facing her other world. She smiled at the vibrant blue sky and breathed in the fragrant floral air before taking the first step into the magical realm. Her stomach twisted with anxiety as Sego’s words echoed through her head, but she was quickly pulled from her trance when a little voice called out on her right.

“Sawubona, Nia!” Adana waved excitedly, and Nia couldn’t help but grin at her young neighbor as she played with her doll on her front porch.

“Sawubona, Adana. How are you feeling today?” she asked as the girl glided over and hugged her waist. Sego slid down Nia’s shoulder a little, and his tongue tickled Adana’s cheeks, making her giggle.

“Good!” she said proudly as her wings flapped behind her.

“Let’s keep it that way,” Nia chuckled as she booped the little girl on her round nose. “I see you’ve been practicing flying.”

“Mhm. Umama said I’m not allowed to fly higher than this yet,” Adana said as she motioned to the few inches between her feet and the ground.

“That’s probably best. You remember what happened last time.”

Adana nodded, thinking back to when her mother had to carry her to Nia’s late one night with a broken wing.

“Umama says she’s gonna teach me how to go higher when I get bigger, and-”

“Adana, dinner!” Zita called from her kitchen, and the little aziza’s wings fluttered even faster at the thought of whatever her mother had prepared for her. Everyone in the neighborhood knew Zita was a fantastic cook, and despite having just eaten, Nia’s stomach grumbled at the thought of another meal. Especially one prepared by Zita.

“Tell her ‘hi’ for me,” Nia called out as Adana quickly waved goodbye and flew indoors. Sego shook his head fondly at the little girl as the door closed behind her, and Nia was thankful for the brief interaction calming her nerves.

As a known healer to all, Nia was very popular among the residents of Birnin Umlingo, the Magic City. She returned waves and short greetings as she made her way to her father’s place, which wasn’t too far from her own. When Nia and Sego arrived at the baobab tree Amare had fashioned into a cozy home for himself, she found him lounging on a limb with a book in his hand. Amare looked up from the page when he felt someone near, and joy spread across his face at seeing his greatest creation. Both of them started to glow faintly as they laid eyes on each other, and his large orange wings spread out as he flew down from his resting spot. Amare enveloped Nia and Sego in a warm hug and kissed her cheek before rubbing the python’s head.

“What are you doing here?”

“What? I can’t come visit my old man?”

“Who are you calling old?” he playfully scolded her as he held the intricately carved door open for her to come inside. She looked around at all the human gadgets that filled his home and smiled warmly at his treasures. Nia had always loved his collection, but the books and records were her favorite. Sometimes, they were all she had during the lonely days of her childhood.

“Oh, nobody,” she played coy as she removed Sego from her shoulders and set him on the ground. “How are you, ubaba?”

“I can’t complain, especially today,” he winked.

“Because your favorite daughter is here?”

“Of course! And I have a date in an hour.”

“A date?!”

“Yes, he’s taking me to a restaurant opening in the town square.”

“Sounds fancy. Who is this mystery man?”

“I’m sure you’ll still be here when he arrives. You can meet him then,” Amare said excitedly before another thought crossed his mind. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you! I popped over to the human realm and got these.”

He held out his arm, and Nia marveled at his brand new kimoyo beads, “Ooooh, those are nice.”

“Aren’t they? Top of the line,” he bragged as he examined the new bracelet that he had almost no use for in the magic realm. “Enough about me, though. Is something up? You never drop by unannounced.”

Nia sighed and plopped down in her favorite high-backed leather chair.

“Something’s wrong, ubaba.”

Amare’s eyebrows furrowed, and his wings sank a little as he sat across from his daughter.

“What is it?”

Nia explained her dream and the ritual to him and watched as his face contorted in confusion and disbelief.

“-and then she was gone.”

Amare leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face.

“Oma, huh?” he asked, and Nia nodded. “She was a powerful medium when she was alive. I guess if she can communicate with the dead from this realm, then she can easily communicate with the living from the realm of the dead.”

Nia nodded and continued, “I was trying to reach Bast when she cut in.”

“Hm...maybe she didn’t ‘cut in.’ If Bast’s magic is failing, she might not be able to hear you wherever she is.”

“Maybe you should ask T’Challa,” Sego quipped from the other side of the room as he changed back into his human form. Nia shot him a look to be quiet, and he smirked.

“The king?”

Nia sighed, “Yeah, I forgot to tell you I saw him again.”

“Sure, ‘forgot’ to tell him,” the shapeshifter mumbled.

“Sego!”

He put his hands up in defense, “Ok, I’m done.”

“So what happened this time? Did he recognize you? I hope you gave him a piece of your mind. King or no king, nobody hurts my baby and-”

“Ubaba.”

“What? I’m just saying. So what happened?”

“A bad man tried to hurt me, but before I could do anything, he showed up. He insisted on cleaning my wounds, so I let him, and…”

“And?”

“And he saw Zita and Adana, so I had to tell him about us.”

“You what?!”

“He had questions! What was I supposed to do?”

Amare sighed. “Ok, well, what did he say?”

“He was shocked, but I think he responded well. He didn’t treat me like a freak or anything.”

“That’s good. He seems like a decent, level-headed man.”

“I don’t think he’ll tell anyone. He was-” Nia was cut off by a ringing in her head as the protective wards around her home warned her of a visitor. She could tell by the low pitch that they were coming from the human realm. “I have to go, ubaba. Someone’s at my door.”

Amare and Nia stood while Sego sank back down into his python form and slithered over. The father and daughter hugged each other tightly and said their goodbyes before Nia and Sego were out the door and on their way home.

--------

Earlier that same day, T’Challa sat on his throne and halfway listened as the council argued over trade agreements between the tribes. His attention waned somewhere between the third and fourth attempt to compromise, and his mind wandered to the conversation he had with Nia almost a month ago. He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind lately. Not just her, but what he learned that night, too. He could barely wrap his mind around magical species existing in the first place, much less within his borders.

He was jolted back into the present by a nudge on his left arm and frowned at his cousin.

“What?” he whispered under his breath, knowing N’Jadaka could hear him. The prince also had the heart-shaped herb pumping through his veins from his coup attempt a year ago, so his senses were just as enhanced as T’Challa’s.

“Quit daydreaming,” he responded, equally as low so as not to give their conversation away to prying ears.

T’Challa fought an eye roll and straightened up in his throne.

“Let’s table this discussion for next week,” he cut the conversation short. “Now, is there anything else on the agenda for today?”

“No, my king, but I have one more thing I’d like to bring up,” said the Merchant tribe elder tentatively.

T’Challa nodded for her to continue.

“There have been some strange happenings among my people,” she began. “Just yesterday, a woman wandered into the market yelling about creatures nobody had ever seen before, then she collapsed and started seizing.”

“You’re concerned about a psychotic or epileptic episode?”

“It’s not so much the episode as what came after, your highness.”

“Ok…”

“She died before the doctor could get to her...and then she disappeared before the coroner could examine her body.”

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?” T’Challa’s eyebrows furrowed as he leaned in closer.

“The men who transported the body were found knocked out cold...and when they woke up, she was gone.”

“Sounds like there’s a sick motherfucker around here somewhere,” N’Jadaka muttered with his signature scowl on his face. “Bodies don’t just disappear for no reason.”

The king ignored his cousin and focused on the Merchant elder. “You said she mentioned strange creatures?”

“Yes, my king. She looked deranged, and she spoke of creatures with dripping claws and visible skulls...She seemed terrified.”

T’Challa leaned back in his throne, and his mind wandered to Nia again, but this time with purpose. That didn’t sound like any creature he had ever heard of before, but he wondered if she had. His thoughts were interrupted by the Mining tribe elder.

“Also, if I may?”

T’Challa motioned for her to continue.

“There have been multiple sightings of abnormally large hyenas around our province.”

“There were some sniffing around the entrance to the lab this morning, but the Dora scared them off,” Princess Shuri added. “They didn’t look like any hyena I’ve ever seen. They were huge!”

M’Baku’s breathing faltered for a moment; he had heard of creatures like that before. When he met Nia a year prior, he began to worry about the existence of other, more dangerous magical species, and now his fears seemed to be coming true. He couldn’t just come out and say it, though, especially since several of the council members already considered the Jabari to be a backward people. He didn’t need “superstitious” added to the list of reasons not to like them. However, he felt that T’Challa might be a little more open to what he had to say. M’Baku decided a private audience with the king would probably be best.

“Hm...has anyone else noticed anything strange or unusual?” T’Challa asked the room, and two more hands went up. He nodded to the Border tribe elder, and the older man cleared his throat before speaking.

“We took a man into custody yesterday for killing his wife. He claimed she was alive when he left for work, but when he came home, all that was left was her bones. Of course, he’s claiming innocence, but the neighbors say they didn’t see her at all that day, which was unusual. But, um, we’re not sure how he was able to remove the flesh so easily. There looked to be bite marks.”

T’Challa looked to his little sister, who had a horrified look on her face, and grabbed her hand in his. He turned to his other side and saw N’Jadaka’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“What the fuck kind of sick shit y’all got going on over here?” he mumbled so only the king could hear.

“I’m not sure,” he whispered back. The king turned back to the council and gestured at the River tribe elder. “And you?”

“Sightings of strange fish in the river, your highness. Human-sized, much larger than what we are used to.”

T’Challa’s eyes shifted to his right and he noticed the Jabari chief’s nervousness, despite his best efforts to mask his feelings.

“Anything else?” T’Challa asked the council, and they all shook their heads. “N’Jadaka and I will investigate these claims further and have a report for next week. Meeting adjourned.”

The council members saluted him and took their leave—all except one.

“My king, may I have a word privately?”

T’Challa looked at M’Baku knowingly and motioned for the chief to follow him. The two of them, along with the prince and princess, retired to T’Challa’s office to continue their conversation.

“What can I do for you, my friend?” the king asked as everyone filed into the room. Shuri sat by the window and looked out at the country nervously, obviously spooked by what she just heard. N’Jadaka plopped down next to her and tried to seem unbothered, but he couldn’t stop fidgeting with his lucky knife, repeatedly flicking it open and closed in his left hand. M’Baku sat across from T’Challa at his desk, and his leg began to bounce involuntarily as he waited for the king to sit down.

M’Baku cleared his throat anxiously before he began, “We Jabari have many...beliefs that the rest of Wakanda seems to have let fall by the wayside. I only bring this up because of what I’ve seen with my own two eyes, but I believe the elders’ reports. Call me superstitious, but there are forces out there that you would not believe. Even I haven’t seen everything, but there is someone who might know what to do-”

“You’re saying you believe the crazy lady?” N’Jadaka scoffed.

“I do not believe she is ‘crazy’. I believe she saw something none of us could ever imagine.”

“Ok, and her body?” The prince challenged him as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I do not know...but I know who might.”

“Who?” Shuri chimed in as she tore her eyes from the scenery.

“She lives with the Border tribe. Her name is Nia-”

“Olu?” T’Challa’s eyes lit up in recognition, and M’Baku couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You know her?!”

“She was the woman who was almost abducted a month ago. How do you know her?” the king asked curiously.

M’Baku wasn’t sure how much he could say without outing her as a non-human.

“She wandered into our territory once when we were still separate from the rest of you. She was very...odd,” M’Baku looked to the king, who seemed to understand his meaning. He wondered just how much he knew of her identity. “She might be able to help.”

“Odd how?” the prince interjected.

“It’s hard to explain,” the king brushed him off to avoid further prying, making M’Baku nod along. The chief still couldn’t tell how much T’Challa knew, but he kept his mouth shut nonetheless. “I will go talk to her.”

Shuri and N’Jadaka shared a look. They both felt like they were purposely being left in the dark, and neither appreciated it.

--------

Nia snuck back into her home in the magic realm and quickly threw on a headwrap before taking a deep breath and opening her door to the human realm. Her stomach twisted up again as she laid her eyes on the king and his guards standing on her doorstep.

“T’Challa, hey,” she greeted him nervously as she leaned against the doorframe with Sego still draped over her shoulders. Nia noticed the two fierce-looking women on either side of him look at her questioningly for her informality, but they said nothing.

“Hello, Nia,” he smiled before noticing Sego. “How are you today?”

“I’m alright. I, uh, actually just got back in from visiting my ubaba.”

“With that?” T’Challa motioned to Sego, and the python stuck out his tongue.

“Sego? Yeah, he likes to get out sometimes,” she said as she stroked her companion’s head. Nia backed up a little and opened the door wider for him, “Anyways, come on in.”

The king ordered the two guards to stay on the front porch, and they stood at attention, looking out at the village. Several of Nia’s neighbors had noticed their arrival and were trying their best to seem inconspicuous as they spied on her to see what was going on. It wasn’t often that the king came around, so the rumor mill started turning almost immediately.

Once T’Challa stepped into the familiar home, keeping a wide berth from Sego, Nia closed and locked the door behind him. They made their way over to the kitchen, and the king sat down in the same hand-carved chair he sat in the last time he was there.

“Can I get you anything?” Nia offered politely as she made her way over to the stovetop and started warming up a kettle she had filled up the night before. “I made a tea blend that helps calm the mind. I’m about to have some myself if you want in.”

“Sure, I’ll take a cup,” he responded with a smile. He watched her scoop the prepared herbs out of a jar and into two reusable cotton tea bags and place one each at the bottom of a mug. She worked in silence as she tried to calm the anxious feeling that had crept back into her bones after leaving Amare’s. Sego could feel her shaking and squeezed her just a little bit to get her to calm down. She relaxed at his hug and poured the hot water into the mugs before carrying them back over to the table. Nia sat down across from T’Challa and blew on her hot tea before taking a small sip. He did the same and smiled at the flavor. “This is delicious, Nia.”

“Thanks,” she gave a small smile back as her stomach fluttered at his compliment. “So...what brings you here?”

The king sighed and leaned back in his chair, watching intently as Sego slithered down from his perch and curled up in the corner. “There have been some strange activities around the kingdom, and I was wondering if you might know anything about it.”

“Strange how?” Nia’s head cocked to the side, and she placed her elbows on the table as she leaned in closer.

“First, there was a woman who was found dead in her home. Her neighbors saw her the day before, and her husband claims she was alive when he left for work, but all that was left was her bones,” he spoke carefully and observed as fearful recognition clouded her face. Nia couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but she easily put two and two together. The thinning had begun.

“W-what else?” she asked as she leaned in even closer.

“Another woman’s dead body disappeared. She wandered into the market screaming about horrifying creatures, then she seized and collapsed...but her body never made it to the coroner,” he paused to make sure she was still with him. She motioned for him to continue, and he spoke again, “There have also been reports of abnormally large hyenas and fish, but that is less concerning than the other two.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Nia mumbled as she got up and hurried to the bookshelf. She pulled out a large leather-bound book and opened it to a page near the middle before flipping a few pages forward. When she landed on what she was looking for, she set the heavy book down in front of the king. His eyes traveled to the page and widened in fright at the image of a childlike being with a mouth as wide as its face and sharp teeth on display.

“W-what is this?”

“Eloko,” Nia answered as she sat back down. “Long ago, our queen banished them to their own part of the forest. They’re harmless if you ignore them, but if you take pity on them and let them into your home...they’ll eat your flesh in minutes.”

T’Challa scanned the page, taking in every horrifying detail he could as he attempted to calm his heart rate. Not many things frightened the unshakable king, but he was completely out of his element. His mouth went dry as he attempted to speak, “And the other woman?”

“I’m not sure, but…”

He tore his eyes from the book and looked up at her. “But what?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions because it’s not a common occurrence, but when bodies disappear like that, there’s usually dark magic involved.”

“Dark magic?”

“Yeah...like I said, it’s not common, but over the years, there have been a few aziza who use their gifts in ways the rest of us do not approve of.”

“Like…?”

“Like creating zombi.”

“Those are real?”

“Very,” Nia shuddered and downed her tea. T’Challa’s eyes fell back to her book, and he began flipping through the well-worn pages. It felt old like it had been passed down for generations, and he surmised it probably belonged to her family for decades, centuries even. He flipped towards the front of the book, landing on the page about aziza. He couldn’t help but smile at the much more welcoming illustration. T’Challa got lost in the description as Nia stood and went to wash out her mug, needing something to do with her hands to calm her mind. He finished reading and looked up to ask her a question, but it slipped his mind when he noticed strange markings on her back in the shape of wings. He started to ask her about the scars when he realized he had seen them once before.

“It was you…”

“What was?” she asked without turning around, scrubbing her mug unnecessarily hard. Nia heard him stand and walk closer, but kept her focus on her task.

He removed the mug from her hand and rinsed it out. Before she could protest, he spoke softly, “I said they looked like wings.”

Nia stilled as she remembered her tube top left her back exposed.

“Yeah…I remember,” she murmured without looking up at him despite their closeness.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I just didn’t think it was important.”

T’Challa smiled, “Of course it’s important! I never forgot that day…now I know how you appeared out of nowhere.”

“Heh, yeah,” Nia responded as she pushed past him to grab her tea kettle. She filled it up again, but still wouldn’t make eye contact. T’Challa looked at her, confused by her change in attitude when it clicked for him...

“You know, I wanted to see you again-“

“Then why didn’t you come back?” She snapped and he realized why she didn’t seem to like him that much.

“I did. My baba took me on a trip with him that night. We were gone for two weeks, but I came back looking for you.”

Nia paused again before setting the kettle back on the stove. She turned to face him, and he could see the confusion all over her face.

“You did?” She asked apprehensively, and he nodded in response. “I went back every day for a week before ubaba made me stop. He didn’t like seeing me so sad.”

T’Challa’s face fell and he took a step forward, “Nia, I-“

“No, it’s fine.” Nia moved away from him and his heart sank as he watched her go over to her herb pantry. She rummaged around for a while before she came back with yet another tea blend.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she began to change the subject, “have you spoken to Bast recently?”

T’Challa didn’t want to upset her more by pushing the conversation, so he went along with her train of thought.

“Uh, no. It’s been a while. Why?” he asked as he leaned against the counter, eyes tracking her as she moved to sit back at the table. Nia noticed he had been reading about aziza and smiled internally.

“The veil is thinning. That’s how the eloko got through…and who knows what else.”

“The veil?”

“Yeah, it’s like the border between realms.”

“How is that possible?”

Nia shrugged, “Only Bast knows.”

“And she’s not answering you,” he mused as he sat next to her. She wanted to move away, but forced herself to stay still.

“Nope. I tried this morning, but one of my ancestors came through and told us about the veil.”

“Us?”

“Me and Sego.”

“The snake?”

“Python,” Nia chuckled and shot Sego a look to warn him to behave.

“My apologies. So what did they say?”

“The realms of the living and dead, and the human and magical realms are colliding…they might overlap soon. That and ‘she is precious.’”

“Who is?”

Nia shrugged, “Bast, I guess.”

“But you think she’s disappeared…” T’Challa thought aloud.

“Yebo. I don’t know what can make a god disappear, though. Another god maybe?”

T’Challa’s mind wandered to his Avengers colleague, Thor, but he had no way to contact the god while he was off-planet.

“Perhaps.”

“I could try contacting some.”

T’Challa nodded as the wheels turned in his mind. “There are smaller cults around the country that worship other gods. We might be able to-“

“We?”

“Well, yes, I was hoping you would come with me. I’ll need someone with your expertise. I know nothing about all this, but you do…I need your help.”

“I don’t know, I-“

“Please, Nia,” he begged as he grabbed her hand in his. The silence was thick as they looked at each other, but neither was able to look away. “I need you.”

Nia stopped breathing for a moment as he trapped her in his puppy dog eyes. She wanted to say no, she really did…but she just couldn’t.

“Ok, I’ll do it.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @dersha89, @impremenior, @ljstraightnochaser, @love—life—passion, @yourstrulybrii

[dottiechan]

Tempest (Pt. 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 4048

Warnings: mourning, mentions of death and torture, smoking

Summary: The private detective must work through the sudden and unexpected disappearance of Ava - quite literally, as she embarks on solving her greatest mystery yet. But she is not the only one who's been busy...

A/N: This chapter is a rather long one as there's much to unpack at this point of the story, and there is much to explain. Sorry for the long wait, and thanks for being so patient and supportive of me!

The Private Detective’s Office, London, 1898

5 months after Ava’s disappearance

The key turns in the lock with ease. The door creaks as it gives way to the dark office. The lights flicker in the corridor outside, and the entrance gapes like a mouth ready to swallow her whole.

She steps inside, unaware of her fingers skittering across the glass pane that has the name of her detective agency painted on it. Some have great bloodlines to look back on, and nobles and kings to proudly call their ancestors. Her legacy is this stuffy little office, her sigil is a hand painted business logo. But her ancestor - her father - was a warrior too, noble of heart, even if not of blood.

She hangs her coat and hat, and proceeds to smooth down her hair before locking the door and switching on the lights. The old pieces of furniture that would have been regarded fashionable 20 years ago are dimly illuminated, and the sight of them makes her heart ache. They belonged to her late father, and in a way he lives on through them. The dent in the cushion of his chair where he always used to sit, the scuff marks on his desk he carelessly carved into the polished surface with books and folders, the medical and law tomes he hoarded lining the bookshelves that hug the dark green walls... As a child, she was afraid of coming here in the evenings - something they often did after her mother passed away and her father tried his best to raise her alone. The heavy nailhead leather armchairs looked like hunched monsters in the dark, the looming mahogany desk with its long curving legs resembled a giant spider, and the serious wallpaper enveloped this macabre scene like some sinister forest. “The real monsters are in here, my darling,” her father would ruffle her hair affectionately, pointing at the files he came to pick up.

It is late, but the office no longer feels scary. Her rational mind knows she should have gone home to her empty bed and her unread books and the cold supper awaiting her. And yet she’s here because hardly anything matters anymore. Because no place ever really feels like home ever since her father left. Well, her small house felt like home for a while when she was still here. But she left as well, and with her she took the last tattered shreds of joy the detective had somehow managed to cling to. She is submerged in saturnine reticence now, and ironically it helps her stay focused, even though it makes her more and more like the person she tried to thaw out. More and more like Ava.

One should only embrace the iciness of a statue if they’re willing to risk turning into marble themselves.

The Commissioner would be lucky to have a detective such as myself, she thinks bitterly as she glances down at the neatly kept files piled on her desk. Most are petty cases, even she has to admit - cheating husbands, unanswered invitations and letters, and the likes. But she takes all the work she can, and she prides herself on her ability to solve them with the proficiency of a man. Ava used to praise her for that. Now she whispers praises to herself even if the words turn sour in her mouth, because she will not let anyone ruin her. She will not. (Even though Ava has, because the world feels different without her in it.)

Her sudden disappearance left her on the precipice of panic at first. Ava, along with her partner Nate, simply vanished into thin air as if they never even existed at all, as if they were a pleasant reverie she used to lull herself to sleep at night. No trace, no item that belonged to them was left behind. If not for the spare key to her house being gone - the one she gave to Ava - she wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference between reality and her mad suspicions. But oh, she was here. She was. Missing her is a malady burrowed in her heart, but it is also the testament of her existence.

She opens the file on top, and hums in bitter satisfaction. Right. The aching of her heart isn’t the only testament anymore. It took her months, but she’s finally one step closer to the solution, planting her foot firmly and holding her crumbling sanity together with a determination she didn’t know she had. Ava was probably never meant to be in the background of a photograph taken during the opening night of the National Gallery of British Art.

But she was. And it really only takes one mistake.

The private detective picks up the photograph gingerly, giving herself one second to lose herself in the whirlwind of emotions Ava’s angular silhouette awakens in her.

One step closer.

She leans back in her chair, her gaze gliding over the photograph and landing on her personal little project. The blackboard is filled with dates, locations and places with a map pinned to the middle of it - by now, it is practically a blueprint of Ava’s and Nate’s every activity over the past two years. The deeper she digs, the more unknowns she unearths about the people she once thought she knew.

But there’s still time to get to know them - first impressions are overrated anyway.

Train station, Wayhaven, 1899

7 months after Ava’s disappearance

January quickly set to work and changed the countryside. It swooped down from the heavens and gently buried the forests and the hills under a heavy blanket of snow, concealing the detective’s childhood home from her as she exits the train, the handle of her heavy bag already digging into her gloved fingers. The shapes are still visible though underneath all the snow and ice - she sees the old station with the crumbling roof, the road leading into town, the bell tower of the small church peeking out just above the treeline. She recognises them all, though she sorely wishes she didn’t.

Because with the recognition comes the inevitable sting of her memories. Faces emerge in her conscious she hasn’t seen in years. The kindness of her mother’s eyes and the curve of his father’s lips, both lost forever now, never to be seen again, cutting deeper than a knife ever could.

An old woman is prating about her insufferable nephew, a business man is constantly checking his pocket watch with a disdainful look from across the station, three young women gossip, a man is rubbing his hands together in an effort to stimulate his circulation in the cold weather. The detective tunes out the comfortable commotion of the small town station, imagining she is still in London and not here. Anywhere but here. People brush past her, the train whistles and whirs to motion, and before she knows it, she is alone, paralysed in one spot, snowflakes catching softly on her fetching ensemble of a royal blue travelling dress and matching hat.

She takes a shaky breath, almost already on the verge of tears.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

No.

“Of course,” she turns with a slight smile. “Just admiring the view. I used to live here.”

“Ah, then the gossip about you was true,” the man nods, his eyes glinting intelligently under his bushy brows. There’s an apologetic smile sitting on his lips, and a twinge of regret spoiling the beauty of his otherwise handsome square jaw and bold features. “I apologise, I couldn’t help but overhear some women on the train talking about your father. About you.”

“I didn’t know our name carried such weight,” the detective admits cautiously, one hand reaching up to fix her hat self-consciously. The man seems to notice the way her fingers linger over the hat pin, and he almost cracks a grin. It would be a highly inappropriate moment to joke, and besides, he’d rather befriend this interesting person than anger her to a point where he’d end up being skewered by the hat pin in question. After all, her friendship and assistance is why he’s here.

“Your father served in India with Sir Edward Bardford, the current Police Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police,” he adds gently. “You were betrothed to Montagu Edward Bradford.”

“How do you know about that?” the woman asks, her eyes widened by shock as she takes a step closer to him.

“Who didn’t Montagu tell?”

The strained grin the stranger allows himself seems to put her momentarily at ease. Montagu did tell everyone, God rest his soul. In a way, she could never really begrudge him for the betrothal - it was their fathers’ scheming, even if Montagu really didn’t seem to mind. She always wanted a way out, but she never wished for his death. He was in India when it had happened, and she was in London. In a way, even 9 years after, it feels surreal. She never saw the body. For years afterwards, she sincerely thought he would turn up one day unexpectedly as if nothing had happened.

He never did.

“How awfully rude of me to not even introduce myself!” he exclaims suddenly, sheepishly sticking out his hand. “Dr Van Helsing. Abraham Van Helsing.”

“I believe Mont had spoken about you,” she nods as she shakes his hand, deliberately squeezing his fingers with more force than a mere handshake would warrant. Yet another trick she learned from Ava.

“I hope so. We were... we were quite close. I know it’s been a while since he...” Van Helsing pauses as he withdraws his hand and waves it in the air before drawing it up to his ginger curls. “Please accept deepest my condolences.”

“Thank you, Dr Van Helsing.”

Her tone signals the end of the conversation, and she nods her head stiffly before turning. She knew coming back here would unearth the loss of her parents, but she is not ready to speak of Montagu yet. She bared her soul once regarding the matter, and only to one person, but she will not repeat the experience again. As liberating as it had been to tell Ava everything, she wishes to leave this heartache and guilt where it belongs - in the past.

“Please wait. We got off on the wrong foot! I didn’t come here to ask you personal questions - in fact, it is a disappearance that I was hoping to discuss with you.”

“You are a physician, not an inspector, correct?” she asks over her shoulder, not bothering to slow down her steps as she strides towards an unclaimed hansom.

“Yes, but-”

“Are you here to hire me?”

“No-”

“Then we have nothing to talk about, Dr Van Helsing. Good day.”

The driver, smelling a wealthy client who’s just arrived from London, clambers down from his seat quickly to open the door for her to get in. Just before she could disappear inside, the physician speaks again.

“I’m trying to find Miss Ava Du Mortain and Mr Nathaniel Sewell. I was hoping we could help each other out, but more importantly, I was hoping to warn you.”

“Warn me?” the detective pauses, looking back at Van Helsing with genuine shock on her prepossessing features.

“They’re not who you think they are - what you think they are.”

There’s a stretch of silence between them as her eyes assess the tall, lanky man as he stands just before the hansom, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his breath fogging in the chill air as he looks back at her expectantly. The nerve on this man alone is making the private detective want to leave him high and dry in the snow, but her insides twist and her pulse quickens at the mention of Ava’s name. She’s all but given up hope - for months now, she could find nothing regarding the woman and her partner, or the Agency they claimed to work for. She knows virtually nothing about this man, but her need to find Ava outweighs her better judgement.

“Are you hungry, Dr Van Helsing?” she asks, scooting further down the seat to make room for the man.

“Is eating and working on disappearance cases simultaneously a habit of yours, Miss?” the physician asks as he climbs in next to her.

“And here I was trying to be nice. I suppose I will not offer to pay for your lunch then.”

“I take it all back! I am positively famished.”

Meanwhile, across the train station

Lucille Licht twirls her cane, lips pressed into a disdainful frown. Cities at least have crowds upon crowds of people to distract her, but small towns such as Wayhaven hold no entertainment value whatsoever. She isn’t here on pleasant business anyway, she thinks to herself as she sighs, pulling her fur coat tighter around the expensive suit she’s wearing. No, she is here on ghastly business indeed, even by demon standards. But the prophecy was clear - though irritatingly vague too, no doubt to account for the rather large margin of error witches have these days in their prophecies. They’re more lawyers than soothsayers by now, their profession diluted by those who hunger for nothing but profit and security, and who are willing to sacrifice quality for those two aforementioned gains. Lucille finds sordid business such as this distasteful, even in her line of work. Falling from grace is one thing, but living in the Agency’s ever growing shadow is no excuse not to have honour among thieves. Or rogues. Or both, when it comes to the social circles she frequents.

A small voice in the back of her head whispers sadly, poisoning the faux assuredness she’s lulled herself into on the train. She’s just like I was, in a strange way. Before it all happened. And now I’m about to do the same horrible things to her that were done to me.

But the private detective is the one she’s been waiting for. She has to be. It all fits - the dead father, the career, the place where she was born. Lucille can’t smell anything strange about her blood yet, but she is sure she can bring about the power that was promised to reside in her veins. She has her ways, and her old magic, and her knife. And most importantly, her determination.

It was centuries ago, when she was stripped and bound and the curse was carved into her flesh. Strange, how vividly one can remember a single terrible moment, even centuries later. Even though the ancient magic rendered her undead, she can still feel the searing pain all over her body, red lines raging like fire in the form of symbols and Echolian text. It made her immortal, but it also bound her to her creator. He is the reason why she’s on the hunt. Why she is desperate to gain power beyond what she could achieve alone. Even as a human, as a meagre farmer’s child, she was roaming the fields of her father as she pleased. She was free. It was so long ago that she can’t even remember the name her parents gave her, but her freedom she remembers.

And nobody enslaves Lucille Licht and gets away with it.

Her slow burn vendetta must be coming to an end soon. There’s only so much of the supernatural underworld she can bring under her control - what she has will have to suffice. She already runs a widespread rogue organisation, with its key leadership positions held by her loyal Daughters, as she eloquently calls the women she’s bound to her service over the centuries the same way she was bound once. A necessary evil. Pawns in the game she plays with the Ancient One. There is nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure her victory in the coming battle. I will not be outwitted again by that Echolian bastard, she thinks, whacking away at a nearby bush with her cane. Specks of snow and ice glitter where her hits land. And yet she always finds herself hesitating before turning another human.

The abhorred feeling of helplessness always comes creeping back. As well as the pain, and the panic of thinking your life is about to end. She has to push it all down. Grit her teeth and get it over with. Months of preparation leading up to the final act that barely lasts ten minutes. And then you wait, and 3 days later their pain and mortality will be but a distant memory.

But she’s slipping. She no longer only hesitates before, now the intrusive self-doubt catches up to her after the rituals too. The Ancient One is still the centre of her nightmares, but the dream has changed. She is no longer the helpless little lamb brought to the slaughter. She is one with the Ancient One, his hand is hers too as it raises the knife, their voices merging together as they chant the same curse together.

She knew this victory would cost her everything. But she never imagined the real price to pay would be stepping up to fill the void the Ancient One’s death will create.

Lucille never wanted to be like him. She only ever wanted to kill him. But it seems those two things are one and the same.

She awakens from her thoughts when the man joins the private detective in the hansom. An annoying little man, that Dr Van Helsing is, though harmless in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t matter that he’s taken care of a Transylvanian rogue vampire with his entourage, it would take far more to stop her plans now. Lucille focuses on the woman instead, letting her will force itself into her mind. All too easy, she raises her eyebrows in an unimpressed fashion as she flicks through her thoughts as if she were reading the latest issue of The Times. She thought she would be more difficult to read. To control. But alas, she is just like everyone else, aside from the love that seems to seep out of her every thought for none other than Agent Du Mortain.

She grins, remembering her failed attempt at getting to the private detective earlier. She’s learned several invaluable lessons in those two years. One, you can’t trust dark elf mercenaries, no matter how much you pay them. Two, it’s better to divert the attention of the Agency first before you try to kidnap someone who has important connections in the London Metropolitan Police. Three, love makes people do really, really stupid things.

Thankfully, Lucille Licht is a smart woman, and an even better strategist - not to mention a quite powerful demon with telepathic abilities and her boot firmly planted on the supernatural underground’s neck - and this time, she has learned from all three of her mistakes. This time, there will be no Agent Du Mortain rushing to the rescue. (But that doesn’t mean she can’t use her name as bait, yes?)

Cemetery, Wayhaven, 1900

1 year and 8 months after Ava’s disappearance

He doesn’t appreciate being jerked around the way he has been lately, but he isn’t a man to grumble too much either. He was closest to the backwater little town, he gets to check out the possible supernatural case. Everyone draws the short straw sometimes, and he’s learned to cope with it. He has certainly lived long enough to do so.

The wind shifts, and suddenly Agent Fuller’s nostrils are invaded by the stench of magic. Things finally start looking up for him, and that thought alone is enough to make him pick up his pace, excitement coursing through his body. He lights a cigarette to conceal the smirk threatening to overtake his lips when he sees the pallid looks of the constables as they pass him by. One stops him to ask what his business is out here, but the Agency has already notified the meagre Wayhaven police force, and he is soon on his way again to the centre of the commotion. Cemetery of the commotion would be a more accurate description though - the little town was as dead in the mid-February frost as a place could get, and aside from the bored stationmaster who gave him directions, these men are the first living beings he’s encountered since his arrival.

“Name’s Agent Fuller. What can you tell me about the crime scene, constable?” Fuller asks as he exhales a lungful of smoke, turning to the least disturbed looking man surveying the scene.

“Welcome to the middle of nowhere, sir. Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

A handshake and a suppressed grin later Fuller follows the young man down a row of tombs. They take a sharp turn to the left, and immediately it is clear why he was called here. The sight is confirmation enough, but the smell of potent and ancient magic is the real giveaway.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a walker,” Fuller snorts as he crouches down, picking up a piece of the crumbled marble.

“The poor woman was buried only 3 days ago,” the constable mutters, rubbing his hands together before bringing them to his lips and blowing hot air onto them, desperately attempting to revitalise his frozen fingers. “Who could do such a monstrous thing?”

“Indeed, who could...” the agent mutters, too focused to really pay attention to the human on his right. The tomb was torn open, the coffin deserted, the body missing. It coincides with many reports made over the centuries - it’s unfortunately not rare for the dead to be taken and repurposed again for magic, but this particular pattern is characteristic of demonic rogues having too much time on their necromantic little hands. He will need to consult a few colleagues to confirm it, but the 3 days and the apparent magic hanging in the air is all the evidence he needs right now.

He stands, the lapels of his dark coat flapping in the chilly wind ominously. There’s a page typed up about the busy life of his missing body in his pocket, crumpled around the edges from being handled carelessly, but he takes it out to skim over it again. That’s when he spots the little detail about the private detective’s history with the Agency that he seemed to have missed the first time around.

‘1896-1898: under Agency protection

Threat: classified

Agents on the case: A. Du Mortain, N. Sewell’

The Agency gossips like there’s no tomorrow, and ever since Lady Ashbury’s return to the main facility, the gossip about the ‘Ice Queen’ and her pet detective have been the most fashionable thing to blabber on about. And since Fuller has been to the scene, it will be him who will have to provide all the answers when Du Mortain comes with her demanding questions, no doubt breaking down doors in the process as it is in her nature. Fuller is by no means a man who shies away from conflict or hard work, but he’s never been particularly good with emotions. Explaining to a lovesick elder vampire that her alleged lover is now very dead, and also quite probably the plaything of a very bored and elusive demon who likes to play with necromancy is not a task he would gladly carry out.

“Well, shit.”

Fuller shoves the page back into his pocket and sighs. He should retire and buy a house in the wilderness. Get a cat. Maybe try some cocaine - he once saw Heinrich Quincke use it for spinal anaesthesia before one of his surgeries, and have been meaning to try it out ever since. But he does none of those things - he never does.

He walks back the way he came, trying to prepare himself for the most awkward conversation of the century.

Needless to say, he couldn’t prepare himself for what was to come. But for once, he couldn’t feel mad about a messy situations. He just felt a little more hollow afterwards. And then he got another case as this one was closed and the woman was declared dead once more. And he moved on.

But, like with all his cases ending in death, he never forgot.

[jensungf]

𝐌𝐘 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 🌌 𝐡.𝐫𝐣

summary: he was your best friend. you should’ve been happy when he went to go ask that girl whether or not she was his soulmate. so why was the universe pulling at your heartstrings now?

pairing: reader x best friend!huang renjun genre: fluff + soulmate!au word count: 1.6k warnings: none

6:23pm. you rolled your eyes as you read the time. where the hell was he?

your focus drifts to the onyx swirls dotted on your wrist, and you subconsciously trace all the scribbles making up your tattoo. you had been impatiently tapping your foot for what felt like forever, but in actuality, was about ten minutes. maybe i should just leave, you thought ruefully as the digit on your lit-up phone screen changed once again.

you had been through this too many times for you to simply count with your fingers. it was almost like clockwork at this point. despite this only beginning months ago, you knew the cycle. renjun would encounter someone, and would feel compelled to chase them down and ask if they were possibly his soulmate. unfortunately, it always ended in rejection.

you were always the one to comfort him when he returned with the same answer like always— that they had found their soulmate or they didn’t feel any connection at all. despite your annoyance of having to be inconvenienced at random hours of the day and having your quality time with him interrupted, you knew deep down it hurt you just as much as it hurt him.

yet you never once considered the reality that perhaps he would actually find his soulmate one day, and how that mere possibility would change your entire life.

if renjun was seriously going to confront that girl with a simple question of whether or not she was his soulmate, what was taking them so long? surely he would’ve texted you by now if he was successful, knowing you were still waiting for him. or at least let you know he was on his way back.

you winced at the thought that he might be too busy engaging in other endeavors, ones that involved less talking and more touching. you shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of those thoughts, burying the odd feelings that made your stomach twist and turn. no, that wasn’t the renjun you knew. he wouldn’t be as daring as that despite his growing impatience to find his soulmate. besides, you wanted him to find his soulmate. there was no reason for your heart to twinge at the chance that maybe this time was the right time. you were his best friend. you were supposed to be happy for him, and hope for the best.

you hastily unlocked your phone, typing out a very annoyed albeit passive aggressive text to your heck of a best friend who decided to abandon you in the middle of your weekly dinner date to chase down a girl. you should’ve just left him moments ago, yet your feet stay planted in your spot outside the moomin plushie store.

“stupid renjun,” you muttered under your breath as you realized that the sky was beginning to settle into a hazy cloud of purple and pink. dusk was always your favorite time of day, yet you couldn’t help but feel a bit embittered that renjun wasn’t here with you to enjoy the view with. just when you were about to click send, a shadow casts over your figure and you lift your head.

“hey,” renjun says simply. his hands are shoved deep into his cream-colored denim jacket and he gazes at the sky instead of at you, causing you to stare quizzically at him.

“so....” you cock your head at his silence and wait for him to answer the obvious question. however, he makes no move to look you in the eyes. you hesitate, unsure what to do at your best friend’s abnormal silence.

usually he would be telling you that it wasn’t the right person and he had made a fool out of himself again or something along those lines, but this time, he remained silent. his eyes still avoid yours and you feel panic bubbling up in your chest. why was he acting like this? had something gone wrong?

“can i... try something?” he breaks the silence, asking quietly, almost as if he would break glass if he spoke any louder. he leans in slowly, and you freeze, your breath hitching. your mind screams for you to move away, to question what he was doing and whether he was in his right mind. yet your heart palpitates erratically and you make no move to turn away. his dark brown eyes gaze into yours, and you feel your head spinning.

despite your daze, you somehow feel your head nod ever so slightly, almost out of pure instinct with no control of your own body.

albeit with great reluctance, renjun takes this opportunity daringly. he closes the gap separating you both and gently presses his lips against yours. you melt into his warmth, closing your eyes as your hands subconsciously reach up to pull him in closer by gripping his jacket. his hands raise up to gently cradle your head and his lips feel like velvet, pliant against your own. the kiss is delicate yet firm, all hesitance dissipating as the seconds pass. you both pull away for air, but it felt as if you had just taken a deep breath of air for the very first time in your life.

people had told you about how they felt when they found the one, and you had never understood what they meant about how one person could make them feel just right until that very moment. how complete you had felt. your heart tugs almost as if you had finally crossed the thin line separating you from friends and lovers, something you never knew your heart had been aching for until now. you had always had renjun in your life, but you never knew how much he made you feel whole until this very moment. like he was the last missing puzzle piece that had finally found its place in your life, and nothing more could rival the feeling of this very moment.

he rests his forehead against yours and smiles meekly. your head was still reeling, and renjun moved his hand to gently cup your cheek. your mouth opens ajar, as you wrack your mind for the right words to say. “i… what? injunnie—”

he cuts you off by pressing another soft kiss to your lips. your eyes widen at his impulsive action, taken aback by how uncharacteristic that was. “i know you have a lot of questions, but i couldn’t resist,” he admits as pink dusts his cheek.

he entwines his hand with yours, fitting like two puzzle pieces as he leads you to the park bench. he looks up at the hazy sky once again with admiration before explaining.

“i never understood why it was so difficult to find my soulmate, when my tattoo was one of the more common ones,” he confesses as he glanced down to his moon tattoo. although it was indeed not as uncommon as yours, you had always admired the beauty it held, how beautifully and different it was drawn compared to the generic crescent symbols you had seen before.

it was as if renjun had drawn it with his own hand, with every tiny detail matching precisely with his art, his masterpieces. you look at yours, your wrist adorned with tiny scribbles of planets, stars, and even the sun scattered around all in one area.

suddenly it dawns on you. the space separating the sun and planets and stars is no longer empty, instead replaced with a replica of a moon. 

renjun’s moon.

“ever since we reunited with each other, i’ve been feeling more and more desperate to find them because i couldn’t help but feel something towards you, and i couldn’t live knowing you weren’t mine. at least— not until now.”

renjun is absolutely glowing when you look up at him.

“i guess you’re my universe, y/n,” he scoffs with a smile. his eyes meet yours, but despite the firmness in his voice, his telltale signs of embarrassment say otherwise.

and you believe him, because when he smiles at you, it’s as if you were the one who put the sun and moon and stars in the sky, as if you were the center of his galaxy. as if you were his universe.

“i never realized how much i needed you, until i saw that girl. she told me that she was the sun to someone else’s galaxy, and that’s when i realized that i had been trying to push away the pull towards someone who was always beside me for too long. somehow who should’ve been with me all along.”

you both locked eyes before bursting into laughter at his cringeworthy yet heartwarming confession. “when did you become such a cheeseball?” you snort. he locks you in a loving chokehold and your heart nearly skips a beat.

“we both wasted our time, didn’t we?” you remark with a carefree smile. all the worries, the gut feeling that made your head spin, the questions of why you couldn’t feel happy when it came to not having him, disappears within a simple kiss. the puzzle was done. the masterpiece was completed, but what was funny was the mere fact that you had no idea anything was even missing in the first place. you looked down at his wrist, now full with doodles of your galaxy. it glowed just like yours.

“we can make up for lost time.”

you nod and bask in his presence, gazing up at the stars scattered across and the luminescent moon peeking out against the darkness of twilight sky.

soulmates were an odd thing— to simply leave it up to a mere tattoo to connect you both when you had been connected since the very beginning. but you couldn’t have asked for anything more, when fate had already decided that you were his universe, and he was your moon.

you completed each other.

author’s note: i wrote this for @yongiefilms to thank her for being such a good friend and also bc i needed an excuse to post smth while i work on my main wip! i seem to have a curse where i cant write blurbs cus they end up turning into drabbles. oops? also i spent wayy more time on the header than the actual story lol ANYWAYS yay to my first renjun fic <3

[doodleimprovement]

Ghostly Friend - An Entangled Fates Fanfic

Why yes, this IS a fanfic of a fanfic. I never said I had any shame

Because frankly, @ahatintimepieces made too fun a concept for me to pass up giving the two a little diversion. 

Enjoy ! 

- 

“Oh, this is the timeline with the cool blue ghost!”

Luka wasn’t sure what to think of the girl’s excitement as they trekked through the alternate Subcon, the two of them taking a detour from their adventure- albeit accidentally.

This Subcon Forest had a.. different.. air to it. Less lonely, but… somehow more ominous.

Hattie led the two of them out of the denser forests dank air and into a field of muted closed flowers and rather unusual plants that climbed so much taller than you’d expect. Off in the distance we’re some conspicuous shallow hills with no trees. Perhaps man-made?

“They’re here!” The girl squealed, running through the taller grasses that went all the way up to her waist

“Wait, Hattie, what are you talking about? There isn’t anyone-” He tried to keep up, yelling after her while stumbling through the field.

And then the scenery moved.

Oh

Oh

Those were not shallow hills

The being- whatever it was- rose from its laying position as if sitting up in bed, and stretched out, it’s curling hair constantly floating as if suspended in water, billowing like dark clouds.

They turned to face the sounds approaching them, revealing glowing, Cyan eyes and a gentle gaze - a far cry from Snatcher, whose yellow eyes nearly always betrayed some form of chaotic energy when Luka met the ghost in dreams.

“Hi!!” Hattie waved and grinned “I’m the Hattie from the other universe. I came here with a friend by accident!”

The large ghost tilted their head for a second, before giving a fanged smile and letting out a low chuckle, the echo in their voice feeling as if on a different level from Snatchers, rattling the young man to his bones

“Hello there, my dear” the ghost greeted, reaching over and offering their large hand “It is lovely to see you again, mistake or not.” Hattie motioned for Luka to join her, and he cautiously followed suit “Let me get a look at you and your friend, hm? I need to introduce myself to them”

The hand lifted the duo up towards the ghosts face and their eyes narrowed in scrutiny as they gazed at Luka

“Well, aren’t you familiar” the ghost commented, seeming more amused than anything else “I go by “the ghost of the flowers”, most days, but you may call me Nell”

… Where had he heard that name before?

“Luka. I go by Luka”

“Ah” the ghost responded “So what brings you to our forest, hm?”

“We were jumpin’ through universes and went to the wrong one” the girl explained succinctly “but it’s nice to see you too!”

Nell chuckled once again “And you are her guardian, I assume?”

Luka nodded “Yes, uh, well, someone has to”

The ghost leaned back against some sturdy trees “Indeed” they agreed, before placing their hand on a lower part of their body, where legs might have been “How about you tell me what you have been up to, hm?”

Luka didn’t say very much for the next few minutes, letting Hattie ramble and rave and storytell to her little hearts content about the perilous journey they’d been on. Once in a while she’d turn to him to get his affirmation on some of the more fantastical details (or what her definition of the word was, at least) and he'd give an encouraging nod, or a “yup, that happened” in response.

Her grin was worth the time they were wasting, it was the most excited she’d seemed in some time.

Nell, for their part, listened with what Luka assumed was interest. It was the kind of interest that reminded him of when the head college nurse would let people ramble about how they got hurt while she diligently treated -

… Wait.

“Luka?”

The man was jolted out of his realization

“You okay?” Hattie asked.

“Yeah uh, can I ask you a question, Nell?” He tittered.

“You may”

“Uh, would your full name happen to be uh, AnnaBella?”

There was a pause to their expression, a large chunk of their amusement gone. The expression now seemed surprised, but contemplative.

“Little Harriet” Their glowing eyes fell on the girl. “I need to speak with Luka. Can you go find My Yellelily basket? It’s by the lake”

Harriet- seeming to read the aura better than Luka could, and slid off of the ghost’s hand, disappearing behind foliage.

Luka very suddenly felt very, very nervous.

“I’m sorry, was that not supposed to be said? Was it rude?”

They didn’t respond at first, lifting his sitting form in her hand while scrutinizing him, eyes thin.

“Full name”

“Hm?”

“What do you think is my full name”

“Uh, uhm” Luka’s mind tried to remember the nurse’s last name. Something long.. Italian

“Uh, Bounatti? Close to that” He weakly answered… and they chuckled.

“Bounacci?”

“Yes, that!”

“The full name should be AnnaBella Gracia Buonacci” They corrected “And how do you know me, dear?”

“Uh, you’re the head nurse at the college medical center”

“Huh” They nodded “A nurse? That sounds accurate. I was an apothecary in life”

“... So, you’re a ghost?”

“What else might I be?”

Luka shrugged a bit helplessly. “I don’t know. I just wasn’t sure what could’ve happened to you. You seem very… mild-mannered, where I’m from.”

“Huh…” They moved him down onto the ground “Tell me… is there a “Vanessa” in your timeline?”

“Oh, yes!” He jumped a bit once he landed in the grasses. “She’s my girlfriend, she’s wonderful! Is she here in this universe? .. Is she a ghost like you?”

“.. In a manner of speaking” they vaguely answered, as they pulled themselves up and turned, their form twisted, like the smoke of a candle, and their form shrunk, taking on a more humanoid shape, though their hair remained flowing and ethereal.

“Heh… uh, what do you mean?”

Their eyes narrowed at him, approaching him.

“Heed my warning” They maintained eye contact “I loved her. The only person that loved her more was her husband”

His heart partially stopped beating at the idea of them marrying

“But be wary of her.”

That feeling left

“After all, if this was her kingdom, and she is all that is left of it’s legacy.. Who is to blame?”

There was a moment of pause between the two of them

“... My… My Vanessa isn’t like that” He responded.

“Mine wasn’t either” Was all the ghost responded with

“Ahem”

The two turned, seeing Hattie there with a wicker basket filled to the brim with beautiful, golden lilies

“I uh, picked more of them for you!”

A smile reappeared on Nell’s face. “Wonderful, dear” They reached and took it “Once refined, this will make the finest salve for Titter-Ivy” They explained “You two should probably get going, hm?”

Hattie nodded “Are ya ready, Luka?” She reached and grabbed his hand

“Oh, uhm, yeah” He nodded “Uh, thank you for your time, Nell”

They gave him a smile. It seemed… sad? Melancholy? It didn’t feel like a happy smile

“Tread carefully, you two. And Luka?”

“.. Yes?”

“Don’t be a stranger, hm?”

The man blinked, unsure what they meant, but before he could respond, the Ghost turned with their basket, and faded with a twist into smoke.

“.. Are you okay?” Hattie asked

“Yeah… let’s go, hm?”

The girl just nodded, pulling him back into the dense thicket of the forest.

But the ghost’s words couldn’t leave his mind

“Mine wasn’t either”

[ethereal-not-occult]

patience and the mulberry

"With time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown."

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Character(s) of Color, Sericulture, silkworms, past religious trauma, but nothing bad happens in this fic I promise, mixed bookverse w/ TV elements, references to Chinese culture Notes: Originally written for the @goodomensfashionzine​ !

“I'll only be a minute, dear.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley's cheek as he opened the door of the Bentley. “You don't have to see me to the door if you don't want to.”

Crowley tightened his grip on the wheel. “Sure, angel. Sounds good to me.” The sibilants slid far too quickly past his clenched jaw, and he bit his tongue to stop the instinctive hiss from escaping.

Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic look, but shut the Bentley's door behind him and soon disappeared through the doors of the church. Once he was out of sight, Crowley slumped forward slightly, sliding his sunglasses up and rubbing at his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he felt composed enough to exit the Bentley himself in blatant disregard for the “NO PARKING” sign on the curb.¹

[¹ Given his new job position (or lack thereof), lawbreaking was no longer a necessity, but old habits die hard.]

The bright afternoon sun made him wince a bit, and two robins in a nearby bush were getting frisky in a way he would never be able to unhear, but they made it easier to forget the distant wail of air sirens. Even standing out on the road, Crowley's skin prickled faintly with the remembered sting of consecrated ground.

He pushed the feeling aside and walked resolutely forward. Aziraphale was bound to take his sweet time as he mooned over the church's dusty old tomes, but Crowley had his own investigations to conduct while he waited. No rest for the wicked and all that.

The concrete pavement under his snakeskin shoes gave way to grass, and the tingling sensation in his soles faded. Soon he found himself at his intended destination—an Edenic grove of mulberry trees, clustered together in a ring in the church's backyard. He'd spotted them on the drive over and couldn't resist the temptation of a closer look.

Crowley wandered into the garden with a scrutinizing eye. They were young, for trees, but growing well despite their callowness. A particularly stocky sapling hardly flinched when Crowley gave it a token glare, much to his disappointment. Then again, outdoor plants were rarely as well-behaved as properly cowed houseplants. It seemed this attitude persisted even in ecclesiastic gardens such as these.

He cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, then reached a hand up into the tree's umbrella-like branches and tugged. The season wasn't quite right for fruits, but he still withdrew clutching a handful of dark ripe mulberries. Hardly apples, but his lips twitched upwards nonetheless. He plucked a berry from the pile and raised it to his lips.

“Zaoshang hao!”

Only a hasty miracle saved Crowley from choking as he jumped and swiveled around. Hovering right outside the churchyard was a middle-aged human, well-dressed and smiling pleasantly at him. Judging by her formal clothing and the Bible she carried, she was a part of the congregation, maybe even the priest herself. Crowley swallowed and stepped backwards.

“Ni shi jiaohui de xinshou ma?” the human called again, picking her way across the dewy grass in his direction. Crowley eyed the Bible she held, willing himself not to break out into hives.

“Um. Wo bu—er, no. I'm not new. Not here for church at all, actually.” He fidgeted and clasped his hands, still full of pilfered mulberries, behind his back. “Just waiting for someone.”

The human raised an eyebrow. “You're welcome to wait inside, if you like,” she said, also switching to English. “I reckon we still have biscuits left from the children's morning service—”

“No!” Crowley said too quickly, and perhaps too sharply. He winced. “I mean. That won't be necessary. I'd much rather stay out here, if it isn't too much trouble.”

The human gave him a Look. Crowley's cheeks heated and he averted his eyes, willing his sunglasses a few shades darker.

“Beautiful, aren't they?”

Crowley's head shot back up. The human had turned her back to him and was running a hand through the glossy green leaves of the nearest mulberry tree. Crowley could practically see the branches stretch out in delight beneath her touch, like a purring cat.

“Volunteers from our congregation take care of them,” the human continued, smiling at the young tree. “The kids here like raising silkworms, you see, and we welcome them to pick leaves from the trees each week to feed them.”

Silkworms. Of course. Despite himself, a hazy memory rose to the forefront of his mind: Sichuan, China, several hundreds of years ago. A family farm, weathered and cozy and oozing enough sheer goodness to make the average demon ill with it. Crowley wouldn't normally be caught dead in such a place, but he had owed a favour to the angel. His fingers twitched at the phantom memory of butter-soft silk fibres against his skin; long, winding threads that stretched out thin and fine, tangling so easily around his uncertain fingers. With this memory came the golden, moon-round face of a child he hadn't thought about in centuries, grinning toothily as they held out a box to him, a box filled with small pale larvae that wriggled among the spade-shaped leaves. “Zhe jiao can.”

Crowley forced himself to return to the present. The human was speaking to him.

“—waiting on Mr. Fell?” she asked.

Crowley blinked. Shook himself a little. “Yeah. He's helping out with the restoration of some old manuscript or other.”

The human smiled again. It was an unnervingly piercing expression. “I'm aware. I was the one who requested his help. Such a lovely man. Are you a friend of his?”

Crowley tensed. “His husband, actually.”

He braced himself, but the human only brightened. “Goodness, then you must be Mr. Crowley! Mr. Fell talks ever so much about you. Finally gone and tied the knot then, have you?”

Before Crowley could stammer out a reply, something dinged loudly, making him jump. The human pulled a phone out from her pocket and squinted at the screen.

“Sorry, I have to run back inside. But it was lovely meeting you, Mr. Crowley.” She stuck out a hand—thankfully not the one that had been holding the Bible—and after a brief hesitation, Crowley shook it. As quickly as she had arrived, the human disappeared from the garden, leaving Crowley alone and off-kilter amid a grove of mulberry trees.

---

Aziraphale emerged from the church around an hour later to find Crowley seated on the curb next to the Bentley, basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun as he scrolled through his phone.

“My dear,” the angel sighed. His joints creaked as he eased himself down to sit next to Crowley on the roadside. “Don't tell me you've been sitting here the entire time.”

“Nope,” Crowley said, popping the ‘p’. “I toured the gardens for a bit. Swiped some fruits, too. The mulberries aren’t half-bad, for a bunch of church plants, but they’ll need a good deal more threatening before they're really up to snuff.”

Crowley stopped when he saw Aziraphale chewing his lip, brow furrowed as he studied Crowley's face. Now it was Crowley's turn to sigh.

“Really, angel. It's fine. I was hardly bored.”

The expression didn't leave Aziraphale's face. A soft brown hand reached out and brushed aside stray wisps of hair from Crowley's forehead. The demon hadn't bothered to cut it since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and it was growing longer and more unruly by the day.

“I'm fine.” Crowley caught Aziraphale's hand and held it, carefully. He pressed his lips against the well-manicured fingers. “It was years ago, angel, and we both came out of it all right. You don't need to worry about me.”

Aziraphale still looked vaguely distressed as Crowley drew him close. With the sun setting behind him, framing his face and curly dark hair in a golden halo, he was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen.

He kissed him then, right there on the road, in full sight of the church and probably Someone Else, too, if She happened to be watching at that particular moment. Once, he would've been terrified of such a public display, but he hadn't gone through hellfire and holy water to care anymore about what others thought of them.

As he helped Aziraphale into the Bentley, he noticed abruptly that the angel was carrying what appeared to be a shoebox, of all things, along with his usual camelhair coat.

“What on Earth is that?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale carefully pushed the box over to Crowley. “Mrs. Lao gave it to me once I'd finished with those manuscripts. She said it was a gift for you, actually. Have the two of you met before?”

Crowley stared down at the box, baffled. “We talked for a bit in the gardens just now, but I can’t imagine why…”

He trailed off, and his mouth dropped open as Aziraphale eased open the lid and beheld the contents with a raised eyebrow.

“Good heavens. Are those caterpillars?”

“Silkworms,” Crowley corrected automatically, leaning in for a closer look. There were so many of them, somehow both smaller and larger than he remembered, all white and wiggly and chomping away busily at the layers of mulberry leaves filling their box. None of them paid any attention whatsoever to their occult observers hovering above them.

“Why would she give you such a thing? Not that they aren't dear little creatures,” Aziraphale added hastily, glancing into the box, “but I doubt I have the means to keep them in the bookshop.”

“No need,” Crowley said before he could stop himself. “I can raise 'em in my flat.”

Aziraphale gave him a curious look. “You know how to care for these… insects?”

“Yeah.” Crowley gently shut the lid of the inhabited shoebox and curled a hand around the Bentley's stick-shift. “I've done something like this, before. I know what I'm doing.”

“If you say so.” Suddenly Aziraphale chuckled. At Crowley's affronted look, he demurred, “I'm not making fun, my dear. It's only that you still manage to surprise me, even after all these years.”

Aziraphale leaned in and pecked Crowley's cheek, making him blush red and sputter. Much to his disgruntlement, the Bentley chirped a light-hearted rendition of Haydn's Crazy Little Thing Called Love all the way home.

---

Crowley had spent the past eleven years co-parenting the Antichrist with Aziraphale.² They had faced this challenge head-on, and in his opinion, it hadn’t gone too shabbily. Now, without the threat of the Apocalypse hanging over his head, becoming a surrogate parent was far less daunting the second time around.

[² Even if young Warlock hadn't really been the son of Satan, it was the principle of the thing.]

Still, Crowley worried. He had always been something of a worrier, and that hadn't changed even after the First Day of the Rest of Their Lives.

After dropping off Aziraphale at the bookshop, Crowley returned to his flat, where he commenced the preparations for introducing his unexpected twenty-odd guests to their new home. This was accomplished by miracling up a small glass aquarium onto his desk, lining the bottom with paper towels, and carefully (read: nervously) placing the silkworms one by one into the tank. Once this was done, Crowley scattered the half-eaten mulberry leaves from the box around the aquarium. The silkworms set upon their interrupted lunch with all the enthusiasm of Aziraphale devouring a meringue pie at the Ritz.

Crowley slumped into his chair, took off his sunglasses with a wince, and rested his chin on his desk, staring into the glass tank.

“I raised your ancestors once, you know,” Crowley informed the wriggling creatures. “Tiny farm in China several centuries back. We'd weave branches together into a tray and let you loose inside. Bit like how manmade beehives work, or something.”

Crowley paused. Watched one silkworm slowly inch its way across a stem to tackle a new section of leaf. “‘Course, humans use wire mesh nowadays, but the general premise is the same. Always thought it was bloody clever, what humans could come up with. If you gave me a bunch of moth larvae and told me to make a living out of them, I definitely wouldn't think to make clothes.” He snorted. “Whoever came up with that, I'd like a glass of whatever they were drinking.”

The silkworms munched on. They ate much faster than they crawled, that was certain. In the quiet walls of his flat, away from prying human eyes, Crowley loosened the knot of his silk tie and tugged it off, easing the tightness around his neck.

“You're the ones who made this, in a sense,” he said, waving the tie at them. He laid the tie beside one glass wall of the tank at just the right angle for the inhabitants within to see. Several silkworms looked up curiously.

Crowley tossed his suit jacket aside, then unbuttoned his shirt collar. He had always prided himself on his sharp, modern attire over the years, the better to tempt humans with—or so he claimed. Despite repeated scoldings from his superiors, his Lust quotas had never been quite up to par.

Sufficiently dishevelled, and feeling all the freer for it, Crowley sank back into his chair to watch the silkworms.

“The only thing I didn't like about the process was the boiling,” he murmured. “Logically, I can see why it was done. And you would all be in cocoons, so it's not like you'd be in any pain. Not like I was.” He exhaled, the sound becoming a low hiss. “But still. Never liked it. Always felt like an awful lot of trouble just for the sake of some silk threads.”

One particularly adventurous silkworm had nosed its way upwards and was now creeping over the edge of the tank opening. Crowley made a mental note to devise a lid of some kind and stuck his finger against the lip of the tank. The silkworm crawled onto his hand without any hesitation. Tentatively, he drew it closer. Its many feet stuck stubbornly to his skin, and it reared up as he approached, swaying slightly, its mandibles twitching.

Crowley stared at the silkworm. The silkworm stared back, and seemed disappointed when Crowley had nothing else to offer. Just to prove it wrong, Crowley materialized a single large mulberry leaf in his other hand and presented it to the insect, who fell upon it with gluttonous enthusiasm.

Staring at the miracled leaf, an idea formed in Crowley's mind. He smiled, slowly.

“I need a hobby, now that I'm jobless,” he said aloud to the silkworm, letting it creep onto his palm. He ran a careful finger over its smooth back. “I think I'll take up sericulture again, for old time's sake.” He reached back into the tank and gently encouraged the silkworm to crawl back inside.

“Humans have to boil you alive to get those nice unbroken threads off your cocoons,” Crowley mused, withdrawing his hand. “Fortunately, I don't have to do things the human way.” He lowered himself until he was eye-level with the inhabitants of the tank. The silkworm he had carried paused in its perpetual eating and turned its head, almost like it was looking at him.

“How's this?” Crowley asked. “You'll be able to grow into a fuzzy, fully grown silk-moth, and I can take your cocoon after you've finished with it and miracle the threads whole again.” He paused and mulled it over. “I guess I could take it a step further and just miracle the finished silk together, but there's still something to be said about the human way of doing things.”

The silkworm bobbed the front half of its body as though in agreement. Crowley smiled again.

“We can make silk, and no one gets hurt. I'm a few hundred years out of practice, but I'm sure I could make it work, somehow.”

The silkworm turned its attention back to its meal. Crowley didn't notice. He was too busy wondering if Aziraphale had any old texts on silk-weaving that he could borrow, just so he could refresh his memory.

The angel would appreciate having a new silk bowtie to add to his collection.

---

Thank you for reading! Replies and reblogs are always much appreciated. <3

[dreams-of-the-arcana]

A soft Kipos fic 🥰🥰🥰

Pairing: Tikos x Kipling Bronne ( @asras3rdeye’s OC)

Over the Seas

“... hey.”

“No.”

“But-“

“No.”

“It’s just, I don’t want to keep you if you-“

“Bee.”

“-Captainy things to do?”

A low rumbling chuckle shook the entwined pair.

“Captainy things?” Tikos’ voice was still heavy with sleep as he teased the gardener currently wrapped up in his arms.

Kipling blushed and buried her face in his chest further. It seemed like an important worry up until the words were out of her mouth. Suddenly the past five minutes she’d fretted over it seemed silly.

In the Captain’s cabin of the Charybdis’ Decent, the sun was just starting to filter through the intricate stained glass window at the back of the room. It was just enough light to throw weak colorful rays onto the pair in bed. Tikos stretched out leisurely with Kipling cuddled on his right side using his shoulder for a pillow. He’d managed to kick the blankets off himself during the night and seemed to have never made it back into any clothes. With her leg thrown over his own, Kip was fully aware and avoiding thinking about it too much.

It wasn’t close to the first time they’d been together but somehow it always felt so intense that it may well be.

“Don’t worry so much, Bee. I did the best Captainy thing I could,” he assured her. “I hired people who can run a ship without needing me constantly.”

Her face only felt hotter and he pulled her into a hug on top of him.

“I’m just...”

“We can turn around if you’re too nervous?” His tone was light but she knew he was being serious. If at any point she changed her mind they’d be right back to Vesuvia. But she wouldn’t, she was determined.

“No!... well, I am nervous but I still want to go.”

“You jus’ let me know. They can... be a lot to handle.”

Staying on course, the Charybdis’ Decent continued to draw closer to Nevivon. Where Kipling would be introduced to Tikos’ parents for the first time. Which was enough to be worried about already but adding on the inherit nerves with sailing for so long.

“Hey.”

Kipling looked to meet Tikos’ eye, he hadn’t put his patch back on either. He trusted her.

“Come here,” he purred and crooked a finger at her.

Kip leaned down closer on Tikos’ chest and he gently caught her lips with his own. It was a slow, soft, and sleepy kiss with no sense of urgency or motive. He took his time exploiting every trick he knew she liked before pulling away to lean his forehead against hers.

“They’re going to love you. Know how I know?”

She had an idea but stayed silent.

“Because I love you.”

Her cheeks flamed with a blush but she couldn’t keep the happy smile off her face at those words. They enjoyed a moment of just being overjoyed. Then he ran a hand up her bare thigh that currently straddled him and Kip opened her eyes to his usual cheeky grin.

“Besides, I know the best stress relief, aye?”

“... aye.”

Only a few hours later, Nevivon was in full view sparkling in the sunlight.

“LAND! NEVIVON IN SIGHT!”

The shout from a crew member drew a smile from Tikos. It’d been some time since he’d been to visit. It seemed like whenever he had a free moment he was likely to be found in Vesuvia. Not that the crew teased him incessantly about it but, well, what else is family for?

“Ah! Smell that beautiful sea air!” Tikos took in a deep breath aboard the deck as he manned the wheel. Kipling rolled her eyes at him playfully. She sat nearby working on finishing up the bracelets she was making for his parents. They were beautiful and full of seashells the pair had collected on adventures.

“I have been since we set sail.”

He grinned at his companion.

“Aye but it’s so much better when land is in sight. Makes me never want to leave.”

“As much as I love looking at the ocean and your ship, I would really like to see a plant again soon.”

“Of course you do, Honeybee. And so you shall.”

They enjoyed the short back-and-forth as the ship came into dock.

Finally, it was time to disembark. Surprisingly to Tikos, they managed to get their feet on the dock before two loud commanding voices rang out.

“Zori!!”

“Tizos!!”

Tikos held Kipling’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“μητέρα! татко!”* He called out.

A thin woman with long black curls streaked with grey pushed her way past the crew and spotted them.

“το μωρό μου!”*

Behind her came a large man with short white hair and kind brown eyes.

“Γεια σου!”*

The woman rushed towards them and pulled Tikos down for a hug while rapidly firing off in their native language. Then her eyes gravitated towards Kipling and her smile grew even bigger as she pulled her in for a hug as well.

“Ey, μητέρα, in Vesuvian please.” Tikos said to his Mother as she tried to speak to Kip.

“Oh yes! Vesuvian! My darling girl, welcome, welcome! We are so happy to meet you! And to see our boy! Oh Tizos! It’s been so long! Everyone is wanting to see you and your beautiful woman! Yes! We made a big feast!”

“Ayy, ay, љубов моја*. Let her breathe! Come now, she’s not going to disappear.”

Tikos cut in as his Mother shot his Father a cross look. He could sense the argument and decided to spare Kipling for now. The two of them could argue for days some times.

“Let me introduce you. μητέρα, татко, this is Kipling Bronne.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you!” Kip spoke up, quietly thankful that Tikos gave her an opening. In only a minute she understood where he got his love of talking.

“Aye, όμορφο κορίτσι*, we’re looking forward to getting to know you. I’m Thalia and this is my husband Adrijan but you may just call us Lia and Adri.”

Finally releasing Kipling, Lia turned her attention back to Tikos and launched into her usual barrage of questions. Why are you so skinny, why have you been away so long, who’s cutting your hair, etc. Adri took the opportunity to shake Kipling’s hand and place a kiss on her cheek in greeting.

“Don’t mind Lia, she’s very excitable.”

Kip smiled back at him and nodded.

“I think I know someone like that as well,” she said and glanced over at Tikos who had dissolved into his native tongue and was speaking just as fast as Lia back and forth. Adri laughed and gestured up the dock for them.

Kip and Adri chatted as they led the small group back up into Nevivon to their small house. Lia and Tikos seemed to never even break in their bickering for air.

The day was just as much a whirlwind as the beginning and Kipling found herself completely immersed in the Katsaros-Yakinthos family. ‘Relatives’ of all kinds popped in throughout the day to see them and bring gifts while Lia and Adri were eager to hear all about Kip and her life. The gardener worried about seeming boring next to all the excitement but the two hung on her every word with fascination and smiles. Especially when Kip told them she was a gardener as they admitted they couldn’t keep a plant alive no matter how hard they tried. Kip offered to give them some advice but soon she had a whole crowd of lifelong seafarers stopping to listen as they passed by.

In no time at all to her, Kipling found herself out of breath sitting by a bonfire on a beach while Tikos continued dancing with a myriad of people to lively music. She watched him as he moved so easily with a genuine smile that seemed so natural on his face. While he’d offered to sit with her she’d waved him off, it was much better to admire him from her vantage point. It was as if the years just melted off of him and he looked his age for once. For all his laid back attitude and easy smiles she realized he was still carrying so many scars inside and out. While she sat she pulled the bracelets back out to continue on them. They weren’t quite finished yet and she hadn’t really had a moment to focus on them.

“Do you mind?”

A voice broke her out of her thoughts and Kip looked up to see Lia gesturing to the seat next to her.

“No! Not at all.”

“Wonderful,” Lia smiled and sat down with a content sigh. “Ah what a day it has been!”

Kip nodded in agreement, keeping her hands moving but glancing up occasionally.

“It warms this Mother’s heart to see her only child so happy,” she spoke slowly for once and with great purpose.

“If... if you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you have any more? I was surprised when Tikos told me he was an only child.”

“No child, ask me whatever you wish. It is a simple answer. Adri and I were great enemies for many years. Too proud to give up our feud over the sea. When we finally realized our love we thought it was too late for any children at all. Zotikos was a gift. From the sky, the sea, whoever. A most wonderful gift.”

Lia looked over and smiled with Kip.

“He is very taken with you.”

That brought the heat rushing back up to Kip’s cheeks and she shyly looked back at her hands.

“I am happy. I feared he would be too stubborn like Adri and I,” she laughed. “He’s never brought someone home so we know you are special.”

“Never?” Somehow the knowledge that she was the only person he’d brought home to meet his parents made everything seem so much more... intimate.

“No. He has never even mentioned another before. Now you might say he could just keep things from his old Mother but no, he would tell me if he met someone.”

Kip looked back at her pirate dancing without a care in the world. She wondered if he’d been lonely all this time. Then she turned back to Lia and held out the completed bracelets for her and Adri.

“For you both, I wanted to give them to you earlier but… you know…,” she gestured broadly while trying to find the right words.

Lia laughed and nodded, not needing anymore explanation. She held a wrist out so Kipling could put the bracelet on her.

“I love it, όμορφο κορίτσι.” Lia assured her and gave her a fond kiss on the cheek.

Despite the nerves, the long voyage, and the overwhelming day Kipling realized that she’d grown to understand her lover much deeper. Maybe that made it all worth it. She liked to think it did.

Sitting there by the fire while surrounded by joy and laughter. Opening up new sides of one Zotikos Orion Katsaros-Yakinthos, mystery pirate who had always seemed so carefree. A warmth started to spread in her heart that blossomed when a single brown eye found hers.

—-

Combination of Greek and Macedonian words

μητέρα - Mother

татко - Father

το μωρό μου - My baby

Γεια σου - A welcome

љубов моја - My love

όμορφο κορίτσι - Beautiful girl

[raeynbowboi]

In the Dragon’s Dungeon: How to Play as Maleficent in D&D 5e

As a card-carrying, certified geek, I’m a fan of many dorky hobbies, and among them is Dungeons and Dragons. So in honor of Halloween, I’ve decided to dedicate my very first build to the Mistress of All Evil, Maleficent from the 1959 Disney Classic Sleeping Beauty, and to a lesser extent, her role as the leader of the Disney Villains in the Kingdom Hearts series and other 2nd tier canon material using the animated version. For this build, we are only interested in her animated counterpart. Jolie’s portray is far too noble and sympathetic for the diabolical witch we’re working with here. Maleficent is a very powerful fairy, so our goal for her build is to focus on causing as much unhappiness, pain, and misery as she possibly can.

Picking a Race

While our first instinct is to call Maleficent a Wicked Witch, she is in fact, a fairy. She’s based on the Aged Fairy (or the Bad Fairy in some translations) from the Grimm and Perrault versions of the Sleeping Beauty fairytale. Unfortunately, while Fey exist in DnD, they are not a specific playable race with stats, so we’re forced to improvise. However, there are 3 subraces which seem best suited for what Maleficent could be: [Fallen Aasimar] - since all the other fairies have wings and can only perform good magic, this dark variation on the playable “angel” race which has lost its wings could fit Maleficent’s descent and mirror the fall of Lucifer. With this option she gains +2 Charisma and +1 Strength, 60 feet of darkvision, resistance to both necrotic and radiant damage, the power to instill fear in those around her, and boost her own necrotic damage for a short period between rests. However, this might not fit her the best, and she is slain by a sword endowed with good fairy magic, which could be considered radiant damage. However, Ventus puts her to sleep in Kingdom Hearts Birth by Sleep, so that could be a point in favor of this racial build for the character. [Maka Clan Elf] - Maka Clan elves specialize in curses by praying to old gods of nature and death. With this choice, she gains +2 Dexterity and +1 Wisdom, proficiency with Religion, 60 feet of darkvision, resistance to charm, immunity to sleep spells, and can enter an elven trance instead of sleeping. As a Maka Clan Elf, she knows the Thaumaturgy Cantrip at level 1, and starting at levels 3 and 5 respectively, she can cast both Hex and Crown of Madness once per long rest using her Wisdom modifier. [Shadar-Kai Elf] - The third option is the Shadar-Kai. Once a fey like other elves, the Shadar-Kai became loyal to the Raven Queen, and they have taken up refuge in Shadowfell, a dark dimension. This nicely mirrors Maleficent’s state as a corrupted fairy that now dwells in darkness. As a Shadar-Kai elf, she gains +2 Dexterity and +1 to Constitution, Proficiency with Perception, 60 feet of darkvision, resistance to necrotic damage, being charmed, immunity to sleep spells, and can enter an elven trance instead of sleeping. This archetype lacks pre-set one-use spells, but does allow her to teleport up to 30 feet and appear transparent as she does so, gaining resistance to all types of damage while moving like this starting at 3rd level.

As for her background, we’ll make her a Noble, since Queen Leah (yes, she has a name) refers to her as Your Exellency, which denotes Maleficent as a member of the aristocracy.

Powers and Abilities:

Sleeping Beauty (1959)

-appear and disappear in a flash of fire (teleports only herself, not Diablo) -create gusts of wind (possibly? She may have just blown down the doors) -has a Raven for a familiar -bestow curses, hexes, jinxes, etc. -bestow magical sleep -spy with Diablo (Flora is even afraid to speak her plan to hide Aurora out of fear that Maleficent might find out somehow, Diablo also later finds Aurora, acts as Maleficent’s alarm system, and leads her minions to where the intruders are.) -summon frost, snow, ice, or cold to kill Flora’s flowers -possibly some level of omniscience or divination? (Merrywhether states that Maleficent knows everything, interpret as you see fit) -shoot lightning with her staff. -Put out fires (the fire in the fireplace goes out when she lures Aurora) -possibly transmutation/relocating walls? (The Fireplace suddenly transforms into a passageway, but it’s unclear if that was already there, or if she created this doorway to lead Aurora to the spinning wheel. But once Aurora has been lead away from her room, Maleficent closes off the doorway that she created, and the fairies have to use magic to open the doorway again.) -Appearing as a floating green light (this may or may not be similar to when the three good fairies look like flying balls of colored light when in their shrunken forms.) -Hypnosis/Suggestion (Aurora clearly looks hypnotized while following Maleficent to the Spinning Wheel, only hesitating when she hears familiar voices calling her name, but is then compelled by Maleficent to touch the spindle) -creating inanimate objects out of thin air (she creates a black spinning wheel) -call lightning from the sky -raise a thicket of thorns -using non-physical form to fly/move quickly (as she flies from her tower in front of Phillip in some sort of spiral of sparks) -All the Powers of Hell (her minions are also a disgrace to The Forces of Evil) -transform into a dragon (with a fire breath attack) -weak to holy/radiant damage?

Suggested or Implied Powers These are powers she never really demonstrates in the film, but the other fairies can do them, so it’s possible she can too: -bestow gifts/blessings -shrink to a small size -change people into plants and back again -make inanimate objects float/act semi-conscious -create food -conjure clothing/don disguises -remove the other fairies’ wings -use magic to zap/weld off chains -conjure unholy/necrotic weapons and shields -turn creatures to stone -transform stones into bubbles, arrows into flowers, and boiling oil into a rainbow. -bestow an unholy/necrotic enchantment to a weapon -it’s unclear if her minions are mortal goblins that actually exist in the world, or if they’re demon minions she was given when she sold her service to Chernabog. Thus, it’s uncertain if she can summon more, or if she’s limited to the mortal beings in her service.

Kingdom Hearts

-create, summon, and control the Heartless -Teleporting (this time without columns of fire) -creating portals between worlds/planes/planets -bestow the power to control the Heartless -appear as a transparent projection -bring Oogie Boogie back to life (without the need of his body) -teleport Oogie Boogie and herself -Turn Santa Claus into a Heartless (or at least trying to) -Create a Wall of Fire -”awaken” the evil inside of people’s hearts/force people to stop repressing their evil impulses -make rocks float -summon meteors of heaven -conjure lightning indoors -move as a spiral of sparks/dark fire -Can be put to sleep by Ventus through magic

Converting her abilities to Spells and Feats

Before we can settle on a class, we have to decide what spells would fit under Maleficent based on her canon abilities, then pick a class or multi-classes that cover the widest selection of those spells and powers.

-Mobility     -Arcane Gate (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)     -Astral Projection (Cleric, Warlock, Wizard)     -Dimension Door (Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)     -Misty Step (Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard)     -Teleport (Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard) -Curses     -Bestow Curse (Bard, Cleric, Wizard)     -Hex (Warlock) -Nature’s Power     -Call Lightning (Druid)     -Control Flames (Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard)     -Gust of Wind (Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard)     -Lightning Bolt (Sorcerer, Wizard)     -Melf’s Minute Meteors (Sorcerer, Wizard)     -Sleet Storm (Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard)     -Ray of Frost (Sorcerer, Wizard)     -Wall of Thorns (Druid) -Transmutation     -Flesh to Stone (warlock, wizard)     -Polymorph (Bard, Druid, Sorcerer, Wizard) -Enchantment     -Charm Person (Bard, Druid, Sorcerer,Warlock, Wizard)     -Suggestion (Bard, Sorcerer,Warlock, Wizard) -Necromancy     -True Resurrection (Cleric, Druid) -Evil Flavored     -Hellish Rebuke (Warlock)     -Negative Energy Flood (Warlock, Wizard)     -Shadow of Moil (Warlock) -Heartless     -Conjure Shadow Demon (Sorcerer, Wizard)     -Infernal Calling (Warlock, Wizard)     -Summon Lesser Demons (Warlock, Wizard)     -Summon Greater Demon (Warlock, Wizard)

Get to Class

If you want to cover the majority of Maleficent’s powers, a Druid/Wizard combination is your best bet. However, Maleficent very clearly states that her power is directly given to her from Hell and that she serves the Forces of Evil, which is textbook Warlock. So, I would label her a Warlock/Druid. Specifically, a Fiend Patron Warlock, as in other Disney material, it’s stated that Maleficent serves Chernabog, the demon from Night on Bald Mountain. However, to offer multiple options, she could also be a Warlock sworn to the Raven Queen, which puts a lot of emphasis on having a Raven as almost an extension of oneself. As a Druid, she would fit well with the Circle of Land. Maleficent’s domain is in the lonesome, desolate mountains, which will also allow her to learn Lightning Bolt, despite being neither a Sorcerer, nor a Wizard.

Stats and Proficiencies

Considering all she had to do was appear and have people gasp in fear of her very presence, we can assume that Intimidation is likely a very highly trained skill of hers. She’s also good at lying to people, so Deception is another skill that would suit her nicely. Looking at how she handles herself, she’s very well-spoken, charming, and well-mannered until she snaps and starts hollering like a cat in heat. So, we should assume that Charisma is going to be her top stat. Next up for the Mistress of all evil is going to be her Wisdom stat, especially if you decided to make her a Maka Clan Elf. We see the wise, cunning side of Maleficent often in Kingdom Hearts as she frequently warns her weak-minded colleagues not to give in to the darkness, which she herself is too self-aware to succumb to. Next is Constitution, we can’t have her losing her concentration while she’s casting spells, like Oogie Boogie did while she was trying to turn Santa into a Heartless. Fourth is going to be Intelligence. It’s not super vital in most 5e builds I’ve seen, but the Mistress of All Evil is actually quite intelligent and clever. We especially see this again in the Kingdom Hearts series where she finds ways to corrupt the world in search of power. We’ll give her Strength next to last. I’m sure she can hit you with her staff or something. And we’ll be dumping Dexterity because this lady doesn’t even try to move in the original kingdom hearts game when you fight her. She’s one of the easiest boss battles because she’s so stationary. She gets better in Birth By Sleep where she’s teleporting around the field, but she still tends to stand still quite a lot. However, if you want to flip Dex and Strength for playability, no one would blame you.

So there you have it. Maleficent is a Noble Fallen Aasimar or a Noble variety of Elf, and is a Mountain Land Druid that has sworn a pact to either a Fiend (Chernabog) or the Raven Queen (via Diablo). What are your thoughts on this build? Do you think she should have been done differently? Did I make any mistakes in my analysis? And do you feel inspired to embrace your inner villain in your next campaign? Do you have a suggestion for who I should do next? Please, any feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen Your Blades - Ch.7

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 7/20

Previously <- Chapter 6: Something about cats and bags

Chapter 8: First Snows -> Next

Chapter 7: Catch

“Making their debut, our first place winners are still unofficial as they haven’t presented yet, but we cannot wait until they do! When they go official, they are going to dominate the competition! So, without further adieu, coming in first place, we have Bakugou Katsuki as lead and Midoriya Izuku as follow! Let’s give these two youngsters a round of applause!”

The announcer’s voice rang distantly in Izuku’s ears. With his anxiety and panic and excitement all mixed together, his heartbeat raced and his face burned. Katsuki’s heat pressed into his side, the back of his neck and shoulders, didn’t help the situation. The thud of his heartbeat in his ears was nearly deafening in the already loud rink. All of the applause and shouting voices and whistling was echoed and amplified by the dome.

Gold medals and pretty red ribbons were hung around their necks. Just another sensation that Izuku’s overstimulated mind struggled to incorporate.

Dizzy nausea swirled over him. The announcer moved on to the second and third place winners, but his mind didn’t stop spinning.

He was only seven. He didn’t know how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way yet, but he knew how to act like he did. It was one of the first things he’d learned how to do when his father started to disappear for longer and longer stretches of time, and his mom couldn’t hold in her grief around him anymore.

While his smile remained firmly in place, he felt himself sway just slightly.

Katsuki’s arm tightened across his shoulders, holding him upright even as his knees turned to jelly beneath him. “Almost done. Then we can go home and watch tv.” His voice was quieter, much quieter than the cacophony around them, but Izuku heard him clear as day. Just like always. Just like it was one of Katsuki’s superpowers. “Can you make it?”

“I can make it,” Izuku told him, and though he wasn’t sure if he was being truthful, he knew Katsuki would make sure it was the truth in the end.

…..

October Week 4

Aizawa stood at the entrance to the rink, but unlike nearly a month ago when Izuku had been on the same side as him, he was on the ice this time. Their coach pinched the bridge of his nose while he waited for them to form up and shut up, brows pulled close together as if he had a headache. It was early in training for him to have a headache though, so Izuku thought that someone else must have caused it this time.

The team quieted down faster than the time before.

Izuku could almost taste their anxiety on the air. Or maybe that was just his own.

“Alright,” Aizawa started, not lifting his head, but cracking his eyes open to stare at the ice, “Who’s seen the news today?” Several hands went up, one of them Izuku’s. “How many of you stuck around to watch the sports section?” All hands dropped, even Izuku’s. The only sport he cared about was figure skating, and the news rarely covered it, even in their city. “Right, so, I’m not sure who let it slip, but somehow the media got ahold of the news that we and Shiketsu are splitting our teams this year.”

Izuku squirmed, remembering Mirio’s words. After a moment, he raised his hand. “Um, Mr. Aizawa, I think I might know something.” Heat rose in his face as all attention swung his way, but he pushed on. “Mirio asked me to verify the rumor last week. I didn’t agree or disagree, but…”

“But you’re shit at lying, so he knew right away,” Katsuki snapped, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “The kids I teach also asked me about it last week.”

“Right,” Izuku mumbled, “Well, he said that someone had given him the information. Maybe there’s a leak in the SC?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Aizawa scrubbed a hand through his hair. “That seems likely. While it’s not going to cause us much of a problem, it might in the coming weeks. You all know how it gets as the season ramps up to the Preliminaries. Keep an eye out for each other. This stunt that the SC is pulling might make things worse, especially when the other teams start to flood in. I’m not worried about the teams themselves, but fans can get crazy. Try not to be out and about on your own if you can help it. Any of you. Yes, I’m talking to you Bakugou. Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean idiots aren’t going to try challenging you for being Midoriya’s partner. Keep your heads up, keep them on straight, and don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

“Yes,” the team called in unison.

“Good. Shiketsu and we are going to be releasing a joint statement concocted by the SC with the names of the skaters who are transitioning between pairs and singles tomorrow, so you can expect to be recognized more than usual in the next few days.” They all groaned, but Aizawa simply waved away their complaints. “Whatever. Pairs, we’re going for large tricks on ice today. Stretch out well. Warm-up. Meet me on the south side of the rink in fifteen. The rest of you, you’ll be with Toshinori and Yamada today. Get going.” Aizawa turned towards the three coaches behind him, mouth set in an irritated line.

Izuku’s throat began to close as the five pairs, Todoroki and Ashido pushed off towards the south side of the rink. Panic leaked from him, and it was all he could do to keep it out of his scent.

Despite that, he still caught Katsuki turning his head to glance over his shoulder at him, but stopping briefly before he could turn all the way. After a second, he turned back forward. Could Katsuki smell it on him even through his blockers? Even though he was trying to force it down? Was he that obvious or did Katsuki just have a strong nose?

Fifteen minutes was far too short of a time to calm anxiety like Izuku’s.

Aizawa was waiting for them when Iida’s watch chimed the end of their warm-up period, and the twelve of them clustered around him and Ishiyama. “We’re going to do one team as a time to keep the ice clear. Ishiyama and I are going to act as spotters, but the ten who will be against the wall need to be alert as well. We’ll be up close and may miss a subtle indication of a fall. So, if you see something, say something or even jump in. I’d rather you get in the middle and it be for nothing than for someone to get hurt. This is mostly directed to those with pair work, but this also goes for everyone else as well.”

Aizawa’s eyes lingered on Katsuki longer than any of the others. He wasn’t surprised. Katsuki was a strong alpha with a long history of pair work. It would make sense for Aizawa to rely on Katsuki, even if it was just a subconscious reaction from the older man’s omega. Even still, the thought had Izuku’s own omega raising his hackles.

‘We don’t have a claim on him!’ Izuku reprimanded, but his omega wasn’t listening.

Aizawa pointed at Izuku. “Midoriya, Todoroki, you’re up first since you’ve got the most difficult tricks. After that, we’ll go through groups in descending order of difficulty. Let’s go, you two.” He turned on a blade, gliding out further onto the ice.

Izuku wanted to throw up.

“Midoriya?” Todoroki’s voice was quiet and gentle, just as gentle as the hand that settled on his shoulder. “Are you alright? Do you need another moment?”

Jumping, Izuku shrugged out from beneath the other omega’s hand with a wide fake smile. “I’m fine! I’m good! Totally a-okay! Let’s get going before Mr. Aizawa gets angry.” He shoved away from the wall sharply, ignoring every set of eyes he could feel boring into his back. He just needed to calm down. Calm down. Calm down. He’d completed every trick off ice multiple times with no screw ups. There was no reason he shouldn’t be able to do it on ice.

Which, of course, was a lie. The ice was a completely different environment than the studio with a host of different factors to consider. So many extra factors to consider.

All he needed to do was forget about them. It seemed counter-intuitive, especially for his ever analyzing mind, but it was the only thing he’d found off ice that allowed him to perform as he should. He just needed to allow his body to move on muscle memory. If he didn’t think, then his mind couldn’t overreact which meant neither could his body.

It was going to work. It had to work.

Todoroki followed after him. The distance was small, but significant. “What do you want us to start with?” he asked.

“Your overhead lifts have been the most solid off ice, so I want you to start with that first. Take it slow. Don’t rush. One step at a time. Plant your feet, make sure you have a solid foundation and a good grip. Once you’re sure of those, then attempt the lift. If something feels off, just abort and return to the ice. Don’t get hurt trying to force it.”

Lifts were the simplest pair trick in Izuku’s opinion. It required strength and balance, but not much else. He didn’t have to think during a lift. All he had to do was not move once Todoroki had him overhead. He could do that. He could manage a lift on ice. There was nothing to them. Lifts were easy. Lifts were easy. Lifts were easy. Lift were-

High.

Izuku shook his head rapidly to clear the intrusive thoughts from his mind. He made himself smile even wider as the three stared at him. “Sure! A lift will be a cinch.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed as he glared at izuku, but after a moment, he just sighed. “Alright. Take a round to gain momentum. Don’t attempt the lift until you’re back here and see us in position. You can begin your setup once you’ve reached the other side.”

“Sure thing!” Izuku chirped. He pushed off and waited for Todoroki to fall into sync with him before spreading up.

Just like Aizawa had instructed, they waited until they’d made it to the other side of the rink, skirting the edge of the other group, before beginning the setup for the lift. Izuku slid out in front of Todoroki, turning to face him after a moment. He pulled Todoroki along as the other omega planted his feet and gripped Izuku’s waist.

“Almost there. Ready?” he asked, voice ripped away by the rush of air passed Izuku’s ears, but he recognized the words on his lips.

‘Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.’ Izuku nodded.

Two dark blurs came up on either of their sides, and then he was above Todoroki’s head, the omega’s small hand digging into his abdomen as he quickly shifted into position. For a moment, his mind was blank. There was just the beating of his heart, the cold air biting into his cheeks. He started to reach back for his blade.

Then he glanced down. The panic he’d managed to suppress flooded back into his body in an icy wave.

His body seized before going limp, mind going as blank as his vision.

…..

Izuku absolutely reeked of putrid acidic anxiety as they warmed up. It was worse than usual, more potent. Each time Katsuki passed him, he got a whiff of his scent. Putrid like sewage or a rotting body. Acidic like vomit or ammonia. All undercut by suppressants that made him smell almost chemically scentless. All together, it was an unpleasant scent, and it only grew stronger each time he passed Izuku.

It made his stomach curdle and his alpha pace restlessly. ‘Protect. Comfort. Omega distressed. Protect. Comfort.’

‘That’s not my place,’ Katsuki through bitterly, but that thought was quickly replaced by another, ‘Not yet at least.’ Not yet. That was a true enough thought. Not yet, but one day he’d earn that right.

Katsuki didn’t know how the others didn’t smell it, how the other omegas weren’t plastered to his sides in an attempt to calm him. That was how other groups of omegas operated. If an omega was unmated, it fell to their pack mates to calm and reassure them, especially pack mates of the same secondary gender.

The same was true of alphas. Katsuki couldn’t count how many times his alpha pack mates (specifically friends like Kirisihima and Ashido) had pulled him aside to get his head on straight. To calm him when he fell into a panic attack during competition.

Those had started when he was twelve, and they’d never really gone away. Luckily, they only affected him during high stress situations like the competitive season, but he was still lucky to have people there to help him unlike when he’d been younger. When he’d been alone in his own head.

That was what pack mates were for. So it bothered Katsuki more than he’d ever let on that neither Icy Hot nor Uraraka made an attempt to calm Izuku. He wanted to yell at them. He wanted to make them pay attention to the real issue at hand rather than ice skating. An anxiety riddled Izuku was an Izuku prone to mistakes. If they were doing the big shit for practice, they needed to take care of Izuku first.

Leaning back against the wall, Katsuki felt his own anxiety leaking into his veins. Kirishima wasn’t there that time to bring him back down though, and so his heart galloped forward unhindered.

When Izuku and Todoroki pushed off towards the singles’ side of the rink, Katsuki stood up straight. When they turned towards each other and prepared for the lift, he dropped his arms to his sides. When they rounded back towards their side and their coaches flanked them, he dug his toe-pic into the ice. Izuku’s face was pinched in concentration, but there was also that ever present fear as he was lifted off the ice.

Katsuki moved before Todoroki had completed the lift. He wouldn’t have been able to explain what spurred him forward. Maybe there was a slight shift in Izuku’s scent from scared to terrified. Maybe there was a twitch in his expression. Maybe the light dimmed in his eyes.

Whatever it was, Katsuki was there before anyone had realized something was going wrong, catching the omega as soon as Todoroki’s arm collapsed from Izuku’s dead weight. Katsuki only managed to keep them from tumbling backwards by digging his toe-pic into the ice harshly.

The silence in the rink was deafening. After a moment of labored breathing as his heart began to slow, he realized that the rink was as loud as ever, he just couldn’t hear it passed the rush of blood in his ears. All of his attention was focused on the man huddled in his arms, nails digging into his bicep and panting breaths hot against his shirt. Izuku’s eyes were screwed shut.

Slowly, sound returned to Katsuki though he would have been happy for a few more moments of white noise.

“What just happened?”

“How did you do that?”

“Midoriya, Todoroki, are you alright?

“We should get them off the ice.”

“Where’s Ms. Shuzenji? Someone go get the doctor!”

“What happened!”

“Shut up,” Katsuki snarled. It was the only sound he could make that wouldn’t portray just how shaken he was. He could feel the trembling in his hands, in his arms, all covered by how badly Izuku was shaking. He was shaking like a lead in the wind, nose buried against Katsuki’s chest. “Stop fucking yelling. Nobody got hurt.”

There was a sharp hysterical laugh from somewhere close by, and Katsuki wasn’t sure, but he thought that it was possibly Ashido.

“Yes, but someone could have been.” That was Aizawa, voice deep and monotone. Lifting his eyes, their coach stood beside them, soothing black tea scent snaking out as his hand clasped Izuku’s shoulder. “That could have gone very badly.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything in return, arms tightening around Izuku instead.

The feel of Aizawa’s hand seemed to snap Izuku out of his own head, and he blinked rapidly at Katsuki’s chest. “W-what happened?” he whispered, fingers easing up and nails coming away red with blood. His movement grew faster, and he frantically pushed out of Katsuki’s hold. “What happened? I was- Todoroki- How-”

“You fucking freaked out and I had to catch your dumbass!” Katsuki spat viciously and angrily, temper rising the longer he was given to process the whole incident. “And you know what? Fuck that shit! That’s the last time you fucking practice with anyone other than me!”

Izuku sputtered wordlessly, cheeks going pink and scent growing sweeter as they stared at each other. After a moment, he squeaked, “Really?”

The change in his scent only pushed Katsuki on. “Yes! If you’re going to get fucking dropped, it’s going to be by me because at least I’ll be able to fucking catch you!” He pushed roughly through the crowd towards the rink entrance. Only when he made it off the ice did he recognize the tightness in his chest, the shortness of his breath, the heat beneath his skin. Bile burned at the back of his throat.

Kirishima’s arm slid over his shoulders, a gesture that would look like familiarity to any of the others, but was really a means to keep him from faltering as he walked. “I’ve got you man. Let’s go outside for a breath,” he said under his breath, guiding Katsuki towards the side exit that faced a small thatch of trees. A place for him to either freak out or wretch in peace.

Not for the very first time, but for the first time in awhile, Katsuki was thankful that his friend knew how to read him like an open book.

[rootin-tootin-cum-shootin]

Autumn Beginnings and Spring Ends

Synopsis: When Princess Y/N meets her childhood friend Prince Shoto once more, she finds herself facing the beginning of a life she hadn’t expected but always wanted. But perhaps her fairytale is not meant to come true...

Word Count: 5,685

Shoto Todoroki x f!reader

Warnings: Scars, Mentions of acts of violence, Mildly Possesive behaviour

The first memory Y/N had of Prince Shoto came from what would soon become a very common occurrence for the pair during the summer of the year she turned five. And it was in that sweltering and oppressive heat that she made the decision that would shape the rest of her life. 

When the temperature continued to rise even well after noon, young Y/N, still dressed to the extreme in her petticoats became more and more irritable. The noise her nanny and maids were making as they chattered away from behind their embroidery as Y/N sat ignored and grumpy on the floor only steeled her resolve to make a break for it. Where she would go, y/n had no idea, but she did know she needed to get away. And fast. 

With the arrival of a new servant into the already cramped parlour, Y/N grinned as the maid neglected to shut the heavy oak door. Too heavy for her to wrench open at her young age, but with it now conveniently ajar, she could easily make her escape. 

The crawling trek from the floor in front of all those who were sharing the room with her to the passage behind all their chairs and eyes was a very slow one. She had to ensure that she raised no suspicions as to what she was doing. The area behind her nanny was somehow even hotter than in front of her and it nearly made Y/N wretch, she needed to get out instantly. Leaping to her feet at once with her new position of relative anonymity, being careful as to not make a single sound as she crept her way across the stone tiles beneath her. Once at the door she spared not a single glance behind her before slipping through the crack in the door and out to the waiting hallway. 

Now that her silly maids were a distance away, Y/N faced a new problem. The guards. They patrolled this area extremely often as it was the wig that not only held the princess' chambers, but the guests who were staying with Y/N’s family for that summer. With them came increased patrols, every five minutes in fact. Y/N had timed it down to the second last week, still suffering from her ever increasing boredom that plagued her that summer. 

But the five year old princess didn’t care much for all her father's stuffy visitors, she wanted out of her gown. And what this stubborn princess wants she had a habit of getting. Even if it meant ripping it off. Realizing that undressing in the hall was probably a terrible idea, with her chambers still being so close by, she continued her movements further away from the oven of that parlour. 

“Perhaps I should head to the library, it’s always nice in there. Except when Madame Corrainger is trying to teach me edicate. I hate it then,” Y/N thought miserably, her face and back was dripping with moisture  and it made her itchy. Her thoughts of locations to hide were interrupted by the heavy footfalls of the patrol roaming the halls. They were only a few seconds away from turning the corner and seeing the young princess, sans escort, in the long straight hallway leading directly away from where she should be. 

She was positively screwed. 

A small, cool hand came seemingly out of thin air and pulled Y/N out of the hall and into a doorway. Y/N tried to scream when another cool hand planted itself against her mouth, and an unfamiliar voice spoke.

‘Shhh be quiet or we’ll both be caught,” it said, the voice while whispering had a gentle and melodic quality to it, even if the owner of said voice seemed to be no older than Y/N herself. 

The pair watched fearfully as the guards walked past the silent pair of children. Once the guards were safely out of sight, the hand over Y/N’s mouth released. And Y/N found herself being tugged along by who she now recognized as a young boy. 

He was dressed finely, and much like Y/N seemed to be suffering for it in the heat. His hair was peculiar to Y/N, she had never once seen anyone with half a head of fire red hair and half a head of hair so blonde it almost looked white. 

“We have to be quick before my father realizes I’m gone.” The boy said carefully, as if afraid someone might be listening in on them.

“Hey where are we going?” Y/n asked indignantly as she was pulled along by this strange half and half boy. 

“The gardens! They looked so pretty from the window and plus, they have swimming ponds! Now quick, follow me” 

“Swimming ponds? That's what those are… okay!” Y/N chirped, excited by the thought of finally getting a respite from the oppressive heat of the palace. And her fluffy dress. Now filled with newfound energy and courage, Y/N began to run this time tugging the boy along with her. 

The gust of cool air the pair felt as they leapt from the hall and into the open space of the expansive gardens had them both shrieking in delight. 

“Hey mystery boy, I’ll race you to the fountain!” 

“You’re on!” He shouted, kicking off his shoes and all but tearing his coat off his body. 

Y/N did the same with her own shoes before joining the now sprinting boy in the race. The air felt lovely against her sweat drenched skin and before she knew it she was standing next to the boy at the edge of the pond. 

“I win! But you’re pretty fast you know, not one of my friends can keep up with me usually.’ The boy grinned at her, now sans a shirt which lay scattered on the ground. “Hey, that must be pretty hot. My sister is always telling me how uncomfortable she is in the summer with her dresses. So she makes me help her get out, why you girls wear so many layers is beyond me...Wait, want me to help you out?” He asked cheerfully, motioning to her pinafore. 

If Y/N were any older she would have balked at the suggestion, but right now she needed to get cool. And if this boy was willing to help her then, well she would take it, “Yes please.”

As the boy undid buttons and pulled at the ribbons adorning her back Y/N thought to ask the one question she hadn’t yet thought to ask, “I’m Princess Y/N, what’s your name mystery boy?” 

“Shoto, Prince Shoto.” Shoto said as he stepped back, now finished with his task. 

The delightful chill that ran through Y/N as she kicked off her many layers was glorious, the breeze went right through her linen slip. Jumping into the pond, the cold water elicited a yelp from her as it shocked her system in the most pleasantly cooling of ways. It was the best she felt all summer. 

“You may be a faster runner than I am Shoto, but I definitely can out swim you.” She called triumphantly from the water. 

“Oh is that so? You are so on!” The young prince laughed as he slipped into the cool water himself. 

“That was the first time I ever saw the real Shoto,” Y/N thought, staring wistfully at what she now many many years from that first true meeting, knew was not a swimming pond, but a fountain, “And probably the moment in which I first fell for you. That smile… nothing has ever come close to making my heart flutter the way his smile does.” 

“I’m glad you asked me here Y/N. I've missed you,” Shoto greeted the princess with a bow and a kiss to her hand before taking a seat beside her. 

After a contemplative moment of pause he spoke again, “Do you remember how mad our fathers were when they found us here? I thought my Dad’s beard would burst into flames with how red he was,” he chuckled at the memory, still not quite looking at the woman next to him. 

"It was pretty funny. I think that was the last time I saw you laugh around him…" Y/N said softly, intertwining her fingers with his. 

Shoto turned, his eyes sparkling with the light reflecting off the fountain in front of the pair, “Here, since you appear to be in a mood to reminisce, let's take a walk. After All who knows when the next time the King will allow us to see each other is,” he said sweetly, standing up so that he could offer his arm to his still seated companion. 

Y/N took his arm and rose to her feet with a practiced ease, her gaze lingering on Shoto’s face. He bit his lip, and for a brief moment Y/N saw a nervous expression cross his eyes before it disappeared, she wanted to ask him what that was all about when her thoughts were cut off.

“You looking at my scar again Y/N? How many times do I need to say it, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he teased.

“I am well aware of that,” she huffed, “Only it’s just, I recall after you got it, you became more withdrawn around me. And I’m still trying to puzzle out why.”

As they began their walk,Shoto turned his head to obscure his rapidly reddening cheeks, he didn’t want to give an answer, but the persistent poking in his ribs from Y/N showed him that she wasn’t about to drop it. Anxiety formed in the pit in his stomach, he couldn’t help but to think, “How is she going to react when I tell her. Especially if she finds out why I’m actually so nervous. This is not going to go well,”  He slipped his free hand into his pocket and felt around for the small ring sitting within. It was beautiful, but as the image of her in white, smiling at him with the ring on her finger played through his head he was certain that he could find nothing on earth as beautiful as she was. He bit his already sore lip hard enough that when she lightly shoved him to get her attention once more, he could taste the bead of blood that rose up from it. 

“Well Shoto? Are you going to explain or not.”

Without even looking at her Shoto knew her brow was raised. She halted in front of the sweet smelling lilac tree but he still wanted to run. Run from his nerves, from the palace as a whole, from her. “Well… it’s actually quite silly. After the accident, I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me… what with how disfiguring it was,” Shoto shrugged, he sincerely hoped that she would believe his half truth and move the conversation along. The more time he spent actually out talking with her the more nervous and frightened he became. 

He really did not want to answer. 

“Shoto, do you take me for an idiot,” she sounded unimpressed, removing her arms from his, Y/N crossed both her arms and cocked a hip to the side, the motion allowing the wind to take her long skirt with it. “ Did you really think that vague ass answer was going to be up to par? No fucking way, now try again.” 

“Fine,” he aqueissed, “I thought you’d be scared of me. The scar isn’t exactly the most flattering addition to a face, especially when it was brand new. Man did it make me look all kinds of monstrous. And that’s..” He paused, the struggle to find a way out of this made his mind race for any idea that might hold water. But the soft look in her eyes as she stepped towards him, and the way her hand cupped his left cheek while her thumb began stroking along the bottom raised edge of his scar made the tension he was holding in his jaw relax. His eyes shut in reverent delight as he took the hand Y/N had placed on his cheek into his own, leaning into her touch he found himself smiling genuinely for the first time all afternoon. And as her lips pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, Shoto could finally hear his heart crying out to him to finish. To finally confess. “And that’s, not exactly the way you want the girl you’re crushing on to view you. As a monster, and not her prince charming.” 

“You- you had a crush... on me?” Y/N asked softly.

Shoto knew she was about to back away from him once more, and with a soft exhale he took her hand off his cheek, and pressed his lips against her knuckles. Sending a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening, to grant him the courage to not mess up what he was about to say, he looked into her eyes with such earnest adoration that he knew she could see he was sincere in his affections as he spoke again, “ I did for many years, but now, Princess Y/N, I find myself utterly and irrevocably in love with you. Which is why I must now inform you of the true purpose for my visit today.”

Y/N looked on in shock as her best friend of countless years knelt in the leaves at her feet, with a gentle and reassuring smile gracing his face. Surely he wasn’t about to do what she was thinking he was going to.

“From the moment we met you have consistently made me breathless. Whether it be catching my breath after one of our races, or getting winded from how hard your wit makes me laugh, or even now, from how stunning you look every day I am fortunate enough to see you. But I realized something the last time we parted, when I am with you, I find myself looking forward to what the future has in store for me. And the simple fact of that is because every future I imagine has me standing by your side. Many years ago I asked you to follow me, now I would like to ask you once more, are you willing to follow me. This time into the future.”

“Shoto I-”

“Please Y/N, let me finish. I beg of you. I swear to you that I will stand by your side through every turn life throws at you, good or bad. I will hold you close through every sorrow and every joy you feel. And although I can not promise you a vast empire to rule or a horde of gold as large as a dragon’s, I still offer to you the greatest treasure I have. One that has always been rightfully yours: my heart. So I ask you now,” Shoto seamlessly took the ring from his pocket and held it out to the shocked woman in front of him as he continued to speak, “ So Y/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and become mine- become my wife.” 

“Are you asking me to marry you Shoto,” Y/N asked, shock still keeping her from being fully able to grasp what had just happened. 

“Um, yes. I am asking you to marry me. That’s kinda what that whole prepared speech was.”

Taking the ring from his grasp, Y/N slipped it onto her finger, admiring the way the stones glinted in the slowly fading light of the fall afternoon. “Well since you did so much work, preparing your speech, I suppose the only thing I can do is say yes.” She knelt down in front of him, allowing herself to be pulled into a tight hug. “You dork,” She smiled, a tear in her eye as he pressed soft, adoring kisses to her cheeks and forehead. 

~~~

"Now I'm thinking you two should have a spring wedding. Would probably be much warmer at the venue than if it were in the Fall. And summer would be miserable in the heat so you probably shouldn't do that. Take it from your sister's ex-" 

"Experience, yes we know Fuyumi. Good gracious woman, we got engaged a week ago, calm down...but thank you for your advice. Especially for your insight on the guest list." Shoto said, his hand squeezing Y/N's under the table. 

"Of course! Now, you probably shouldn't invite the Roydinson family. They're terrible with nitpicking and they're gossips to boot," Shoto's older sister blurted out, it seemed as though she was about to continue on her light hearted path of conversation when a darker, more hushed tone came over her voice, "I don't care who you invite or disinvite from your nuptials as long as you remember one, very crucial thing. As you are now, and very publicly might I add, known to be our father's heir Shoto, you must remember to invite a very special group of guests." 

Shoto rolled his eyes and looked towards Y/N, he began to slouch slightly as he was anticipating this sort of vague talking to, "and who might that be Fuyumi?" He smirked.

"The fae. You have to invite the members of the faerie courts. If you extend it to all fae no matter their affiliation that's up to you, though it's not recommended. Don't you roll your eyes at me this is serious! But you must at least invite those who are parts of the courts. No, and I mean it Shoto, if you don't invite them, the courts who were neglected will ensure that you both will end up miserable and then mad before they finally allow you to die. Do. Not. Piss. Them off Shoto." Fuyumi sighed and looked towards her soon to be sister in law, "Promise me Y/N, 

promise me that you'll ensure that the Fae are properly invited." 

"Noted," Y/N said breathlessly, in disbelief that Fuyumi was suddenly being so serious. Y/N had heard of the Fae being mischievous but never, well, that. 

Fuyumi seemed pleased, and thus she relaxed back into discussing colours for the decorations, leaving the happy couple very confused by her sudden switch in attitudes. 

~~~~

The day of the wedding was fast approaching, and Y/N could only say that she was nervous in the best way possible. Of course she knew that everything would be perfect, and while the venue was beautiful, and her dress was gorgeous, the company is what would make the night. Afterall how could the day end up a disaster when you were getting married to your best friend? 

"Lady Y/N? Are you okay in there dear?" A tentative voice called out from behind the door leading to the bedroom. 

The voice likely belonged to Y/N's latest lady in waiting, she was very sweet, and did her job with the utmost respect and care for Y/N but seemed to be fairly shy. It was genuinely endearing. "I'm doing well Miss Daisy. No need to worry," Y/N called out to her in response. 

"I'm glad to hear it, M'lady but, if I may… how much longer will you be? The ball starts in less than an hour and a half, I don't think it would be kind to leave His Highness waiting," Daisy said, clearly still nervous but more so a little exasperated. 

With a sigh Y/N rose out of the bath in which she had been soaking, it was a shame to leave the relaxing waters but Daisy was right, she couldn't leave Shoto waiting. Tonight was to be the first of three days of festivities before the wedding would take place. Since it was the most important event since Shoto's father, King Enji had his coronation, both Enji, and Y/N's Father wanted to ensure that the young couple's marriage was a spectacular event. 

Calling out to Daisy, Y/N awaited the lady's presence, along with the large fluffy robe she would bring to keep Y/N warm before she got dressed. Once Y/N felt the soft material of the robe being slipped onto her arms, she quickly tied it so that it would remain secure around her while she got ready. Turning around with a smile Y/N fondly patted the head of her Lady in Waiting and maneuvered her way out of the steam filled bathroom and into her luxurious bedroom. A room she still hadn't found herself quite used to. 

"M'lady, I shall start with your hair, then we will move to your makeup and wardrobe," Daisy said as she followed Y/N

Y/N nodded as she sat at the vanity, her mind was too preoccupied to care much what order she got ready. 

It had really only been a few weeks since Y/N moved into Shoto's  Palace, but to Y/N, time seemed to move almost too quickly inside the Dotokir palace. The first few nights in the palace we're restless, with wedding preparations being made, needing time to adjust to the new climate and most of all the large amount that Y/N needed to learn in regards to the country’s customs and the names of the new faces around her.

 Despite all that stress, Shoto has been a constant calming presence, wherever Y/N was, no matter how long the pair had been apart that day; whenever she began to panic or feel overwhelmed Shoto would find a way to make Y/N relax. How he knew just when his presence was needed, was unbeknownst to her but she appreciated it nonetheless. Whether it be through inviting her to go on a walk with him to the gardens, teaching her a new skill such as archery, or ballroom dancing with her down the hallway well on their way to dinner with the King. He was a breath of fresh air in an already stale atmosphere.  If Y/N had doubts about Shoto's suitability as a king and a husband, the weeks spent living with him just further proved that he was everything Y/N had dreamed of and much more. 

 Her thoughts of all the times she and Shoto were together we're interrupted as her second attendant, Margaret, called for Y/N to step into the pale blue gown at her feet. It honestly was her favourite out of all the ones Fuyumi had recommended to her. The shape of the gown’s skirt was cut in all the right ways, making Y/N’s already long legs look even longer, the neckline which accentuated her bust while still maintaining appropriate modesty, on top of the added height from the elegant updo Daisy had placed her hair into made the woman into a work of art. Y/N looked like a goddess in the flesh. 

"My lady, if this is how radiant you look now…  I can't imagine how extraordinary you will look on your wedding day, " Daisy said sweetly as she slipped the second shoe onto Y/N's foot. 

“ I can, I have been imagining it since I proposed last Autumn,” Shoto said from the doorway. He was looking at Y/N with the softest expression that the two servants within the room had ever seen him make. Sharing a look the two girls giggled at how sappy their future king looks. 

 When Y/N turned to look at him she noticed two things straight away: the first was how dapper he looked in his suit; and with his hair slicked back just enough that the majority of his forehead was revealed, Shoto truly looked like he stepped right out of a fairy tale.  The second thing she noticed was the large antique box in his hands. 

"What do you have there, my Lord, "Y/N said teasingly. The expectation for a woman to use formal language in reference to her fiance was a distinctly Dotokirian custom; which Shoto and Y/N ignored when not in public.

 With a slight grimace to how over pronounced Y/N’s addressing of him was, Shoto pressed forward into the room.  "What I have is a gift. To match your ring my love,”  Shoto smiled as he handed Margaret the box. 

Y/N watched as the woman opened the box to reveal a circlet of glittering gems, all dripping down from an intricate silver band. In shock of how beautiful it was she looked down at her hands, only to see the same design on the small band resting on her left hand. The tiny gems glimmering in the fading sun’s light.  Bowing her head as her lady in waiting approached, Y/N let Margaret  pin the tiara to her head. 

“My maternal grandmother used to own it, it was then passed down to my mom who insisted I use the ring to propose,” Shoto stepped forward and circled an arm around Y/N's waist as he continued to speak, “ And since our theme for tonight is Winter, I thought the ice like design would compliment your outfit.” Shoto waved the two servants away, before he stretched upwards to press a kiss to Y/N’s temple, his lips lingering near her ear just long enough for him to fondly whisper his praise, “ Plus, any Queen of mine deserves a crown befitting of her beauty.” 

“Our guests are waiting, Shoto, so perhaps we should go greet them before they get antsy.”

Wrapping his arms around her waist Shoto murmured into her neck, pressing worshipping kisses along her jawline as he spoke, “Just a moment longer my love, I barely get any time alone with you.”

“You and I will get plenty of time together later tonight, and the faster we get all our hostly duties over with, the sooner we can sneak away to kiss to our hearts content. We really do have to make up for lost time at some point, so why not at our own party,” Y/N said, placing a tender kiss on Shoto’s nose. 

“As you wish my love,” Shoto responded, his cheeks faintly glowing red. 

As the pair walked hand in hand down to the ballroom, the sounds of the music the band was playing increased in volume and Shoto began to itch to get to dance the night away with the woman of his dreams. The trill sound of the horn announcing their arrival caused the band’s music to decrease in volume as the large decorative doors swung open to reveal the large group of people all turned to watch as the guests of honour made their grand entrance. 

The crowd of inviting, shocked and awestruck faces came into focus as they stepped towards the top of the stairs where King Enji stood, ready to make his speech in regards to the couple making their first public appearance. The music abruptly stopped and  fearful murmur rose through the crowd as Y/N stood next to her future father in law. Sending a quick glance to Shoto, it was clear  from his equally confused expression that this was not going according to plan. The crowd began to part, as a figure clothed all in black began making his way across the crowd towards the stairs upon which the couple stood. 

The figure was imposing in stature, if only from the aura he was giving off alone.  He glided his way through the rapidly splitting crowd, long, black, flowing fabric trailing behind him, dancing like a wildfire does through a forest. As he got closer, the massive amounts of scars covering his body became clearer. This was a man powerful enough to have faced down immense danger and won. Even King Enji was shocked into silence as the strange man ascended the stairs and leapt a near impossible distance so that he then stood directly in front of Y/N. 

Shoto was tensed and ready to attack the insolent man for this ridiculous action, King Enji was glaring, poised to call for the guards to escort him out, while Fuyumi tried pulling Y/N away from the man’s reach, when a single word fell from the man’s mouth. Shocking everyone into silence once more. 

“Mine,” the stranger growled, his arm reaching forward to grasp Y/N’s wrist. 

Y/N attempted to pull away from the man’s grasp, but halted as she watched the man’s bright blue eyes, glow white for a brief moment. The mesmerising light slipped from his eyes, leaving them blue once more as the light bled down his face, to his neck, then winding playfully down his arm in hypnotic patterns to the hand that was grasped on to Y/N's wrist. 

“Stop!” Fuyumi screamed. 

Y/N was startled enough that she yanked herself away from the man. “What the fuck was that!” She said, immediately moving towards a frightened Fuyumi, “Who is this man? Do you know him?”

Fuyumi shook, the strength in her limbs uncertain but her face and posture were determined nevertheless, she was clearly terrified but was willing to defend Y/N from whatever was going on. “Not personally Y/N… He goes by Dabi-”

“King Dabi,” The stranger, rather, Dabi said. 

“He’s the king of the Winter court. A Fae, a very powerful one. And one that you absolutely do not want to engage with,” Fuyumi continued, ignoring the rude way he cut her off. 

Dabi took a step towards Fuyumi, his lips forming a menacing snarl as the “fabric” behind him lifted upward and stretched out to reveal that they were in fact a large pair of velvety wings. “So you do know me, insolent child of man. Good, it makes it so much easier for me to enact the punishment for your crime against me,” he said coldly. 

“Woah woah woah, no way in hell. Absolutely no crimes were committed here. And even if there were, the Dotokir justice system would enact any punishments befitting the deed. So kindly back off Sir,” Y/N said, putting herself between the fae and his quarry. 

Dabi turned his attention to Y/N and with a hatred so intense one would think she had just murdered his entire family, spat his next words, “This wench committed a grievous crime, and to a king no less. And as the laws of my people dictate, any one being who prevents a fae from gaining access to their Fated is to be put to death. And you dear mortal princess, are mine.”

“Like hell she’s yours!” Shoto stepped out of his father’s grasp, drawing his sword and placing the tip at Dabi’s throat. “There is no way you will be murdering my sister and forcing my fiancee into anything. As much as it would pain me, if she did in fact choose to leave me for you I would let her g-” 

“Such noble words from a child barely able to hold a sword correctly,” Dabi laughed wryly, “But there is no choosing between us. She is my Fated and as such, belongs to me and only me. You will move out of my way and I will take what belongs to me.” 

Shoto strengthened his stance and motioned for the guards to escort Fuyumi and Y/N to safety. “Fated, True Love, Soulmate, doesn’t matter what you want to call it, I will still stay strong. You will not force her into a partnership she has not consented to. I will give you one chance to court her, and if in the 50 hours before our wedding you fail to prove that she’d be happier with you than me, we will proceed as planned and you will leave us. Do you understand me?” He growled, digging the tip of his blade into Dabi’s throat enough to create a thin trickle of smoke from the wound. 

At this, the guards pulled both women out of the room, blocking either from seeing what was happening, but allowing them to hear the conversation. 

“You mortals get dumber by the generation don’t you. I’m going to rip you apart for even saying such vile things. When you die I’ll give my Fated your disfigured severed head as a wedding gift. Because she does belong to me, and now everybody will know it.” Dabi snarled. 

“Shoto!” Y/N shouted, her voice getting lost in the sounds of screeching metal and the panicked fleeing of the guests. She struggled and thrashed in the guards’s grasp trying desperately to get back to the one she loved. As they got further and further away, so did her urge to fight and sobs started to shake her body, “He can’t die, Shoto can’t die. Not now, not like this. Not to him…” 

By the time the doors were shut and locked behind them, Y/N couldn’t even tell if she was screaming Shoto’s name anymore. 

“Y/N, he’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” Fuyumi said kindly, her hand rubbing small circles onto Y/N’s back. 

“No no no! I need to go back. I have to help Shoto!” 

“Absolutely not!  Your job right now is to keep yourself safe, that’s how you can help Shoto. If that Dabi guy gets his hands on you once more you won’t have a choice but to become his. Do you really want that?”

“...No” Y/N whispered, now clasped in Fuyumi’s comforting embrace. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of being forced into a marriage with that man, at the way he mesmerised her from the moment she saw his figure. 

“ I know a place where we can rest and be safe, i’ll make us some tea and we can eat biscuits. Where I’m taking us, we won’t be disturbed, nobody but Shoto could even find us. Does that sound good? We’ll know the results of this debacle soon enough Y/N my dear. So come along now, ” Fuyumi murmured, still holding Y/N carefully, as they began to walk together.

[starswornoaths]

Starspun Kaleidoscope

This is a commission for the lovely @windup-dragoon of her cutie patootie goobers, Kirishimi and Hien! Under the cut bc it is NSFW in the second half. Thank you so much for your patronage! \o/

Commission info!

To plan a surprise for one such as the Warrior of Light was, to many people and for many, many reasons, folly. Even if one could plan around Kirishimi’s duties as a Scion and Dragoon both, the unforeseeable, looming cataclysms that seemed to dog her at every turn were sure to thwart any attempt to steal her away for a moment not already allocated to her duty.

Brimming with obstinate optimism as he was, Hien did it anyway.

The Kami themselves must have intervened to keep the realm stable long enough to plan around an upcoming festival in Kugane— the Enclave was running smoothly, on the Lord’s end of the planning, and the world seemed to pause for the last moon or so, meaning that apart from the clockwork schedule he could more easily plan around, Kirishimi was actually available to be surprised.

And what a festival to surprise her with! An annual solstice celebration, meant to ring in the fishing and farming season, where the boats bring in their fresh catch and those in the fields harvest the season’s crop. A celebration of the bounties that the Kami have blessed them with, with food, fireworks, and offerings of prayer that the newly planted seeds that will be planted on the morrow will bring just as bountiful a crop.

Planning around both their hectic schedules and when the festival was coming up was, at least to Hien’s mind, akin to discovering a new circle of hell, and had he not had the foresight to distract her with wearing his hair down and well groomed out of its usual ponytail, the whole thing might have been spoilt for her before they had even arrived, but when he gallantly helped her down from their boat onto the docks and watched her eyes grow wide in amazement and joy at the sights, sounds, and smells of the festival, it was all worth it a thousand fold to see her so happy.

“What— how in th’ hells did you—?” Kirishimi gawked at him, then out to the bustling streets with energetic vendors and crowded stalls, then back to him.

“How did I plan a day out for us?” He guessed, smiling wide. She nodded. “An excellent question! I’m still half wondering, myself!”

They shared a laugh as he offered her his arm.

“Now then, let us have some fun while I think of a better answer to your question!” He suggested, the arm not being offered sweeping out toward the stalls.

“How gallant of ya,” she beamed up at him as she looped her arm through his. She sniffed the air with a deep breath and sighed blissfully. “I’d love to know what smells so bloody good…”

Following her keen nose, they wound up at a stall selling grilled skewers of various meats and vegetables. The moment the kebabs came into view, they shared a look, wordlessly agreeing on what their lunch was to be.

It was silly, Hien thought, to be so delighted that they had a moment of playful fighting over who would pay for them— and Krishimi cheered victoriously when her gil was used for the meal. Delighted, for how mundane it was. How normal they could be in this moment. Delighted, for it was just her, and just him, and just them eating festival food and pressing close in crowded streets, arms unwound in favor of twined hands as they wove their way through the crowds. 

And it still amazed him, how profound his joy was at just watching her, marveling at how happy and carefree she looked. Merriment sparkled in her eyes of sapphire and ruby, of sea and fire, her whole face alight with a smile so wide her eyes crinkled at the corners. Her happiness bubbled over, too much for her body to contain, and her shoulders shook with laughter as they watched how faire attendants dazzled the crowds with tricks, music, and dancing.

When he tugged her hand to wordlessly ask her to stop, she peered at him curiously as he held up a finger to ask her to wait. He disappeared in a gaggle of people grouped around a stall he spied off to the side selling mochi, and Kirishimi watched from her place off the side of the street. He could feel her ponderous stare on the back of his head as he ordered a batch of freshly prepared mochi. Upon his return with a beautifully piled mound of little mochi bites, delicately wrapped in a large banana leaf, it was his turn to grin triumphantly.

“Repayment for our lunch!” Hien said with a belly deep chuckle at her fondly exasperated smile, handing her one of the small wooden skewers with which she might pick up dumplings of mochi for herself.

“Oh, you would, ya sweet man, you!” Kirishimi flushed, though she took the offered skewer and speared a fresh, soft mound of mochi. When she popped it in her mouth he watched, hopelessly enraptured, as her eyes closed in bliss while she chewed around her bright grin.

“I gather it’s to your liking?” He asked, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Still chewing, she gave an enthusiastic hum when she nodded her head. 

“Delicious!” With a flourish, she artfully speared another little mount of mochi on her skewer and held it up to his lips in offering. 

Though her smile was warm as the sun, there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. He recognized that look of hers— she wanted to get a rise out of him. Well! He thought with a grin. Two can play at that game.

Wordlessly accepting the mochi and challenge both, Hien’s fingertips were a whisper on her skin when he guided her hand closer by the wrist, and peered sidelong at her through his lashes as he pulled the mochi off her skewer. At the sight of Kirishimi bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to bite down on it, his grin only grew more lascivious. Just before he let her hand go, he bent low enough to press a kiss to the inside of her wrists before standing upright faster than she could properly react.

“Delicious.” Hien echoed in agreement once he’d chewed the mochi, even as he made no effort to hide the fact that he was not talking about the sweetmeat at all.

Kirishimi flushed prettily— though when someone in the crowd accidentally bumped into her from behind, it startled them both out of their little world. 

“Crowds are gettin’ worse.” Kirishimi lamented.

“Unfortunate, but I am confident we can manage!” Hien insisted. He handed her the leaf filled with mochi and wound his arm around her waist. “Hang on to our treat— I’ve got you.” 

So they maneuvered with care through the crowds, steadily growing denser than when they had first arrived. Kirishimi readily huddled closer to him, and he was all too happy to curl closer to her. It was so easy for them to make such cramped streets something more intimate, feeding one another bits of mochi and sneaking affection in between.

Hien steered them as gently as he could for how packed the intimately crowded the market streets had become— he hoped that the bridge would be more open, that they might get a good spot in time for the fireworks. His hopes lifted momentarily when the street opened and the crowds thinned again, only for them to be dashed at a turn of his head: the bridge he’d hoped to have her watch the fireworks from was even more crowded than the street. Enough that he faintly wondered if the weight capacity was a danger to the crowd atop it.

“Hmm...this won’t do.” He muttered.

“What, the bridge?” Kirishimi asked once she’d followed his gaze and saw the veritable barricade of people. “Why’re you aimin’ for the bridge?”

“I had hoped to get a good vantage point.” Hien lamented. “I had wanted to surprise you with the view, but it would seem I was not the only one with the idea.” His shoulders slumped. “I hadn’t expected this. I’m sorry, I’d hoped we might see the fireworks from the bridge.”

It stung his pride to admit to his secret plans to her, though he wanted her to at least know he’d intended for this to go better. Rather than the disappointment he expected, he watched her blinked owlishly up at him.

“Oh hells, was that all?” She laughed brightly and seized his hand. “C’mon, I know a spot with a great view!”

For some reason, the thought that she was so familiar with the city had not even occurred to him to draw reference from as inspiration for a back-up plan. Where he had been disappointed at the thought that his best laid plans were coming apart, he could only laugh alongside her as she guided him down the steps to the pier. Somehow, she always made it better.

When they descended the steps into the alleyway beneath the bridge, he was at first skeptical that such a closed off space would have a noteworthy view, but as she led him down the alley and around the corner, he marveled at how the pier opened up to a wide, sparsely populated shipping dock. The water and sky both were so blue in the rapidly approaching twilight that he almost couldn’t tell where they met on the horizon. 

She ushered him to a bench not far from the alley they walked down to get here, and happily pressed herself flush against his side. He readily moved his arm around her to tug her that scant ilm closer and snuck a kiss to her hair as she resumed skewering one of the last mochi.

They had scarcely finished cuddling close before the first firework went off. Even as far away from the crowds as they were, that low din of their shared voices hushed in an instant, everyone peering up at the sky.

Well. Everyone save for Hien.

How could he look anywhere but his beloved, her moonlight silver hair aglow in the ephemeral, colored burst of each firework, eyes brighter than any star he had ever seen. How could he stare at anything with the same awe that her breathtaking smile inspired in him? Impossible. No firework could compare to her radiance.

“See? What’d I tell ya?” Kirishimi asked brightly after a dozen or so fireworks had gone off, looking up at him.

“Quite the sight,” Hien replied quietly, beaming at her through his lashes.

He made no effort to pretend he was looking anywhere but at her, and he delighted in the flush that bloomed on her face.

“Not as nice as the one I’m seein’.” She said quietly. 

“No?” Hien asked as if in genuine interest, hand coming up to smooth his thumb across her bottom lip. 

“Nope. Can’t be. Yer too handsome.” She insisted, though the way she was looking at him was far less innocent than her words.

He opened his mouth to retort, but then she tucked her head an extra ilm down to press a kiss to his thumb— and then nibbled it, very, very gently. His mouth ran dry at the contact, and he shuddered bodily; it had been some time since they had been able to indulge in one another— too long. He felt every second he’d gone without her touch keenly, watching her fan her lashes at him so.

“I am...suddenly reminded that I reserved a room at the Inn.” He rasped against the way his tongue swelled, at the way his heart thudded against his ribs. “And given the fireworks are planned for the whole night, I am fairly certain that the view from there would be spectacular.”

“Oh?” She mused, half leaning into his lap, her fingers delicately tracing his exposed collarbone. “Y’didn’t tell me. Sounds lovely.”

The summer heat couldn’t account for the way he felt set ablaze by her touch— and he couldn’t pretend it was anything but arousal and carnal need that made his pulse race and his breathing grow shuddered.

“Shall we?” He offered with the last of his coherence, and held out his hand.

She readily took it, and he pulled her gently from the bench to head back down the alley they had come from. With every step, he had to remind himself to have restraint— the Inn was just across the bridge, it was scarcely more than a jaunt to the aetheryte shard to avoid the crowd—

“This means a lot, Hien.” Kirishimi spoke up suddenly. “All of this, not just. Well. Y’know.”

He stopped walking and turned to look at her in that moment. Though they stood in the shadow of the bridge, she was bright as a star, looking up at him with such earnest ardor that for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. 

“You must know I’m only sorry I can’t do it more.” Hien managed to rasp.

“I know. We both have so little time— but I need you ta know how much it means to me that you did all this. I...I like being able to see what life will be like with you—”

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d hoisted her up on a stack of crates behind her, his hands gripping her thighs around his waist tightly. He slanted his mouth against hers in eagerness, before he had even thought to do so. Loving her was such a deeply rooted instinct, he could do little but act on it. 

She reciprocated instantly and eagerly, hands grabbing at his clothes, clutching him closer to her, close enough that he could feel her heartbeat pounding against her sternum. Letting go of her thighs to pull her impossibly closer earned him the sweetest moan against his lips he’d ever heard from her. Fire ignited in the pit of his belly, and the flames came alive when he felt her heat throbbing against his rapidly hardening erection, even through their clothes.

“I’m afraid the Inn might be too far away.” He panted between those deep kisses that sent him reeling. “Should you be of like mind...I fear I can’t hold back.”

“Th-this is, ah—” His Kirishimi gasped so deliciously against him as she pulled him in for more kisses between words, as if she couldn’t refrain from it either. As if she couldn’t refrain from him either. The thought drove him wild with want, and his hips stuttered against hers before he could even think to restrain them. “This is a bit public, yeah? We, a-ahh, might get caught.”

“As Yugiri is wont to remind me, I am no shinobi,” Hien mused as though he couldn’t feel the way her thigh nudged at his clothed erection. When he began to mouth at her ear, his beard scratching against her cheek, he found his voice again, rougher for his dwindling restraint. “But I can be discreet.”

“Well, then.” Kirishimi hummed, tapering off in a moan at the way he growled against her throat at her hands tangling in his hair. He could feel her smirk against his ear when she bent her head and answered, “Prove it.”

Ah, a challenge! He did so love to rise to the occasion— all the more where she was concerned. His hands cupped at her backside and slid her forward in time with him pressing flush against the crates she was perched on. It was only a scant few ilms difference, if that, but such distance needed to be unmade entirely: he could go no longer without her.

Hien’s agony was one further exacerbated by his blind palming to undo his hakama, and he smothered his hissing against Kirishimi’s lips to make good on his word to be quiet. Fortunate for him that he had; he muffled a groan into her mouth when she batted his hands away and shifted to untie the keeping his pants held up. Leaving her to take matters into her own hands, as it were, he occupied himself with slipping his hands beneath the soft layers of her yukata. He’d been glad to gift it to her before they arrived today, though he hadn’t necessarily thought of this particular benefit.

When his hand found her under the yukata, Hien couldn’t help but groan into her starspun locks when he realized she wore no undergarments and was already all pulsing, scorching heat. Even before he made a move to slip his fingers inside her, she was rocking her hips to try and coax him into filling her. The hand not waiting in anticipation to make her sigh let go of her to brace more fully against the crate she was sat on— his need for her was dizzying, he was so hard it vaguely hurt, and it was all he could do to blindly rut against her thighs to attempt to curb his own enthusiasm.

A poor attempt, admittedly, but it certainly didn’t stop him from trying.

Kirishimi managed to free him from his hakama fairly quickly, for a blessing, and he practically felt his cock swing down, free of its confines, heavy and aching, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth at the breeze brushing it. 

Hien sank his teeth into Kirishimi’s neck to muffle the guttural groan that escaped him when he hilted himself in one smooth push of his hips. The wet gasp he tore from her throat stuttered out in staccato bursts, her hands flying to grasp at his shoulder, to bury her fingers in his hair. Her chest heaved in time with the flutter of her around him, and he couldn’t stop his hips from stuttering in shallow thrusts in search of more despite their hips already pressed flush. 

“We will have to be quick,” he managed through laving his tongue over the marks he had bitten into her skin. 

“Yesss,” Kirishimi hissed into the fabric of his haori.

When he slid almost entirely out of her and snapped his hips back against hers with enough force to nudge her backwards on the crate, he nearly couldn’t swallow her cry of rapture, and only just managed to crush their mouths together in an inelegant kiss.

“Discretion, koishī,” Hien reminded her in a dark snarl against her ear, and repeated to motion.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to follow his own advice: she felt so good, clenching around him as he moved, felt so good to touch her silken hair and her smooth skin and pull her closer, closer, it was never close enough—

“Please,” Kirishimi panted in his ear, and what control he had snapped at such beautiful, breathy begging.

Wrapping his arms those few ilms tighter around her, pressing that nonexistent extra ilm closer, he acquiesced to her pleas. There would be time for the slower, more intimate lovemaking they so adored to indulge in later; now, there was only the carnal need to quench the fires that wrought destruction to their senses and sensibilities.

Hien set a brutal pace, bruising their hips with every collision but he couldn’t bring himself to mind too much— in particular, for how tightly Kirishimi’s hands clenched in his hair, at his haori, how she clenched around him, all tight heat and agonizing bliss. It was almost too much, even when he began, but he refused to be the first to fall apart— it would not do to leave his beloved unsatisfied, or even to risk it. 

Kirishimi rose to the occasion, as she always did, her heels digging into the small of his back, slotted perfectly into his Venusian dimples, and she rocked into him at every thrust, rolled her hips to the tide of his tempo, and it was all he could do to bury his hand in her hair, to press his palm against her back and pull her in closer, to sink into her until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

“Discretion,” she teased in a wheezing pant when he growled at that telltale pull in his gut that told him he was beginning to teeter off the edge. 

He gnashed his teeth in a feral smirk before quieting them both in a crushing kiss. It would not do to let himself fall apart now, certainly not when she was coherent enough to tease him for his enthusiasm. With a dark chuckle that rumbled in the deepest part of his chest, he carefully disentangled her hair from his fingers, and let his hand wander down, down, down— 

He chased her mouth when she broke their kiss in a startled gasp at the touch of his thumb against her swollen clit. The hand in his hair flexed at the swirl of his thumb around the oversensitive bud, and she whimpered against his lips in time with her shallow thrusting into his hand. 

Her enthusiasm, her mounting pleasure, was as a double edged sword: while she spiraled faster, closer to release, she was bringing him along with her, and it was, as always, a battle of wills between the two of them. Gods, but her little wanton gasps, the soft whining, her hands all over him, all orchestrated such sweet rapture for him that he could do little but cling to what fraying edges of sanity he had, even as he wanted to hurl himself into the abyss beside her.

“Close,” Kirishimi panted into his lips, and he groaned, low and guttural and primal, when her legs squeezed to bring him in deeper. “Close, close, Hien—”

Kami preserve, but so was he. His thrusts had lost all technique, all control, and he was pounding so hard into her he could hear the crate beneath her creak faintly every time their hips met but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He broke their kiss to lean back enough to watch her fall apart, to watch the moment that his attentions pushed her over the edge.

Hien was not waiting for long. With a particularly dextrous stroke of his thumb and a well angled thrust of his hips, her mouth fell open in a choked cry of rapture. She managed to quiet herself even before the noise had fully left her throat, though she flung herself against him to muffle the rest of those beautiful noises she couldn’t quell fast enough. She squeezed so tightly around his cock, pulsed as rapid as a hare’s heartbeat, that he couldn’t quite silence himself in time before he groaned, long and loud, into her hair as the coil in his gut snapped. Instinct drove them both to cling together as they rode out the waves of their orgasm, his thrusts inarticulate, sloppy, desperate things as she shook around him. He emptied all of himself into her, and even as he finally felt the last of it fill her he remained sheathed, pressed close, basking in the afterglow.

Not for too long, sadly; they were still out in public, and poor Kirishimi was on a kami forsaken pile of crates, for heaven’s sakes. When she trembled a little less, he slid himself out of her with an agonized groan, over sensitive as he was from the stimulation. She whimpered at the veritable deluge of cum that followed after him, though he tried to be courteous and offer her a kerchief to at least attempt to clean up. 

Once they were disentangled entirely, he righted his clothes and hair as best as he could, and helped her down from the crates to do the same. Still giddy, still riding the hights of their high, they couldn’t help but stand on wobbly legs, leaning into one another, noses nuzzling affectionately and breathy laughter filling the space between them. 

“So much fer discretion, ay?” Kirishimi teased between giggles. 

“I said I can be discreet— it’s hardly a guarantee.” He admitted with a sheepish chuckle, and tucked the soiled kerchief in his pocket with a grimace. Once he made sure there was no mess left on the crate, he offered, “The fireworks are still going, for a blessing. Shall we retire to the Inn and keep watching?”

At her nod, they set off again. The kami themselves must have intervened to thin the crowds on the bridge enough for them to squeeze through to the other side, and managed to slip away, sequestered in their room with hot sake and dinner in bed, with the window wide open.

“You were right— view’s amazin’ from here,” Kirishimi mused as they watched the fireworks once dinner was cleared away.

After a long moment, he set his sake cup down on the bedside table, and shifted to crawl over her. She watched him with those mismatched eyes of ruby and sapphire, glimmering with every kaleidoscope burst of light from the window. With a bright, enticing, inviting smile, she slid backwards until she could spread out languidly upon the plush bed.

Hien preferred to watch the bursts of color reflect on those silver locks of hers, splayed out on the pillow as they were. After a few moments of appreciative silence, he hummed, pleased. 

“Quite the view.” He agreed, and joined her in soft splendor again.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

A Spark To Ignite the Dead Wood

Cold, angular, gray. One door in, same door out.

A sleek reflective window, in which Jericho Kane could stare into his own sad mug, complete with all the ugly scars. His vision blurred as his mind wandered to what the window might be hiding on the other side of the interrogation room. A little camera on a stand with a blinking red light to indicate it was recording? A person, or two, waiting for some cop to enter the room and grill him for answers?

A thin chain connected his handcuffed wrists to a small metal hook on the table in front of him. The chain’s links rattled and ribbed against the hook whenever he budged, which he had to do every now and then, his fidgeting owed to the hard chair that made his sore butt cheeks ache, and a backrest designed to offer neither comfort nor invitation to lean back and relax. Everything here was perfectly engineered to make a stay as unpleasant as humanly possible.

Even the air in here was cold. A tiny little grate in one high corner of the room, big enough to fit two fists inside, took care of ventilation. Though it probably relied on air conditioning, he had to wonder if it was not allowing the cold wintry air to leak into this dreadful little room.

Following the sound of a key turning in a lock, a chunky clank heralded the door to the room opening. Jericho craned his head and spied the face of the person entering. Unfortunately, he recognized him. That recognition coaxed a groan to growl right out of Jericho’s throat.

It had been years, yet Jericho knew that unkempt beard, those horn-rimmed glasses on a flat nose, the receding hairline that framed a short mane of curly hair turning silvery, and that familiar face—now marked with days of sleep deprivation and wrinkled in what had to be disdain.

Using a hand that already gripped a thick manila folder while he carried a cheap plastic cup of steaming coffee in the other, Detective Augustus Shaw averted his gaze and slammed the door shut behind himself. He approached the table, plopped down the items from his hands, causing some coffee droplets to splash onto the surface, and pulled out the chair with an annoying sound of metal grinding against synthetic floor tiles.

Jericho shot a glance at the cup of coffee but tried not to let his thirsty gaze linger there. Neither would the cheap bitter swill help at all against the unpleasantly fluffy feeling of cottonmouth that plagued him right now, nor did he want to give Shaw any conversation material to work with. The career criminal and con man wanted to keep things short and painless. On some level, he did not want to waste the detective’s time, either.

“Jericho Kane,” Shaw said after demonstratively clearing his throat. “Long time no see. How long has it been since we’ve had the fortune of having your company around here in Maine?”

He took a sip from his cup and his forehead furrowed with crinkles counting both too many years of time on the force as well as from cringing over the coffee’s terrible aftertaste getting stuck on his tongue. Shaw shook it off and set the cup back down.

“Rap sheet tells me you’ve been pretty busy all these years, and up and down the whole East Coast, no less,” Shaw added, gently tapping the folder with his left palm. He cleared his throat again, audibly attempting to fight against the bitter film clinging to the roof of his mouth. Then he asked, “Do you want to hop right in and spill the beans, or do I need to flirt it outta ya?”

Shaw smiled at him, though no sincerity reached the crow’s feet framing the corners of his eyes. The detective hated being here as much as Jericho did, even though he could have walked out of the interrogation room anytime.

“Are we burying the lead here? How’s about you just tell me what business you had in any of the places you were trespassing in all week, and we both get to leave sooner? I know both of—”

“I’m not saying anything without my lawyer,” Jericho interrupted him sharply. He swallowed and stared at the place where the chain and hook on the table met, between the coffee stain and the pointless pile of papers and photographs jammed into the overflowing folder.

He could practically hear Shaw’s frown when a stifled sigh made the detective’s nostrils flare, and the seconds of silence that followed only underlined that air of disappointment.

“Okay,” Shaw said, taking another sip from his coffee and the smacking his lips indicating instant regret. “Alright. Fast-trackin’ this, then we both get to leave sooner. You work for the group that runs drugs across the northern border?”

“When’s the lawyer getting here?”

“Sources tell me you’ve worked for two crime syndicates—at least. One in NYC and the other all the way down in Miami. Any others send you onto an errand in our neck of the woods?”

“Not saying anything without a lawyer, man.”

“You went from being a two-bit drifter and con artist, constantly getting evicted from really terrible apartments, to your parole officer in Rhode Island refusing to offer any statement and looking like he had seen a ghost after you got out of the slammer.”

Jericho just kept his mouth shut. He jutted his jaw out and his lips curled inward, turning into a hard-pressed, thin, white line.

“Listen, man, I know you’re not a terrible person. Probably still got debt to pay off to some heavy hitters, right?”

Nothing.

“Some people in my position would mistake this monstrous pile of paper for proof that you’re a monstrous person, but I know better. Most people in your position got your reasons, constantly wonder if they’re bad people themselves, and deep down somewhere, buried underneath all the rotten things you experienced and any crimes you committed, you’re just—just a human being.”

Jericho deeply disagreed and looked up at the detective, locking eyes with him. He silently mouthed “lawyer” at him. Shaw ignored that and continued.

“You’re always down on your luck ‘cause people like us don’t get to win the lottery. We get dealt a bad hand in life, and we roll with whatever we’ve got.”

Shaw cradled the plastic cup, balancing it on an edge as his fingers idly circled it in his hand.

“Well, today’s your lucky day for a change, Jericho. Work with me here. You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make sure you’re out of here in no time.”

Lawyer, Jericho thought, hoping that telepathy might finally work for him, one of these days.

“See, you can disappear behind bars for a while for some petty bullshit, or you can cooperate with me, because I’m really not that interested in you,” Shaw said, taking another pained sip from the cup. “No offense.”

Lawyer?

The telepathy did not seem to be working, or Shaw was blowing it off. No way to tell. Maybe this was not the best opportunity to try it out, but it was not like Jericho had anything better to do right now.

“See, I know things got weird at some point,” Shaw said. The cup plopped down onto the table’s surface and he leaned over it, closer towards Jericho.

He was playing to make their exchange feel more intimate, the crook figured. But the detective’s tone had shifted, and a strange glint flashed across his eyes. Jericho could not help but feel intrigued.

Did Shaw know more than he was letting on?

“A cigar-smoking guy in a stretch limo invites you in after a botched 'milk run’ in a meat packing plant, says he can make all your problems go away,” Shaw said.

Jericho kept his eyes locked onto the detective’s. How in the hell did he know about that?

“He offered you new work and the money he was offering was too good to turn down, so of course you took it. Who in your position wouldn’t have? Lemme guess, he had big mean-looking fellas in white suits with big mean-looking guns, and Cigar Man’s speech was a monologue with you for an audience.”

Frighteningly on point. Shaw had arrested Jericho’s full attention. Not a single thought trailed off, not a single word formed inside his head. He still wanted a lawyer before he admitted to anything, but the eerie accuracy of Shaw’s description rendered Jericho’s attention rapt.

“But the guy in the packing plant made your mouth melt shut and you had some voodoo man in New Orleans get that fixed. And there was that crumpled bag from the golden arches that provided a happy meal and a poisoned apple every day. Or a serial killer priest who ritually crucified himself after mass and could turn into the Incredible fucking Hulk before you and some of Cigar Man’s boys put him down like a dog and several dozen rounds of point-fifty caliber ammo,” Shaw said.

Jericho’s heart skipped a beat. Though Shaw was only scratching at the surface of all the unreal things he had witnessed in his recent years working for the “club"—the detective somehow knew. Knew of what Jericho liked to call "the weird shit.”

Shaw shot a glance at the mirrored window and said in a hushed murmur, “There’s nobody over there, Kane. No camera, nothing. I know better than to let anybody else in on this. I know how weird and un-fucking-believable all of this is. Hell, I question my own sanity just saying any of this out loud, but I have seen some shit myself. And—listen—I’m here to hear you out. I just want to—I wanna know the truth.”

Jericho swallowed the big empty wad of nothing that suddenly lodged itself inside this throat, yet it refused to go down no matter how many times he repeated the useless motion. That ball of anxiety stayed stuck right there, a slimy void only adding to the rest of his discomfort. He leaned back in his chair despite how painful the metal bars bracing the backrest felt.

“Look, I know of the Carcosa Casino job you were part of, down in Atlantic City. What did they call the 'package’ you were supposed to take from those thugs? 'Lightweight ghosts?’ What in God’s name is that, anyway?”

Jericho shook his head, croaked out a clipped, “Dunno.”

“You didn’t ask questions. Can’t say I blame you,” Shaw said, shaking his head in unison. “Probably woulda done the same in your shoes.”

He broke eye contact and shoved the folder in between the two of them. Flipped it open. Papers rustled; glossy prints of pictures glided from the main pile onto the discard pile he started right next to it.

Jericho recognized the Heavenly Night bar from one of the big photos even though this image depicted it as charred black and burnt down—from that one time when he had set it on fire with a thought. From that one time when he had discovered what unnatural abilities he possessed.

Another picture portrayed Jericho in a black raincoat with a green surgical mask on his face and sunglasses concealing his eyes, toting a silenced pistol in one hand—but he easily identified the distinct shape of his own head despite the stubble left behind after shaving it.

His typical “job attire” whenever he worked for Cigar Man.

“You usually get self-deleting messages with simple, straightforward instructions and are left to figure out the rest. You’re pretty good at that, right?” Shaw asked.

More pictures. Incident reports. A timeline of all the weirdness that Jericho had lived through. Hints at the world hidden behind the world, a world of human monsters that could alter reality on a whim as soon as they figured out the cosmic cheat codes. Most people do their damnedest to rationalize the weird to the best of their ability, but at some point, it gets hard to deny it all. Shaw must have gotten there on his own.

“The four-digit numbers just kept piling up in your bank account and everything stayed untraceable. Shit, Jericho, one of the guys at Homeland Security admitted to me that they didn’t just fail to trace anything—they couldn’t. Every data trail just vanishes into thin fuckin’ air. Like the hand of God reached through every computer and wiped every record clean.”

Jericho had gotten a message from Cigar Man just last week, so his mind went there. The new job. He dispelled the thoughts, focusing on trying to get a read on the seasoned detective. What was his deal? Was he on the payroll of the other syndicate? The douchebags over in Europe?

“And I get it, man. You never ever stopped to question this, because it’s both too good to be true—and too scary to fuck with,” Shaw droned on.

His sympathy was grating on his Jericho’s nerves but clearly genuine. The crook sensed it. The detective felt that same spark he had felt himself, all those years ago.

That time when he still struggled to understand it all. When he felt ambition, wanting to know how the secret world worked. How things like magick functioned, and trying to understand what, if any, difference existed between ghosts and demons.

That spark always struck dry wood, igniting the debris that rested, dead and dormant at the back of one’s mind, bursting into flames and feeding roaring fires of burning curiosity.

Shaw finally fell silent and stopped shuffling through the papers and photos. He let his gaze wander back upwards, scanning Jericho’s face for a reaction until they locked eyes again. That glint in his eyes—it reflected the hungry fires, consuming any knowledge it could get.

“C'mon. I know you wanna talk to me. You wanna talk to somebody, anybody. I’m not your enemy, Jericho. I’m not like him. I’m not—”

Jericho’s heart began to race in that instance and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, knowing in advance what name Shaw was about to utter. A horrid premonition during which time almost slowed to a complete halt and his eyes went wide.

“No!” Jericho suddenly shouted. “Don’t say—”

Shaw’s brow furrowed but he continued anyway, oblivious to the trigger he was pulling, “I’m not The Way King.”

Jericho’s heart skipped a beat and his blood curdled. The harsh white light from the neon tube overhead in the interrogation room flickered in response to that name being spoken.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jericho hissed, elongating the vowel in agonized defeat.

“Something wrong with me saying that? The Way King?” Shaw asked, continuing to shoot his mouth off, oblivious to the smoking gun he unwittingly kept firing every time he flapped his gums.

“Shut the fuck up! Stop saying his fucking name!”

The lights flickered again. The background noise—that constant buzz of chatter and drawers and metal doors and shoes tapping against hard floors and someone shouting and some chuckling and people on the phones and—all the life in the police station, muffled through the steel door, it all went dead. All at once.

Jericho lurched forward, causing Shaw to shift back in his seat, startled. But the surprise written across the detective’s visage mirrored the dread that must have taken hold of Jericho’s own face. Jericho showed him his empty palms in surrender.

“I will tell you whatever the fuck you wanna know. But you gotta—you have to fucking unlock me, right now. We need to get out of here,” Jericho whispered at him, enunciating every syllable with sharp endings and harsh gravity punctuating every stop.

Shaw stared at him, slack jawed. Now it was the detective’s turn to swallow a big lump of nothing that had gotten lodged in his throat. He bit his lip for a second and his hand went for his pocket. Crammed his fist right in there and dug around to look for the key.

Then the detective started shaking, wracked with spasms like he was being seized by an epileptic attack. His mouth started to foam while he gurgled.

The chain ribbed and rattled as Jericho leaned back as far as he could, trying to gain as much distance as possible, until he felt the tug of cold metal keeping him locked in place, and he heard the crunch of the chain accompany his bondage bringing him to a helpless stop.

Shaw’s eyes rolled back so far into his head that they looked only white and bloodshot. Then a hideous grin shaped across his face, clearly not his own. Drool dribbled down from the curve of his lip, forming pearls on the way down Shaw’s beard until the saliva dripped down onto his lap.

“There you are,” the Way King spoke through Shaw’s mouth, stealing his voice but spewing it out in a different cadence and tone. “Told you, boy. I will always find you, no matter where you go.”

Blood rushed in Jericho’s ears, his heart pounded like one of those huge Japanese drums; just thundering away and drowning out everything, leaving him deaf to the rest of the world and mesmerized by the spiderweb of crimson in Shaw’s white eyes, knowing that the Way King now stared at him through the powerless borrowed vessel.

“Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

The handcuffs sprung open without anybody manipulating them. Jericho froze. Did not dare budge.

There was no point in running.

He was going to have to hear this demonic dickhead out now.

His deals always sucked.

—Submitted by Wratts

[seokiloquy]

Patient Growth - Yaku Morinosuke

Soulmate AU: Red String (the string on your finger points in the direction of your soulmate for about 4 inches of length before disappearing, only to make a full string connection when in each others range of sight)

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, time-skip spoilers, short and sweet.

Word Count: 3k+

“(Y/N), why are you doing math? We had it last semester.”

Pulling the protractor away from your pinky, you looked up to Micky’s face, watching as her eyebrow pushed upwards to her sleek hairline. You clicked your tongue, mouth open for a moment as you slid your notebook in her direction.

“Pythagorean theorem. Seriously, what are you doing?”

You raised both hands off your desk in surrender as you tilted your head away from the girl’s questioning stare. “Okay okay, hear me out.”

“That doesn’t exactly give me good faith.”

“So, the red string soulmate pair has mostly died off as of the late century or so right?”

Micky sighed, swinging her leg over the backrest of the chair in front of you, sitting backwards and she crossed her arms over your desk and leaned forward. “And?”

“And, because a lot of people have no need to know about tricks for the red string we were never taught. A lot of people have tattoos nowadays so I get it, don’t teach about every soulmate history, that’s fine.”

“Get on with it.”

“Okay, okay.” You spun your notebook around for Micky to see it straight on. “After some research, I discovered that people used to use the Pythagorean theorem to find the exact location of their soulmate using the angles of the string attached to their hand.”

“Okay cool, so why are you doing this instead of our English essay?”

Clenching your teeth, you looked away from Micky’s brown eyes to the tiled floor of your classroom. “Well, to be fair I have finished the essay.”

“We were assigned it yesterday.”

“I said it was finished, not good. But besides that. I’ve done five separate calculations, but the angles I’m getting don’t change at all, I’m getting a straight line. No triangle, no location.”

Furrowing her brow, Micky leaned back against the desk behind her, large fluffy hair tickling the back of another classmate’s neck, making them giggle. “Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey leaned back toward you, fingertips pulling at her ends. She sighed, “Have you considered that they might be so far away that 100 metres doesn’t give you enough clear information.”

Reaching for the thread that tied to your pinky, you spun it between your fingers, leaning back as you watched the string fade into invisibility mid-air. “I considered it, but that must mean they’re really far, and I didn’t want to admit that to myself.

“Well, hey. You’ll meet your soulmate eventually, everyone does. So for now, how about you focus on yourself and maybe clean up your essay.”

“Ya, ya you’re right.”

Micky sits for a moment, staring into empty space as your pen slowly lowers back down to the unfinished calculations on the paper. Sighing, she lifted her hand and placed it over yours, stopping the scribbling. “(Y/N), stop. You’re not ready to meet your soulmate if you’re searching for them.”

With a furrowed brow, you clicked the pen close and set in on the table. When you looked up to meet Micky’s eyes the yellow lights in the ceiling dimmed around your vision. “What do you mean by that.”

“Seriously (Y/N). if you spend all your time searching for your soulmate, what are you going to do when you finally meet them? Tell them about the length you went to, to hunt them down? Search for someone else?”

“Of course not—”

Your head shot forward slightly at the smack she landed on the back of it. “Then what?” you didn’t even seem  to move. “What do you want to do in the future?”

Picking the pen back up you flipped it between your fingers, spinning it recklessly before it slipped between your digits as they slowly clammed up under the weight of her stare.

“Do you have any clue?” She looked at your notebook before grabbing it from beneath your arms and flipping over a few pages. Slamming it back onto the desk, the sight that met you was one of a completely cluttered page, filled to the brim with words and doodles. “What about this? Art. Writing. You love comics and stories. Why not—”

“It would never last. Starving artists, you know?”

“Get out of that damn mindset. That’s all a hoax, sure it happens, but art and story’s make culture colourful and interesting.”

You sighed, flipping the notebook closed as the beginning of the lunch bell rang. “You say that as if I’d have a giant impact on society.”

“Who says you wouldn’t?”

Russia’s snow was no joke. It made the shorter male shiver to the bone till he managed to get into the building’s lobby. Though, it did persist until he got a hand on the apartment’s doorknob.

Yaku peaked over his model friend’s shoulder, slowly shrugging off his long thick coat before walking back to the coat hangers at the entrance. “You read?” he asked, moving the red string on his finger as it wrapped around one of the hooks. 

Lev’s home, shared with his older sister, was a lived-in picture of modern architecture. The flat white walls and smooth stone countertops matched the square windows and minimalist paintings. The rent hardly put a dent in their wallets. Rich people. 

Despite the money available, no books shelves in the home were used for actual books, just plants and picture frames. This made the sight of Lev holding a bound stack of paper all the more outlandish. He kicked off his shoes, slinging on the available slippers.

“Huh oh, not often. But Alisa heard that this book blew up and was getting translated into a bunch of different languages, Russian and Japanese included. So we got both and we’re sort of jumping in between the versions for practice, you know? Oh, Alisa’s buying groceries, she’ll be back in time to watch the game though. How was practice?”

Yaku paced over to his friend's sleek kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with water. “Pretty good. I'm still getting used to the language, but I’ve gotten a better hang of it. What’s the book about?” The shorter man, two glasses in hand, walked over to his friend and offered one.

Lev gave Yaku a large smile and graciously took it, sipping for a moment before setting it on the coffee table. “It’s a mid-century fantasy, filled with magic, monsters, flying trains. No soulmates though, so you don’t know if the main character’s relationship is platonic or romantic. Not that it’s the main focus of the plot. And the Protagonist is this 18-year-old with no magic but somehow has to stop a magic war from happening between two rival empires. It’s really cool.”

Yaku sat in the opposite corner of the couch, chugging his glass back as he watched an animated movie play quietly on the screen in front of them. “Where’s the author from?” he asked, twirling the pinky tied red string around one of his fingers aimlessly.

“Europe? North-America? Don’t recall. But I did hear that they got scouted to work on an upcoming manga with a small group of authors. Apparently, they are great illustrators. Oh did they design the cover of their book? Ugh, let me check.” Lev reached for his phone on the counter as the door opened behind them. 

Alisa, long silver hair tied up into a neat bun, dropped the grocery bags and shook the snow off her head while kicking her coat off. “Lev,” she huffed. “I texted you to help me with the bags. Ah, Mori, you’re here. Good to see you.”

Yaku gave the older model a smile as Lev dropped his phone and rushed to pick up the brim filled bags of food. “Sorry, sorry. I was telling Mori about the books we bought.”

“Don’t worry I managed. Mori, I heard you made it onto the national team, does that mean we’re gonna have to fly into Japan to support you next year?”

Yaku laughed and waved his hand dismissively, “I won’t force you two. But I think the rest of Nekoma would like to see you again.”

Lev let out a loud snort from the kitchen, “We’re going! No doubt about it!” The tall man took a moment to poke his head out, “Oh, Yak— Alisa! You didn’t tell me!”

The childlike anger in his tone made Alisa laugh, turning around to look at her brother head-on. “Tell you what?”

“Your soulmate! Your tattoo is gold now!”

Yaku, from his position, could quickly confirm. The mandala-like flower on the back of Alisa’s neck had gone from a black to a golden shimmer.

Alisa scrambled, quickly pulling her phone close to her chest. With a swipe of her thumb, she brought the phone behind her and pushed and stray hairs up towards her silver bun. The camera clicked.

Yaku raised a thin blond brow. “Do you,” he paused, trying not to chuckle at his friend’s frantic scuffling. “Do you not know who it is?”

“Well, I can’t recall. Nothing was out of the ordinary today.” She tapped her booted toe against the mat before gasping suddenly. Removing the nail she was biting from her mouth, she grunted and pulled her coat back on. 

She began to ramble. “That damn cashier! I finally met him and she’s my soulmate? Stupid, stupid!” She stepped through the front door, turning around to give them a smile. “You boys enjoy the game, okay?”

The door closed with a dull thud and click. Lev, hands hanging like dead fish at sides, stood speechless. For a minute he stared at the closed door, not noticing Yaku’s eyes on him, before asking a sudden question.

“Do you want to meet your soulmate?”

“Hmm? Why do you ask?”

Lev stepped back into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of vegetables, silently beckoning Yaku to follow. Heeding, Yaku followed.

“Well, I don’t mean to sound negative or anything. I really want to meet my soulmate.” He trailed off.

Yaku sighed and grabbed his own item to help put it away in the fancy silver fridge. “Everyone has growing to do, and everyone grows at different paces.” He paused, stifling a sneer at Lev looking down at him with a bewildered gaze. He threw a pack of ships into his stomach. “If you never meet them, it was never meant to happen right? But soulmates are funny like that and always find their way to each other. You just got to be patient.”

Lev tossed the back onto a shelf, making the ships crunch daily when they landed. “Do you think you’ll meet your soulmate? Soon?”

“I’ve done a lot of growing, and I like how things are going. So ya, maybe.” Yaku looked back into the living room and to the book that sat in near perfect condition. “If it’s any constellation Lev, I think you’ve done a lot of growing too.”

He looked at the taller friend, immediately regretting his words slightly. Lev wore a cat-like grin. 

“(L/N), we’re buying tickets to the Olympic games, do you want one?” Udai asked with an excited grin.

��Uh, hold on.” You pulled the glasses from off the top of your head and onto the bridge of your nose. Standing from your brightly lit desk, you walked over to stand behind one of your teammate’s shoulders to squint at their screen. “Volleyball? Oh, right you played didn’t you?”

The long-haired man laughed, making his chair creak as he leaned back. “So did Akaashi. We know some of the players on the team too.”

You sat up straight, brows shooting as close to your hairline as possible. “You know professional volleyball players?”

Udai let out an airy laugh. “Well Akaashi knows them better than I do, but ya.”

Akaashi, the silent editor that sat across the table, looked up at your bewildered face. “You’re a fan of volleyball?”

“Well, it’s not like I know the name of every player, coach, and team, but I enjoy watching sport in general. Udai, put me on the list.”

Walking back to your desk, you silently listened to your co-authors rattle on about the 3rd act of the story as you made clean lines and whether or not the main character should save the secondary one or not. Sighing, you looked at the black pen you held, before setting it down and gently tugging on your little red string. Akaashi rolled his chair over.

“I’m surprised you haven’t met your soulmate yet.”

“Are you? I’m only two years older than you Akaashi.”

“I suppose you’re right, most people just tend to meet their soulmates at the end of high school or into post-secondary. Typically if they’re in close proximity.”

“Well, I did try to figure out where my soulmate was. My friend convinced me to stop and focus on myself,” you sighed, staring at the papers in front of you. “I’m thankful for that, honestly. If I’m not ready to meet my soulmate, at least I have myself right? I’m happy.”

Akaashi’s head tilted, hair shifting under the fluorescent light as he stared at the small gold tattoo on his wrist with a smile. “Ya, you’re right.”

The stadium, inside and out, was loud. Stacks of hundreds of people slowly making their way around the building and milling about, their conversations made it difficult to communicate.

“So you don’t know how your soul mark works exactly?” Udai yelled into your ear.

“Not entirely. Everyone is different, you know? And not many people have the red string nowadays!”

“Ah, right! Makes sense.”

“Everyone, this way!” one of your co-authors called, as akaashi and another author came back, beers in hand.

Following your group, you made your way to the balcony seats to finally sit down instead of standing among tight groups of strangers. You cast a panoramic look over the circular-shaped stadium at the filled seats that hit the vibrant vinyl colours of the chairs.

“Eh! Akaashi! Is that you?”

Two rows ahead, standing tall, and eagerly running your way was a lanky silver-headed man with a big grin. Next to you, Akaashi stood up, and to be polite you stepped out of his way standing in the stairway to look up slightly at the stranger. 

“Ah Lev, been a while.”

Unable to get back to your seat, you stood between the two men patiently.

“You’re here to see everyone right? Oh, who’s this?” Lev asked, turning his head in your direction.

“(L/N), (Y/N). I’m one of Akaashi’s co-workers.”

The man’s thin silver brows pinched together, tilting his head as he inspected your face before suddenly shooting up onto his toes. “You wrote the Rusted Wing series! I love those books!”

“Ah, ya I did.”

“That’s amazing, I-”

A man’s voice called over the speakers, echoing through the stadium. Lev, in an excited rush, insisted on speaking to you later, before running back to his seat where another silver-haired person sat.

Sitting back down, you breathed slowly as the loud conversations around you died and the players made their way onto the court with an uproar of cheers. You smiled, chanting along until Akaashi nudged your arm.

Yaku, completely in his head about the quickly approaching game, kept his eyes on the red jersey in front of him as he walked forward. The music played loudly in his ears and mixed with the messy sound of cheers his head felt like it was floating in a cloud of complete focus on oblivion.

He stood in line, chest rising as he waited for the anthem to begin, but before they did an elbow hit his shoulder. 

Opening his eyes, he immediately caught sight of the once invisible red string making a complete line, arching its way up into the crowd where he saw your face above the strangers in the crowd.

Yaku was in a daze. Completely blown out of the water, all the thoughts in his mind seemed to escape him.

The game seemed to have started without his knowledge, and finished just as quickly. Muscle memory had done its job well. Yaku only noticed what had happened when his head was forced up to see the winning scores on a large screen.

“Fantastic work Yaku, and you didn’t even break a sweat! You were a monster out there! Absolute beast.” The head coach’s expression was one of amazement.

Yaku blinked dumbly. “If I’m being honest, I hardly remember a thing I did out there.”

“Well, you did fantastically. Conscious or not.”

When Yaku looked back to your seat, location freshly printed in his mind, you were gone. 

He followed the team back into the change rooms. Which happened to be when the rest began to point out the quickly moving direction of his thread. One compared its movements to a broken compass. 

Once able to get out of the musty changeroom, Yaku sprinted. The stadium halls were still packed with people. None paid attention to the short man sprinting though. The string had gone still and Yaku eagerly followed it like a trail of breadcrumbs. He knew his fate would be better than the two german siblings because at the end of the trail would be his soulmate and not some cannibalistic witch. He hoped.

The string suddenly shot forward, growing in length. He came to a halt, panting from his sprint; more than he did during the game.

Only a couple metres ahead, head meeting a higher point against Lev’s arm than his own, was his soulmate chatting happily in a circle while maintaining eye contact with his tall friend. The sight made his ears rumble and cheeks burn with embarrassment.

The content smile on your lips when you finally turned his way made all his patience worth it.

I’m getting better at using ‘They’ as a gender-neutral pronoun in writing without making it feel clunky, which I’m happy about.

I hope everyone has been having a nice holiday. - Bacon

Posted: 17/01/2021

[notimetoblog]

Is That You?

Summary: A mission requires absolute silence, but what’s that adorable little noise you keep hearing?

A/N: ****THIS STORY HAS AN ENDGAME SPOILER*** It’s not the central theme of the story, but it’s still there so if you haven't seen endgame, please skip this one :D. Sooooo… this was a spur of the moment thing lol.. I was at work and thought of this and just had to write it lol. I hope you guys enjoy it!!!! Thanks so much for reading. 

im not sure if links are back to normal.. but just in case search “stories by notimetoblog” for my stories :D

The key is staying quiet. Giving up your position would mean certain death for you and Bucky. So, no matter how uncomfortable you are as you hunch behind a stack of boxes propped at just the right place, no matter how cold the night is in this abandoned warehouse, the key is to remain silent.

“We got three stragglers. Coming in from your three o’clock,” Sam’s voice pierces through the silence into your earpiece.

He’s the eyes in the sky. Always is.

Keeping his hand pressed to his chest, Bucky raises three fingers, indicating what strategy he thinks would get you out of here the fastest and the safest.

Number Three. Divide and Conquer.

He’s right beside you, having just as much trouble maintaining his large frame hidden behind the few boxes. He somehow, though, manages to hide all 6 feet of him, and you’re impressed. Apart from strong, he’s also flexible. Mental note made.

“They’re walking through the door now,” Sam’s voice comes in, and you hate the way it always seems to catch you off guard. Bucky is a little too distracting at times. But how could you not be distracted? He’s right there, bending in all sorts of ways. Still, one day, you think, you won’t jump whenever Sam comes in through the comms.

Just as Sam had said, two men walk in through the door, each carrying weapons you were too afraid even to wonder what they did. One of them, the taller one, stays a few steps behind the first man. Their faces are illuminated by the soft blue glow that comes from their guns indicating that they do much more than shoot bullets- and even the regular bullets you’re not fond of.

The men sweep the area, eyes shifting from corner to corner as they try to find anything out of place.

With slow steps, they circle the perimeter, and you just need the right angle to send in your very own not-so-fun bullet into the neck of those forcing you to stay hidden.

Turning to Bucky, you see him getting ready to dive into the next set of boxes stacked along the left side of where you are.

Divide and Conquer.

In silence, he points to himself and then to the left.

I take the guy on the left; you take the guy on the right.

It’s going to work. It has to work.

You nod, and he prepares, waiting for the right time to make his move.

Raising your gun, you look through the scope, feeling as Bucky crouches beside you, peeking out the side of the boxes to get a good read of when it’s best to move behind the next stack.

He shuffles a bit, making almost no sound.

And the timing is perfect. Your guy is too busy looking up at the ceiling, while his guy looks to the opposite side of the warehouse. It’s Bucky’s time, and you wait for him to make his move.

All he has to do is stay absolutely quiet.

You stand up slowly, line up the target in the scope with the neck of your guy, finger ready on the trigger.

All it takes is a bit of pressure on the trigger, and your mission is over.

Your guy is still distracted, looking up, still looking for whoever might be threatening their mission, giving you the perfect shot of his neck and you take a deep breath.

It’s now.

Planting your feet firmly on the floor anticipating the kick, you slowly pull back the trigger, the bullet almost released but—

Hic

Both men turn in your direction, piercing their eyes as they try to see who else is in the warehouse with them.

Hic

It’s the softest, tiniest, hic and you think there may be a kitten finding comfort in the boxes too. But that’s impossible.

“Shit,” Bucky whispers beside you, quickly hiding again behind the boxes, and he plans on saying more, but he’s interrupted by another small hic that makes his shoulders bolt up.

“Is that you?” you ask, and it’s useless to fight the smile that grows on your lips as he fervently shakes his head just as another small hic escapes his lips. “Oh my god, I thought it was a kitten.”

“I’m not a kitten,” he scoffs, offended at the thought. He’s much too adorable for how close you are to be being found out.

“Who’s there!” One of the men shouts, and you wonder what’s the point.

What did he expect you to say? Were you supposed to introduce yourself to him? Maybe give him your background story.

You roll your eyes, looking through the scope again, realigning the target.

If Bucky could keep his hiccups under control for a second, this could all be over right now, but things just didn’t seem to go in your favor.

Hic

The men take calculated steps in your direction; you could almost see how their hands tremble with nerves. They must be new here if they’re this afraid of confronting a threat.

Hic

“Could you not?” You say with a giggle because who knew the Winter Soldier could hiccup like this. A cute, adorable hiccup that stripped him entirely of any menacing façade he had left.

“You don’t think I’m trying,” he says, a pout on his lips. He fills his lungs with air, holding his breath, but it’s no use.

Hic

“One last chance,” one of the men shout. You don’t bother to check who it is because Bucky is now pulling on his tongue.

“What are you doing?” You ask through another set of giggles.

“It’s a trick,” he replies, his word barely understandable as he pulls his tongue some more. “My ma taught me.”

“Does it wo—” you can’t finish the sentence because there’s that adorable little hic again.

He sighs, dramatically slumping to the floor to collect his forgotten gun.

So much for dividing and conquering.

You know the men are in front of you, only boxes standing between you and them, but the hiccupping continues, and you really can’t hold it back any longer.

Your laughter is finally set free; Bucky looks up to you, his boyish grin on his lips because it’s too ridiculous not to laugh.

“Oh my god!” You shout. “Why are you this adorable?”

And just like that, the men’s triggers are both pressed sending a beam of light onto both of your chests.

“Unbelievable,” comes Sam’s booming voice just as all the lights in the room are turned on.

The holographic men disappear into thin air as Sam walks through them. Slowly the abandoned warehouse follows the men, disappearing right before your eyes and you’re back in the compound’s simulation room.

“You’re both dead. Are you happy now?” He asks, and his disappointed look is perfection as he gives a tiny shake of his head. Steve would be proud. “Laughing gave your position away, and now you’re dead.”

“To be fair,” you begin, taking off your gear. “It was Bucky’s hiccups that gave our position away.”

And right on cue, there’s that adorable little hic.

“It’s an involuntary response, Cap,” Bucky says to Sam, patting him on the shoulder. “Nothing I can do about it.”

“Your girl could hold her laughs back, though,” Sam retorts, and you smack him on the head.

“Did you hear his hiccups, Sam? They’re adorable. Who knew the Winter Soldier could be so stinkin’ cute!?”

“The entire world knows that doll,” he says with offense. “Look at me! I’m adorable.”

“You’re dead!” Sam says again pushing past you both. He’s an exasperated dad, and you love it. “Get ready to run through it again in five! And drink some water, Barnes, get rid of those stupid hiccups.”

Hic

It’s almost as if another of Bucky’s involuntary responses is to tease Sam.

Still, you already have a new plan on how to overcome this mission.

“You know,” you say, leisurely making your way to him, entranced by the way he’s taking off his gear.

His big blue eyes turn to you—wide-eyed and just as entranced as you.

You push back the hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes, giving him your most heartbreaking frown.

“I heard Sam is splitting us up from now on,” you say, gaze down. You deserved an Oscar.

“What?!” Bucky almost jumps back, eyes now even more full but this time with something that’s not love. “He can’t do that! Who left him in charge?”

“Steve,” you say, gliding your fingers down his arms. “Says we’re too distracted on the field.”

“But-,” he begins, his jaw dropping as he catches on. “You’re a genius, you know that?” he asks, bringing you close.

And all those muscles he somehow managed to hide behind the boxes are right there, at your fingertips.

“Gave you a little fright?” you ask, finally closing the distance between you both with a tender kiss.

Your fingers automatically wrap themselves around the strands of hair at the base of his neck, and Bucky might be a kitten, after all, because you swear he purrs.

“Think you’re funny, huh.”

“No more little hiccups, though,” you tease, peppering his jaw with a few more kisses.

“What do you think we can get away with, in five minutes?” His eyes are closed, enjoying your soft kisses and tender touches, and he really is too cute for his own good.

“Let's find out,” you wink, already looking forward to hearing his little hiccups again.

---

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