#demon politics are getting quite heated in the last few chapters...

[notelectrictiger12]

Spoilers for Chapter 148:

I know I'm like several weeks behind in saying this but I'm like afraid that Mujika is part of the 'reward' with Him.

Idk this reunion between Emma and Mujika seemed a bit sad (or it's just me overthinking the tone of these panels pfftt).

And I REALLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT GILDA SAID TO EMMA. Is it about how Norman chose to ignore Emma's wishes or something else?????

[nevertheless-moving]

Unnamed Extremely Bad Plan to Defeat Darth Sideous AU - SW AU NO 9

Hopefully writing down this star wars au will help me exorcise the cringe demon that helped midwife it. Time travel au where obi-wan and Anakin come up with an extremely SPECIFIC and UNCOMFORTABLE plan to defeat Palpatine because it unfortunately, would actually work, as it capitalizes on one of Palpatine’s easiest to reach political vulnerabilities. This is not a unique plan- there are other au’s like this, but this one is mine. When searching for ways to explain exactly why this anti-sith strategy inspires such cringe and delight in myself I realized, with sinking dread, I have seen this in an Always Sunny episode...which yeah. I might be over reacting but hey, cringe is a personal phenomenon, everyone’s different.

Anyway! Uh here’s a bunch of plot that will eventually culminate in the plan. 

*Too much plot, aaaah*. **All plot actually.** ***Its 1 am and this is still a draft*** ****It’s 2am**** *****This post will be just be background I guess.*****

*******STAR WARS AU NO 9 LAZILY OUTLINED CHAPTER ONE*********

Force ghosts Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi have had time to yell at one another without need for breath, and have more-or-less come to terms with the trainwreck that was their shared life. I wouldn’t call them well adjusted, but they’re more stable then they were the last decade or so of their living existence. 

In haunting Luke, they end up encountering an artifact in an ancient Willis temple that offers spirits the chance to fix the mistakes they made in life. It doesn’t truly unwrite what’s been done, but it lets you create an alternate timeline. So this galaxy will still be what it is, but some alternate galaxy somewhere could at least have it better. Its almost never been used, because becoming one with the force usually lets you accept the past, but viewed objectively, Vader and Ben’s lives involved an extreme amount of yikes. They say goodbye to Luke and are flung backwards and sideways.

Anakin is holding his mother as she dies. Obi-Wan is landing on Genosis. 

Vader just barely manages to avoid slaughtering the tuskens. To be honest, he doesn’t really get why he shouldn’t- his moral compass is still pretty f-ed up. He’s fairly certain the force is just torturing him, but still he controls himself (for Padme for Luke for Leia).

I’m gonna say well-adjusted!Vader sees murder in general as more of a vice than a sin- on par with having a beer. And really well adjusted Vader is willing to admit to himself that he’s an alcoholic, he seriously cannot regulate, its a problem. He really can’t let himself go, because he’ll just end up spiraling. And so he restrains himself and only seriously maims a few of the adult raiders.

Vader figures he can always come back later and slowly torture them to death if this whole ‘save the future’ thing doesn’t pan out.

Obi-wan leaves his shuttle and hides under a rock for 30 minutes. He calculates thats just enough time for him to pretend he went on an extremely effective and sneaky fact finding mission- just in case anyone checks R4′s records. Gets back in shuttle and gets the fuck out of there, much to Dooku’s chagrin, who lost sight of him after the shuttle landed and is now going to have to switch to one of his alternate start-the-war plans. 

On the flight back he reports everything to the council- fallen Dooku and the separatist leaders, the trade federation and the massive droid army, Jango Fett the clone template of the republic army (?) working for the separatists. He briefly comms Anakin, but anyone hacking into their conversations would hear only a nonsensical, rambling conversation. Later, a hacker might turn over the idea that they were speaking in elaborate code, but why would Jedi invent such a thing during peacetime?

The war still starts; at this point in the timeline it was inevitable; the artifact was only designed to give them the chance to correct their own failings, not the galaxy’s. Palpatine still gets his emergency powers. 

The same day the armies are discovered, separatist war ships take off to engulf Ryloth. The Jedi are instructed by the senate to lead the clone army and provide immediate relief-this will not be a repeat of the republic’s inaction on Naboo. It’s both better and worse than the first Battle of Genosis. So many more civilians are caught in the crossfire. The first titanic battle is not contained to evacuated droid factories, but rages across an entire populated world. The battle lasts for weeks.

The main reason this fight is less deadly is solely due to the fact that General Kenobi manages to maneuver his way into high command of the entire army.

 “I believe assumptions were made since I was the first point of contact with Kamino, Masters,” the Knight explained apologetically to the arriving high council members. “I realize its not quite appropriate, but for right now I am the Jedi most familiar with our forces and the enemies. I would, of course, prefer to cede the role to someone else.” 

The assembled Jedi can feel the truth in that statement.

“For better or for worse, advance troops were directed by the senate to land planetside and have met heavy resistance. I managed to redirect them to a more defensible position, where they can provide surface based cover fire for incoming reinforcements. The battle has already begun.” He received a grim nod of approval from Master Windu.

“I feel the need to say now, that if there’s one thing I learned from my time as a general on Melida/Dann, or in working against Death Watch on Mandalore, its that having a clear chain of command is vital for a military to succeed. I don’t need to remind some of you that leadership breakdowns were what ultimately ended both the Stark Hyperspace War and the Yinchorri Crisis,” Masters Koon and Tiin exchanged looks before deliberately sending forth a small force wave of approval, understanding where this briefing was leading. 

“I believe that unnecessarily restructuring command before the battle is won here could do far more harm than good.” The reminder of Obi-wan’s unusually militaristic apprenticeship put some of the assembled knights at ease even as it inspired a twinge of guilt in the older masters. 

“In command you are, General Kenobi,” Master Yoda finally acknowledged. “A Jedi Master you will be, once done this battle is. Have us do, what would you?” 

The battle lasts for weeks, and when its over, the commanding Jedi and Troopers involved will openly acknowledge that had anyone else been in command, it would’ve lasted months, if not years. Facing down logistical, strategic, and tactical problems on a scale unheard of for a thousand years, High General Kenobi does not falter.

Enemy reinforcements seem unending. For all their preparation, every single trooper is new to war, and secretly concerned that should they fall, they will be replaced with cadets who hadn’t even finished their training.

Obi-Wan is putting out fires before they can start. Much to their shock, clone commanders are informed that they will, for the time being, remain in charge of their troops. With a handful of exceptions, Jedi ‘Generals’ were in fact, to be treated as a cross between highly skilled commandoes and advisors with abnormally sourced field intelligence. 

“All of you have spent your lives training to lead your brothers into combat. The Jedi Masters and knights who are being assigned to your divisions have not received such training.” 

General Kenobi addressed the division commanders, some in person, some over holocomm. All focused in rapt attention as their General reordered the shape of their lives using language they could understand.

“The command structure I am issuing is designed to maximize our ability to utilize our respective strategic capabilities, while minimizing potential loss of your life. It will be our great privilege to serve alongside such an army, and while I fully expect a complementary exchange of knowledge in time, for now, focus on survival.”

The Jedi received similar briefings, tailored for their broader array of combat and military experience. Some, including Jedi Master Pong Krell and Grandmaster Yoda, were pulled aside and tasked with the essential mission of infiltrating and destroying the Droid factories on Genosis. If they were to have a chance of winning this war, they they would need to cut off the seemingly unceasing flow of droid reinforcements. 

An elite squadron of Arctroopers and Jedi field operatives were covertly dispatched, Grandmaster Yoda himself in command. Considering Count Dooku had yet to appear anywhere near Ryloth...the grandmaster had the best chance of bringing in the fallen separatist leader alive for questioning.

Shortly after they left, Anakin arrived, having finally turned over Padme’s protection to her regular guard. With the military creation vote past, the assassination risk was considered minimal. The real delay in his arrival came from her repeated attempts to join the Grand Army of the Republic on Ryloth with the intent of coordinating humanitarian assistance. Eventually he managed to convince her that she could do more good in the senate. 

After all, he pointed out, someone would need to followup the military creation act with a bill to grant clones equal citizen rights. Otherwise, the legal grey area that cloning fell under and their non-republic origin would inadvertently make the clones slaves. 

His borrowed Nabooan cruiser entered the warzone with the grace and efficiency as a small neutron bomb.

Those close enough to see its flaming descent watched in horror, realizing that the high generals own padawan would likely be a war casualty before he ever engaged in combat.

The legion nearest to soon-to-be-ground-zero, under the command of Captain Rex of the 501st, were distracted by heated combat, as the temporary barricade they had put up to defend the civilian population gave way to droidika artillery. 

While reloading, several dozen troopers happened to look up to see a speck detach itself from the hull as at spiraled in the lower atmosphere. Hope spread that the Jedi had managed to activate some sort of eject hatch. A skilled shocktrooper could probably control and and survive such a fall with luck, which mean a Jedi almost certainly could. 

A few tactical scouts charged with watching the skies confirmed that the speck was indeed a humanoid. No chute was visible, but even 8 days into the war, rumors had already spread about how Master Windu had passed off his chute mid-air to a troopers who had been damaged by suppressing fire, cushioning his free fall solely with the tank he crushed upon landing. 

Only one trooper, stationed in the town clock tower specifically to track the Padawan’s arrival and issued with a high-resolution farscope, saw the whole thing. Fortunately for his credibility later, in its current setting, the scope automatically logged photos every 5 seconds, ensuring that for years to come Obi-Wan would have a flipbook as evidence that he was not the crazy one.

CT-3609 or Blink (as he was named after winning the division wide staring contest on Kamino two year prior) forwarded the trajectory of the vehicle to command, who confirmed his analysis that it would impact two clicks out from their makeshift fort and not present a risk to civilian or trooper lives. 

As it traversed the stratosphere a figure (desperate repair droid, Blink assumed) emerged from the cockpit to perch on the nose of the ship. As it entered the troposphere, it became painfully obvious that the figure jutting out from the hull of the ship was in fact not a humanoid droid, but an unarmored human. The Jedi stood on the prow of the ship, seemingly impervious to and oblivious of:

air resistance 

centrifugal force

normal space gravity 

Blink’s slack-jawed bewilderment

the flames engulfing the ship below him

At this range, the smirk on the man’s face was visible (man? boy? kriff is he even through puberty?). Several miles above the surface he leaped, diving towards the ground like a bird of prey. 

To the west, the ship made impact with the ground, sending a shockwave that shook the tower just enough for Blink to lose visual in the final moments of descent. Cursing, as while he was confident the Jedi would inexplicably survive, he really wanted to see how. The trooper scanned the droid-engulfed farmland to the north for a crash site, to no avail. Lingering smoke from the burnt countryside negatively impacted visibility low to the ground.

Rather than trying to articulate his report into words, he sent the 50-odd frames the farscope had saved, as well as the coordinates for the jedi’s projected radius of touchdown. A quick radio over to long range electro-ballistics ensured that his landing wouldn’t be marred by friendly fire.

He awaited follow-up questions on the absurd entry method, which, when they came, mostly consisted of variations on “...Is this for real?” and eventually “Can you set the scope to video for a little while?” and finally “Do you think that’s how he got the name Skywalker?”

There was a temporarily lull in fire from the west, likely a ripple effect from the ship’s explosion. From his vantage point Blink could see his batchmates using the opportunity to try and plug the holes in their barricade with broken droid pieces. Regardless of the itch to join them, he knew he couldn’t leave his post until the Jedi actually arrived in camp. Finally, a distant explosion and thick pillar of smoke gave the Jedi’s position away.

He tried to make out details, but the scope had a difficult time focusing through the haze. Manually trying to fine tune the scope’s settings, Blink caught a glimpse of what looked like half a hover tank sailing through the air to impact with a trade federation troop carrier in a fiery explosion. Several more explosions, flying droid artillery, and plumes of smoke were caught on record before visual contact with the source was established. He was mostly visible as a blue blur, lightsaber mowing a meandering path towards their location. 

It wasn’t until Skywalker braced himself in place to punch a droidaka into pieces that Blink caught actual sight of the man. Only his eyes were visible, nose and mouth covered by layers of cloth. He blurred, then reappeared on top a massive missile launcher attached to an absurdly heavily armored vehicle. A minute or so of rapid blue flashes passed, the longest he had seen concentrated in one area. Then Skywalker was gone, movement clearly visible as he for once he moved in a straight line, plowing a rapid path away from the launcher. 

Less than 30 seconds later, Blink had to wince away from the scope, as a burning white explosion temporarily overwhelmed the direct light filter. The trooper panicked for a moment, thinking he had gone both deaf and blind, but the abrupt, sucking silence ended after a moment with a deafening sonic boom. The shockwave rattled the farscope, nearly knocking it over, but Blink managed to steady it and himself in time. 

A cheer emerged from pleasantly surprised vod below. The entire droid legion that had been guarding the missile launcher and apparent ordinance bay was flattened. 

It took a moment for the realization to set in that the background noise of missile and and anti-missile collisions directly overhead had slowed pace. With the northern flank gone, artillery were able to redouble efforts to the east, and a second white hot shockwave ensued, signaling that the tide of battle had shifted. It was almost too easy for the republics electro-ballistics to tactically devastate the surrounding forces. 

Eventually some sort of win/loss programming must have set in and all forces outside of a certain radius began retreating southward, conceding the scorched land to the republic army. It was cadets work to clean up the final suicidal droid charge. 

A commotion ensued as Skywalker leapt the barricade with a mid-air flip. The vod greeted him with cheers, as they correctly assumed his appearance had something to do with the skirmish’s decisive victory.

Blink sent the video of the battle to command and quickly packed up his scope and assorted equipment. Hurrying down the battered tower, Blink thought to himself that this Anakin Skywalker was the best sort of Jedi a trooper could ask for.

uh sorry i got really sidetracked there moving on

Kenobi and Skywalker quickly become the face of the war once again

they grit their teeth a bit, but when they finally have a moment to really plan they eventually agree that to take down Sideous they have to cut off his political power in addition to everything else, and taking advantage of their public personas was the most accessible way to do so (*evil laughter*)

While Dooku wasn’t captured, Yoda heard the truth in his old student’s cryptic warnings about a Sith in the Senate, and the council begins carefully editing their release of tactical plans to the Chancellor’s office in the hopes of ferreting out the spy in their midst.

Pong Krell looses two arms in his duel with Dooku. Obi-Wan successfully hides his smug pleasure at the news. Anakin enjoys makeing comparisons between him and Grievous. 

Kenobi doesn’t allow the origin of the clones to go unexamined, although he agrees that if the public were informed that they don’t actually know who ordered them it would probably cause panic.

The ‘inhibitor chips’ are ‘discovered’ early on and Anakin leads the effort to ensure that they are phased out and removed immediately. This consists of reminding every Jedi who even hesitates about how how he as a child slave had some experience with control chips and unless you want to take a leaf out of the hutts books lets start doing brain surgery chop chop mmmkay?

(This isn’t to say that Vader doesn’t still a twinge of shame at acknowledging his slave roots. But it is eclipsed by the burning guilt that he knowingly acted as slave master to his troops for decades after Sideous wiped their minds. He tried to rationalize it to himself, after all he didn’t immediately understand what Order 66 had done to the troopers. But while the morality of murder was more of an intellectual concern than a personal one, treating people as things...)

The Kamonions are a little harder to budge, referencing contracts that they refuse to allow the Jedi to see

Finally Vader snuck into the Chief Medical Scientist’s home while she was sleeping and straight-up threatened to murder her and burn down her lab. At the risk of losing her life’s work, Nala Se complied.

Vader left with the final threat that in the event that Darth Tyranus caught wind and activated Order 66 prematurely, he would kill 100 Kamonians for every Jedi felled by troopers. Shaak Ti was pleased by the cloners sudden change of heart. Tyrannus, and by extension, Sideous, are in the dark. 

Obi-Wan frequently publicly confronts Palpatine about the troops citizen status, urging him make use of his emergency powers to grant them citizenship and full pay, with the option to leave the army should they so wish. 

Anakin manages to play off his avoidance of the Chancellor as disappointment in his perceived lack of dedication to anti-slavery efforts

Finally Palpatine gives in- regardless of what happens next, the troops will be looked after.

With 2/3rds of the troopers dechipped, Vaderkin is eager to kill Sideous again, but after several intense screaming matches and sparring sessions, the time travelers come to the agreement that even if they succeed in their duel, with things as they were, the perception of the Jedi military coop would cause mass civil unrest. The scattered sith apprentices, while individually weak, were more than capable of magnifying that fear and anger until the galaxy breaks. Darth Sideous wanted to ensure that if he couldn’t have the galaxy, no one would. 

(Vader knows this. Sideous enjoyed monologuing, and much of his plotting couldn’t be safely bragged about until after he had decisively won, leaving Vader as the unwilling receptacle for years of pent-up rants and self-satisfied gloats about the inevitability of his victory)

Continued Here

[lovingrosewho]

Fake Dating (pt. 1)

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Hello again! I’ve been really busy with this one, I was bored/tired of not finding a lot of tropes involving Crowley that were SFW, so I decided to write my own :-) This has pretty much every major trope I can think of; Winchester!reader (although it’s not specified and you can decide that), fake dating, sharing a bed (sort of), lack of heat, etc. Maaaybe the last chapter will be NSFW but I haven’t decided that yet (if you have any thoughts or suggestions on this I’d appreciate them a ton) anyways, I’ll shut up now and let you read, PLEASE, if you have any feedback it’s gladly welcomed! I lately realized that I put a looot of dialogue into fanfiction and perhaps not enough context, so I tried to fix that <3 Usual disclaimer: English is not my first language, bla bla bla :-) Ly!

MULTICHAPTER

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Rating: T. I guess fluff/crack?

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester need your help with a case, which involves pretending to date the King of Hell.

Warnings: mild innuendos, summoning?

“Nuh-uh, I’m not doing it” you declare turning your back on the boys. Dean runs to you and gently grabs your arm without you stopping.

“(Y/N) come on, you’re the only one who can do it” he begs, which gains a sigh from your mouth and you finally stand still, tilting your head at him as a prompt to keep talking “It’ll just be a couple of hours, just until Sammy and I are able to get to the house and hide from those two jackasses before they get there”.

“Are you actually asking me to have dinner with a couple of psychos... pretending to date him?” you question Dean sincerely, a look of concern and disbelief plastered on your face. Said petition, coming from the most protective Winchester brother, was a true surprise.

“You know I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t our only option. (Y/N), please” he supplicates one more time.

It had all started when Sam and Dean screwed up at catching the shape shifters you were after, it was a simple job, but of course, they went in guns blazing, walking into a trap, a set-up, and when they realized, the monsters were gone. Funny enough, they turned out to be quite the art collectors, which seemed logical, given the circumstances under which they were killing and stealing from. But who could possibly know a pair of loonies like that? Even better, be friends with them? Exactly.

The King of Hell.

It wasn’t as if Dean were asking the world from you, it was a simple date. A risky one, sure, but you’d had it worse and with far worse men. The plan was straightforward, you entertained the shifters pretending to be Crowley’s girlfriend, whilst Dean and Sam got to turn down the security system of the house and hide, surprising the shifters the moment they entered.

“Fine” you mutter after a few minutes considering your possibilities. Dean immediately lifts you up the ground and kisses you all over the cheeks and forehead repeating again and again a series of ‘thank you’. You sigh for what seems to be the eleventh time this day and follow Dean towards the dungeon where Sam is waiting with the ingredients. You nod over at him to let him know you’re ready.

“Et ad congregandum, eos coram me” Sam proclaims as the blood from his ripped open palm runs across the dagger and through his fingers, dripping inside the summoning bowl.

A strong tug shakes the earth beneath you, and a low thunder sounds in the distance as the King of Hell himself, presents before your eyes.

Crowley looks directly ahead at the three of you, and then brings his gaze down, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the sight of the devil trap.

“Hello, boys” he salutes politely “(Y/N)”.

Your legs falter at the sound of your name in his voice, his lips savoring each and every syllable as your core twitches and you’re forced to bite your lower lip down not to hum in response. You had always been attracted to him even if you didn’t know how to act around him, it wasn’t as if they taught you in any manual nor hunter school how to make a move on the King of Hell.

“Aren’t we a little past the whole devil trap deal?” Crowley asks bringing you out of your musings “What is it that you want this time?”

“The shape shifters you were talking about the other day, the art collectors” Dean starts and is interrupted by the demon.

“What about them?” Crowley says with a bored look until his glare lands on yours. You arm with courage and mentally scold yourself for being such a nervous fuss, giving a brave step forward and speaking.

“We need your help to trick them” you tell him and catch an interested shine in his eyes.

“And why exactly would I help you with that? Mind you, they’re my personal acquaintances, very important, and very dangerous acquaintances” he exclaims, his stare not dropping yours “What’s in it for me?”

“A date with me and the three of us not kicking your delicate ass” you declare, crossing your arms in your chest, trying to maintain your tone neutral and your mind in place. Crowley’s eyes finally leave yours to roam throughout your body.

“Threatening, aren’t we, sexy?” he speaks at you, clicking his tongue. Dean takes a step forward, demon blade in hand and angry stare, you stop him right in his tracks grabbing him from the hem of his jacket and yanking him back again “Lucky for you, those shape shifters have been meddling in a... particular, and highly important, business of mine, so, I’ll gladly help”.

The three of you stare blankly at him.

“Just like that?” Sam asks him, which causes Crowley to roll his eyes once again.

“I’ll happily deny until you have something else to offer if that’s what you want, Samantha” he affirms and causes the youngest Winchester to frown in response and raise his arms in surrender.

“So it’s settled then” you declare, exhaling a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“Text me the details, will you love?” Crowley pronounces softly. You nod quietly and walk towards the devils trap to free him, but when you’re near enough you trip over some ingredients that were still on the floor, breaking the seal either way. Crowley catches you and holds you tightly by the waist.

“Eager much, (Y/N)?” he purrs in your ear and you feel yourself melting at his touch, but you readjust just fine and separate from him when you catch sight of Dean beginning to sense something odd. Crowley raises an eyebrow at your impassive glance, but says nothing, instead, to your surprise, he brings out your cellphone from his suit jacket.

“How did you...?” you start, looking into the side of your jeans you thought you had it in.

“Not so hard to pickpocket you, darling” he expresses, curiously eyeing you “I have very talented hands”.

You gulp as you turn to stare back at him, just to see him typing something on your phone, his smug smile not going unnoticed by you.

“I guess I do affect you at some level, don’t I?” he mutters so only you are able to hear him. You stay still, not saying a word, biting your lip down as he handles back your phone to you, his fingertips delicately brushing your hands, vanishing the moment the electronic touches your palm, the lights of the archive room seeming to fade at the singular contact and light up again when he’s gone. You check your phone to see what he did, the words “My King” read on the top of the screen and the number “666” at the center. You roll your eyes and put your phone back in your pocket.

“And? What’d he do?” Deans asks expectantly. You make a dismissive gesture with your hand.

“Nothing. It’s done” you declare turning to the Winchesters, proceeding to leave the room with both brothers looking at each other like questioning, what did they just miss?

Part 2

MASTERLIST (If anyone would like to be tagged you’re free to tell me! <3)

[captainimprobable]

Alright I caved.  Here’s chapter one of the still unnamed sequel to No Apologies, my Lumity coffeeshop AU. It’s been seven months since I finished the fic so I hope yall are still down for the ride! The chaos starts now :) ~

“This might be a bad time to tell you this, but roosters….kinda freak me out.”

“Amity, we are literally swimming in roosters right now.”

Amity hugged herself, shaking but still managing to roll her eyes.  “We are metaphorically swimming in roosters.”

Luz snorted.  “Whatever, Miss Accurate.”

They both looked at the rooster pen in front of them.  A cow mooed in the distance, and they took a moment of silence to question the life choices that had led up to this moment.

It didn’t take very long.  The pipeline went like this: Amity had decided to work part time at a coffee shop to piss off her parents, and two years later she was on a six month anniversary trip with a chaotic ball of energy, tripping on bird feathers at a barn many miles away from home.  Simple.

“It...it was just supposed to be an air bnb,” Luz said helplessly.

“Luz, what did the ad say?”

Luz scrambled to take her phone out of her pocket, mindlessly swatting away the pig trying to eat it out of her hand.

“Uh…’stunning country views and a realistic farming experience.’” She stomped her foot.  “That is so misleading!!!”

“I genuinely think I’m about to pass out.” Amity said, swaying slightly.

“Babe, don’t say that.  The roosters can smell your fear.”

Amity glared at her girlfriend.  “Ha ha,” she said sarcastically.  “Fine, what’s next on the list they left us?”

Luz pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper covered in lines of print detailing exactly what they had to do in order to stay at the barn.  It was politely decorated with a post it note that read “Good luck, suckers!” 

“Inspect the roosters,” she read.  “Check for obvious genetic defects.  Separate these roosters from the rest.”

Amity held up a hand to stop her.  “No. Nope. I am not inspecting roosters.  I am not separating roosters.  I am going back inside, and I am going to read a book, and I am going to pretend there are no demon chickens out here ready to peck my eyes out.”

Amity gingerly tiptoed around the roosters, taking care not to touch any of them.  One brave animal attempted to peck at her skirt, but she let out an unholy shriek that scattered them all.  Luz watched Amity flee the scene, sighing.  She picked up the list Amity had dropped and scanned the next few lines.  “The roosters with these defects will be…” she trailed off. “Oh,” she said, realization dawning.  “Oh no.”

Amity must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, it was dark and Luz was shaking her awake.

“Amity, wake up, we have an emergency.” Amity was up in an instant.  “What’s wrong? Are you okay???” “Yeah, I’m fine!” Luz assured her. “It’s just uh…..” Luz rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “We have a...situation?”

Amity yawned and stretched, rubbing her eyes as she stood up.  Immediately, Luz grabbed her hand and began dragging her outside.  “Ugh, what time is it?” Amity asked, stumbling along behind Luz.   

“Uhhh about one am I think? I had to wait until now to do this.  It’s better under the cover of darkness.”  

Immediately, Amity felt a sense of extreme trepidation.  Whatever was waiting for her outside was definitely not something she wanted to see.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she was met with the sound of roosters clucking. When they reached the driveway, she stopped dead.  “Luz,” Amity said slowly, blinking repeatedly to make sure she was seeing things correctly.  “Why are there a dozen roosters in your car?”

“There’s actually fourteen,” Luz said, but faltered when Amity glared at her.  “Okay, so the thing is, well….the farmers wanted us to separate the roosters because these are the ones with defects.  And these are the ones they’re gonna sell for meat.”

“Oh god,” Amity groaned.  “Don’t tell me-”

Luz’s grin looked almost evil in the moonlight.  “We’re gonna save the roosters.”

“Luz, where the hell are you planning on bringing them??? Most roosters live in captivity!”

“So I looked it up, and it said that roosters thrive in forest climates, and the nearest forest is only two hours away!!!!”

Amity wanted to say she was surprised, but she knew Luz well enough at this point to know to expect this from her.  She reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.  “Luz,” she said gently. “I love how big your heart is, and I love that you want to save these animals.  But roosters are supposed to live on farms.  Also, you had chicken salad for lunch.”

Luz looked at her with puppy eyes.  Fuck.  Amity couldn’t resist that.

She sighed.  “Fine,” she said.  “We can save the roosters.  But you know the farmers are gonna make us pay for them.”

“Ahhhh thank you!” Luz squealed, throwing her arms around Amity’s neck.  She kissed her cheek.  “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Amity grumbled.  “Now get in the car before I change my mind.”

~

It was going fine until they reached the gas station.  The roosters were in the back, probably shitting all over Luz’s car, and Amity was in the passenger seat, gripping the door handle and trying not to freak out.  

“Shit,” Luz said over the radio about a half hour into their ride, summing up Amity’s thoughts nicely.  “We need gas.”

“I’ll get it,” Amity volunteered quickly.  Anything to get out of the car, anything to get away from the ominous clucking emerging from the backseat.  She opened her door.  And that’s when all hell broke loose.  

Fourteen roosters, smelling freedom and gas station muffins, burst from the back seat into the front, climbing over Amity and streaming out of the passenger side door.  Amity shrieked and fell out of the car, scraping her arm on the concrete as roosters used her back as a jumping off point into the night.

Amity hissed as she used her arms to get up, her scraped elbow burning.  Luz ran around the side of the car to help stop the roosters, but it was too late.  They both watched helplessly as the birds flapped their wings and hopped away.

It was two thirty in the morning, and they had released roosters into the town.  

They were both silent as they ruminated on what had just happened.  The birds clucked in the distance, joining the cicadas in their unholy screaming.  

“We need to go,” Luz said at last, far more calmly than the panicked look in her eye suggested.  She helped Amity up, careful not to touch her injured arm and, without another word, they both got into the car and sped away.

~

Since they were fugitives now, they could no longer sleep at the barn.  Forgetting the fact that the barn’s owners had their information and would no doubt charge them for the roosters anyway, they quickly picked up their things, got back into the car, and bolted.  They drove for a couple of hours, trying in vain to ignore the strong smell of bird shit emanating from the backseat.  The streetlights illuminated the scene: feathers in the backseat, feathers in Amity’s hair, blood gently staining the paper towel Amity was holding to her elbow.   

After awhile they passed a sign for a Bed and Breakfast and Luz, having determined they’d gotten far enough away from the scene of the crime, turned the car in that direction.  They were quite a sight as they straggled into the quaint house, but the elderly owners asked no questions as to why they had shown up at four in the morning covered in feathers, so Luz and Amity gratefully stumbled up the stairs, finally collapsing in their new room.  Despite the summer heat, Amity was shivering, so Luz hurried to light the fireplace.

Once she’d tended to the fire, Luz sat down on the floor next to Amity.  “Show me,” she said, gesturing to Amity’s injured arm.  Amity wordlessly offered up her elbow, which Luz inspected.  “You don’t need stitches,” she said gratefully, pulling out a Naruto bandaid.

“How could you possibly know that?” Amity asked quietly.  Luz shrugged.  “I was really clumsy as a kid.”  

Amity raised an eyebrow.  “Okay, fine, I’m still clumsy,” Luz admitted.  

Their silences were usually comfortable, but this one most definitely was not.

“I’m really sorry,” Luz finally whispered, gingerly covering Amity’s wound with a picture of Sasuke Uchiha. “I didn’t mean to ruin our anniversary trip.”

They hadn’t spoken much since The Incident.  Amity had stared stonily out the car window while Luz drove and occasionally attempted to covertly glance at her girlfriend.  Hours had passed without Luz saying a word, a feat which Luz was secretly quite proud of.

“I really thought we’d manage to have a normal, nice time,” she continued, “but I ruined it, and now there’s a town being terrorized by roosters and it’s all my fault.”

Amity didn’t say anything for a few moments and then, unexpectedly, she started to laugh.  

“Um,” Luz said.  “Amity? Did you hit your head, too????”

“No, no,” Amity said between giggles.  “It’s just- it’s so us. Who else would this happen to?????? We released fourteen roosters onto an unsuspecting town in the middle of the night, and your car is covered in shit.  I really should’ve expected something like this.” “So...you’re not mad?”

“I was,” Amity admitted.  “In the car, I was kind of pissed.  I mean, you did wake me up in the middle of the night, which, as you know, is never a good idea, and we did have to flee our romantic trip like criminals.  But then I started thinking, and, I don’t know.”  She smiled almost shyly at Luz. 

“I knew what I was getting into when I told you I loved you,” she said simply.  “And I’m happy being with you, even if I did have to face one of my worst fears.”

“Oh my god,” Luz said, lower lip trembling.  “You’re gonna make me cry.” 

“Don’t go all soft on me now,” Amity said, rolling her eyes with a smile.  

Luz launched herself at Amity, and they fell over, rolling across the carpet a few times before finally landing next to each other on the floor.  Luz touched her forehead to Amity’s.  “I’ll always be soft when it comes to you,” she said.

“Gay,” Amity whispered back, but leaned forward and captured Luz’s mouth with hers.  

After the day they’d had, neither of them had the energy to get up, so they ended up sleeping on the floor that night, cuddled up on a blanket next to the fire.

“Happy anniversary,” Luz mumbled sleepily into Amity’s neck right before she drifted off to sleep.

“Happy anniversary,” Amity answered.

Despite it all, they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Daughter You Have (Not That Girl)

Summary: “Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

Rated: T 

(This is an edit of my very first story published over on FF way back in 2015, but new to AO3. I've corrected some grammar and fixed a few errors, but have kept it true to what my intentions were at the time. It follows "There's No Place Like Home", but continues as if neither the urn nor Marian returned to Storybrooke)

- AO3 - 

Chapter 1/1

It was a little thing, nothing more than a gentle touch on his wrist, that opened Emma's eyes fully to something she had a feeling her subconscious had been protecting her from up until that point. David and Mary Margaret were disappointed with her. The signs had been there from the beginning – they were so obvious now that she was looking back – but it had been the family dinner at Granny's that had made their feelings perfectly clear.

Things had changed for Emma after she and Hook traveled through Zelena's time portal – a lot had changed, and when they'd finally gotten back, she knew what it was to return home. This was the town where her family was, where her heart was. The entire adventure had also opened her to other possibilities, things she had been eager and uninhibited in exploring since their return.

So when her mother called to let her know they were all meeting at Granny's for dinner, it hadn't occurred to her to do anything other than show up with the person she'd been spending her evening with. After all, they'd intended to eat at some point, so even though the family dinner would shorten other activities they'd had planned, Emma knew they'd make up for the distraction later.

The scene when she and Hook entered the diner was something that tugged at her heart. Every year when she was a child, she'd wished for the same thing on her birthday – to not be alone, to have a family. To have one now and really know that they weren't going to give her up, it was something she'd never thought she could have. So it was understandable, as caught up in the emotion of it all as she was, that she didn't notice the slight fall to Mary Margaret's face when they stepped inside, or the almost imperceptible tightening of David's mouth.

Placing a light kiss on Henry's forehead as he smiled up at her, she took the empty chair alongside him, the familiar heat of Killian beside her as he pulled out the chair at her right side, the comforting weight of his hook resting easily on her leg beneath the table.

She'd smiled at him, his own bright grin contagious beneath his flushed cheeks.  

The two tables pushed together were crowded, Regina, Robin, and Roland being a natural extension of the weird, extended family they'd all fallen into, but everything felt perfect to Emma in that moment.

She was happy.

That's why it was so jarring when it happened.

They'd gone through the tedious chore of ordering food, Roland unable to decide between chicken fingers and pizza, and the conversation was light and easy. Laughing at a quiet comment Henry had made, she'd turned to share it will Killian, knowing he would enjoy the quick-witted remark. Henry had been enjoying spending quite a bit of time with the both of them lately, and clearly the pirate's verbosity had worn off on him. She'd leaned into him, the action intimate and familiar, her arm crossing his body to gently squeeze his hand as she whispered in his ear.

It was a small gesture of affection, an easy expression of her happiness, and if she hadn't happened to look across the table at the exact moment she did, she wouldn't have seen it, but she had, and she did.

Mary Margaret's quickly stifled sigh, the slight flare of David's nostrils.

In that moment, Emma didn't need to ask them if they disapproved of her relationship with Killian, to test their words and weigh them as truth or lie – she read it on their faces as easily as if they had sent her a text.

“I don't feel great,” Emma cut in, interrupting the flow of conversation as she stood abruptly, the legs of her chair stuttering against the floor. “Sorry, kid, but I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Henry shrugged, already turning his attention to the dessert menu he'd been eyeing up. “Feel better, Mom.”

She squeezed his shoulder once, a tight smile on her face, and turned toward the door, needing to get out of the diner that was suddenly too small to hold the frustration and anger coursing beneath her skin.

Killian rose with a bit more grace than she'd been able to muster, his words charming and polite despite the concern she could read beneath them.

Emma didn't go far, simply taking the few steps she needed to get away from the glare of the diner's lights before waiting for Killian to join her, immediate relief folding over her as she was enveloped by the scent of leather and salt – the mark of the sea far too ingrained in everything he wore to ever fade. The heat from her breath clung to his jacket as she pressed herself into his embrace, needing the closeness.

“Talk to me, Swan. Are you unwell?”

She didn't want to talk.

She didn't want to do anything other than run away from the fact that her parents were far from happy about her happiness. She just wanted to wrap herself in his body, finding peace in the friction between them that always brought her to completion so perfectly. She wanted to feel the slide of his fingers, rough and calloused, over her skin, the hard chill of his hook at her back.

She was happy, and they didn't want that for her.

If she didn't soothe the wound that realization left on her heart, she wasn't sure what she would storm back in there and say in front of everyone.

“Take me home,” she whispered against him, and when she pushed onto her toes and hungrily met his lips with her own, pressing every bit of the things she wasn't ready to say yet into him, he knew that she wasn't just talking about a place.

* ~ * ~ *

As Emma lie in his arms that night, listening to the slow creaks and moaning pipes that ran behind the walls of Granny's, her thoughts traveled back through the days and weeks since their return from the Enchanted Forest. She tried to remember how her parent's had been from that first moment until now.

There had been relief etched on their faces as Emma recounted their adventure, and gratefulness when they thanked Killian for not letting her go alone and keeping her safe. They had been friendly even, for once acting as if he belonged in Storybrooke, as if he had a place there and was more than an unwanted outsider looking through the window – but apparently their good will had an expiration, and that was as soon as they realized that they weren't the only reason she'd stayed instead of running back to New York.

All that time as her relationship with Killian progressed, she hadn't noticed their disappointment in the fact that it was growing and deepening rather than fading, a one time thing – because that was what she had seen on their faces in the diner, and it had shattered her.

She burrowed closer to Killian as he held her, his face serene and relaxed in sleep. She was thankful for that, knowing that some nights his old demons haunted him more deeply than others. It warmed her heart to know that those nights were becoming farther and fewer between. She didn't want to leave him when the sun came up, would miss the strength of his arms around her, the confidence that came so easily when he was at her side, but she knew she had to talk to her parents.

She knew what she had seen, but she had to hear it from them.

* ~ * ~ *

David's face moved quickly between his easy, morning smile to surprise as the door opened, then more slowly to the grim look of resolve. For a second, Emma couldn't figure out why she'd surprised him, and then she realized it was because she'd knocked. The realization left a small ache in her chest, the significance not lost on either of them. Though she'd been spending most nights at Granny's, up until last night, this had still felt like home.

“Who is it, David?”

She heard Mary Margaret's voice chime from the other side of the loft, the soft tapping of her shoes drawing closer.

“It's Emma,” he muttered, opening the door fully and waving her inside, his movements stilted.

Mary Margaret was smiling when she finally popped into view, but Emma could see the anxiety flickering in her eyes as she stepped through the door and closed it behind her, facing the both of them with more than a hint of discomfort in her stance.

“Henry didn't stop in, did he?”

He'd been staying most nights with Regina and Robin, enjoying spending time with Roland, but sometimes he would still swing by the loft in the mornings to meet her before they went to Granny's together for hot cocoa.

“He did, but we mentioned you weren't here and he said he'd wait for you at Granny's,” her mother said. “Did you want to head over – ”

“No,” Emma rushed, cutting her off and interrupting the motion Mary Margaret was making toward the door, her hand falling back to her side. “I need to talk with the both of you, about last night.”

“Emma, if this is about Hook – ”

“It's not...well, not directly. It's about me.”

Emma watched them uncomfortably, suddenly unsure of how to begin now that she was actually standing in front of them, David with his questioning eyes, and Mary Margaret with her hands twisted together in front of her waist. She was supposed to be able to do this. She'd broken a curse, fought a dragon, stood up to Cora, and fought to bring down Zelena. She was the Savior, she was supposed to be able to do everything, including confront her parents.

A longing to have her pirate standing beside her hit, his hand resting gently on her shoulder for support, but even though she knew she needed to do this alone, the brief flash of him in her mind was enough to spur her on.

He was worth fighting for.

“I saw the way you looked at us last night,” she began, the hurt obvious in her voice, no matter how steady she tried to make it. “When I touched his hand, I looked across at you, and you guys couldn't stand to see it.”

“Emma, you have to understand, we appreciate everything Hook did to help you get back home to us. We see that he's changed, please don't think we're blind to that,” Mary Margaret sighed, her eyebrows knit with concern.

“But you still don't think he's worthy of your respect, your trust...that he's worthy of me?”

“We do respect him, Emma, we really do,” David interjected, scratching the top of his head as he met Mary Margaret's eye, “but you have to understand, we never wanted someone like him for you.”

“Someone like him?” Her voice crept up in volume, ringing with disbelief.

“You deserve better.”

“Better than someone who has come to my rescue time and time again? Better than someone who gave up his actual home for a chance – no, less than a chance even – that he might be able to save me, to save all of you? Someone better than that?”

“You're forgetting all of the other things he's done, Emma – his past. We wanted something different for you, someone like your father, Not a – ”

“Not a pirate,” David snapped, unable to keep the vitriol from his tone.

“How dare you!” There was a venomous edge to her voice now, low and quiet. “How dare you think you have any right to an opinion on this. Are you kidding me? You dropped into a magic tree – and I get it, I understand that you had to, and that it broke your hearts, but now you need to understand something...”

She paused, taking a breath as she tried to loosen the tight fists she'd balled her hands into “All of those hopes and dreams you guys had for me, the things you envisioned shaping me into the woman you wanted me to be, they didn't go through the wardrobe. It was just me, all by myself. Whatever plans you've made for my future, they're for a person who doesn't exist. They're for the daughter you wanted, not the one you've got.”

“But the daughter you've got,” she continued, “she's pretty damn happy as she is. I didn't grow up in some fairy tale. I grew up in the real world. I was abandoned, betrayed, disappointed and left behind my entire life. I've got more bruises, and scars, and flaws than most people, but because of Killian, I've learned to accept them and move on, because all of them together put me right where I am today. You might not like the rough, gritty parts of him, his past, the hook, but I do. I love every part of him, and I will not sit here and let you treat this like I'm settling, because he is everything I need, and everything I want.”

She found herself nearly breathless after her rant, fists shaking at her sides as she stared at her parents wide-eyed in front of her. She had hoped the weight on her chest would lighten once she put everything she felt out into the open, but instead she was faced with a lingering tightness that wouldn't budge, suddenly aware that they may have considered all of those things and still disapproved.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret sighed, locking eyes with David before reaching forward and taking her daughter's clenched fists in her hands. “You may have grown up here, but you were born in the Enchanted Forest, a princess and the product of true love. If you're destined to have a True Love of your own, then surely it's not someone – ”

Emma didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence, tearing her hands free and throwing the door open, the heavy wood bouncing off the wall as she stormed out without a backward glance. The resounding thump of the door falling back into place and closing behind her somehow trickled through the roar of anger thumping in her ears and she paused, pressing her forehead and hands against the cool wall down the hallway.

“You alright there, love?”

The rage she'd been feeling slipped away from her at the sound of his voice, her legs suddenly shaking and less steady than they should have been for someone who was stone cold sober. Thankfully, he was at her side the minute she turned from the wall that had been lending her a little support, his arms catching her as they sunk to the floor together, his leather jacket splayed across the rug as he knelt, arms circling around her as she tucked her head into his chest and closed her eyes.

Her heart ached in a way she hadn't expected to feel again, in the same way it had when the cop told her to turn around and she'd realized someone she'd counted on had let her down.

It ached until he whispered against her hair, soothing noises and assurances that everything would be well, the timbre of his voice bringing her peace.

“What are you doing here?” Emma whispered, wondering how he'd known to look for her at her parent's loft, and suddenly very glad they hadn't decided to follow her into the hallway. She had no idea how she'd react seeing them again so soon after what Mary Margaret had just been about to say. She needed time, and they probably did as well.

“I will admit I was adrift when I woke without you this morning, Swan,” he confided, placing another soft kiss to her hair, “but I thought perhaps you'd been craving some of that chocolate concoction you like, so I went to Granny's, wondering if that's where you'd run off to.”

“It's called hot chocolate. Did you see Henry there?”

“Aye, the lad was showing me something in a book about the stars that Belle had given him. He thought perhaps you'd gone to see if he was at the loft.”

Emma sat up quickly, leaning out of Killian's lap so she could search the stairwell below, her chest tightening painfully at the thought of Henry overhearing what had gone on with her parents.

“He's not here, Swan. I had a feeling there was something that needed addressing between you and your parents after last night.”

“How did you know?”

“I'm a pirate, love. We've a keen sense for danger – a word that would fairly describe your temperament a moment ago.”

“Where is he?”

“Ah, I sent him over to our room to retrieve the sextant I'd told him about the other day. I thought it would be useful for him to see how it works for the paper he's writing.”

“That's good,” she murmured, settling back into his lap. “I wouldn't him have wanted him to hear me that upset with his grandparents.”

“Aye, angry is what you were a moment ago, but how do you feel now, Swan?”

“Blood spectacular,” she laughed, snuffing her nose that she hadn't realized was now stuffy, her eyes burning slightly at the tears she wouldn't shed.

She felt the absence of Killian's arm around her as he reached up and scratched behind his ear, a nervous habit she thought was pretty cute.

“Well, in that case, what do you say to a change of scenery, a leisurely stroll, perhaps?”

“Your legs are numb, aren't they?”

“Aye.”

* ~ * ~ *

Days had passed since Emma confronted her parents, and still she hadn't asked him the question he'd been dreading. He had expected it right away, and she'd surprised him by not seeming the concerned in the least that may have overheard her conversation. His Swan, still managing to surprise him even after how much they'd learned of one another. Perhaps now that they'd grown closer than he had ever hoped was possible, she had no words left to hide from him.

They spent those days enjoying the company of one another and the continued absence of any threats to the town. Walks with Henry to the dock were frequent. The lad had developed a true curiosity about everything to do with the sea, and though he no longer had the Jolly with which to entertain the boy, he never regretted it – though Emma often gripped his hand more tightly whenever they passed by the spot where she had once anchored so long ago.

She'd asked him only once if he regretted it, and he'd been able to look her in the eye and speak honestly.

Never, not for a second, Emma.

Hours spent twisted among his sheets were also frequent, his fingers never tiring of their play across her body, but his Swan was quite perceptive, and he knew she felt the subtle change in his demeanor that had plagued him ever since that morning at her parent's loft.

When it had lingered for more than a week – his breath hitching in his throat as he watched her fall asleep, thinking she was too far gone to notice, she finally asked him.

“Killian, will you please tell me?”

A part of him wanted to sweep her into his arms, fingers threading through her hair as he grinned, disarming her with some witty banter about how the only thing bothering him was her state of dress, mainly that the shirt she'd donned was too much, but the smile wouldn't come to his lips, and he had no desire in his heart to lie to her.

“Your mother, Emma...what she said. Surely it's the truth.”

She stiffened against him and pulled away, the immediate distance she's placed between them striking his chest with both fear and pain, though it was the reflection of both in her eyes that injured him most. His words had hurt her, but neither could he lie. She would know, and it would pain her just the same.

“What do you mean?”

“She told you no untruths, love. You were born a princess in the Enchanted Forest, the daughter of heroes and a Savior in your own right – someone destined to have a true happy ending.”

“What I was supposed to be doesn't mean anything, you and I both know that, Killian.”

“But what if she's right?” he nearly whispered, dread thick on his tongue as his sea-blue eyes bored into her own. “What if it means everything? What if there is true love waiting for you, a man destined for you – a man who never killed because he could, nor lived solely for vengeance until it blackened his heart?”

“I believe that, Killian – ”

Her words were a frigid wave of his deepest fears washing over him, the doubts he was voicing suddenly far more substantial than when they'd haunted his dreams.

“ – a part of it, that is,” she continued, sliding closer in his bed and running her fingers through his inky, dark locks. “I believe I have a true love. The only difference, you idiot, is that I know I've already found him, so don't do this to me. Don't doubt me now when you never have before. After all the chasing, just because I finally stopped running doesn't mean it's your turn.”

The tips of her fingers stroked through his hair, returning softly along his jaw and cupping his face. He reached out for her then, twirling a strand of her golden hair around his finger, his heart leaping as he took in every curve and peak of her face as she smiled. He wanted to have her faith, to believe as she did that he could be her everything – because was certainly everything to him.

Slipping easily onto his lap, the sheets pooling around their waists, she rested her forehead against his, moving to wind her fingers in his own, her other hand firmly grasping his stump, loving every part of him. His heart ached with how much he loved her in return.

“What do you say, Killian. Can you take that leap of faith with me, that no matter what, from here on out it will always be us?”

And because she asked and he trusted her implicitly, believed her in the very core of his being, he could. His lips crashed against hers, rocking them both back onto the bed as they shared each breath, passion and love and a feeling of rightness brightening each move they made. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to vanish any breath of space between them. Possessiveness and need slowly rolled into the slow rise of tenderness and longing, their bodies moving and melding seamlessly as they poured their commitment into each shuddering breath. When they finally broke apart, their heated bodies resting atop the sheets, he knew in his heart how true her words had been, because he could never leave this miraculous woman who'd brightened his life, who'd chosen to be his. He loved her too greatly, too deeply, and every day till his very last he would choose her.

“It will always be you,” he whispered against her neck, clinging to her as if she was the only thing keeping him afloat in an endless sea, and perhaps she was. “Always, Emma.”

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells 

[idabbleincrazy]

ok, since i haven’t had much time for writing in-between taking care of the kittens, and haven’t been keeping up on my sneak peeks, here’s a lil something from Ch.5 of Bang (i’ve been jumping around in it, writing between the dialogue bits at the end of NFA since i keep feeling dissatisfied with the beginning of the chapter and deleting it) to whet your whistle...

Spike and Angel arrive at his apartment to find Wes and Illyria still there, Wes hovering protectively at Illyria’s side as he helped her from the bed. Spike is all too aware now of how big Angel’s button-down is on him and how fresh their Siring scars looked on their necks as Wesley looked between them, his brow raised knowingly. Even with the heat of embarrassment that tingled at the back of his neck, he couldn’t find reason to put more space between himself and Angel, and he was happy to note, rather, how Angel pressed closer beside him, his large hand resting at the small of his back.

“I see the two of you spent the day...productively.”

Spike surreptitiously tasted the air to gauge Angel’s reaction, relieved to find a happy calmness rolling off of him instead of the expected sense of discomfort, and relaxed into his soft touch. 

“We’ve worked out some things that should have been settled months ago, yes.” Angel smiled wistfully at the ex-Watcher. “We won’t traumatize you with the details.”

Wes gave a quiet chuckle and nodded in understanding. 

“Well, I’m happy for you both, truly. We’ve all been waiting months for you to finally gather the courage to admit to each other what had already become obvious to the rest of us. I’m glad you both will be going into this with the truth of your souls made known. And don’t think for a second that I begrudge you it, either of you.”

“Ta for that, Percy.” Spike leaned into Angel’s side and nodded at Wes, his soul twinging at the sadness he felt for the mystic and his loss. “Means a lot, from you.”

“Thank you, Wes. Really. You, more than any of the others knows the importance of the step we’ve taken. But, I want you to know we’re not going to let it distract us from whatever blowback we have to face tonight.”

Wes nodded in understanding, a sad smile on his face. 

“I know. I trust you both to have taken all due considerations beforehand.” Wes looked over at Spike. “Gunn and Lorne will be here soon, you might want to change into something less telling...unless we have an hour for all the sordid details and all of Lorne’s inevitable questions?”

“Right.” 

Spike ducked his head and reluctantly left Angel’s side to change his shirt. He could feel Angel’s cheeky mirth and heard him clear as day when he spoke too softly for Wesley to hear. 

“Too bad. I was getting used to seeing you wearing my clothes.”

“Possessive bastard”, Spike whispered back with a smile in his voice.

Angel chuckled quietly, the sounding cutting off abruptly as he caught Illyria’s gaze, her head tilted curiously at him. 

“I do not understand. Why should it matter if he wears the clothes of his mate?” Illyria looked down at Wesley for clarification on the matter, and Angel found himself regarding them with his own curiosity. They seemed to have formed a tenuous bond of their own in the past few days, and he could scent a sense of companionship burgeoning deep within them. His soul took comfort in the slight easing of Wesley’s grief, even if it wasn’t likely to last. “Even the base creatures of this world seem to carry the scent of their mates with them, on them, when they must be apart, why should the half-breeds be any different?”

Wes huffed a soft laugh, not quite looking at her as he spoke.

“Sometimes, the full details of the intimacies between two people are preferred to be kept secret. Not for the lack of understanding, but simply to have something that is just theirs. Displaying themselves as something other than they previously were perceived to be can lead to prying questions into matters better left private, especially in the early days of a change in dynamics.” Wesley looked at Angel, his eyes portraying just how much he truly understood what had gone on between Spike and himself. “Lorne, as a demon himself, may appreciate the delicacies of such matters, but the empath in him might find it hard to resist boasting of his foresight of such partakings. Charles is another matter, entirely. He has a penchant for not being able to read the room and asking the awkward questions others would politely refrain from inquiring upon.”

Illyria looked like she had even more questions than answers, but before she could open her mouth to speak them, Spike returned and silenced her with a look. Angel wondered at that, at what things may have passed between them during the hours they had logged in the firm’s training rooms for her haughtiness to be quieted so easily. 

“Enough of the lessons on demon relations, Perce. Blue don’t really need complex understandin’ of what makes vampires tick right now, you’d only succeed in spinning her godly little head in circles. And not a word to the other two, they don’t need the distraction.”

Spike sat himself on the couch just as the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached Angel’s ears, signalling Lorne and Gunn’s approach. Just as the doorknob turned, Angel let out a quiet mine, and Spike’s eyes flashed golden as he mouthed always back at him.

Charles entered the apartment first and promptly sat down on the couch beside Spike with a nod in Angel’s direction. Lorne lingered by the door for a few seconds, his red eyes widening as they flicked between Angel and Spike and narrowing again as he looked over at Wes and Illyria. Another look at Angel, his mouth opening to speak and shutting again when Angel curtailed his questioning with a shake of his head. 

“Fine, don’t tell me all the glorious details then, Angelcakes. Just too bad it didn’t happen sooner so I could’ve collected that fifty bucks from Lloyd in accounting.” 

@thewhiterabbit42 @highonbandcandy @prose-for-hire 

[icedcappujaeno]

twist | lty

➩ pairing: gamer/barista taeyong & reader ➩ genre: (extreme dosage of) fluff ➩ words: 5k ➩ warnings: too much fluff. handle uwus with care.

a/n: OH LOOK. ICEDCAPPUJAENO’S POSTING A FIC AGAIN?! I thought it was a meme blog--!! Hell yes I am! Supposedly this fic was going to be posted last Christmas (I gave you my heart-?) but we had to go out-of-town to celebrate the holidays, thus no proofread and all but voila! I present to you, my gift to everyone on this site who’s been with me all throughout 2019! I know I haven’t been the best in posting my works now and then but please don’t blame me, I got the job that I wanted so it kept me busy and I’m a person that would prefer career over hobbies most of the time. But yes, anyway, enough being sappy, thank you so much for everything and please look forward to more works in the upcoming year!

It's never too late for a really big plot twist for you and player rubbiesyong.

Christmas — the season of joy, the season were everyone would momentarily forget conflicts and be giving, the season to be jolly. 

Everyone in the dorms already left to come home for the holidays, but not you. Not with the burden of a thesis, the expensive amount of plane tickets, the hassle of being stuck in a crowd in airports — you decided to stay in your dorm, alone, yet maybe, this was another experience you’ve yet to face.

However, it wasn’t as joyful and breathtaking as you thought. 

Being scooped up in the dorm was most likely the most boring experience you had—and the motivation to complete your thesis chapters was downright zero. The weather isn’t cooperating as well: the low degrees and negatives making you wrap yourself in a blanket and stay under its warm covers, along with some Netflix. 

But at some point, you got tired of watching. 

Four days into the holiday season the app was already boring you. Thus, you mindlessly searched for games - the hobbies you once enjoyed when you were younger. Any genre was fine, although there was a magnet between you and MMORPGs. Searching for one, and alas - a free to play with good reviews appeared, downloading the installer not a minute after.

As soon as you installed the game into your laptop, the dialogue box said it would take around 5 hours. With that, for the first time that day, you looked at the time - 3 minutes past 2 o’clock. A low growl came from your stomach, it was no surprise as you’ve only been eating chips and coffee since you woke up. With a stretch, you rose from the bed, trying to beat the lazy syndrome that’s gotten to you.

You hissed as your feet pressed flat to the cold floors. To be honest, you don’t want to leave the bed, however, your back already started to feel some pain from lying all day. You got up, trotted your way to the bathroom and washed. Once done, you fished the coat, gloves, and scarf, and bag from behind the door, leaving your laptop open while the game installs.

The cafe bell that hung loosely on the glass door rang as Taeyong entered, the warm breeze brought by the heater comforting his near numb senses from the cold wind outside. Even with the low temperature, Taeyong decided to open the shop even he thinks that the customers won’t come to this kind of weather. It was a tough decision from him, especially the part where he decides to get up from bed, an addition would be texts from his baristas that they’ll pass work for today. 

But the cafe work attracted him like a magnet, even if he was up staying up all night playing a game. Nevertheless, if he did reach half the quota for today, he’d close up, snuggle into the warmth of his blanket once again, lost in the virtual reality his game would bring.

Time passed quickly in the cafe, and when Taeyong looked up the wall clock, it was almost past 2, and while he didn’t reach half the quota of the day, Taeyong decided it was time to close up. Looking outside, it seemed like the weather isn’t clearing up any time soon. A grunt escaped from his lips as he stretched, his back and butt aching from almost sitting all day. 

As he was about to reach for his cleaning tools, the bell rang, signaling an entrance of a customer. A smile automatically waved through his lips, a manner he got out of habit. 

“Hello, welcome to our shop.”

The walk to the nearest cafe was tedious: the icy path made it quite hard to balance and the chill breeze hitting your cheeks wasn’t helping at all. Your lips are chapped brought by the cold wind, thus making you hiss as you enter the warmth of the shop.

Though the heat from the cafe was comforting, the slit you made from trying to remove the skin from your chapped lips stung. You didn’t even hear the barista greet you—going straight to the counter without even minding the polite gesture from the staff.

“Caramel macchiato, and a slice of banana bread.”

“Are you okay? Your lip is bleeding.”

You touched your lip in reflex, for a moment your eyes widened at the sight of red within your fingertips. You were about to fish for the handkerchief from your pocket, but when nothing came to your senses, you bite your lip—hissing as you made the wound even worse, tasting the irony substance within your palate.

He hands you a tissue, and to be honest, you almost forgot about the barista in front of you. You looked up to thank him, noticing his sharp features—his brows were thick and manly, the shape of his jaw carved in an almost perfect sculpture. Although skinny, he looked so menacing, but when he showed you the softest smile you’ve ever seen—the intimidating aura blew away. His eyes started to grow a little bigger in your vision, pursed lips as he tried to suppress the laughter coming.

“So, it’s a caramel macchiato, and a slice of banana bread, correct?”

He chuckled, a low vibrato heartily coming from his as he punched your order in. He asked for your name and you answered rather immediately. And if you weren’t embarrassed enough after the scenario, your stomach growled once again, and the urge to run away to avoid further shame from the cute guy was spiking. 

“Is banana bread enough?” He asked, very amused with the situation. 

“Yeah. It is.”

He hummed, telling you to take a seat as he prepares your order. You did as told, sitting on the closest chair next to the counter. You watch him work behind—and you have to admit that encountering a cute barista like him, in winter, was a scenario you’d only imagine in dramas and fiction, it was surreal. The fact that someone this good looking exist was beyond your comprehension.

Needless to say, you developed this tiny, tiny, bitsy crush on this guy.

You turned to look around the shop: you ordered here before but most of the time, you ordered your coffee to go before going to the university. With the rush, you never noticed the cozy atmosphere that lingers on its surroundings—an LP player on the side, a touch of antiquity that brings some unique features for the shop. It emits a calming aura that reminds you of home.

It seemed like you found a new place to stay.

“Caramel macchiato, and a plate of carbonara with garlic bread on the side,” you hear the barista say that broke your reverie, along with the clink of the utensils when it collided with the glass table. The pasta’s smell was inviting, but pretty sure that you only brought enough money for a slice of bread and a cup of coffee.

Incredulously, you declined his offer, polite enough to let a smile pass your lips. “I didn’t order it…”

“Taeyong,” he finishes your sentence, although it was not what you had in mind. “It’s on the house.”

You gulped, looking at him foolishly for a moment, then pushed the plate away while standing up to only get the warm coffee cup. “I’m not that hungry…”

As if on cue, your stomach growled once more.

You groaned, face flushing from another embarrassment brought by your involuntary body actions. Taeyong laughed this time, not just a giggle, rather a hearty one that made his eyes crinkle in delight, showing the molars and fangs that made him look like a lion cub.

“Eat up. You need it.”

He said as he gently pushed you back to your seat with your shoulders. “I’d be disappointed if you’d decline my offer.”

With the aroma of the food in front of you and the request of the cute barista-slash-waiter of this cafe, you submitted. Whole-heartedly. Taeyong never left your side as you took the first bite, and when you hummed in satisfaction of how great it tasted, a smile plastered on his lips. 

“This is good Taeyong!”

He shrugged, and you feel smug in his aura as he did the action.

“Expected. Now, finish that up so I can close up.”

You didn’t need any reminder. There was nothing on your plate as you finished the food.

Your stay at the cafe took longer than expected. The initial plan was to order take out and stay at home, watch some Netflix again as you wait for the game to download. But once you took a peek at your laptop, the game was done and ready to play.

Once you pressed the button, a young woman, elegant and pristine in her frilly dress, welcome you to the virtual world. She was all smiles when she made the entrance cue, and let you decide the class you want to main. You spent a few minutes in the tutorials and customization, and when you feel your neck ache from numbness and eyes strained, you stopped, satisfied with the character on the screen.

The first quests were easy—making you lose track of the time. Not with how your character seemed to be enjoying to slay the demons and monsters in the game, time passed by so quickly that it was past dinner when you glanced at the clock. You stretched your arms, forcing yourself to get up to get dinner, starting by boiling water in the kettle pot to make instant ramen.

Thirteenth day on your vacation.

Character? Leveled up. Accessories included an armor that boosted defense. The headdress that increases magic. The staff that was initially without power now holds ice magic.

Thesis? Still on the same page.

You sighed. This wasn’t part of the holiday plan. Initially, you were going to finish your paper after Christmas, have it revised and to be submitted before the new term starts. But here you are, sitting on your study table, but no word applications opened, nor any site with related literature. Instead, the whole screen was engulfed in bright colors, your character (fully armed, by the way) smiled at you while she stands while you’re on AFK.

When you glance at the time, it was fifteen minutes past five. You called in for pizza, and after the beep, there was contemplating between your thoughts:  should I finish at least ten pages of my paper, or wait until my order arrives and start doing work after eating?

You sighed. The former was a better option (in terms of productivity), to say the least. At least you’re starting.

But as you were about to log out, a bubble appeared on the side of the screen. 

Hey.

The bubble flashed, signaling a personal message.

It was from player rubbiesyong . That dude who helped you during a difficult mission; as you presumed—but turns out you got lost with a fork and went to the high-ranking road instead. Player rubbiesyong slew all the enemies, and even though you are trying your best to keep him alive by healing, it seemed like you were only there for the cheer and tickles.

Heya ruby! 

You typed back, a nickname you gave to him as calling him with his full username was kind of a hassle. 

You up for a short quest? I need a hand with some as well as my daily.

Oh shit.

You bit your lip. The offer was tempting, but since rubbiesyong messaged, the decision was changed into the latter: doing your paper after eating pizza for dinner. However, with the circumstances—truly, it was stressing. The temptation is there, and deep in your heart and mind you wanted to keep playing but the obligations and guilt of finishing your work were making your heart heavy.

As you were typing your reply, you see a notification that says rubbiesyong is in-game.  His character spawned next to yours, all in his glorious armor. 

Sorry...gotta do some work first...maybe next time?

You don’t see his reply for a while, and while you were waiting, the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy, and once the food was paid, you slide your laptop away from a little to the side to have space for your food. When you thought everything was set, you sat back down, feeling the warmth of the chair against your bottoms once more. Ruby replied to your message.

Damn. But that’s okay. I understand.

It’s only virtual, you thought, but you can’t help but feel guilty with a slight pang of the chest. Although you’ve only known this person for days, it was as if you knew each other for a long time. Even though you’re only doing quests in the virtual world, with how he helped you leveled up and gave tips soften your emotions. 

There is a living person behind rubbiesyong , and although you know how dangerous it is to trust someone you met online, talking to him was comfortable. You already considered him as a friend.

I guess I’ll see you later then.

You sighed and bite your lip. Your anxiety levels were rising as you stared longer at his reply. No emoji? He’s disappointed. Before munching on pizza, you replied to his short farewell.

If I get this done I’ll come ASAP hehe. Wait for meee!!  With the emphasis on the triple ‘e’. Somehow, there was guilt in your chest, mainly because of leaving a friend, and partly because you want to play badly.

Alright ^_^ 

He replied, and this time with an emoji that lessened your worry. A smile crept to your lips, anticipation with finishing your work for you to set yourself into the virtual world.

Brb!! Enjooooooy and see ya later! :)

It was half-past eight when you glance to your desk clock, the pizza box now empty along with the 2 mugs of coffee you made for yourself. You managed to finish what you ought to do, thankfully, but not leaving a sore back and strained eyes from staring at the computer screen for a very long time, with only trips to the restroom as breaks. You cleaned your mess but not before taking a sip of water.

When you returned to your desk, a sigh escaped your lips. Ruby is probably offline by now. Who would wait for long hours for a stranger? He’s probably resting by now, in his bed, maybe with warm cocoa…

You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t imagine how Ruby would look like, but for sure he’s a guy as you asked in the early stages of your meeting to make sure the pronouns you’ll use are spot on. The assumption was there, ranging from good to bad, however, it isn’t bad to dream that he’s quite the good-looking fella, right? It was inevitable as his character looked so clean and fresh, so you’d imagine he’d look the same—but as they say,  don’t keep your hopes up. You try to keep it away from mind.

You logged in-game, and to no surprise, player rubbiesyong is offline.

Although it was expected, the notification brought you a heavy heart. Playing with Ruby is always exciting, but what can you do? The banters were always fun, most especially when you two role-play with each other’s role. The priestess, who met a swordsman on the way, bickering as they do adventures together. It was in this virtual world that you can feel genuine happiness somehow, that is why you look forward to every game with him.

With a heavy heart, you go on with your daily quest alone.

Two days later, you found yourself sitting in the cafe where you encountered Taeyong, but the barista was different for today. Frankly, you were hoping for Taeyong—somehow he made you feel comfortable, a feeling that would equate like home. Although you only met him once, the atmosphere he radiated was warm like the confines of your room, but for the most part, you kinda feel guilty for the pasta he gave you as you’re not the type to owe favors, so you’re to return the favor.

Not only that, for today, the agenda was to finish at least chapter three and prepare a presentation for your upcoming defense. The game was left untouched for the time being as you were trying to make up for the lost time you spent playing games. You were so immersed in your paper that you didn’t notice Taeyong coming in, although not dressed for work. He immediately noticed your slouched figure and the cup of coffee beside your laptop, so dangerously close that a little, leaning mistake would spill over your desk. 

A hand pushed your coffee cup away from your laptop, and you were about to spare a glare but you see Taeyong’s toothy grin. He was dressed casually: you noticed how odd the mix in his fashion taste but it fits him either way. 

“Good morning, Ms. Caramel macchiato,” the grin never leaving his lips. “I see you’re working hard even on the holidays.”

Baffled by his use of nicknames, you chuckled. “I am, good sir. I see it’s your off today.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, then took his coat off his shoulders as the warmth of the cafe started to seep into the fabric of his clothing. “Mind if I join you?”

“I would be lying if I said no, because I badly need to finish my agenda for today and you distracting me isn’t a great idea.”

Taeyong momentarily stopped as you were speaking. He looked at you quite a few seconds after you talked, then blinked almost comically. He never expected for you to blurt out like that, but then, when he glanced at the screen of your laptop, it was quite understandable as to why you’re acting as such. His eyes started to roam around to find a vacant seat, or he could always hang out in the staff office.

“Oh, Uhm, sorry. I’ll just take another-”

“But a company is great,” he heard you say, and when he glanced back at you, you were sipping your coffee, eyes glued to the computer screen. You then looked at his back with a raised brow. “You didn’t let me finish.”

What a strange fellow, indeed. Taeyong thought and was about to retort back when his co-worker behind the counter called him. He excused himself, telling you that he’ll be back in a minute. Honestly, you could care less, but the kick of the caffeine was needing you to move your lips, hence the disappointment was washing your features. You hid it with a smile though and sent him off, going back to the paper you’re working on.

And true to his word, Taeyong did come back, two cups of steaming drink in his hand. He placed them on the table, pushing one to your side. It was chamomile tea.

“Yours.”

“It’s not in the house, is it?”

“It is,” he chuckled, sitting on the seat opposite of yours. The scent from the tea was inviting, although you’re not much of a tea person. Taeyong seemed to notice this and pointed towards the cup. “It will help you relax.”

“Biscuits, as ordered,” you hear the barista say as he carefully placed the tray of assorted biscuits on your table. Taeyong thanked the guy, and while you were so focused on the cute animal-shaped biscuits, you failed to notice the smirk growing on the barista’s lips. He gave Taeyong a quick nudge to which he shooed him off quietly, making the barista leave but without suppressing a peal of silent laughter.

“You’re paying for this, Taeyong. I don’t have enough allowance anymore.”

“I am,” he laughed, and the way his lips widely stretch that showed his pearly whites and the eyes crinkling reminded you of a baby fox. You can’t help but laugh along as it was contagious, and never have you felt comfortable in the presence of another person in a long time.

“Sorry, I know I’m distracting you. So I’ll just sit down and behave quietly while you work.”

“No, it’s fine,” stretching your arms was almost as relaxing as you were slouched for hours now. “I need someone to keep me sane. The words are already jumbling-look,” you turned your laptop screen to him. “The grammar is everywhere, all I can see are red lines.”

He laughed, once again, and to be honest, every time he does, you were becoming more and more infatuated. “Alright, I’m Taeyong and here to keep you sane.”

You giggled. People like these are genuinely rare these days. Your instinct also seemed to like him, as normally you’d be avoiding these situations as much as possible. But, for the one who gave you free pasta when you were starving and now, free tea and biscuits? How can you be so wary of such a guy?

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he started, and your gaze shifted to him as he trailed off his question. You nodded as you took a sip of the now-warm chamomile tea, urging for him to continue his query. “What do you do?”

You put the cup down and tell about yourself. That you are a full-time graduate student and working as a part-time assistant professor at the university. In your field, although there are holidays, your principal investigator will roast you if you haven’t done anything over the holidays- where is the data? Have you thought of another problem already?  -  cute phrases that your principal investigator will ask you. He seemed to be so interested that a question led to another, and that when you glanced at the clock of your screen, two hours had already passed and nightfall was about to come as it was getting dark outside.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, I took most of your time.”

Taeyong said, and his tone sounded so concerned and genuinely apologetic. You shake your head with a smile, putting back your laptop inside your bag and taking one last of the biscuit on the table.

“It’s really fine, Taeyong! I enjoyed it as well, plus, I told you I needed a break. That’s exactly what I needed,” you chuckled. “So thank you.”

“Sure, always here to help,” he mirrored your reaction as a light chuckle escaped from his. “Anyway, is it okay if I asked your number? I mean, you don’t need to, just, you know, if you need someone to talk to-”

You laughed at how he stuttered, lightly hitting his shoulder with how stupidly cute he looked. Of course, who would miss an opportunity to get a number of a cute guy? Not you. So you asked for his phone and vice versa, both of you satisfied with your goodbyes as your numbers were saved directly in your contacts.

You also never missed the opportunity to hit the button favorite upon his contact details.

Going to the cafe became a habit, and time passes so quickly that you didn’t notice that it was the 24th of December already: the sign on the cafe door the only thing that reminded you of the day. 

You sighed. And you were even looking forward to the coffee, pastries, and Taeyong’s company. His presence and the coffee he brought seemed to boost your efficacy—you finished your due papers in time, and today was going to be a break, but with the locked door and closed blinds, the plan was ruined. Along the way home, you ordered a small cake for yourself, and a bottle of red wine for later’s celebration.

Going home was the only option, and when you’re back at the comforts of your duvet, you opened your laptop, log on to the virtual world. The usual, with a smile, your character greeted you. At the very least, you’re happy. Maybe in another world, but it’s all good. 

You started clicking on the quests on the side of the screen. Spending the Christmas online sounded lonely, but celebrating it alone outside—just the thought of it makes you shudder for it was freezing, and walking nor eating along on the eve of Christmas will earn you pitiful stares. You stood up and boiled water to make hot cocoa, a perfect drink to accompany your online adventures. And who said it was lonely? The lobby was full of online players publicly chatting and greeting everyone a  Merry Christmas! , and of course, although alone but with the spirit, you greeted them back as well.

The first quest was not so bad, it was only delivering some goods to one NPC to another. The second one wasn’t so bad either—slaying low levels monsters in the forest nearby. However, the third quest, unbelievably, was consuming your time. The former only took around 30 minutes each, but an hour has passed and you’re still stuck: escort this NPC to the palace without him dying from bandits along the way. 

rubbiesyong is now online.

The notification never failed to catch your attention, and genuinely surprised. There was an assumption that Ruby is the type to spend Christmas with his loved one: may it be family or friends—there was an aura behind his character that radiates. You haven’t been online for days finishing your paper, and how badly you want to greet him a Merry Christmas, but wouldn’t it be awkward? The thought crossed your mind, but another notification bubble popped on the side of your screen.

rubbiesyong: Merry Christmas!

A smile crept on your lips, anxiety decreasing as you replied a  Merry Christmas! back. 

rubbiesyong: Haven’t seen you for days, busy?

You replied with a yes. You wanted to tell him everything that happened in the past few days, though you know it isn’t an obligation, and you were too lazy to type.

rubbiesyong: I see.

rubbiesyong: mind if I join you? Bored to death lmao

A sigh of relief came through, and there were no options as you desperately want to finish this never-ending quest you’re stuck on (which you weren’t supposed to be, you are just a noob).

Not a minute later, Ruby joined your group, his character stood side of yours. You explained the quest you’re currently doing, and it seemed like he was typing something so long that the group chat was continuously showing rubbiesyong is typing…  notification.

rubbiesyong: can we voice chat instead? It’s too long to type haha

Voice chat. 

Honestly, it was a thing you avoid as there is an underlying feeling of insecurity—you weren’t very confident with your voice over the line. Another is the anxiety of struggling with your words—a very common occurrence every time you’re on the line. However, as you agree with Ruby with the feeling of laziness, plus his tips will probably lead you better on finishing your quest.

rubbiesyong entered the voice chat.

You turned on the voice chat as you put your earphones on. You waited for him to speak first, but since he was not saying anything, you were about to open your mouth as you hear a masculine voice over.

“Hello?”

Oddly familiar, you thought, but you shrugged the idea off. Maybe all guys sounded familiar over the line? You weren’t sure, but it wasn’t of priority. You whispered a subtle hello back and you hear him laugh, a deep baritone resonating on the line. 

“I guess it’s connected,”  there goes the laugh again, and you can’t help but imitate the action. 

“Cute voice,”  Ruby commented that halted your laugh. You were thankful that he couldn’t see your face as you were sure that you’re flushing with the sudden compliment. 

“Whatever,” an attempt to change the topic, you asked him what to do and of course, you told him where you’re stuck on. He guided you throughout as expected—the quest being chicken with Ruby at your party. He guarded your back as you escort the NPC to the designation, and although he took a few hits here and there, Ruby slew the bandits that resulted in success.

“Ah, finally!” You stretched your arms when the screen flashed glitter gold letters of completed! for the quest. You hear Ruby laughed and there were sounds of clapping in the background. 

“Congrats.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of the water beside you that you got while on a short break. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Ruby!”

“Calling me Ruby in type-chat is okay but it feels weird hearing it to be honest,”  he chuckled.

“I kinda feel the same when you call me with mine, but it’s fine? I’m not sure how to feel, to be honest.”

“But you know, you sound familiar, I swear I heard your voice before.”

“You know what? I thought of that too!” Unbelievably, you feel like you’re closer to this stranger as well—not only because you met for a while now, but his voice just sounded so amicable. “What are the chances, right?!”

“Yeah,”  you hear him pause and breathe, and when you feel like the silence is getting awkward, you initiated another conversation by asking him:

“Why are you online this very Christmas eve?”

“Got nothing better to do,”   he sighed, and you thought he drank from something as an exhale from his lips rang over the line. “Don’t have work today since it’s Christmas, and plane tickets are hella expensive. I miss my sister and mom though, especially my dog.”

Hearing him talk about family made you think of your own, and the feeling of homesickness hit you like a deer-in-headlights. You sighed and rested your head comfortably on the pillow in front of you. “Yeah, same.”

“What about you?”

You told him your reasons—that you were a graduate student finishing a paper for your defense on the upcoming semester, and the tickets for the same reason. Although he chuckled, it was cut short as he asked:

“By chance, do you ever stop by a cafe to do your work?”

“Yeah, I do,” you quipped slowly, eyebrow-raising from the sudden question from him. 

“Sorry if this is personal, is your name (Y/N) by chance?”

You feel your heart race faster than normal, how did this stranger know your name? No words were forming in your confused and tangled thoughts, and the only thing that came to mind was to disconnect, but Ruby beat you to it by saying:

“Shit, sorry, that was weird huh?”   You hear him sigh and he continued. “But like, in this cafe where I work, there’s this person who always comes in stressed—clearly, and you know, cute and all, we’ve become close you know? I have this tiny—hell, I have this crush and I even thought it was you.”

Did he just tell what happened to your daily life the past few days?

“They’re cool when they’re doing their stuff you know? Ah—I’m rambling. Sorry,” he chuckled apologetically, and even over the line you hear the sincerity in his tone. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” You bit your lip, a habit you got when you feel your anxiety reaching roof high. “Uhm, is your real name Taeyong, by any chance?”

What plot twist it is when you hear a pause—followed by a rather loud vocal of your name. In a questioning tone.

“Seriously?!”

“Lee Taeyong!?”

Another minute passed with exchanges as such, tossing your real names back and forth. It was the biggest plot twist of the year, you thought, as from what he said not too long ago was a subtle confession, isn’t it? That he had this crush on you?

Because you feel butterflies in your stomach as you feel the same way for him. The smile that grew fondly on you, his strong features that soften with every conversation, no matter how silly the topic is. You remember the first time you met, embarrassment was all around your facade, but his presence and soothing existence were enough to radiate a calming and comforting persona that you got infatuated with.

This has to be a joke, isn’t it?

Maybe he’s a hacker—stalker, who knows all about Taeyong and since they do know about Taeyong, they know about you as well? Maybe they’re using some sort of voice changer to make it sound like him. It’s a threat to National Security! It’s some overthinking, but—

“It’s me, you idiot! I can hear you overthinking!”  You hear a roaring laugh on the line, and it sounded genuine that he’s having fun.

“Yeah? If it’s you what was the thing I ordered in your cafe when we first met?”

“Caramel macchiato. A slice of banana bread. That was your order,”   with an emphasis on the word your. “Then I gave you a plate of carbonara, with garlic bread, all made with love.”

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“You’re not being discreet about it, Taeyong.”

“Well, I kinda confessed anyway. Not in the way I planned, but—“

“No need to worry about that,” you chuckled, burrowing your head to the pillow you’re propping on to muffle your next words.

“I like you too.”

“Come again? I think the line was choppy.”

You were sure that he still heard it, and that he was only teasing you, but with your heart almost bursting out from your ribcage, and the amount of embarrassment and butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you sighed.

“I like you too, you idiot.”

He was clad in a brown coat and scarf that you gave to him as a gift to protect himself from the cold. His hands, however, were inside his coat pockets, fidgeting the heat pack that kept his digits warm. 

When he looked at the side, he noticed your shivering figure, hands inside your coat’s pockets as well, and the tip of your nose beet-red from the cold. A smile tugged at his dry, thin lips—though it was cute seeing you like this, he can’t let you catch a cold.

Taeyong moved to your back and wrapped his arms around your waist, his warmth radiating to yours like a heater. You sighed and basked in his comfort, laying your head on his chest as he hugged you from behind.

“Happy New Year, babe.”

He said, looking down to meet your gaze—a galaxy that you considered home. His presence that made your cold, lonely holidays warm and colorful unlike what you expected, and additionally, a friend that you could confide in—whether be it in real life or virtually.

3.

  2.

  1.

 And when his lips descended on yours, the colors in the sky long forgotten, you feel safe.

Though not back home, Taeyong was and had to be, the biggest twist of your life.

[argent-vulpine]

The Queen’s Scheme(r)s

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Yuri/F!Byleth/Claude

Chapter Six: Entering the Locket

Read it on AO3

The Locket was an impressive beast, nestled in the mountains of Fódlan’s Throat, a fortress designed to keep the Almyran ‘threat’ at bay. And for a long time, House Goneril had done a marvelous job at exactly that, culminating in Holst himself being well known as a formidable general and warrior.

Of course, that had changed in recent years. The fortress was still in use, and ostensibly still there to protect Fódlan, but with the Queen of Unification being married to the King of Almyra, there wasn’t much to defend against beyond some particularly testy people on both sides who were resistant to change.

When Byleth and Yuri arrived at the Locket, they were greeted by Holst himself, his younger sister Hilda… and King Khalid, who stood a little ahead of the pair with a broad, mischievous grin.

“It’s so nice that Queen Byleth has graced us with her presence,” he said, shooting her a wink. “I was wondering how much longer it would take you.”

She gave an amused snort and moved toward him, Yuri a half-step behind, while Claude descended the stairs to meet them. The three met and embraced, heads pressing together and arms tangling in a knot, hands grasping and uncaring who they touched. They stood like that for a long moment, until Holst cleared his throat, drawing them back to their surroundings.

“I hate to interrupt, Your Majesties,” and it was clear he included Yuri in this, “but dinner’s waiting, and I hate to let the kitchen’s efforts go to waste.” He said this with a broad grin, waving Hilda over.

The group began the climb up the steps, with Byleth looking around curiously. “No Nader hovering about?” she finally asked.

“Oh, I sent him on to Judith for a few days. His whining was terrible,” replied Claude with a grin.

“Your whining hasn’t been any better, Leader Man,” chirped Hilda from Holst’s other side, earning her a baleful glare from the Almyran king. “Ever since you got here it’s been nothing but ‘Oh, I miss them so much, how much longer until they get here, what’s taking so long’. Really, Claude, a couple days longer is nothing!”

Holst sighed fondly at his sister, but shot a sidelong glance at the trio of royals. “It wasn’t quite that bad… but it might have been close,” he confided in Byleth with a grin. “I have to admit, I was part of the group that wasn’t too sure how the Archbishop being married to two people would go over, but seeing you together, it makes sense.” He gave a decisive sort of nod, as if settling the matter.

“The situation is certainly complicated,” she agreed smoothly, hooking her elbows around Claude and Yuri arms, drawing them closer to her. “But we manage. And I have to be honest… I’m not sure if I’d be able to run things half as smoothly if I didn’t have both of them by my side.”

“The same for me. I know I can’t bring them both to Almyra right now, and things are still a little shaky, but the day-to-day stuff is made easier with more heads in the matter.”

Yuri seemed to take all of this in stride, not offering up anything of his own to the current conversation. Not that Claude and Byleth wouldn’t have listened; quite the contrary, they would have listened with great intent. But in this, he knew that he was the reason their burdens were eased. Without an entire country to run – or a church to govern – he had more flexibility, and thus an easier time being the person to help ease their strains.

“Hey, if it ain’t the professor!” bellowed a familiar voice as soon as they stepped through the doors. “And my pal Yuri!”

“I see they haven’t kicked you to the curb yet,” replied the lavender-haired main dryly as Balthus bounded into view.

“Well, not yet, but maybe soon!” he replied, his deep laughter booming down the halls. “Ah, I’m just stopping in for a few days before I head back home. Couldn’t resist a visit to my buddy Holst here!”

“So Constance isn’t with you?” asked Byleth with an amused quirk to her lips.

“Nah, she was in the middle of some weird magic… thing… and couldn’t be bothered. She did say to give you this when I saw you, though!” And saying that, he produced a thick envelope, waxed and stamped with the seal of House Nuvelle. “Hapi included a letter, too!” he added with a grin.

While Balthus and Constance had married and resettled House Nuvelle to encompass Kupala, Hapi’s home, it was known to their friends that the trio enjoyed a relationship similar to Byleth and her husbands, if a little less official. Byleth had been told that it was her example that had them choosing to give it a go, but they preferred less public displays than those Byleth as Queen had to endure.

Balthus handed the letter to Yuri when he extended a hand, and he tucked it away for later; they would have time to read it after dinner. “We’ll make sure to write a response for you to take back,” Byleth assured him with a slight smile.

The group continued onward toward the dining hall, chatting amiably as they did. Yuri separated from her first so he could pull Balthus aside, catching up on important news and undoubtedly preparing to dispatch a few careful letters of his own. Neither she nor Claude had even bothered trying to turn him into a law-abiding citizen; they’d only cautioned he be careful with what he did now that he was in a more public view.

Still, the underworld was where he flourished, and he’d been ‘king’ of that long before he’d become King Consort of Fódlan.

Dinner ended up being a relaxed affair, with only the Gonerils, the crowns, and their close friends in attendance. A larger, more elaborate dinner would come the next day, when they had time to relax and prepare. This one would include delegates from Fódlan and Almyra, one of many such parties to get their nations to mingle and come to some sort of understanding.

It helped, some, that Byleth’s reputation as Ashen Demon had traveled into Almyra, as well; they respected her for her battle prowess, even if they still thought Fódlan’s elite were cowardly.

After dinner, Byleth and her husbands retired to the rooms set aside for them, taking time to bathe and then settling down in front of a hearty fire. Yuri was in the middle for tonight, the thick envelope in his hands, waiting for the others to get comfortable. When they were, he cracked the wax seal and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

“She really does talk a lot, even in text,” he muttered with a wry grin, leafing through the sheets until he found where Constance’s letter ended and Hapi’s began. “Let’s start with Hapi, yeah?”

“One sheet compared to four?” He nodded at the question, a move more felt than seen. “… yes, let’s start with Hapi.”

On the other side of Yuri, Claude chuckled, taking the other letter from the stack and setting it aside.

Yuri’s voice was soothing as he read, though he mimicked Hapi’s speech pattern perfectly. “Hey Chatterbox,” it began, “and Yuri-bird, and Claudester.” He paused, chuckling at the order. “Guess she’s decided who’s most important for this letter.”

Claude feigned offense at being last on the list, but it had no real heat in it.

Hapi’s letter continued, talking about the state of Kupala, how well it was doing now that House Nuvelle encompassed it. She spoke of seeing the stars from the mountains, and how she missed certain sweets from Garreg Mach’s kitchens (Byleth made a mental note to have some sent her way as soon as she could). She assured them that ‘Coco’ and ‘B’ were treating her well – how could they not – and that she was happy to be home, though home now meant going between her family’s home in Kupala and the Nuvelle manor.

It was not a long letter, more of a general update to let them know that she missed them and had been thinking about them. The gesture was appreciated by the trio. They missed their friends, too, but life after the war and with the shifting of power in the country meant that there was a lot happening that took them… everywhere.

Byleth took the letter this time, setting it down on her side of their pile while Claude handed the thicker mass from Constance back to Yuri.

It was addressed to them in the same order, but in a far more formal fashion. She regaled them with talk of her newest magical discoveries (and a few accidents as well), how they had been building outdoor structures for her to address the people of her territory in a proper matter, and a great many other things.

They all politely declined to comment when the tone shifted for about three paragraphs, indicated a time when she had been outside.

Yuri’s voice was soothing enough that Byleth had begun to drift off near the end of the letter. He nudged her to wakefulness and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Would you like me to write the response for all of us?” he asked.

“…maybe,” she said with a slight huff. “You write hers and I’ll write Hapi’s?” she offered, biting back a yawn.

“Deal.”

“And I… will get the bed ready,” announced Claude with a smirk. “… and then join you in letter-writing. I have a few I need to start penning as well.”

They stayed up late into the night, writing letters and simply enjoying each other’s presence, before finally climbing into bed, limbs entangling together as they sank into easy, comfortable slumber.

[rosezure]

Songbird 2 - New Beginnings

Songbird - Chapter 2

A/N:  This chapter focuses more on certain BNHA characters, but there's still some Asa thrown in there.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the BNHA/MHA universe, nor its characters. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. My own characters are, however, of my creation.

Content warning: mentions of jumping from planes, talk about character deaths, !spoilers for the manga!, some AU stuff cause what is cannon if not a suggestion, tattoos, talk about physiotherapy and injuries, swearing/language. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can correct/add it!

Summary | Chapter 1

If Keigo knew anything, it was that he hated the Hero Commission more than he hated Endeavor. And that was saying something, considering his longtime idol was a child abuser. He hated that they made him into a monster. They took an innocent child and distorted his reality. 

Keigo decidedly hated a lot of things. 

But he couldn't hate Aizawa. Not after everything that's happened. Not ever, actually. The man was every bit the hero Keigo once thought Endeavor was. Yet, he couldn't help but feel like the teacher had ulterior motives. The two sat across from each other on a small wooden table in a secluded pub. It was just on the outskirts of Musutafu, which made it the perfect place for this kind of encounter.

"I want you to teach at the UA."

There it was. The ulterior motive the hero Hawks was trained to identify. Keigo cursed in his mind. He really didn't want to find a reason to be suspicious of Aizawa of all people.

The man had literally sacrificed an eye and a leg for others, for fuck's sake!

"Shota... I don't think I can. What could I possibly teach? I'm a monster... These kids need an actual role model. Not some bastard murderer with a hero title." Keigo's voice was small and quiet. He was miles from the great Hawks he was supposed to be.

"We've all done things we're not proud of, no matter how big or small. You did what you thought you had to do. In the heat of the moment, it was your only option." The older hero sighed.

Aizawa looked at the young man in front of him. He looked so broken and fragile. But he understood. Killing Twice, someone so vulnerable yet dangerous, weighed more than Keigo let on. The Winged Hero Hawks died then and there in Keigo's mind. And Aizawa knew it was taking a long time to heal from that loss.

"Look," Keigo looked up from the table, "Killing Twice-" He visibly flinched, but Aizawa pressed on, "That wasn't the best thing you could do. The man could've been helped. Maybe he could've become a great hero or teacher even." 

Keigo was about ready to stand up and leave at that. He wasn't going to sit and listen to yet another person throw his wrongdoings in his face. He didn't need it. His mind was cruel enough.

"You're right in feeling like shit. But I'd be more worried if you weren't. You're still a hero, Keigo. You saved lives that day, even if you took a drastic measure. Even if your decision was a horrible one." Aizawa took a deep breath. "You know it was wrong. You know it was cruel. But you had good intentions-"

"Hell is full of good intentions, Aizawa." Keigo gritted, hitting a fist on the table and standing up. 

Aizawa stood up as well. "Then teach those kids to not make that mistake. Teach them about good intentions and good actions combined."

With that, the older male went to the cashier to pay for their drinks. Neither of them had taken one stingy sip, but Shota still thought ordering drinks was the polite thing to do. 

The two left together. Being grounded was new to Keigo. Sure he walked every once in a while, but he'd be flying to his penthouse by now. He'd be soaring through the skies. The thought of the wind blowing through his feathers made Keigo look up to the sky. He longed for the day his wings grew back, then he'd flee and never return.

"I know that look," Aizawa's voice snapped him back to reality.

"The day I have my wings back..." The blonde whispered, "I'm leaving and never coming back, Shota. I'll be free."

"Will you?" 

"Will I what?"

"Will you actually be able to leave?"

Keigo stopped in his tracks, making Aizawa pause as well. Would he really be able to run away? Would he be able to just take flight and never look back? Keigo wondered if he'd have the guts to do that. 

"I don't know," He admitted with a sigh before starting to walk again.

"But I'd sure love to have the chance to find out."

On the other side of the world, Asa was packing her bags. She had very little time to prepare, and she wondered why the Queen and Santos hadn't informed her of this mission weeks ago. From Asa gather through the reports and files she read, the confrontation between heroes and villains in Japan was months ago. So why was she only being sent now?

She'd have to go through the other files Santos gave her. Maybe then Asa would know what was really going on.

"Asa!" Caique's voice rang from behind her door. Asa smiled softly.

"Come in, punk!" She shot back.

"Can you believe it? I'm Commander! I went from Captain to Commander!" He looked like a puppy that's just been given a new toy.

"Oh, shut up!" Asa laughed at his happiness. 

"So, my subordinate," Caique sauntered over to Asa, putting an arm on her shoulder, "My first order is that you let me kick your ass once." He grinned cheekily.

Asa rolled her eyes and pushed his arm off her. "No way in hell, babe. I've got a rep to keep, you know?" She winked over her shoulder as she walked to her closet to gather more items.

"Hey!" Caique pouted. Asa giggled at his face, shaking her head.

"Don't pout," She scolded playfully, "It makes you look five."

"Right, and you hate children," He added teasingly.

"I do not!" Asa shot back laughing, "It's them that hate little ol' me." She shrugged.

"That's not true," Caique huffed and took a seat on her king-sized bed. "By the way, I never really understood why I got the position and not one of the generals."

"Cause I've been preparing you for the position for three years now. I was gonna retire right before the summer festivities."

"Retire?! Girl, you're like 23! The fuck you mean retire?"

"I've been at this for almost 16 years, Caique. And I'm unhappy."

Her words silenced Caique. He knew very little about his Commander. Asa was strong, intelligent, agile, cunning, and charming (if she wanted to be). She was 23 years old, soon turning 24, and she was quite attractive. But that's all he knew about her.

"You never really told me how a 7-year-old became a soldier."

"And I don't think I can ever tell you. I can't remember it myself without having a breakdown!" Asa tried to play it off as a joke, but they both knew this was a sensitive topic.

"So, are you done packing?" Caique quickly changed the subject. It was her last day here, and he didn't want Asa to be tackled by ugly memories.

"Almost. Most of my things are already on the plane." Asa gave him a small smile. "I slept a total of zero hours last night. Santos was adamant that everything needed to be loaded onto the plane before sunrise. And I mean everything!"

"That man is wound up way too tight," Caique shivered. "Is there a way I don't have to deal with him directly?"

"Sorry, but that stick in the mud is your issue now." Asa bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at Caique's disdainful expression. 

"Thanks, that's really encouraging," His sarcasm made her lose her composure and laugh, "What's the mission anyway?" He looked at her attentively.

"You know I can't tell you that..." Asa trailed off, unsure how to keep her promise to the Queen without shutting Caique out. 

"Ah, you're right. If the Queen asked you to keep it a secret, then you must," Caique offered Asa a small smile.

Ever since they met six years ago, Caique and Asa were joined at the hip. Neither went into battle without the other. It was common knowledge among the guards and soldiers that one should never mess with either of them. Now they were being separated, and it already felt like they were miles apart.

A few more minutes pass as the two make jokes and chat. Asa began to think about how she could remember her last moments in Pindorama forever. She needed something to look at or touch every day. Asa never dealt well with homesickness. As Caique helped her fold some clothes, an idea hit her. She grabbed his hands, inspecting the many drawings inked into his skin.

"What's up? Why are you suddenly so interested in my tattoos?" Caique chuckled as he let Asa twist and twist and turn his arms around. 

"Let's get a tattoo together."

"What?! Now?!"

"Yes, right now. Call the artist!"

Keigo couldn't believe this was happening. He took Aizawa's offer and applied to a position in the UA High School. However, he didn't think they'd actually accept him. And he was even more surprised to learn the Commission authorized it. Had everyone gone insane?

The world really did turn upside down...

But here he was: sitting in Nezu's office and listening to him drone on about the rules, the teaching plans, and other things Keigo wasn't paying attention to. Shit, he actually got in. Now what?

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask Aizawa. I've put him in charge of your training. Please be prepared to start in April next year." Nezu smiled at Keigo, standing up to shake the blonde's hand.

After that, Keigo left the headmaster's office in a daze. The last six months were hell: grieving the loss of fellow heroes, dealing with his demons, going back and forth from the hospital and his residence... Keigo couldn't remember a time in which he felt carefree and at ease. And now he's shaking whatever peace he still had.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"Probably your greatest challenge yet." Aizawa lazily lifted the corners of his mouth as he limped towards Keigo. 

"Oh, I don't doubt it..." He muttered to himself.

"Follow me. I'll give you a short tour, then we can head out for some coffee." Shota offered as he pointed his chin to the hall he came from.

"A tour would be nice, I guess..." Keigo shrugged his shoulders and followed the older man. 

Aizawa could be surprisingly chatty, it seemed. He showed him as many classes as he could. He took Keigo to see the event arenas and other facilities. Last but not least, he took him to the teachers' room.

"We prepare our classes here," The hero explained, "Over there, we have the cabinets with students' tests and reports. Next to that, we have the teachers' lockers. You can keep some personal items in there." 

Keigo walked over to the lockers, tracing the names of the heroes that taught at the UA. He recognized some of them. These lockers had belonged to some of the fallen heroes. Keigo's back ached with phantom pain. Seeing those names triggered the torturous memories from six months ago.

"They haven't had the heart to remove the names," Aizawa explained.

"They shouldn't." Keigo placed his fingers over Midnight's name tag, "She'd want us to remember her."

"Other teachers survived and will be returning."

"They won't be the same."

"No one's the same."

"Nothing's the same. Everything and everyone is different," Keigo sighed, "And different is bad."

"Different allows growth."

"So it seems." Keigo scoffed at his own words. 

Was he even still capable of that? Growth was such a foreign concept for someone who was fabricated. Oh, the irony. He was built from scratch, molded to the Commission's wishes. He "grew" under their supervision. Would he have grown at all if they hadn't taken him in?

"How about that coffee?"

"I think I'll pass. I want to start working on the material I'm gonna present in class."

"I suggest a more hands-on approach. Depending on which class you're assigned to, theory won't get you anywhere. I speak from experience." Aizawa thought of the many setbacks a specific class had due to the students' tempers.

"Right. Still, I'd like to-"

"Form a strategy? Make a plan? You're not patrolling, and you're definitely not in an undercover mission. This is teaching," Aizawa paused, trying to think of the right words, "You need a base, but you're gonna have to improvise from time to time. And these are teenagers, not villains. The most they can do is piss you off." He smirked teasingly.

"Got it," Keigo answered simply, already flipping through a book on teaching methods he found lying about.

Aizawa rubbed his face, watching the ex-hero with something akin to pity. The boy had never been a real teenager. How was he supposed to deal with so many of them at once? He'd need a lot of support, that's for sure.

The two sat at the table near the pantry. Keigo was reading aloud some parts of the book he found, asking Aizawa for his input. Whenever the older hero gave a tip, Keigo immediately recorded it on his phone's note app. Halfway through the fourth chapter, Principal Nezu walked in.

"Aizawa, I just received great news from Tokyo!" His ears twitched in excitement.

"What news?" Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

"The Prime Minister has successfully contacted Pindorama. They're sending the hero we discussed last week. She'll be arriving next week!" Nezu informed with a smile.

"You mean the one with the practically extinct quirk?"

"Yes, exactly."

"I heard she was trouble."

"Oh, I doubt she'll be a burden to us."

"Sorry to interrupt," Keigo lifted his head from the book, now curious about the person they were talking about, "Who are you talking about?"

"Oh! Hawks!" Keigo stiffened at the use of his hero name, "I forgot to mention it to you earlier, but you won't be the only newbie. A special guest is coming from another country to help with things around here. She has a very rare quirk, which will greatly help us as a country bounce back from the events of March." Nezu beamed, folding his paws in front of his chest.

"What kind of quirk?" Keigo squinted his eyes.

"It's of a healing nature, but no one is sure of how it works," Aizawa explained, "There's not much written about this quirk. The only group of people that knew everything about it are all gone." He slumped in his seat, feeling sleepy already.

"So, there are no records on it? How can we trust this stranger?" Keigo frowned. 

"That's a reasonable question," Nezu lifted himself onto one of the vacant chairs and looked at Keigo, "But there's no need to worry. She's a show of the alliance between the two countries. If anything goes wrong, it'll be a war declaration."

"That just makes her even more dangerous. I don't think we should let someone so-" Aizawa interrupted Keigo by clearing his throat.

"Rest assured, Keigo, that she won't be a problem to any of us," Nezu added. He smiled widely once more before hopping off the chair and bidding the two heroes goodbye.

A few minutes passed as Keigo continued to read the book and ask Aizawa questions. Meanwhile, the raven-haired man was fighting to stay awake and help the young man understand the methods and concepts. But he had drained himself during his physiotherapy session that morning. He needed a nap, or he'd pass out right there.

Sensing the older man's tiredness, Keigo decided to excuse himself. He told Aizawa he'd continue reading at home and that he'd take notes of any doubts that might surface. After packing his things, Keigo bid the teacher goodbye and left.

The next time the two men met, Keigo was at the school to look for more teaching supplies. They greeted each other at the gates with a quiet nod each. Aizawa seemed better, stronger, Keigo noted. Maybe his physiotherapy sessions had been paying off. Eri's contribution probably helped too.

Aizawa had once told him that Eri wanted to heal him and give him his wings back. But Keigo had refused. He didn't want them back, not like this. Hawks died, and if Keigo had any say in it, he'd stay dead. So, if his wings grew back, he wanted to earn them and start anew.

For days, he and Aizawa would sit together near the pantry in the teacher's room. Keigo would read excerpts from teaching books or bring teaching plans and ask for Aizawa's input. Day in and day out, the older man would reassure the blonde that the material was suitable. And day in and day out, Keigo would create different versions on the same plan. He swore they were only backups in case he forgot to prepare for a class or something. But Shota Aizawa knew very well that the young man was scared of messing up.

After what happened in March, Class 1-A was going to need a lot of support. So Aizawa often found himself praying to a whatever higher energy that they'd be okay. That every student and teacher would find solace in being a hero and saving lives. He prayed for everyone to find a way to cope.

These prayers always startled Shota. He wasn't religious at all! He never cared about gods or spirits or ancestors. But he sure as fuck hoped that something was watching over them and that things would be fixed. He knew better than anyone how naive thinking like this was. But he also knew it was better than wallowing in self-pity.

Yet, Aizawa felt like Keigo would be the one getting support from the students.

Aizawa just wished Keigo would accept any form of support.

"Ready when you are, Siren!" The pilot yelled over the radio system of the plane, "We are one minute away from the drop-off point!"

"Roger that, Captain!" Asa shot back, preparing her equipment and adjusting her suit.

Her first mission was to infiltrate the HPSC building and bug the president's office. If she had time, Asa was going to try and bug any other high-ranked offices too. She had to be precise and fast. One slipup and the whole mission could be compromised. 

Once they reached the drop-off point, Asa removed her protective headset and put on her goggles. She waited for the crew to open the plane's doors while she made sure everything was ready. The plane's doors opened, and Asa saluted the soldiers behind her before throwing herself out of the plane.

Asa had missed the exhilaration of jumping into the night. She forgot how thrilling it was and how powerful she felt. The dropping point had been 14000 feet (around 4267 meters) high, so Asa had about a minute of free-falling before she could open her wings. Having done this many times before, Asa successfully landed on top of a building south of the HPSC headquarters. 

She retracted her wings, thankful for her suit being backless, and prepared to jump onto the next building. They dropped her off a little away from the premises to not alert any busybodies. 

Asa wasted no time getting to work. In just under 10 minutes, she had made it onto one of the windows on the 14th floor of the HPSC's building's south side. And in less than 20 minutes, Asa had located the president's office.

Asa managed to open one of the smaller windows and slithered in. She placed a bug on one of the far corners of the giant window behind the desk. She also placed another under the desk table and one behind a few books. Asa put the fourth and last bug under the clock that hung over the entrance door. After that, as quickly as she got in, Asa was out. She checked her watch. Asa had some time left before a helicopter picked her up at the designated rendezvous point. So, she decided to find the vice-president's office, or maybe a lab of some sort. 

Flying around the building, Asa used her enhanced vision goggles to see if she could locate any useful information. On the west side, she found a lab with the words "authorized personnel only" printed on the door. Squinting, Asa flew closer and found a way in. Smirking at her findings, she bugged the lab as thoroughly as she could.

Once she was outside again, Asa dropped onto a nearby building and sprinted to the rendezvous point.

"This is Siren speaking," Asa's voice was barely above a whisper, "Heading to the pick-up point." 

Asa dropped down from a building, disappearing into the night.

Chapter 3

[themfchase]

raven unit II (m) jjk

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ raven unit. (m) chapter two: red hawk. ✎  [11k words]

genre: political!Au, taskforce!Au, warcrime!Au

warnings: smut, angst, gore, violence, drug mentions, alcohol mention, graphic description of violence, death, fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk.  With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook. masterlist. chapter one. chapter three.  chapter five.

Although you had woken up a few times gasping in fear and sweating, when you had left the warehouse, you felt rested. Taehyung had joined the unit and as you walked through the waking up city with a scarf around your face and four strong and dangerous men escorting you, you felt safe. The plan was to walk to an extraction point where one of Taehyung’s connections would be waiting with a vehicle to take you to the next point, Red Hawk. Jungkook walked in front of you, his eyes and ears alert as were the other men. Behind you was Yoongi. He wore a snapback so that his hair didn’t draw too much attention. As you walked through the crowd, you could feel your leg starting to hurt. You huffed as you tried to keep up, extending your hand just as Jungkook was looking back, you gripped his shirt tightly and he looked down, instead, taking your hand in his. You blushed.  “You’ll draw a lot more attention if you’re gripping my shirt like an endangered animal.” He said in a sharp tone. You pursed your lips, his grip on your hand tight as he pulled you along. His other hand hovering over his other side, just where his gun was. You walked for about half an hour before Taehyung was turning around.  They all stopped, but Jungkook didn’t let go of your hand.  “Ok, this is it, we have one car, they gave us armory and supplies, we have a six-hour drive, taking the more secluded highways before we have to ditch the car and walk.” Jungkook nodded and Taehyung resumed walking. As you followed you were in an alley, a black jeep waiting for you with a few armed men around it.  As you approached, Taehyung greeted them, they all nodded as they watched over your group, Hoseok took the driver’s seat, Yoongi the passenger and Jungkook got in the car, pulling you along with him, soon after, Taehyung got in shutting the door.  “Let’s move.” He said and Hoseok was driving off.  After a few minutes of silence and Taehyung handing Hoseok a map with the path drawn, Yoongi spoke.  “How long before the news spreads?” He asked.  “There is no way to access that. All I know is that Red Hawk, Seamore and Armstrong are still reliable,” Jungkook said, void of emotion.  “Of course they’re reliable, they would never not be reliable, Jungkook.” Taehyung sounded offended. Jungkook didn’t respond.  “Jungkook, you should get some rest, you haven’t slept in two days,” Hoseok said, and only then you noticed that your hands were still intertwined.  “I’m fine.” He said.  “You know damn well that she needs you with all your attention and senses sharp, fucking sleep,” Hoseok argued. Your grip around Jungkook tightened, making him look at you.  “I’ll be ok.” You whispered at him and he sighed, giving up, resting his head back he pulled your hand onto his lap along with his. That was his insurance that you wouldn’t disappear while he rested.  “Wake me up in an hour.” He said and the rest of the unit was silent. In less than a few minutes, Jungkook was fast asleep.  You looked ahead at the road, your head void of thought as you pushed the fact that you had to come up with something for when you got to the safe house.  You had an idea of who could be behind these attacks, of who would have been the culprit of it all, and if you were right, the only way of making sure this would end, would be exposing everything, even your father. As you tried your best not to think about it, Taehyung’s voice brought you back. “So...” He started. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, and even if you knew that for some reason Taehyung cared about you, you knew there was a deeper meaning to his question.  “Uh, yeah, as much as I can be.” You answered honestly.  “I’m sure Jungkook is going to take good care of you.” The man said, looking to see if that elicited a reaction from you. You were quiet for a while... After everything that had happened, you felt safe with Jungkook and you knew he would do everything in his power to keep you safe you just wondered why. What could he possibly owe Phillip to make him go through all this trouble for someone he barely knew? You looked back at your intertwined hands.  “Oh, I know that look, that’s doubt,” Taehyung said, and you looked at him. “Sweetheart, Jungkook is... A difficult man, he has many demons and many scars, but he is a man of integrity.” Taehyung said, looking out the window again.  “I don’t doubt he is a man of integrity.” Your voice was low.  “And besides, I would be quite inclined to protect you at any cost too if you hung onto me for dear life like that, it does things to a man you know?” He looked back at you a brow quirked up and a smirk on his face.  “Tae, shut up,” Yoongi said, but you missed the shared glace between him and Hoseok. When silence took over, you felt your sleep-deprived body start to take over, and you slowly fell asleep. With your hand on Jungkook’s, you slept with no interruption, only waking up after a few hours to the sound of his voice. “So, you’re telling me that you’re not hypnotized by the power of pussy?” Hoseok questioned, you heard them clearly but didn’t open your eyes, you noticed your head was rested on Jungkook lap, you couldn’t remember when you had moved, but it felt good regardless.  “Hobi, can you please stop saying that kind of shit?” Jungkook argued.  “Oh, come one, we can see you, man,” Hoseok said. “Helping her through her breakdown, killing a man for just hinting at the idea of killing her, she’s sleeping on your lap as we speak, your fingers are tangled together.” Hoseok didn’t seem annoyed, he just wanted to make Jungkook admit that he was taking the job personally now. “If you tell me you have done this for other protection jobs, I’ll drop it.” Jungkook was silent. Was he giving you special treatment? You wondered with your eyes closed.  “I just want her to feel safe, she’s been through enough, she’ll be traumatized for life,” Jungkook said.  “Ah-ha! I knew it, the fucking power of pussy, man.” Hoseok chuckled in the driver’s seat.  “Hobi has a point, Kook, I mean, you’re clearly taking this personally and to be honest, we don’t mind, but remember that when the job is over she goes back to being a politician and we go back to... Well, war.” Yoongi added. “Just don’t let it get too serious, it could compromise the whole operation.” He said.  You furrowed your brows, not understanding what they meant, but even the slightest movement was enough for Jungkook’s attention to shift to you.  “She’s awake.” He said, and the car fell silent.  “Rise and shine, pretty bird.” You heard Taehyung’s voice. Fluttering your eyes, you looked up at Jungkook, his same dark eyes looking back at you.  “Hi.” You said and once again he didn’t answer.  “We’re almost there, you should drink some water, take your meds,” He said, and you nodded, slowly getting up and sitting back in your spot. You looked at the men in the car, all of them quiet and you noticed Jungkook’s hand had let go of yours, it felt cold all of a sudden and you rested it on your lap.  As you drank water and took your meds you avoided Jungkook. Maybe he was making this personal and maybe he regretted it.  “So, Y/N, any boyfriend back in at home?” Yoongi questioned, and you almost choked on your water. Closing the flask and wiping your mouth, you stuttered.  “U-uh, no... I never had the time to think about dating after my second year of college.” You said.  “But you surely had some fun for two years?” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. You chuckled, looking away.  “I guess, you know, frat parties and sorority ones,  I had my good share of... Experience.” You felt Jungkook shift beside you but didn’t look. “Must be intimidating for men to date the president’s daughter,” Yoongi said.  “Oh, yeah... It was difficult trying to bring a boy back to my dorm when I had five security guards walking with me every second of my day.” Hoseok made a face and Taehyung chuckled. Jungkook didn’t move a muscle, he knew what they were doing.  “Is American college life just like the movies?” Taehyung asked.  “To some sort, only there is a lot more alcohol poisoning and people getting pregnant.” You shrugged. The three men laughed.  “Jesus, imagine if a frat boy got the president’s daughter pregnant.” Yoongi mused.  “I took good care of myself, and besides, I stopped hooking up with people when I got into my second year, I had a goal set and I just tried hard to reach it.” You thought back to those days, they were quiet and calm. No imminent danger surrounding you. If only the girl you were back, then knew what you’d be going through now.  “Interesting, so you’ve graduated in what major?” Yoongi asked.  “I haven’t graduated yet, I’m in my last year, I graduate in six months... Well, if I ever get the chance to.” The conversation took a depressing turn, and the car went silent.  “You’ll get the chance to,” Taehyung said, lips pursed in a shy smile.  After what seemed like an hour, Hoseok slowed down the car. “We’re here.” Jungkook’s voice brought you back.  Hoseok parked the car behind an abandoned gas station and you got out. The sky was cloudy and even if it was hot, the lack of sun made it easier to endure the heat.  Jungkook made sure you had everything you needed before he was gearing up, he took a black rifle gun from the drunk and slung it across his body, the other did the same, tying his camo long-sleeved shirt around his head he was dressed in a light brown shirt that hugged his body slightly, you tried to look away, but you suddenly wanted to know what he looked like underneath. As they all finished gearing up the men rounded around Jungkook.  “Ok, Hoseok will lead us for the first couple of hours, then Yoongi, and when the sun sets, we make camp. Eyes sharp, we have no vehicles, if we’re ambushed we engage with full power, protect her at any cost.” You gulped down. “Ok, little dove, time to go,” Jungkook said, looking at you before he was walking off. A similar formation from before settled, only Hoseok was now leading and Taehyung was behind Yoongi, Jungkook was in front of you following Hoseok.  The heat seemed to swallow you for the first three hours. Your eyes were low and heavy as you walked limping behind Jungkook. Then, as your body released sweat, the air that rushed through the desert cooled you down.  The whole walk was silent, and you had time to think about everything.  Your father was a loyal man, honest and kind. But he had friends in power that weren’t and being kind-hearted, he believed that people could change. When one of his closest friends decided to run for the next election four years ago, your father felt betrayed. Of course, he didn’t win and your father secured his position. But that came with a cost. Jefferson Jhon was a petty man, and he lifted campaigns and spread lies and tried his best to taint your father’s reputation as if he had forgotten what your father had done for him in the past. Jefferson was a wealthy man, he owned several business companies and had an estimated annual income of around 2 billion dollars. He tried to buy people around him to help bring your father down, but your father had a card under his sleeve.  It was probably one of those nights where men of Wallstreet would hire prostitutes, snort cocaine, and spend the cash made out of the backs of desperate people. He tried to make a girl do something even though she wasn’t a prostitute, just an employee. She said no; he got angry; he choked her to death in a drug neurotic rage. The police were surely called and you still remember the phone ringing in the dead of night when you were just a teenager. The skinny man being brought to the Whitehouse by the police while your security made sure he was taken away. Your father did his best o hide it, making sure that the woman’s family was taken care of financially and that Jefferson got clean in exchange for the favor. It was headlined for a long time in the media since in the end, she was the daughter of an economist college professor and eventually; it was ruled a cold because of the lack of evidence. But you didn’t know all that because you saw everything go down that night, or because your father told you. No, you heard your father bring it up in a meeting Jefferson had called with him to try to bully your father into submission. You were standing by the door, ready to storm in and scream at the man that was bringing so much stress to your father, instead, stopping in your tracks. You felt ashamed of your father, ashamed for him doing such a thing, it took a few years for you to get over it, but you still remember Jefferson’s venomous laced words.  “I will fucking destroy you, do you hear me, I will take everything you love away from you, I will fucking destroy you.” He threatened.  A while after that, you decided you needed to make a difference in politics, studying so that you could be someone just as important as your father, just as influential, and soon you were taking on small diplomatic meetings on his behalf.  You didn’t let what you knew go by without confronting your father about it. And you remember that day as if it were yesterday.  “And you call yourself a man of integrity, where is your integrity, dad?” You shouted at him.  “Y/N, I understand your concern, but you have to understand that it was the choice I decided to make back then and one I regret most deeply, but that now can make things very bad not just for Jefferson, but for both of us.” He reasoned.  “I don’t care, dad! He killed a woman! And you covered for him! That makes you an accomplice, and your hands are just as dirty with blood as his hands are.” You swallowed back the tears that threatened to leave you.  Your father sighed, shoulders slumping down.  “You’re right...” He said, defeated. “I’ll have my people prepare a statement and we’ll make this right.” He said, and you nodded at him.  “Good.” Was all you said before you left the room.  A month later you were off to the diplomatic trip your father had set up last minute, one that was very important to you since it was an environmental cause. You had been in your temporary home for almost a month before everything happened. So your only conclusion was that Jefferson had found out about your father writing the public statement, one that you had read and known the lines very well. ‘My brave, just and loyal daughter convinced me that if I were truly a man of kindness, I should no longer allow this cruel act go unpunished, even if cost me my own position.’ That was enough for Jefferson to know you were a threat as well, and he fought hard to eliminate any trace of it. How he could do it without being discovered was what you wondered. But you knew that there were few people in this world that couldn’t be bought, and if he was willing to pay a year of his company’s profits for your head, you knew that people’s silence cost a lot less. “You’re pretty quiet, everything ok?” Yoongi’s voice brought you back from your thoughts.  You huffed, feet digging into the sand as you struggled to walk.  “I think I know who’s behind this.” You said, and all eyes shot in your direction.  “Who?” Taehyung questioned.  You tilted your head to the side.  “If I tell you, then your head will be worth 1.5 billion dollars.” You said, and somehow, that made Yoongi laugh.  “I mean, even if I don’t want to die, I’m pretty curious,” Taehyung said.  You looked up at Jungkook, his sweat dripping down his chin and the shirt around his head soaked.  “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He said, his face slightly flushed from walking so long.  “As crazy as it sounds, I trust you all.” You said, and Hoseok smiled back at you.  “So, come on, tell us who’s going through so much trouble to have you killed.” Yoongi sounded anxious.  “Jefferson John.” You said, and Taehyung laughed.  “Isn’t that cliche?” He mused. “The president’s adversary.”  “My father had dirt on him, dirt that would not only make him not be able to run, but go to jail.” You said as a strong sting erupted through your leg, all four stopped walking as you hissed in pain. You felt your own sweat soak your tank top as you looked at them.  “It’s ok, let’s keep going.” You assured, and they resumed walking.  They waited for you to continue.  “When I enrolled in college, I overheard a conversation they had and found out about it. A few months ago I convinced my father to make a public statement about it and he must have found out.” You told them.  Jungkook hummed.  “Jesus, what kind of dirt did your father have on him? Was he laundering money or something?” Hoseok asked.  “Worse.” Your voice came out weaker.  “Worse? Did he kill someone?” You went quiet. And that was enough answer they needed.  “Holy shit.” Hoseok cursed, taking in the information.  “You’re the only one alive that knows?” Jungkook questioned.  “I think so... everyone I know that could have known is dead.” Your voice was low now.  It was quiet for a while before Yoongi spoke.  “How is he going to make sure no one knows he was the one that caused the hit?”  “You can make anything seem like a terrorist attack with the right amount of money.” Taehyung pitched in. The rest of the group giving him a knowing look. “He must have hired a private contractor, like Phillips. Although I doubt Phillip would do such a thing, we don’t kill innocent people.” Hoseok said.  “It doesn’t matter, what matters is that she’s the only one that can make this right,” Jungkook said.  Soon, everyone went quiet and as the hours went by, you felt your legs ache in pain, your head woozy and eyes fluttering. You were tired, too tired. Your body suddenly gave out as you tripped and fell onto the sand, just as quickly as your hands met the sand, two bodies where by your side.  “Are you ok?” Jungkook’s asked, lifting your face to look at him, voice stern and worried.  “Jungkook, she’s been walking in the heat for the past five hours, what do you think?” Yoongi said beside you. Jungkook looked at the man, bringing his watch into view and looking around.  “We have an hour till sundown, I would suggest we move till then it’s not safe to make camp during the daylight, we can be spotted.” He said looking back at Yoongi.  “She’s pale, her lips are cracked, her wound is bleeding through the fabric and she isn’t fucking like us. She needs rest now or do you want to fucking carry her for the next hour?” Yoongi said, irritated. Jungkook was silent, answering Yoongi’s question.  “Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.” Your eyes were heavy, and you tried to focus on Jungkook, you blink a few times and felt the water being spread on your lips.  “Drink.” He said, and you obeyed, drinking down the water he was giving you. As soon as he was done, he put the flask away. “Ok, little dove, up.” He said helping your body up and pulsing it onto his back, you wrapped your hands around his neck, while he held onto your thighs, his hand dangerously close to your wound. You hissed in pain as he stretched the skin.  “Hold on to me, we’ll rest soon.” Was all he said, ignoring your hiss.  Jungkook’s body was toned, you could feel his muscles flexing under your body while looking down onto his strong hands that held your legs in place. Your hands wrapped lazily around his sweaty neck and your chin rested over your arm, your face mere inches from his. You were quiet as you felt your cheeks blush at how your body was flush against his, he would probably feel your heat against his back and the thought alone made you blush harder.  “If you’re right about Jefferson, the only way he’s going to stop is if you’re dead or if you tell the world the truth,” Jungkook said in a low voice, so only you could hear.  “I know.” You said quietly.  You rested comfortably on top of Jungkook, watching as the sun started to set and the sky turn blue. Suddenly he stopped, putting you down and looking around. The other stopped too. You noticed your clothes were soaking in your sweat and his.  “Ok, this seems good, let’s set up camp,” Jungkook announced.  There were two tents and as Hoseok and Taehyung put them together Yoongi was helping Jungkook with the portable stove. You looked at the men working, feeling useless once again.  “Hey Y/N, come here,” Taehyung called. You walked in his direction. “Help me out with this, will you?” He asked, even though he seemed to know how to do it himself.  There was the crazy aura about Taehyung, as if he always knew the right things to say. You smiled softly at him in a silent ‘thank you’ and helped him put the tent together. You watched as Yoongi and Jungkook stripped from their shirts, a gasp being trapped between your lips. Taehyung chucked, you looked back at him in embarrassment.  “We’re all human here... little dove”. He teased, and you bit your lower lip.  You didn’t know why Jungkook called you that, but you knew you liked it ever since he had said it back in Gallaticus. It had felt endearing and made you feel calmer.  “Heads up,” Taehyung warned before you turned around and faced a shirtless Jungkook. You almost squealed when your eyes met his toned abs. It was just as you had imagined, slim and toned and his skin honey-kissed. He had a few scars here and there. But it somehow made him even more appealing.  “Lost anything down there?” Jungkook tilted his head to the side, and you looked up at him, cheeks blushing. He lifted an eyebrow, waiting for your answer, but your mouth opened and closed several times and nothing came out.  “Nevermind. This is your tent, I’ll be with you while you sleep and I’ll take rounds with Yoongi, is that ok with you?” He asked, and you nodded.  “Good, we’re gonna heat up some food, try to change into something dry, it get’s really fucking cold at night.” He said before walking away. You looked back at Taehyung he had an amused look on his face.  “That went perfect, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes at him and walked into the tent, bringing your bag along with you. You changed into dry clothes, walking out as the light of the day now was almost gone. There wasn’t a fire, but a yellow light in the middle of the men. You furrowed your brows as you noticed the cans heating up in the portable stove.  “Fluorescent light,” Hoseok answered your silent question. “Drones can’t see it, satellites can’t see it, and conveniently enough, it shoos the bugs away.” The wind was now just a light breeze as the temperature dropped. You sat beside Yoongi, across from Jungkook and Taehyung, Hoseok in the middle of the four of you, handling the stove.  “You hungry?” Yoongi asked, and you nodded.  He gave you a soft smile. “You know, when we started this, I thought you’d be one of those spoil brats that complain about everything.” He said while he leaned in and grabbed one of the cans, wrapping a shirt around the bottom. “Careful, it’s hot.” He handed it over to you and you took it, using the plastic spork.  “I don’t know if I am a brat, I hope I’m not, I’m smarter than to complain about worthless things when my life is in danger.” You say, and the boy’s hum. “Besides, you’re all going through hell and risking your lives to make sure I’m safe. Why would I put you in any more stress?”  “I know a few other jobs that didn’t really care before,” Yoongi said and Hoseok seconds it.  “You kinda are a brat.” Everyone looked at Jungkook, that was concentrated on his food. He looked up, noticing everyone’s stare. “You kinda are.” He shrugged, spork playing with his food. “How am I a brat?” You asked. You couldn’t contain the amused smile on your face. “Well, do you remember in the car before we were attacked. You said this thing about if I had a sad childhood story and if that was the moment, I’d tell it. I was really close to punching you.” He said, and you laughed, making him look at you.  “Well, you’re irritating sometimes. Also, I only thought about the sad childhood story because of that scar you have on your cheek.” You ate without really paying attention to the taste.  He shuffled on his spot, raising an eyebrow. “How do you think I got this scar?” He asked you before looking over at the other men that watched your conversation with amusement.  You slowly sucked on the spoon to get all the sauce off while you thought. You didn’t notice, but all four eyes glinted.  “Childhood bully, foster parents...” You hummed, letting the spork go with a pop, Jungkook’s eyes were darker than before. “Something sad and tragic.” You shrugged and looked back at your can.  Everyone was silent for a while, and when you looked up Jungkook blinked a couple of times.  “My older brother and I had a fight over who was going to play on the computer, I lost. I have no sad childhood story, I had a pretty amazing childhood and my parents were the fucking best.” He said putting down the can and taking his flask.  “Were? Are they...?” You questioned, and he shook his head.  “No, but they think I am, have for the past few years.” Jungkook looked at you and shrugged.  “Oh, I’m sorry.” You said focusing back on your can, where you played with the food. “Can I know why?” You asked, and it was Hoseok’s turn to speak.  “Y/N, when you’re in our line of work, it’s better to not have people you care about in your life, they can easily be used as leverage.” You bit on your lower lip in understanding.  You suddenly saw Taehyung take something out of his jacket, it was a metal flask.  “Is that alcohol?” You asked and Taehyung wiggled his eyebrow, opening it and taking a swing, making a face right after.  “You think I was going to spend almost two days in the desert on a mission I don’t know if I’m gonna come back alive from and not bring alcohol?” You laughed and saw him pass it to Jungkook. He took a swing, to your surprise, making a face and you laughed.  He looked at you before passing it to Hoseok who did the same. When it got to you, you hesitated, eyes looking at Jungkook. “You’re taking meds.” He said and Taehyung scoffed.  “Oh come on Kook, it’s not like she’s going to get drunk from a few fucking swings,” Taehyung argued, taking the flask from Hoseok and shoving it in your hand. Jungkook sighed.  “You’re a bad influence, Tae.” He said, leaning back into his backpack, his legs spread open.  You took the flask and put it in your mouth, tipping it back. It tasted like brandy and not a good kind, but you didn’t complain, just allowed the burning sensations to go down your throat as you made a face.  “And you sound like her parent.” He said back, laughing.  “Oh, god, no, I used to call my father daddy when I was younger.” You joked, and the boys erupted in laughter, Jungkook chuckled. You laughed along with the boys, your eyes meeting Jungkook’s, he was looking at you with his lower lip tucked in his mouth, it made your skin buzz, the way he was looking at you and chuckle he let out when you blushed.  After a while, it started getting very cold and everyone decided it was time to call it a night. You got up and Jungkook followed you into the tent in silence.  “You know...” He started, taking out his gun and making sure it was loaded and ready to go if he needed it to be. “You look pretty when you smile.” He said it as if it was the most simple thing to say. You spun your head around to look at him. His eyes were still dark as before. Your cheeks blushed, and you looked away.  “T-thanks.” You said in a small voice, laying down on the hard floor, using your bag as a headrest. Jungkook hummed, watching as you laid. He turned off the light making everything pitch dark, the only light source was the moonlight shining through the clouds giving it all a blueish hue.  You heard him move, laying down a few inches away from you. You were shivering from the cold, your teeth hitting against one another even though you were using your jacket.  It was hard to sleep as your body shivered. You tried your best to calm your shivering, but after what seemed like half an hour, it felt pointless. Jungkook seemed to notice, his voice making you jump slightly in the darkness.  “Turn around.” He said, and you hesitated for a while before turning on your good side. Suddenly, you felt his arm come around your chest and pull you into his body; he was spooning you, your whole body flush against his and he was warm, so warm. Your shaking got a bit better, but it was still there. As you tried not to move so that he could get some rest while Yoongi took watch, his voice was just by your ear.  “Are you still cold?” He asked, something different laced in his words. You nodded, you wondered why he wasn’t shaking like you and then you remembered he must have done this a thousand times, spend the night in the desert. You jolted when you felt his hand snake it’s way inside your jacket, his rough, warm fingers caressing your skin gently, softly. The act made you unwillingly roll your hips back and Jungkook let out a huff of air, his fingers gripping your waist to hold you still.  You only then noticed that you had ground up against him, you blushed aggressively, not knowing how to apologize for it, but as you opened your mouth to speak his hand grazed the front of your stomach slowly, you gasped, clenching your stomach for how sensitive your felt. Once again, your hips rolled back into him. Suddenly, his other hand was under your head and around your mouth, your eyes opening and he was speaking again, whispering.  “Be quiet, little dove, I’m gonna get you warm.” He said in a husky voice and you melted into him from the nickname, your body betraying you as felt his hand come back and graze your back, all your hairs standing. You didn’t know why Jungkook was doing it, but you weren’t gonna ask him to stop. His touch was something you didn’t know you needed until now, and fuck did you need it. As he touched your skin, you felt the familiar dampness between your legs, a dull ache starting to grow. You turned into putty in his hands, your body reacting to the slightest of touch and he seemed to notice, he seemed to like it. You heard as his breathing started to become a little shallow, his hand only shifting from our stomach to your back, sometimes he would go further up your stomach, make you feel hope that he’d touch you anywhere sensitive, but he would come down again and back. Your hips rolled back again and this time, you felt it. The hard bulge between his legs, large and delicious. You rolled your hips back again, mind already taken over by lust. He gripped your hips, pushing himself into you and you whimpered, his other hand closing around your mouth to muffle it. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to feel how heavy he was in our hand, but he had other plans for you.  Gently, he grazed his warm fingers up your stomach, higher until he brushed the tip over one nipple. You felt just how wet you got from one simple brush of his fingers, arching your breast into his hand. His mouth was just by your ear, his breathing shallow as he explored you the way he wanted to. His lips grazed the back of your neck, but never moving. Suddenly he was grazing your nipple again, this time longer, harder. You bit down on his hand, a low moan escaping your lips before he finally massaged your breasts. You tried your best to stay quiet, silently whimpering into his hand as you rest your head back on him, it felt so good; he was so good with his hand on your breasts, you could only imagine how good he was somewhere else. And as if he could read your mind, his hand started tracing lower, lower, lower until he breached the hem of your pants. The anticipation was agonizing as you couldn’t see him, only feel. As he grazed his fingers lower, he didn’t hesitate. Hand coming down to slowly cup your heat, your legs parted a little, your body moving and you could almost face him now, but he still didn’t allow you to, the touch of his hand over your core was making small electric shocks go all through your body and when he pushed two fingers to breach your lips and bring them up your folds to your clit, you moaned and he cursed.  “Fuck...” He cursed in a whisper. “You’re fucking soaked.” His lips were on your ear. You couldn’t speak, mind hazy on how desperate you were for him to touch you. Suddenly your back was shoved to the ground, the hand over your mouth beside your head and the other still on your core. You opened your eyes, looking up at him. His eyes were dark, so dark that they could eat you alive. You were flushed, eyes but slits, lips humid and swollen from how much you were biting on them, and the whole picture was making Jungkook lose it. He once again slid his fingers between your lips, from your quivering hole up to your clit and your mouth hung open, no sound coming out. You knew better than to let the others know what you two were doing in there. Jungkook started rubbing gentle circles on your clit, shushing you when he heard you whimper. Your legs opened wider to give him more access, he watched your every reaction, the way your chest rose and fell, your hole clenched around nothing, he knew he was making you feel good. The delicious way he rubbed you was haunting, you were so sensitive and deprived that you already felt a trace of an orgasm in the back of your mind. Jungkook bit his lower lips, trying to contain his own groan, his erection painfully hard in his pants, and when he slid back down and pushed two fingers in gently you arched your back, he leaned down, resting on his elbow as he put his hand over your mouth.  Having him over your body like that was a lot, maybe too much, and the way he was mere inches from your covered lips made you want to kiss him. He started a slow pace of his fingers, in and out, curling as they went out and rubbing at your sweet spot, again and again, his thumb rubbed circles in your clit as he slowly fucked you with his fingers. Your hands came up to grab onto the arm around your mouth, fingers digging into them. He hissed, resting his forehead on yours, eyes never looking away. When you started clenching, you felt your orgasm approach you at an impending speed; he noticed, biting harder on his lower lip.  “I got you, little dove, let go.” He said, and you rolled your eyes back, hips moving along with his rhythm. Soon enough your eyes flashed white. The tingling sensation started from the tip of your toes and rolled in a rush all the way through your body, an electric shock that made you clench violently around his fingers and arch your back into him. You couldn’t control your sounds, whimpering wildly into his hand, he pressed his palm down harder, his head diving into your neck to try to muffle your sounds. He rode it out, his pace slow and gently and when your breathing started getting regular again, he pulled his fingers out, leaning back on his elbow, his eyes trained on your hazy post-orgasm ones. You looked at him with bliss in your eyes, cheeks flushed and a fucked out expression that he took a mental picture of. He brought his cum-soaked fingers up and into his mouth, your mouth opening up in a gasp and his brows furrowing in sweet, sweet torture. As he sucked his fingers clean, he leaned his other hand back down, one on each side of your face. You two were in silence, eyes locked. He eyes your body once, sighing in satisfaction before looking back at you.  “Time to sleep.” He said when he noticed you were no longer shivering. You blinked a couple of times before he moved back to his spot, pulling your body into his like before.  You wanted to help him with his erection; you knew he had one; you had felt it; you whined, and he shushed you, making you go quiet. “You’re warm now, sleep.” Even if you thought you would never be able to fall asleep after that, you proved yourself wrong when you were fast asleep not even ten minutes later.  When you woke up, the sun was starting to rise. Your eyes fluttered, you were on your back looking up at the tent ceiling and you turned your face to the side where another face looked back at you.  “Hi there,” Yoongi said, smiling at you. It seemed innocent, but deep down it also had something with it, almost like a teasing tone. As you smiled back at him and got up, you felt a weird dampness between your legs and everything came rushing back. Your eyes slightly bulged and your cheeks flushed, you had let Jungkook finger you yesterday, not just that, you had let Jungkook finger you and give you a mind-blowing orgasm just with that, his fingers. You got up in a rush, grabbing your things and leaving the tent. “Good morning to you too,” Yoongi yelled from inside.  On the outside was the rest of the unit. Hoseok was packing the portable stove and Taehyung was working on undoing the tent. Your eyes searched for Jungkook and you saw him, sitting on a rock, shirtless, said shirt around his head as he checked the rifles. His eyes met yours for a split second and you looked away.  “Morning, did you sleep well?” Hoseok asked while he walked in your direction. The question seemed genuine.  “Y-yeah, very well, you?” You asked, stuttering as you played with the strap of your backpack.  “Meh, you know, as well you can sleep on the hard floor.” He shrugged.  You glanced at Jungkook, his eyes on you for a split second before his attention was on the guns again.  You needed to distract yourself. Walking towards Taehyung, you decided to help him with the tents. After you had helped Taehyung and everything was packed, Jungkook approached you all.  “Ok, we’re moving out.” His voice was hard and stern, and he barely acknowledged you.  You all walked in silence, a very awkward silence. Taehyung in front, Jungkook behind him, you in the middle and Yoongi and Hoseok came after. You couldn’t help look up at Jungkook, his bare back flexing now and then as he moved. God, why was he so attractive? It made everything harder. You came to the conclusion that God had given you a force task unit from hell. Devil-like killer supermodels. You hated god.  As you walked for the next few hours, no one spoke and as much as it wasn’t an unusual thing for you all to be quiet, after what had happened during the night, you were overthinking a lot.  The quiet spell was broken by no other than Yoongi.  “So, Y/N, you seem pretty well rested.” He said with a teasing tone to his voice. You looked back at him, brows furrowed.  “Yoongi, shut up,” You heard Jungkook spit out, but he didn’t look back.  ”What? I’m just asking her an innocent question” He raised an eyebrow and smirked.  “I slept pretty well, I guess I was tired.” You said, still walking.  “Oh? So, you probably must have blown out some steam, huh?” He teased and this time Jungkook stopped walking. Looking back at the white-haired man.  “Yoongi, I swear if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to shoot you in the foot.” Jungkook had his teeth clenched. The whole unit stopped walking.  “Is there something I’m missing?” Hoseok piped in.  Yoongi looked at him and back at Jungkook.  “I don’t know, Hobi, why don’t you ask lover boy over there.” Yoongi teased.  “Oh my god.” You groaned and put both hands over your face. Of course, Yoongi had heard you.  “What the fuck are you talking about, Yoongi?” It was Taehyung’s turn to question.  “Oh, come on, we’re all adults here, no need to act like a teenager and pretend you two didn’t fuck yesterday,” Yoongi said looking from Jungkook to you.  “Wait, you fucked her?” Hoseok asked, a lopsided smile on his face.  You didn’t know where to hide.  “I did not fuck her,” Jungkook argued.  “Jungkook, if your dick was inside her, you fucked her.” Yoongi nodded.  “Yoongi, oh my god, shut up.” It was your turn to speak. Eyes bulged, cheeks red.  “I heard you two!” He spat back at you and Jungkook.  “We did not fuck!” You said.  “Oh, so you’re telling me I didn’t hear her orgasm last night?” You once again hid your face in your hand. Taehyung and Hoseok amused by the whole thing.  Jungkook was silent. You looked back at him, waiting for him to deny it. He never did.  Yoongi opened his mouth in surprise you opened yours in outrage.  “Listen, I never said I didn’t make her cum, just that I didn’t fuck her.” Jungkook shrugged.  “Jungkook!” You yelled at him.  “What? A man gloats about his battles and his victories.” He smirked at you. Smirked. It was quiet as you gave Jungkook an outraged look.  “How d’you do it?” An unknown voice spoke and suddenly everyone moved, the sound of guns from the four men with you arming and ready to fire. When you looked at the owner of the voice he was covered in a camouflage outfit, one that would allow him to lay in the sand and not be seen. He didn’t even flinch at the guns pointed at him, instead, ignoring them. “Tongue?” He asked, and the men slowly rolled their eyes, putting the guns away with grunts and curses.  You looked around at them in confusion and back at the stranger.  “Fingers,” Jungkook answered, wiggling his fingers in the air. Your head spinning in his direction.  “Hot.” The short man smiled. He was blond, features soft, almost innocent. And dammit, he was gorgeous. One more to the Devil-like killer agenda.  “Shut up, Jimin, you just got here, you’re not entitled to details,” Yoongi said. Oh, so this was Jimin.  “I’m entitled to any information if I’m going to allow your stinky ass into my bunker.” He crossed his arms. You wondered why he was in the middle of the desert, but pushed that thought away as you noticed this conversation had gone too far.  “No one is entitled to shit as long as it regards my private parts!” You finally snapped and all five heads turned to you. “Now, shut the fuck up about it before I shoot you all in the foot.” You looked at each of them, including Jungkook, that had a dark look on his face then back to Jimin. He had an amused smile on his.  “I like her, Kook.” He said and walked towards you. “Jimin.” He said, extending his hand. You took it, the irritation in you fading away slightly.  “Nice to meet you.” You said. “Oh, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung all bet that you’d take some job, something about low pay.” He squinted, hand still shaking yours as he looked around at the men. The three mentioned looking at you with outrage.  ”What are my odds?" He asked, eyebrows rising in curiosity. “Two to one.” You said, and he finally let go of your hand.  “Thanks for the tip.” He winked at you, walking back a few steps and tapping his foot twice on the sand. Only it made a metallic sound. You furrowed your brows in confusion. A hatch was lifted, and the men started moving, Jungkook passed you, turning his head in your direction. “Come on.” Was all he said as he went down the stairs.  Red Hawk was a bunker. But not just any bunker, it was a large military bunker with several armed soldiers and high technology equipment.  “Jesus, is there a war I’m unaware of?” You questioned more to yourself, but Jimin looked back at you as he walked down the low lit hallway.  “There is always a war where there is money involved.” He said.  You didn’t say anything, you were well aware that money was the main cause of war. You tried your best; you convince your father not to be one of those presidents. “How long are you staying and what do you need?” Jimin asked and Jungkook looked around at the men that stared back at the group of strangers walking down the hallway.  “Twenty-four hours and we need a car and ammo, the bullets Taehyung’s connection gave us are rusty, pretty sure they’re from the fifties,” Jungkook spoke.  “Hey, don’t complain,” Taehyung said. “It’s a humble town and mine are marked.” “Whatever.” Jungkook clapped back. “Ok, I have four rooms, one for her and the other tree for the rest, Yoongi and Hobi can share,” Jimin said, turning at the end of the hallway, walking into another one.  “No, she doesn’t stay alone,” Jungkook said, and Jimin stopped walking, looking back at him.  “Just stay with her,” Jimin said, a smile tugged on his lips. “Not like you two aren’t familiar with each other, anyway.”  Jungkook rolled his eyes as he showed you all the rooms, Taehyung and Yoongi went into their own, talking about how they needed showers and rest.  You got into yours; it was a simple bed, a table and a chair and a bathroom, the bathroom had a tower, a shower on the wall that had nothing around, a toilet and a sink. Looking around, you stepped in; you left your bag on the bed, watching as Jungkook spoke to Jimin and Hoseok lingered by their side.  “Do you trust your men?” Jungkook questioned, and Jimin sighed.  “You know damn well that I don’t trust anyone other than the seven,” Jimin answered. You tried not to eavesdrop, but it seemed rather hard when the matter was your safety.  “Ok, we keep watch around the hours, she doesn’t stay alone for a second with anyone other than us,” Jungkook ordered and Hoseok nodded. Jimin looked back at you and you looked away.  “How much are they paying you?” He asked, brows furrowed. Jungkook looked at him, a weird look on his face.  “I owed Philip.” He said and Jimin raised an eyebrow.  “But this isn’t about Philip anymore, is it?” He questioned, arms crossing over his chest.  Hoseok was the one that shook his head, Jimin let out a surprised chuckle. Jungkook didn’t answer. He shuffled on his feet in discomfort.  “Well, that settles it for me, if she’s a priority to you, she’s a priority to me,” no questions asked, Jimin said and Jungkook sighed, shoulders relaxing.  “Thanks, Chim, I owe you one,” Jungkook said lower, hand resting on the man’s shoulder.  “I’ll go arrange the things for tomorrow, we should go shoot after at the ring, catch up.” He said and Jungkook nodded.  As Hoseok went to his room, and Jungkook entered yours you avoided looking at him.  Not only were you still embarrassed about what had happened the night before, but you were also irritated that he had talked about it with the boys while you were right there.  “Are you hungry?” He questioned, you didn’t answer him while you took your clothes out of the bag, shoving it out. “Thirsty?” Once again you didn’t answer. “Come on, Y/N, are you going to give me the silent treatment?” He leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of him. It seemed familiar. You finally looked at him, his strong arms crossed over his chest, his rough fingers just resting there. You gulped.  “Yes.” Was all you answered as you looked back at your things.  “Look, if I didn’t play along they wouldn’t drop it, it was better this way, trust me,” Jungkook said and you looked at him again, irritation written all over your face.  “I don’t care about being teased by grown men acting like teenagers, Jungkook, I care that they all know I allowed you to finger fuck me in a tent in the middle of the fucking desert like a horny teenager while there is a price on my head.” You spat at him.  Jungkook was quiet for a while. He took a few steps into the room, you side-eyed him as he got closer. When he stopped just a few inches from you, you couldn’t ignore just how hard it was to breathe. The warmth radiating from his body brought back just how good you had felt the night before. He lifted his hand, touching your chin and turning your face towards him. “You’re cute when you act like a prude...” He whispered, lips too close for your sanity. “But you look even better when you cum.”  You whimpered. Body betraying you, as it was now very well addicted to Jungkook. The noise seemed to please Jungkook, a smirk showing on his lips.  “Take a shower, little dove, you need to change your bandages.” His voice was still laced with the same velvet it was before. Hypnotizing. You swallowed, eyes low while your tongue darted out to wet your lips, you nodded. “Good girl.” He let go of your chin, stepping away while he walked towards the door and closed it. He turned around, walking back and sitting on the chair across from you. You turned to him, lower lip stuck between your teeth. If he was going to play games with you, you could easily play along. You tugged off your jacket, eyes trained on him, he looked at you dangerously before you gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it off, your bare breasts bouncing slightly, Jungkook inhaled, he had seen you bare before, but this time you wanted him to and he knew it. Pushing off your boots, you slowly pushed your camo pants down, allowing them to pool at your feet. You were now in your underwear and nothing else, only the bandages that wrapped around your thigh. Slowly, you stepped out of the pants and walked to him, his legs spread open as he leaned back in the chair. You stopped right between them, waiting.  Jungkook didn’t need to be told what to do as his hand snaked up your bare thigh and stopped at the base of the bandages, a shiver erupted through your body, slowly he started unwrapped you, agonizingly slow and you watched as your breath picked up, a heat going through your body. When he was done, he let the wraps drop to the floor, his hand resting on the side of your thigh. You stood there, still, eyes glossy and mind hazy as you had no control over how much you wanted him to touch you. Jungkook looked up at you, his eyes blown out as he saw your perked nipples. He rested both hands on each side of your legs, bringing them up slowly as he watched you. You bit down on your lower lip as a shiver went through your body, Hooking a finger on each side of your underwear he slowly pulled it down, noticing how the fabric stuck to your already damp folds, he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his eyes as he helped you step out of them. He caressed your skin, his palms on your bare thighs as he memorized each curve. He pulled you in, making you straddle him as he sat you down on his lap, his lips hovering over yours and his eyes trained on them. He snuck a hand up, brushing the hair off your face.  “Do you need help in the shower, little dove?” His husky voice questioned, whispered. You nodded, and he nodded along, your hips starting to move on their own slightly.  “How could I ever say no to you,” He grazed his nose against yours, making you whine.  ”What is it, little dove, what do you want?" He cooed, hand caressing down our side, over your bare ass, going back down your thigh.  “K-kiss me, Jungkook.” You whispered, desperately.  Jungkook thought for a few seconds before he closed the gap between your lips.  His lips were warm, soft, molding to yours perfectly. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when you felt his tongue come out, you opened your mouth, allowing him to take control and deepen the kiss. It was hot all of a sudden, hotter than the desert. Kissing Jungkook was like fire, little explosions going on inside you simultaneously. The kiss got hungrier, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you in harder, breathy whimpers and low groans escaping the two of you, Suddenly he got up with you in his lap, walking into the bathroom without ever breaking the kiss. When the water hit your back you jolted in surprise, gasping into his mouth and he took the opportunity to bring his mouth down to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin gently while you two got soaked in water. Jungkook’s clothes stuck to his body as he pressed you against the wall of the open bathroom. Holding your legs, he pressing your body against the wall, his hips rolled into your core, you moaned at the feeling.  “It’s like you want them to hear.” He said, smirking against your neck, you bit your lower lip, trying to hold in your moans. “Is that what you want? Do you want them to hear how I make you feel?” You whined again, unable to answer. The friction from his wet clothes against your core was making you ache. Jungkook let go of one of your legs, snaking his hand in between your bodies, two fingers sliding between your folds.  “Fuck, you’re soaked and I barely touched you, little dove.” He whispered against your ear. A loud whimper escaping you as you felt his fingers where you needed him the most. Throwing your head back against the wall, Jungkook pulled back, looking at you. He slid both fingers inside of you slowly, watching your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open, sinful whimpers leaving you. “You have no idea how bad I wanted to fuck you yesterday.” He admitted, between labored breathing. “So tight, clenching around my fingers so hard, must feel amazing to have you wrapped around my cock.” He trusted his fingers hard into you and you arched against them. You wanted to, you wanted to feel him inside of you, god you were desperate to.  “Jungkook.” You whined, feeling his fingers going in and out of you torturously.  “What is it, baby? Talk to me, little dove.” He cooed again.  “Please fuck me.” You begged, the coil in your gut so close to snapping. Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice as he slowly took his fingers out of you. The emptiness made you whimper. He shoves his soaking pants down only slightly, pulling his hard, veiny cock out. You looked down, watching him pump a few times, mouth watering and walls clenching. He was big, girthy, and you were anxious to feel him inside of you. He teased, sliding his cock between your lips and back, his whole length rubbing against your clit. When you squirmed in his hold, he was done teasing.  Jungkook aligned his tip with your entrance, grabbing onto both your hands and holding them above your head, his forehead resting against yours. The water that dripped down his soaked hair made him look even more breathtaking. Slowly he breached your lips, tip entering you torturously slow. Your eyes rolled back as he filled you up until he bottomed out, the stretch a lot more hard to take than his fingers, a groan left him as he furrowed his brows in pleasure. He was still for a while, allowing you to adjust to him, his eyes barely open as he himself was drunk with lust. He started a slow pace, hands gripping your wrists tight against the wall, hips grinding upwards into you as he watched the look of pure pleasure on your face, his mouth slightly open, you clenched hard around him, a groan escaping him as he bucked into you hard, hips snapping. You moaned, high pitched at the feeling of him going so deep inside of you.  He picked up his pace, fucking you so deliciously you didn’t know how long you’d last, he couldn’t go too fast otherwise, he’d hurt you, but he was good at controlling his movements.  “You feel so fucking good, so fucking addicting.” He spoke between breathy groans. “It’s like this pussy was made just for me.” He added.  As you clenched hard at his words, Jungkook lost his cool, letting go of your hands and holding your body again, hips snapping up at an unforgiving pace. You were gone, the feeling of him going in and out of you, the stretch so good, feeling so full, you felt the first sign of your orgasm, whimper picking up.  Jungkook seemed to notice as you started to feel tighter around him. He ground into you again and again, hitting that sweet spot that made you finally snap. Squirming and shaking around him, your orgasm hit you hard, Jungkook held on to your body to try to keep you steady but the violent clenching around his length was too much for him, he stilled inside of you, his release spilling out and painting your walls as he came with a throaty groan, his lips crashing into yours to kiss you messily. As you both came down from your high, Jungkook pulled out and gently placed you on the floor, only then noticing the blood dripping down your leg.  “Fuck..” He cursed. “I’m sorry.” You chuckled, still hazy from your high, He pulled his soaked pants back up.  “It’s ok, it doesn’t hurt.” You said in a small voice, Jungkook looked at you, a satisfied yet small smile on his lips, he leaned in, kissing you softly and taking your breath away. “Clean up, I’ll ask Jimin if he can get someone to look at it.” You nodded, drunk on his taste.  Jungkook gave you another kiss, hesitant to leave, but he did, clothes soaking wet as he made his way out of the bathroom.  You finished your shower, now and then blushing and biting your lip at the memory of what had just happened. You couldn’t deny the massive crush you had developed for him. Heart fluttering like a teenage girl at the thought. After you finished, you wrapped yourself in the towel and left the bathroom, blood still sliding down your leg, outside you were met with Hoseok, he had a teasing grin on his lips.  You tried to hide your blush, but he didn’t let that slide.  “Now you can’t deny that you two fucked.” He teased.  “Oh, bite me, Hoseok.” You rolled your eyes as you took your clothes and went back to the bathroom, hearing him laugh as you closed the door.  You tried your best to clean the blood, but it stubbornly dripped down your thigh, ruining the towel and your clothes. Eventually, you got out, the door to the room open as Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook spoke, Jungkook was wearing dry clothes now, black cargo pants ad boots and a black shirt that hugged his body perfectly. He looked so fucking hot. Jungkook looked at you as you approached. “Jimin and Hoseok are going to take you to the medical center they have here, make sure your wound is closed and healing, I have to take care of a few things it’ll take about half an hour and we can go have some food,” You were still blushing, cheeks slightly red as you nodded at him, he brought one hand up to put a lock of hair behind your ear, a soft smile on his lips.  “I’ll be back before you know it.” He said, and you smiled at him.  “Ok.” You said, and he walked away, leaving you, Hoseok, and Jimin in awkward silence.  “So, they fucked,” Jimin said, Hoseok nodded.  “Yep.” He let out.  “Shut up.” You spat at both of them.  Jimin and Hoseok lead you to the medical center, it was more like a small room with a medical stretcher and medical supplies. Inside was a woman.  “This is Ashe. She did four years of medical school before she joined the army, then joined us. She’s going to take a look at your wound, Hoseok will stay here with you, I have to go meet up with Jungkook.” You nodded at them and looked back at her.  “Hi,” You said shyly.  “Hey, you must be Raven.” She smiled back at you. You nodded. “Where is the wound?” She questioned. “Back of my left thigh, yeah, I think it opened, doesn’t stop bleeding.” You informed her, she nodded, walking back to a surgery table and putting on some gloves.  “Can you take off your pants and lie down on the stretcher, please?” She asked, and you looked at Hoseok. He rolled his eyes before he closed the door to give you some privacy.  As you shoved your pants down and let it hang on a chair, you got on the stretcher, turning on your side.  Ashe hissed when she saw the wound. “This looks painful.” She said, and you chuckled.  “I’m starting to get used to it.”  “How’d this happen?” She sounded curious as she prepared some cotton to clean the wound.  “I was shot.” Was all you answered.  “Yeah, I can tell, looks like you were running when it happened.” You hummed, not wanting to give away too much information, even if Ashe seemed nice. She started cleaning your wound. It still hurt like hell, but less now. You only hissed at the pain. Body cringing as you bit on your palm to try to make the pain bearable.  After what seemed like twenty minutes, she spoke.  “So, how is it you have the most dangerous men in charge of your security?” She asked, she was sowing your wound shut, eyes focused. You knew you shouldn’t talk about it, so you made something up.  “I’m paying them very well.” You said, and she scoffed, getting up.  It took you a few seconds to notice when she locked the door. The handle turning as outside, Hoseok also noticed.  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re being paid very fucking well.” Ashe’s voice changed significantly in intention.  “Raven!” Hoseok shouted outside.  “What are you doing?” You asked as you sat up, crawling back and trying to get a good distance between the two of you. She looked at the surgery tray, all types of sharp scalpels before she took one.  “Retiring.” She said before she began to close the distance between the two of you, you screamed Jungkook’s name, throwing at her anything you could find behind you. That only detoured her for a few seconds, as you could hear Hoseok trying to bring the door down. As she launched herself forward on top of you, you rolled to the side, dropping to the floor and kicking the stretcher on her. She stumbled back but quickly jumped over it. You crawled back until you had your back against the wall. She walked in your direction, calmed, as now she could get to you with no trouble. As she stopped in front of you, she crouched down. This was it, you were going to die.  First, three shots were heard. She turned her face towards the door as it swung open, turning to you and stabbing the scalpel on your shoulder. You screamed in pain and next, one last shot, the blood splattering all around you and on you; you opened your eyes to see her head half-open, eyes void of any life as she lolled to the side and fell. Your hand came shakily up to your face and to where the scalpel was stabbed into your skin, there were silent tears rolling down your eyes as you shook violently, there was blood all over, yours, hers. And your view was blurry. You looked up; you saw all five of them, and the one with the gun still pointed at where the woman used to be, Jungkook. Suddenly, you felt weak, so, so weak and tired. Your eyes fluttered.  “Jungko...” You didn’t finish before you were losing consciousness, and everything was dark.  You remember regaining consciousness a few times; the men shouting at each other, Yoongi holding a towel over your wound. Then another memory, you in Jungkook’s arms as they rushed you through the hallways, you looked up at him; him looking down at you, something so desperate in his eyes that it gave you sorrow. The other memory gave you Deja Vu, the sound of a helicopter, you looking out the window and seeing the sky, the sun setting on the horizon, you could hear Jungkook’s voice but couldn’t find him, you made out the words “You have to live.” Then it was all black again.

[dudeandduchess]

Peach(es) and Cream [Tomioka Giyuu x F!Reader] Chapter 2

Rating: E! NSFW Characters: Tomioka Giyuu x F!Reader Chapters: 5/5 Summary: Wherein Giyuu is betrothed to a noble woman, and visits her with a present. Tags: Smut, Fluff, Short Series, Fingering, Creampie, Established Relationship, Arranged Marriage

Note: Hello, everyone! This chapter is slightly SFW; meaning there’s no heavy smut. Just some kissing action going on. Enjoy!

Giyuu’s eyes widened in surprise, as his face heated up with a blush. He scrambled up and away from (Y/n), which made him hiss as his sensitive length came springing back against his abdomen. “W-what?”

With a roll of her eyes, the (L/n) heiress propped herself up, before adjusting her kimono to cover her modesty. Frankly speaking, she expected her lover’s reaction to be a thousand times worse than a stuttered question; she was fully prepared for an affronted look on his face, and so much thinly veiled insults to come her way… but that wasn’t it. 

It didn’t mean that she wasn’t happy about the turn of events; far from it, really. (Y/n) was relieved, though a bit perturbed because her brother still kept hurling threats at Giyuu. From outside her bedroom, Toshiro had escalated to drawing his sword— judging by the gasps of terror from all the maids.

“Nothing. Never mind what I said, Tomioka.” His surname slipped from her lips with practiced ease— devoid of any honorifics, but still filled with respect. Had she called him by just his name with other people, everyone would have something to say about her blatant disrespect. 

She was so tired of people putting their noses in everyone else’s business, so she tried to be the epitome of a well-bred heiress. The less mistakes she made, the less people would talk about her behind her back.

Dark blue eyes pinned (Y/n) under their scrutiny, but she merely ignored it. After years of being engaged to the man, she was already used to his intense gaze. And she was also used to the nonchalant way that he tucked himself back into his pants; as if his world wasn’t just rocked on its axis. “Are you staying the night? Should I ask Yuriko to prepare a room for you?” 

He didn’t have any missions at the moment, so it was practically a no-brainer for him: he wanted to stay with (Y/n), so he would. They had so much lost time to make up for, anyway. “I’d like to stay here… in your room. With you.”

‘That answer was certainly different,’ (Y/n) thought to herself, while she tried to calm her suddenly racing heart. She looked unruffled about the sudden turn of events, but deep down she feared as though her brain had already melted with the sheer effort she put into trying to formulate a coherent sentence. “I… alright.”

“Toshiro-sama, please! My mistress is tending to her betrothed.” Yuriko’s voice rang out over the din of frantic voices, which made (Y/n) smile. She knew that she could always count on Yuriko, despite the younger woman’s childish antics to get her and Giyuu even closer. “Tomioka-sama is heavily injured and he needs to rest. I’m politely asking you to step back for now.”

A giggle slipped through the (h/c) haired woman’s lips, which she immediately silenced by pressing the tips of her fingers to her lips. Her handmaiden was now lying out of her ass, unless a couple of bruises and some fractured ribs were heavy injuries— considering Giyuu’s occupation. 

“You must have had quite the fall…” 

Giyuu’s intense gaze had let up at that conversational piece, which put his expression back to his normal, apathetic one. “The tree was on a cliff.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help it, a small smile crossed her face at the butterflies that invaded her stomach. To know that he had risked that much just to get her something that she loved, well… if that wasn’t sweet, then she didn’t know what was.

“I’ll take care of you,” She whispered through the fond smile, before scurrying to one of her chests and procuring the medicine box that she kept just for him. With that in hand, she sat back down across from him and took out the supplies that she needed. It helped that he had already taken off his haori and uniform top ealier; it saved them some time.

Slowly, with nimble fingers, she rubbed a soothing salve across her lover’s skin. The feel of his hard muscles beneath her hands made her body hot for him, but she pushed the urge to have a repeat of earlier to the back of her mind. And when she was done rubbing the balm into his shoulders, she gave in to the tiniest urge to place a kiss along his jaw. 

In response, Giyuu tensed up, before relaxing as his lover started sucking and nibbling at the side of his neck. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, just as his mind focused on the heavenly feel of her kisses upon him. 

He wanted to tell her that he loved her as well, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt her like that; to give her his heart, and also reaffirm it with his words, only to have death constantly hanging above his head. That would be unfair to her; much more unfair than not saying the words. 

Maybe, when the war against Kibutsuji Muzan was over, he could say it back.

For now, he could settle for saying it in his head.

‘I love you, (Y/n).’

  ***

 “It’s been weeks since your last visit, Tomioka-san,” (L/n) Eiji began conversationally, all while picking at the piece of simmered salmon laid out in front of him. He was about to continue, when his eldest— and only— son cut him off.

“Yes, you should have never returned,” Toshiro snapped, which earned the ire of both his family members. Still, he went on— seemingly undeterred by the deadly glares that (Y/n) and their father aimed at him. “Stayed away from my sister; the farther the better.” 

With a scowl on her face, (Y/n) shot at her brother, “Onii-san, don’t disrespect Tomioka-san like that.”

“(Y/n)-chan, there are a lot more men out there; ones that don’t put themselves on the line on a daily basis. Ones that don’t kill demons for a living.” 

Giyuu paid no mind to the older male’s chatter, as it was a regular topic when he visited (Y/n). He had already grown desensitized to the scathing remarks and thinly veiled threats that his betrothed’s brother always spat at him, but he’d be damned if he didn’t admit that it was starting to get annoying.

“We may as well get married tomorrow, just to spite you,” The sole woman in the room answered with an irate click of her tongue.

“Toshiro, kami-sama help me, I will disown you if you keep this up,” Eiji gave the ultimatum, which surprised everyone— even Giyuu himself. Never had the head of the (L/n) clan ever issued such a threat, and it served to silence the babbling Toshiro into a dumbstruck stupor. “Tomioka-san is as part of this family as you are; and we owe him more than this…”

“Gochiso sama deshita,” Giyuu muttered softly, before putting his chopsticks back against the rest that was set up on the table. “May I be excused?”

“Ah yes, of course, Tomioka-san,” The (L/n) patriarch answered, before silencing his son with a well-aimed glare. 

“May I be excused as well, otou-san?” (Y/n) asked in a tone that brooked no room for arguments.

Blue eyes eyed her suspiciously, but flitted back to the well-illuminated garden a few ways away. The sun was barely setting over the horizon, and with the chill of the night starting to draw closer, it seemed a good time as any for the Demon Slayer to squeeze in a leisurely walk. 

And to also patrol for the demon that he had sensed lurking around the area. 

The demonic presence was extremely faint, but it was there. He would have to see about getting a new set of Wisteria charms for the (L/n) estate.

“Tomioka-san, please wait for me,” (Y/n) called softly, as she hastened after the man himself. It stung that he had snubbed her, but that was Giyuu’s normal attitude. The (h/c) haired woman would be more worried had he started acting any differently. 

To her genuine surprise, the raven-haired man did stop and wait for her. And beside herself, a flustered smile crossed her lips as she picked up the pace to get to him. Normally, he would ignore her and keep walking— which irritated her to no end.

But it seemed that her confession from earlier had stirred something inside him; enough to get him to be more considerate of her feelings. And that made her happy; ecstatic, even.

Still, even the feeling of walking beside him wasn’t enough for her. So, she glanced down at their hands that were mere inches apart, only to jump almost a foot in the air when she looked up and saw Giyuu’s intense stare pinned on her.

She had been caught.

“D-Do you…” The Demon Slayer stuttered out, just as a bright blush colored his cheeks. He immediately snapped his gaze forward, and proceeded to glower at the poor cobblestone path. “Do you want to hold my hand?”

Butterflies immediately assaulted (Y/n)’s stomach at that. They had done things much more lascivious than holding hands but, for some reason, the mere question served to fluster the (h/c) haired woman. She had never even felt flustered when Giyuu ate her out; but to have the simplest and most innocent of questions be the catalyst to making her heart pound was laughable.

Gingerly, (Y/n) reached out and slid her hand into her lover’s, averting her gaze from the scene as if it was the most lascivious thing in the world. When really, she was looking away so that Giyuu wouldn’t see the blush that had taken over her face, even going as far as to heat up the tips of her ears.

Giyuu’s hand felt rough and hard in hers, but she couldn’t deny the fact that it made her feel safe. The man himself might have been glacial and awkward at best, but his touch was anything but; it was warm and comforting— like getting back home after being away for so long. 

And so, their walk around the spacious garden was spent in relative silence, until they sat down on the stone bench beneath the barren sakura tree. Their hands were still entwined, and (Y/n) had taken to cradling her lover’s left hand in her lap— admiring the way that his larger hand curled around her own dainty one.

The silence between them was thick, but it was anything but awkward; it was relaxing, like a small piece of solace in the chaotic world that they lived in. 

From where he sat, Giyuu shamelessly ogled his lover. His eyes ran over her distinctly delicate features; the slight upward tilt of her eyes, the high arches of her cheek bones, her cute nose, and those pillowy-soft lips of hers. He loved every inch of her, and the words were burning on the tip of his tongue, yet he could never allow himself to be the cause of her eventual grief. 

He could, however, afford to admit one harmless truth to her. Just that one time, he could be honest with her. 

“The reason I came here…” Giyuu began softly, hesitantly. His throat got all thick, but he swallowed past the lump inside it and gathered up the courage to admit his main agenda.

(Y/n)’s eyes stared into him earnestly; the curiosity in them shining brightly beneath the rays of the setting sun. And even though he felt as if he couldn’t speak, he pushed past the dreadful feeling and spoke, “Was because I missed you, (Y/n).”

Her answering smile was enough to knock the breath out of him; it was so radiant in and of itself that he felt himself returning her expression with a milder one of his own. It was as if the entire world had stopped turning, and there was only her.

And it was at that moment that he realized just how much he loved her; it was too much that he felt himself falling for her all over again.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[gofancyninjaworld]

Some manga predictions

Been told my predictin’ game’s getting a little weak lately.  Truth be told, there’s been so many jinks in the manga that I’ve been quite happy seeing what the heck happens next in the story, but can’t take that lying down.

Btw, I haven’t forgotten my random list of predictions for the next chapter of the webcomic!  Be fun to see which ones pan out.:)

So, let’s have some more story predictions. Serious enough this time for me to stick by. I’ll take a told ya so if I’m wrong. :)

Short Hits!

Well that settles it!

Metal Bat’s going to get his rematch. We can finally stop wondering what would happen if he brought his bat down squarely on Garou’s head.

Then he’ll collect his slice of Humble Pie, same as everyone else is getting.  It’s fresh, it’s hot, it sticks in your throat but you can’t cough it up. 

Speaking of humble pie, I predict that Golden Sperm gets to hand out free slices to just about everyone still standing. No need to have Amai Mask telling us that this is a difficult foe even for their combined efforts, show us!  And that Garou shows up to save them all... for himself.

No, I don’t dare make any predictions for Genos other than he gets to have a whole Humble Pie. There’s just too many opportunities for catastrophe, from the shining Angel of Annihilation perched on top of the impromptu Mount Doom to the varied nasties crawling out of the rubble.  Speaking of varied nasties, onto prediction two!

One Last Land Mine

One thing that sticks with me was Gyoro-Gyoro/Psykos noting that some monsters undergo unexpected rapid growth and act as jokers in the pack.   We’ve said hello and goodbye to two of them: Rhino Wrestler and his buddy, Phoenixman (now was that a joker or what?).

It’d hardly be fair if none of the cadre (fair? Nothing fair about it -- I mean insufficiently entertaining for us) turned out to be land mines.   I am predicting that Bang fighting Fuhrer Ugly is going to give us some truly sickening transformation and not go down so quickly.  Bang will win, of course, but it should be an extra extra fight first.

Phew, that was Close!

This one is as much prayer as it’s prediction.  I’m predicting that the transport convoy sent for Waganma juuuust escapes the carnage wrought by Tatsumaki pulling up the Subterranean city.   On one level it has to as several of them are transporting wounded heroes, and heroes never die, but there’s no guarantee for all of them.  Why do I care?  Keep reading!

Long-Range Hits!

Saving the Hero Association

The Hero Association is on the rocks in the webcomic.  Between public criticism, internal dissension, donors deserting, and the Neo Heroes leaching talent, political goodwill, and money from them faster than they can comprehend, they really don’t know where to turn right now.

Seriously, the Hero Association can’t afford to fall, unless the story is going to turn into a tragedy where mankind ends up scattered into a few small enclaves, Attack on Titan style only it’s not a lie about what lies beyond the walls. 

 I’ve been hoping that the convoy gets away because when the manga gets to this point, they’re going to need Sekingar. They need Sekingar’s insights on two levels.  The immediate one is to understand the nature of the threat they’re facing.  Sekingar may be inclined to give heroes the benefit of the doubt, but he’s not a gullible fool either: 

If he’s alive, then he’s going to have no trouble at all figuring out that someone is awful keen to usurp the Hero Association, as well as Metal Knight’s automated tech and telling Sitch about it, who is no fool himself.   It will be their first chance to understand what kind of enemy they’re facing.

Second, they’re going to need someone on the Executive Board who actually understands what hero work is like. Even if they see off the threat the Neo Hero threat off, they’re going to need to be able to sort through the varying suggestions of what needs to be done and actually get those changes implemented.

Since so far Sekingar continues to be a manga-only character (since chapter 20!), I have no idea where their insights might come from in the webcomic.  Of course... Sekingar might not make it back in which case they’re no better off in the manga either.

So When You Said Countless, Did You Mean More Than Six?

Here’s something I’m going to stick my neck right out to predict: I’m predicting that we’re going to find out that Genos hasn’t been a cyborg for all that long, rather than four years the way we tend to think.   I present to you four pieces of circumstantial evidence.

First, how has he been getting away with roaming the planet and burning bits of it out of existence?  I’m not the only one to have wondered how it is that Genos never got stopped for carrying weapons -- was it somehow legal?  Turns out, it’s as illegal as hell -- no wonder the Hero Association was on his trail. He’s not even subtle. At its worst, a demon cyborg special sees absolutely everything, even rock, destroyed by extreme heat for kilometres.  [Becoming a hero has really clipped his claws.] For him to have avoided being intercepted by them for weeks? Sure. It’s a big place and he’s very mobile. But evading the Hero Association for years? No chance.

Second, when he said he was inexperienced, he wasn’t joking. Learning to not take his eyes off a monster is such Fighting 101 stuff it’s painful.  Conversely, Saitama may have no technique to speak of, but his awareness of where a hit may be coming from has been absolutely top-notch, something Suiryu notes with admiration.

Third, body count. As of chapter 80, Genos was only on Body Four.  We know what happened to the rest -- the third body got crushed by Gouketsu, the second body got melted by the Deep Sea King and the first one got cut up by Mosquito Girl. I can totally believe that if he’s being Drive Knight cautious, actually doing research on his targets before he strikes, bodies will last a lot longer than we’ve been seeing him go through them but four years of use?  Hmm!!!  I doubt that.

Fourth, becoming a cyborg is a process, not an event.  Thanks to the webcomic, we’ve got an appreciation that body modification is not easy (or safe or sane past a certain point) and it takes months to be functional.  So, some non-negligible fraction of the last four years of his life has been spent Not Dying and Learning to Walk Again. 

Adding it all together, I’m expecting it to turn out that he’s really quite new at all this.  That said, Genos never said he’d been searching for all four years. We just assumed.

[this-haunting-hunger]

fic: don’t take this haunting home

Wei Ying lives with many ghosts. It's usually not a problem. He used to be one himself, after all. However, ghosts have one glaring fault, and it is this: they are, by definition, people who refuse to stay completely dead.

And as far as Wei Ying is concerned, some dead people should stay that way.

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four

Content: angst, mild violence, ghosts

Pairing: Wangxian

Length: 4400

read on ao3

//

There are crowds of ghosts living around Wei Ying.

Some only come when called, some stay at his command, but most are transients. There and then gone, attracted by the promise of what they could have been and repulsed by what he tells them they are. He knows some of them by name. Others, by the sounds of their screams, the way their blood had splattered, the last bitter words they’d spat or whimpered. Others, worse company still, Wei Ying knows by their laugh or their love, by their hopes and fears, by their dreams and tears. He doesn’t remember most of those who visit, you understand. But when they come haunting, he knows them all the same.

This presents something of a problem, given that he himself is a ghost, albeit of the still-breathing variety. Lan Zhan might have scowled at Wei Ying if he ever described himself as such aloud, but it’s one of those truths that suit silence more than sound, anyways. A knowledge that keeps itself company better than company ever could. No need to bother the Chief Cultivator with such whimsical thoughts.

Even if the Chief Cultivator is one of the leading experts on soothing spirits and corpses and essentially everything not-quite-dead-enough in between.

His fingers tighten around Chenqing, rigid against the silky black wood, and the lilting melody he’s playing falters. Wei Ying makes himself breathe; makes himself smile at the dirty wall of the empty temple he’s currently seated in. The trick works, like so many of his tricks do. He relaxes, loosens his hand, smooths his thumb against the flute instead. An apology to an old friend. Then he keeps playing.

Lan Zhan will be annoyed that Wei Ying went on this night hunt without him, but given what he suspects he’s dealing with, there are worse things than an annoyed Twin Jade. Off the top of his head, a dead one. Or worse than dead. (That was just a casual example. Certainly not something he’s thought about again and again and again and –)

Pausing now, pulling Chenqing slightly away and uncrossing his legs, rearranging his black and red robes, Wei Ying smiles even wider. He’s learned so much since their early years of attending the Gusu Lan Sect’s indoctrination sessions, but truth be told, he’s known how to smother his worries for longer than that. Fidgeting and smirking are excellent, day-exclusive antidotes to anything that could (and might and would and did) keep him up at night.

He lets go of thoughts of Lan Zhan as he gets a tighter grip on his focus. Closes his eyes and, bringing Chenqing back to his lips, resumes the song even as he rids himself of his wards.

The ghosts rush in when he beckons with his music. They press against his ears with their echoes, almost but not quite drowning out the flute. Most, polite by now, only murmur, to each other or themselves. Others, newer or simply more resentful, more inclined to disturb and powerful enough to manage it, are shrieking or wailing, sobbing or swearing. Not in literal words: he can’t commune with them in that way without Empathy or Inquiry. But they can impart sensations, feelings, flashes of memories that whirl across his mind, and he has become better at understanding the dizzying array of impressions the more he’s practiced demonic cultivation. There are many ghosts here, smothering him with the weight of their soul-cemented grief and rage. The sheer level of turbulent emotion – so much emotion – is a muddied current, sweeping around him and threatening to drag him to the depths that these spirits have already reached. That he reached, once before.

Some of them hate him. He can’t blame them. What right does he have to the oxygen flowing through these lungs? Wei Ying has been in this body for several years now, and yet, sometimes, he still feels like an intruder, as if his soul slipped through a crack and never could find the way out. Sometimes, he wonders – fears – that Mo Xuanyu’s invitation was not an invitation, but a cry for help. A trust offered and then betrayed. If only he had known how to refuse. How to stop hearing the summons. How to forget the offer like he had forgotten so much else. If only –

Communing with spirits wasn’t so hard. Taking in another deep breath, keeping the melody steady, Wei Ying gently rejects the accusations being flung at him. Smiles in the face of all the hatred. Not now, he tells the hordes of hungry ghosts. Not yet. I’ll answer for my crimes, for the crimes of everyone, later, but not now.

He is searching for one spirit in particular. One obstinate soul that eludes his reaching power, slips across fingertips and is gone in a flash of heat so intense it feels like melting. This ghost came to his attention only recently, and for all of his knowledge, Wei Ying doesn’t know if that’s because it just chose to reveal itself to him, or if it only found him in the last few weeks. He hopes it’s the latter. If it has been following him for longer, without him being aware of it… well, he’s mostly decent while alone.

(While he’s with Lan Zhan is another story entirely, but no ghosts could penetrate the wards he has placed around their dwelling.)

Refusing to be distracted by that tantalizing thought, he offers, I just want to talk. When there is no response, he says it out loud, around his flute. “I just want to talk. Just a little exchange of information. No tricks, I promise.” Some of the gathered spirits murmur, but no one comes forward. He could command them to find the one he is looking for. To drag it before him. But if it is who he suspects, that could very well be a mistake. He’s familiar enough with those, but not so much that he wants to make more.

Pouting, eyes still closed, Wei Ying lets Chenqing fall limply into his lap, crosses his arms. “Yah, stalker!” he calls. “It’s not fair if you get an eyeful whenever I’m doing anything, and I get nothing in return! Have you no shame? No pride? Are you so ugly you’ve nothing to show me?”

The teasing gets no more of a reply than a flicker of amusement through some of the friendlier spirits surrounding him, and he opens his eyes. Gaze slipping by the congregation of ashy-black, wispy figures and skipping through the ruins of the temple, he brings up a finger to tap thoughtfully against his nose. He’s sure this decrepit building belonged to the Wens, long before the Sunshot Campaign was a seed in the minds of any of the Sects. Conversation with the townsfolk a short distance from here, who had only moved in during the last decade or so, had confirmed it. The temple had been obliterated when the seed bloomed and the fatal fruit was reaped, but it had been beloved by one of their offshoot clans, a place where cultivators and normal folk alike mingled.

With a sudden, stiff movement, Wei Ying springs to his feet. After shaking out his limbs with a few exaggerated moans and limbering himself with even more exaggerated stretching, he begins to wander through the building, followed by a billowing escort of barely-perceptible spirits. It is not a large temple, but he thinks it was once well built and well cared for. There are shattered pieces of frescoes and statues throughout, many painted in long-faded colours, but the fragments he can make out suggest pride of craftsmanship and ownership. Now, dust covers everything, and anything of value has been snatched by greedy fingers. It may as well be a graveyard.

“Ah, it’s such a shame,” Wei Ying comments as he comes to the main hall, just as demolished as the rest. Ghosts are more raucous company than some (and one in particular, with a pretty headband and prettier lips that are altogether too good at pressing together), and many of those here are lonely; they are eager to be heard, in whatever form that takes. Though he knows none of them by name, and they don’t know him, they crowd closer, resonating with his pitying declaration and clamoring to tell their stories. Until the spirit he wants appears, Wei Ying is in no hurry, and sometimes listening is enough to ease those lingering on the border to their final rest.

It’s the least he can do.

The loudest are the saddest and angriest. Many are soldiers or cultivators who died by the sword when the forces of the Qinghe Nie, Lanling Jin, and Yunmeng Jiang Sects took this area and annihilated all who resisted. (And some, the ghosts convey frantically, who did not.) Still others, with their houses and fields burned, died of starvation, their souls screaming their hunger even now. None perished in this building, but, a focal point in life, it has become a focal point in death, too, a place for familiarity when resentment trapped hapless souls and caged them from going further.

Sooner rather than later, he is going to have to ask Lan Zhan to come here and play Rest. It should have been done a long time ago – years and years ago – and Wei Ying only hopes the resentment hasn’t grown too powerful for the lapse.

I am sorry for what happened. It was not just, Wei Ying tells them, the words too heavy to give voice to, and most are grateful to receive his compassion. He wishes he could leave it at that. Let them be soothed by sympathy. But there is a sudden scent in the air, one that’s been plaguing him for weeks now, the ozone reek of discharged electricity. It’s so strong he’s almost surprised that there are no clouds in the sky, no lightning bolts hurling into the ground. So, Wei Ying wishes he could leave them all alone, but he is too good at doing hard things to let a simple wish stop him. He continues, idly twirling Chenqing as he strolls across the hall and out a crumbling archway into what might have once been an enclosed garden, long overgrown. “It’s not really their fault that you died, though. The soldiers who came here, I mean.”

The reaction is immediate. It feels like constricting, like water being sucked out of a bay before a tsunami, like thunder in the distance. An oppressive warning. Not quite dangerous – but it could become deadly. He holds up his hands in appeal to the audience only he can see. The villagers would probably start lighting torches if they saw him wandering about and talking to himself, so it’s lucky they stay away from here. “Think about it. Who began the war? Who gave the first insult? Surely you have all heard of the atrocities the Wen Sect committed, long before the others retaliated.”

Some are too far gone to heed him. They buzz angrily, jarred and jarring in their rejection, and their vehement antagonism stabs into his temples, threatening to spin the world off its axis. That’s fine. The trick to dealing with that is a simple one; Wei Ying’s world hasn’t been on its axis for a very long time now.

He brings Chenqing up, plays a few calming notes. It would be better if no one but the one he’s hunting attacked him. Or none of them did, but Wei Ying isn’t quite as much of an optimist as he pretends to be. He’s been trying to draw the spirit into a conversation for weeks now, whenever he catches a hint of lightning on a breeze or the not-his memory of pressure constricts his throat. (Dancing around Lan Zhan’s blank faced suspicion each time the Chief Cultivator catches him talking to thin air has been a hectic mix of fun and stressful.) His attempts at making contact have been in vain. If even presenting himself at this temple didn’t evoke a response, where the spirit should be most comfortable (unless Wei Ying is wrong about who it is, which would be embarrassing), he can only imagine that the entity’s intentions aren’t entirely peaceful. Given who it might be, they may in fact be the exact opposite of entirely peaceful.  

Which is a shame, because he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself here. This outdoor space is quite pretty, blue and purple wildflowers doted throughout the thicker tangles of green, and his music suits the abandoned atmosphere of the area. There are fractured stone columns here and there, broken by overly enthusiastic purgers, holding up nothing now, but he imagines the temple had some kind of pavilion for enjoying the outdoors in the shade. A long gone comfort, but one that could be brought back with a bit of work. This is the sort of place that welcomes visitors but asks no one to extend their stay. His kind of place.

Eventually he finds what is either a worn bench or a toppled statue, half conquered by the overgrowth, and, after dusting it off, he takes a seat, leans back, and props himself up on his elbows.

If he weren’t communing with a bunch of livid spirits, this would almost feel like one of his informal teaching sessions with the juniors. “Yes, it was the Wen Sect who started all of this. The insults, the degradation, the murders, the puppets… who could stand by when such injustice was going on? I’m sure very few of you knew what Wen Ruohan was doing. You’re all decent people, aren’t you?”

That’s a joke, coming from him, but it settles them down a little, makes them less defensive. All well and good, and still no stronger sign of the presence he’s searching for. Well, he has always said that patience was meant to be tested. “Those that did know, though…” Wei Ying looks around, arches an eyebrow in a chiding expression. Only vaguely wonders if he’s pushing things a little too far. “They’re to blame for all of this. They could have stopped Ruohan if they’d chosen. Cowards, sycophants, bootlickers… they’re the reason for all of your deaths. For all of the death. They –”

The man was, in life, an imperturbable individual, but death does things to a person, things more significant than just stopping the heart. Wei Ying doesn’t know what the final trigger is – the place, the accusation, or maybe the spirit just loses its patience with their game of cat-and-mouse – but regardless, one moment he’s having a delightful garden chat.

The next he’s been heaved off the bench and thrown across the enclosed space, to crash into one of the taller columns with a strangled, “Umph!” while heat and an ozone stench invade his senses.

Wei Ying lands – hard – on his hands and knees, the breath fleeing from his lungs as though it’s finally realized it doesn’t belong there. Wheezing, blood a coppery coating at the back of his throat, he clutches his flute a bit too hard and tries not to regret how differently this fight would have gone in a different life. No time for what-ifs – only time for enthusiastically trying not to pass out from the impact his head had made with the pillar. He doesn’t manage to do more than get unsteadily to his feet before he’s slammed into again, the force too fast and distorted to get a good look at the spirit attacking him.

This time he’s not flung as far, and he lands in a bush – a distinct improvement. Sprawled in the plant, several pointy bits jabbing him in the back, Wei Ying yanks his sleeve off a particularly malevolent twig and jerks Chenqing up. He’s aware of the thing rushing forward – of a pulsing, fragmented, confused rage – of a disconcerting emptiness where the other ghosts were just moments before – (of static anxiety, an old companion) – of Chenqing’s smooth warmth under his fingers as he begins to play –

Of time, pretending to come to a sudden, violent halt.

Just an illusion. With the spirit abruptly suspended before him, caught up in the invisible threads of power cast out from his flute, Wei Ying has a disjointed moment where the overwhelming emotions from his attacker bleed through his vision, painting everything in reds and golds. Anger and anger and not-anger, something he can’t understand, something like the tempered steel of Suibian, flexible and resilient, yet so sharp it could slice a careless wielder.

The spirit is vaguely man-shaped, all blurred edges and flaring shadows. He can’t force it to assume a more distinct form; the mere effort of keeping it still is enough to have sweat pouring down Wei Ying’s skin, sticky between his fingers as he performs a tune that has by now become second nature. This spirit isn’t the most powerful he’s ever encountered, but it comes rudely close. It’s not surprising, exactly, but he’s won this battle before. Maybe he got just a little overconfident.

Lan Zhan is going to be really furious with me, Wei Ying thinks cheerfully, all the better to drown any second-thoughts about not bringing the other man. Because, really, bringing his lover into this specific kind of danger just wasn’t an option.  

He won’t be able to suppress his opponent through Chenqing alone. That much becomes obvious as their stalemate draws on and Wei Ying’s mouth and lips begin to dry. He changes his tune, literally. Broadens it, with only a twinge of guilt. The appeal – a command, really – sings through the air, as pointed as any sword, and begins to draw on several of the ghosts that had scattered when the more powerful spirit revealed itself. He only calls to the angriest, the most formidable in their own right; no point in subjecting the souls of peasants to this demonic contest of wills.

They come, but only reluctantly. More reluctantly than he expected. Harnessing dark spirits for violence is rarely difficult, given that they already want to commit harm. Hell, half of the battle is usually keeping them directed and contained, not getting them to fight at all. Yet these ghosts need to be chided by Chenqing’s stern voice, prodded to do as bidden. Is it fear? Wei Ying doubts that. Very few spirits have maintained their hold on life enough to fear losing it even more.

Regardless, they can only drag their feet (metaphorically speaking), not reject his orders entirely. Before too long, he has all of them sparring with the other spirit, colliding with it and ripping off chunks of smoke-like substances that dissipate into the air as though they were never there. The assault is enough to let Wei Ying heave himself off the (very flattened) bush and, in a quick scramble, begin to search his robe for a few specific talismans.

All the while, the passions of the ghosts haven’t abated. Actually, they’re thunderous, almost a physical pressure wreaking havoc against his thoughts, crushing them into the here and now and nothing else. He can’t understand why fury isn’t the most prevalent emotion of this fight. He can’t understand why the aggressive spirit hasn’t torn apart at least a couple of his minions yet – or done worse. No time for speculation. There’s just the music, pulling his power from him with reckless abandon and carrying his will out in waves that distort the air and exhort his servants to greater efforts.  

His pulse is pounding in his throat, an unpleasant counterpoint to the rhythm his fingers are tapping on Chenqing. Fatigue is a grey murkiness that makes each controlled breath a little more rattling than it should have been, makes every thought just a bit too slow, a bit too hazy. Not for the first time, he wishes Mo Xuanyu had spent a little less time on impeccable face makeup and a little more on his cultivation. Or at least cardio.

Of course, Wei Ying could probably have spent a little less time drinking and a little more time training, so he supposes he should graciously let the man off the hook.

Shoving his power against the spirit is like pushing against a mountain or trying to convince Jiang Cheng to change his mind: a lot of gross sweating and no satisfactory payoff. Or at least, it is until, with a jolt of energy that Wei Ying feels as an agonizing shock straight through his muscle and bones, all the way to his core, the fierce spirit does something to one of its opponents. One that’s latched on and refusing to be shaken off. Some kind of implosion ripples across the other ghost, and there is a screeching wail, cut brutally short, and then… nothing. Wei Ying’s servant is just – gone.

He is concentrating too hard to be able to fully see what happened, but still – he knows. Or remembers. Remembers something he never actually saw happen, but remembers all the same. And abruptly the fear is there, a stranger this time, acidic in his mouth, and the shadow of words he never said come unbidden to his tongue, words like please, no and I’ll do anything and stop, stop, stop. There’s no room amidst the horrified realization for anything like contempt, but somewhere in the groping dread is a tingling empathy, a sour sympathy for things long finished and dead.

He hasn’t ever blamed Jiang Cheng for his fear before, but now Wei Ying’s understanding isn’t just nestled patiently in the core he used to own; it’s throbbing in his heart, coursing through his veins, forcing every artery to personally acknowledge the wrenching terror. His jaw is aching, he realizes numbly, but can’t stop clenching his teeth until a strained sob almost cracks them in its attempt to escape. That startles him, yanks him viciously out of a torture he never experienced, and he slams back into himself and awareness of his surroundings so hard that it practically winds him. With a gasp, Wei Ying flings up his arms, a reflexive attempt to protect himself from –

Nothing.

People have called him lucky before. Blessed. With good looks and a sparkling personality, sure, but he’s never been able to look back on his life and concede that luck had much of a place in it after his adolescence. Now, though…

There really isn’t another word to describe it. While he had been distracted (Wen Qing had mentioned something about possible triggers, but that had been in another body, another life, so why the hell had it carried over to–) Chenqing had clattered to the ground, the music grinding to a halt. With the goad gone, the spirits he’d yoked to his will – the ones still left – had faltered, gone from raging to ragtag in the span of seconds. They’re wandering adrift now, though none of them have left. By rights, they should have turned on him. And if not them, then his enemy should have taken the opportunity to finish what it started.

Lucky indeed.

The spirit is still standing in front of Wei Ying, and of it’s own free will it’s taken on a much clearer form. A distinct face, distinct features, an almost distinct wardrobe. Distinct hands, big and partially covered by fingerless gloves, the kind that remind Wei Ying of an age when holding a sword hilt meant cutting through muscle and bone as if they belonged to monsters. The spirit is currently staring at its hands like it expects them to sprout claws.

It – he – slowly curls his fingers, until they’re formed into shaking fists, and then he looks up. Not at Wei Ying. At the other spirits. “I am sorry,” he says, or projects, or offers, and regardless of how he does it, they understand. Wei Ying can feel the waves of sorrow, of grief, of acceptance. The fury is still there, a frigid undercurrent compared to the warmth of this – this –

What is this? It feels like a reunion, like a meeting between friends or family long parted. The way he stares at the other ghosts, the stream of recognition that links them all, the guilt that has his features crumpling as if he just murdered…

Oh. Oh.

It’s not as if Wei Ying has never used the dearly departed against their loved ones. He has. It’s just that he’s never done it accidentally before. Coming here hadn’t been about that, hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d thought it might draw the spirit out and had forgotten in the process that stone walls and a ceiling don’t make a home. It’s the people who manage that. The people and the soup.

His heart lurches at a rebuke that hasn’t dulled despite how long it’s been. Regret, grief, and guilt are all excellent whetstones, and besides, it hasn’t really been so long for him. Wei Ying feels too sharp, like anything or anyone could be cut by the edge of his shame, and it makes him restive, anxious. He stoops, picks up Chenqing from the ground with silken-soft gentleness, just in case the flute somehow shatters against his jagged margins.

The motion attracts the spirit, but when he looks towards Wei Ying, there’s no spike of rage coming from the restless ghost. The guilt of what he just did has smothered it, and Wei Ying doesn’t think he’ll ever understand the dead man more than he does right in this moment.

He’s not even wary anymore. It’s as if the echo of Jiang Cheng’s fear was too big, too reverberating, its aftershocks clearing his chest of anything too light to resist. Hollowed out, Wei Ying can’t manage to feel much of anything at all. Or maybe that’s just – himself. He’s already been parted with one core. Why should a second threat, against an admittedly shabbier core, be viewed as worse than the first?

Gathering up his black sleeves and linking his hands together, Wei Ying bows to his opponent. Maybe holds it a bit too long, dips a bit too low, making respect into a mockery, but he can’t stop himself. His concern for the safety of Lan Zhan, of the juniors – and especially of Jiang Cheng – has been his sole focus for the last few weeks of investigation into this spirit’s background. However, confronted with a slightly clouded face that suits his slightly clouded recollection, Wei Ying has to acknowledge something that crackles, ugly and vengeful, just below his lips, frozen into a smile.

If he could have chosen to meet anyone from his past life, ascended to the Heavens or buried in Hell, Wen Zhuliu would probably have been close to last on the list.    

[lesdemonium]

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope Chapter 8

Ship: Geraskier Word count: 23172 (total) Chapter: 8/16 Summary:  

“Such a nice, beautiful sound,” the fae crooned. “If only he were this way always.”

Julian’s mother stood up. She claimed she was prepared to stop the fae, to protect her baby, but in Julian’s darkest moments he doubted this part of the story. His mother loved him, of that he had no doubt, but she had been young and weary, and even years later, she couldn’t quite get the twinge of exhaustion out of her eyes when she recalled Julian’s infancy. Even if she had been keen on protecting him, the fae was too close, too fast, too set on his plan.

“A gift, for the new mother,” the fae continued. He leaned a hand in to stroke Julian’s cheek. “I give you the gift of obedience.”

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier’s mother with Jaskier’s obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the “gift” became more of a curse.

Additional tags: AngstAngst with a Happy EndingHeavy AngstUnrequited LoveNot Actually Unrequited LoveAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanon EraNot Canon CompliantCursed Jaskier | DandelionAlternate Universe - Ella Enchanted FusionCurse of ObedienceRape/Non-con ElementsImplied/Referenced Rape/Non-conJaskier | Dandelion Whump

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“Geralt?” Jaskier asked.

The sun was still just barely beyond the horizon, still casting a light glow about the world as if it did not want to leave. It was late, and the days were long and warm, even the nights held their heat just a little, enough that Jaskier didn’t find himself shivering and pressing against Geralt’s body. Sometimes, he couldn’t even bear to cuddle up against Geralt. He could only sling an arm around Geralt’s waist, as they otherwise kept their distance, avoiding capturing too much heat when they were already uncomfortable.

Now, though, Jaskier was comfortable, with his doublet open and his shirt thin. Even Geralt seemed to have relaxed a bit, with his buttons largely undone and his shirt hanging open. Jaskier could look his fill, he knew now, and so he took in the sight greedily.

“Geralt,” he repeated, when the witcher didn’t respond.

“What, Jaskier?” Geralt answered, his eyes trained on the rabbit he was skinning.

“I need to go west.”

Geralt glanced up at Jaskier briefly, exasperation in his eyes, then he looked back down. “We are going west.”

It had been helpful, Geralt trying to make amends. He let Jaskier lead their travels, for once, though Jaskier could tell Geralt was growing tired of being so close to major cities. He grew nervous at how near they drew to Cintra. They had quarreled the other day about the direction they would go after finishing a contract. Geralt wanted to follow the river to the southeast; Jaskier wanted to go west. For once, Jaskier had won, though it was hardly a worthy victory. Geralt had been moody about it all day. Jaskier figured it was time for some honesty.

“More west. I need to--” He paused, swallowing in vain around the lump in his throat. “I need to go to Lettenhove.”

Geralt hummed and, satisfied with his rabbit, placed it on the spit over the fire. He was quiet for so long, Jaskier didn’t really know if he should be saying something. Was Geralt thinking it over? Should Jaskier explain more? He wasn’t sure, and this weird limbo was putting him even more on edge.

“Will you leave in the morning, then?” Geralt finally asked, and Jaskier let out the breath he wasn’t completely aware he had been holding.

“I was hoping, actually, that you would come with me.” Geralt raised an eyebrow at him, and opened his mouth, primed to argue, but Jaskier barreled on. “I know, cities aren’t much your thing unless there’s coin to be made. And Lettenhove isn’t exactly… large. So I imagine there isn’t much to be found in the way of… monsters to fight, and the like. But there is some business there that I really must take care of, and it would be exceedingly helpful if you were there with me.”

Jaskier sucked in a shuddering breath. It was embarrassing, really, his lung capacity was much better than that. He had absolutely gone on longer rambles before without being so breathless, but his anxiety built so much that he found himself almost gasping for breath once he finished. Geralt looked confused, watching Jaskier and his eyes dipping to Jaskier’s chest every so often. Could he hear the way Jaskier’s heart was hammering? Probably. Bollocks.

“You need a bodyguard again? That didn’t go so well for me the last time.” Geralt smirked as if it was a joke, but his eyes were guarded, as if he was truly concerned.

“Not… exactly. Well. Sort of. There are plenty of people I don’t want to run into, but my business isn't exactly… in the city. Around it, more. Please, Geralt. It won’t be like Cintra.” It could be far, far worse, but he would have to hope that wasn’t the case. Jaskier had nothing to lose, but Geralt had plenty. Jaskier wouldn't let that happen.

“What is your business?”

“It’s, ah. Well. It’s complicated, largely. It might take some time to explain, you know how it is, life, being complicated, you expect things to go one way and instead they go another--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted, holding up his hand. “Tell me the truth.”

“Lettenhove was my home,” Jaskier answered, then took another shuddering breath. “I grew up there. I’m not excited to go back but I have to try to take care of something. It’s not political or familial, and you are, for once, dressed exactly as I will need you. But, you.” He chewed on his lip for a moment, considering. “You make me feel brave. And I’m very, very scared about what I need to do.”

Geralt considered him for a moment. “You don’t want to tell me what it is?”

Jaskier shook his head. “Not yet. I--Really, you don’t have to do anything. Just go with me, and I’ll handle the rest.” Jaskier stood, crossing the campsite until Geralt had a lapful of him. There was something poetic about the way Geralt easily accepted him, and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s body without hesitation. Their eyes kept contact the whole time, and Jaskier took Geralt’s face in his hands. “Can you trust me? That it’s important? That I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t?”

Geralt blinked, slowly. “I don’t like this. I don’t like agreeing to something when I don’t know what it is I’m agreeing to.”

“I know.”

Geralt frowned and watched Jaskier. Jaskier lost himself in the warmth of Geralt’s amber eyes, while Geralt searched for some sort of hint in Jaskier’s face. There was none, Jaskier was sure, but Geralt sighed and touched their foreheads together all the same.

“I’ll go. For you.” Jaskier beamed at him, and Geralt looked warily back. “I feel as if I just signed a contract with a demon.”

“Not a demon, just me,” Jaskier answered, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s brow.

“Somehow, I feel as if that’s worse.”

Despite Geralt’s apprehension, they continued west. They took their time, and Geralt allowed Jaskier to pretend it was because they needed coin, not because he was stalling. It worked to their benefit, really, because after only a few cities, their pockets were full. Geralt could finally buff up his armor and replace Roach’s bridle. Jaskier bought a new doublet, after one of his had been so thoroughly doused with selkiemore guts that Jaskier knew it was beyond saving.

Eventually, they had to make it to Lettenhove. Jaskier felt their impending arrival creep in on him like a noose around his neck. Still, the anticipation was nothing compared to actually looking at the gates.

When he and Geralt came to the wall, Jaskier stopped short. He stopped so suddenly, it took Geralt a moment to realize Jaskier wasn’t following him and turn Roach around to face the bard. Jaskier just stared, and couldn’t will his feet to move forward.

Everything looked exactly as he remembered it, or what little he could see did. He had grown up here, knew the small city and its buildings so well he was sure he could navigate to his childhood home with his eyes closed. The taste of bile in his throat was familiar, too. He could see the bench where his father had made him sit all day, unaware that Jaskier couldn’t move, and he burned so badly he was sick for three days. There was the stable where comfortable, easy kissing with a stable hand turned into far too much, far before Jaskier was ready, but he couldn’t find the words to make it stop. If he went further in, he’d find the market, where once a girl had told Jaskier to take a necklace for her, had been delighted when he did, but the merchant caught him and threatened to cut off Jaskier’s hand. He got away with a welt instead.

He hadn’t known, then, how to get himself out of those situations. How to avoid them entirely. Coming to Lettenhove should have felt welcoming, a walk down memory lane, a reminder of his power as a viscount and the fearlessness of childhood. Instead, he felt just as small and powerless and weak as he had when he stole away in the middle of the night.

Geralt must have seen something on Jaskier’s face, because he dismounted Roach. Jaskier watched him wearily as Geralt approached him.

“Okay?” Geralt asked, and held out his hand.

Jaskier took it, automatically, and huffed out a breath before nodding. “Okay,” he repeated. Together, they walked into Lettenhove.

Stepping into the city proper felt as if Jaskier was stepping into his own memory. Very little had changed, though Jaskier recognized few of the people he passed. It made sense; Jaskier hadn’t spent too much time outside of his family’s estate, and those he had known would be much older now. They had changed, much like Jaskier had changed.

Jaskier tried to convince Geralt they could camp rather than finding an inn, but Geralt would not agree to it. It was an interesting change of circumstances--Jaskier had been convinced that his suggestion would be accepted with open arms. Geralt seemed to be particularly cautious about this endeavor, though. Jaskier still hadn’t told him what his business was, and the lack of information was grating on Geralt. Tonight, though. Tonight he would tell Geralt everything. And tomorrow, they would find Lazuli.

Very few of Jaskier’s plans seemed to work out the way he expected them to. He was purchasing a room at the inn--one as far away from his family’s estate as Jaskier could find--when it all went to hell.

“Julian! Julian, is that you?”

Jaskier immediately tensed, and he tried not to turn, not to react, but the voice came with a hand that landed between his shoulder blades. The woman leaned against the counter, and when she saw Jaskier’s face her own lit up.

“I knew it had to be you! Julian, what are you doing here? It’s been so long!”

Jaskier managed a smile, though he imagined it looked more like a grimace, and turned to face the woman. She was average height, with blonde hair, and gorgeous blue eyes that Jaskier was big enough to admit rivalled even his own.

“Essi?” he asked, and allowed himself to take in his sister.

She had been a child when Jaskier left, no more than ten. And, truly, he was delighted to see her, as he had always gotten along with Essi, but he didn’t like what she represented. He had hoped to make it through this particular quest without leaning heavily on the ugly nostalgia present in this town. Destiny seemed to have other ideas for him.

Still, he embraced his sister, because what else was he to do? He hadn’t seen Essi in decades.

“You aren’t planning on getting a room here, are you? Oh, Julian, don’t be ridiculous. Stay the night at the estate. You and your…” her eyes flickered over Jaskier’s shoulder to land on Geralt, “friend.”

Jaskier grit his teeth and nodded. He didn’t have much of a choice now. He had forgotten the easy way commands slipped from the tongues of his family. If Jaskier wasn’t careful, he’d find himself a prisoner again.

“Geralt, this is my sister, Essi,” he said, turning and gesturing broadly for them to make their introductions. “Essi, this is Geralt of Rivia--”

“The witcher, I know. We’ve heard your songs.” Something was tight in her expression, but Jaskier couldn't begin to know what it was. There had been a time when Jaskier could practically read the minds of all his family. He was sure that skill was long gone. “Come, let’s go.”

Jaskier glanced helplessly back at Geralt as his legs put him in step beside Essi. Geralt hesitated a moment, but ultimately ended up following them. At least until they passed the stables.

“Jaskier,” Geralt started, gesturing at them while Jaskier tried to slow his steps. “Roach.”

“Yes! Yes. Essi. Essi, dear,” Jaskier said, tapping her on the shoulder. His concern over Roach was the reason for his somewhat frantic voice. Definitely. “You see, Geralt has a horse, we must stable her.”

Essi waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Go. Get the horse. I’ll wait here.”

Jaskier nodded, turning on his heel immediately in a way that he wasn’t sure if the curse had prompted it, or his own desire to have a moment alone with Geralt. Geralt seemed to have the same idea, because as soon as he and Jaskier were in the stable, he tugged Jaskier behind a post, out of Essi’s view.

“Jaskier, what the fuck is going on? We’re staying with your family now? In your estate ? I didn’t even know you had family here, still.” Geralt looked lost and confused, and about ready to burst. Jaskier could relate.

“It… seems we are. I’m so sorry, Geralt. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. I wouldn’t have--it wasn’t my intention--I mean. I told you we should have just camped. I had hoped no one would recognize me and we’d be able to just… pop in and out, but. Rules. And. Some such.”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. “What have you gotten us into?” he asked.

Jaskier smoothed his hands down Geralt’s arms, trying to soothe him. It wasn’t effective in soothing either one of them. “I’m sorry. And… I’m sorry for how much you are probably going to hate tonight. We have to… toe some lines. I am a noble, after all; my father is a Count. I am not, however, completely sold on the idea of being perfectly respectable, just respectable enough to not get us killed. You have my permission to be as terse as you’d like. You shouldn’t argue with anyone, however. Especially not my father.” He took Geralt’s face in his hands, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry. I tried to avoid this.”

“Jaskier!” Essi called. She had always been rather impatient, and apparently the years had not squashed this. “Do you have the horse, yet? It’s time to leave!”

Jaskier shot Geralt one more apologetic look, then motioned toward Roach. Geralt sighed and nodded, taking Roach by the reigns and leading her back out to Essi. As they returned to Jaskier’s sister, the pit in Jaskier’s stomach grew, his dread powerful enough now to make him feel ill.

They made idle conversation as they walked. Largely, it was Essi speaking, telling them all about the changes they had made to the estate, how Jaskier would “hardly recognize it, now!” Jaskier highly doubted that, but he smiled charmingly at her all the same. Geralt stayed behind them, and Jaskier longed to be able to touch him; maybe that would calm his pounding heart. As it was, though, Essi insisted on looping her hands through Jaskier’s arm, almost as if she expected him to bolt away at any moment. If she hadn’t already commanded him to stay the night, he probably would have.

A quick getaway was foiled when Roach was led away to the stable by a stablehand, anyway.

The estate was just as grandiose as Jaskier remembered it. Though Jaskier maintained his taste for the finer things in life, something about the grandeur in front of him was obscene. It didn't matter how beautiful, how towering, how grand this house was; it was a prison just the same. Jaskier did not care for the ghosts that passed through him as he entered the doorway.

“Here, I’ll announce to father that you’ve returned. You will join us for dinner! Until then, you remember where your room is? I’ll call a--Martyn, show the witcher to his room?” Essi said, turning to a servant in the entryway.

“No, no. Martyn, don’t trouble yourself. Geralt will stay with me. We’ll only be here a night, no need to prepare a whole other room,” Jaskier added, speaking quickly to try to get some control back.

Essi’s frown was deep. “Jaskier, really, it’s no trouble. It wouldn’t be--”

“I really must insist,” Jaskier interrupted, his smile tight. “Thank you for your hospitality. We will see you for dinner. Now, we’ve been traveling, and really must clean ourselves up if we’re to be polite, presentable company.”

Essi scrunched her nose up, grinning mischievously as she patted Jaskier’s shoulder. “Yes, I see you have a layer of grime about you. My, how you’ve changed! Mother never would have let you get yourself this dirty. She must be rolling over in her grave.”

Jaskier’s smile turned pained and his heart seized at the mention of his mother. “Hopefully only a gentle turn,” he agreed, then pulled away with a quick, if overdone, bow. “Martyn, a bath would be delightful, if you would?”

Jaskier could not get Geralt to their room fast enough. Once he had tugged Geralt inside, he closed the door behind him, pressing his back against the solid wood and just breathing for a few moments. When his eyes opened again, Geralt was staring at him. Jaskier tried to shrug off his gaze.

“We ought to--”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier let his shoulders slump and he crossed the room and sat heavily on the mattress. Just as soft as he remembered. There was nothing quite like the feeling of returning to your own bed. Geralt did not follow him, only turned to continue staring at Jaskier and, really, he was quite finished with the scrutiny.

“What, Geralt? Just say whatever it is you need to say,” Jaskier snapped, throwing himself back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“ What is going on?” Geralt asked after a moment’s hesitation. He sounded just a tad more gentle, more concerned. Jaskier could hear him moving, coming to the bed and taking a seat beside Jaskier, though his movements were slow. Ah, so Jaskier was a spooked animal, now.

“We’re staying in my family’s home. We’re having dinner with them tonight. That was my younger sister. I would have thought you had kept up with all that.” Jaskier flung his arm over his face, covering his eyes.

“You don’t want to be here. Why? Why didn’t you say no?”

“Oh, if only I could,” Jaskier answered, letting out a humorless laugh.

They sat there for a moment, in silence, before the bed shifted. Jaskier assumed Geralt was getting up, but instead he moved closer. Jaskier’s arm was pulled away and he blinked up to find Geralt hovering over him. Now that his face was uncovered, Geralt cupped Jaskier’s jaw with feather-light fingers. It was so soft, so tender, that Jaskier wanted to weep.

“Jaskier. Talk to me,” Geralt pleaded, and he looked so, so lost.

“I want to. I really do. I don’t know how to begin to tell you about me and my family and all that’s… here. I don’t… like being here. I suppose that’s obvious.” He huffed out another humorless laugh. “I ran away when I was young, to Oxenfurt. They knew I was there and let me go, forgot about me, which is probably the kindest thing they ever did for me. I didn’t want to ever come back.”

“So why did we?”

Jaskier tried not to let his heart flutter at Geralt’s casual use of we . It didn’t mean anything, he reminded himself. Geralt was only referring to the present, the fact that Jaskier had dragged him along on this endeavor, and nothing more. If he kept reminding himself, maybe he could steel his heart against the inevitability of Geralt leaving once this whole task was over. Because Jaskier knew he would leave. Probably to lick his wounds of betrayal, because Jaskier couldn’t be honest with him.

“I told you. I have business here,” Jaskier answered, turning his head away and brushing Geralt’s fingers off his jaw in the process.

There was a knock at the door and a moment later, Martyn entered with the water. Jaskier sat up, wrapping his arms around his legs, and perched his chin atop his knees to watch as the tub was filled. Once Martyn left, Jaskier stood, discarding his clothes on his way to the tub without much fanfare, though before he stepped into the water he turned to look at Geralt expectantly.

Geralt hesitated, only a moment, then rose and followed Jaskier to the tub. His clothes and armor littered the floor much like Jaskier’s did, and when he climbed in beside Jaskier, his arms wound around Jaskier’s body and pulled him close. They kissed until they were both breathless and only then did they pull away to find a comfortable place to rest. Jaskier let himself be backed up against Geralt’s chest, melted into the security that was his witcher’s arms, allowing the comfort Geralt provided as he teased his fingers through Jaskier’s hair.

“Someday, you will need to be honest with me,” Geralt mumbled into Jaskier’s ear. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been honest with,” Jaskier answered, and the half-truth--the lie-- felt bitter on his tongue.

read chapter 9

[keichanz]

Resolution

A bonus Spooktober chapter, following a few days after the events of Possession.

Inuyasha was sitting at his desk, trying quite unsuccessfully to get some work done with his mind so preoccupied with a certain silver-haired teenage daughter of his, when he heard the side door slam shut and footsteps stomping across the house toward his office. He froze and tensed in his chair just as her familiar scent, tinged with the bitterness of anger, drifted into the room and he turned his head just as the girl in question arrived at his door.

Standing in the doorway to his office, body stiff, fists clenched, and face screwed up into a fierce scowl, Izayoi silently glared at her father. Her little chest was heaving and she was practically trembling with the intensity of her emotions, ears pinned against her head and teeth clenched tightly.

Inuyasha regarded her mutely for a few seconds more before wordlessly saving his work on the computer, removing his reading glasses, and setting them on the desk before swiveling in his chair to face her fully. Leaning forward he propped his elbows on his knees and gave her his undivided attention, patiently waiting for her to begin.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“I didn’t want to come home after school,” she started in a soft hiss. “I wanted to go to the store with Rai like we originally planned, because I’m still mad at you, and maybe even have a little bit of fun so I wouldn’t be having such a crappy birthday, but do you know who convinced me to come home instead?”

Inuyasha tightened his jaw and forced himself to remain silent, knowing his daughter needed this.

“Raiden did,” she supplied and her father’s eyes rounded slightly in surprise. “Yes. That Raiden. And do you know why? Because he didn’t want my relationship with my dad to suffer just because said dad is a big jerkface, because that’s the type of person Rai is!”

Her dad flinched and still said nothing.

“I like this boy, Dad,” Izayoi continued fiercely and hated the way her voice caught in her throat. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears but she continued, determined to say this now that she’d started.

“A lot, and by some miracle I think he likes me back, and you humiliated me in front of him and I was terrified he was never gonna talk to me again, but he did because he’s a good person.”

Izayoi couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and they streamed down her face, blurring her vision, but she forged on, roughly dashing a hand cross her eyes. She knew her dad hated it when she cried, but right now she couldn’t find the strength to care, and it wasn’t like she could help it anyway. She’d been teetering on the edge all day, her emotions throughout the day having been so strung tight and frayed it was amazing she’d held out as long as she had. It felt good to release some of the pressure that had built up and so she continued, her words heated, her voice passionate.

“He genuinely cares about me and he feels guilty about what happened Friday even though he’s not even in the wrong here. Raiden is nothing like Daisuke, and in fact he saved me from Dai today, but that’s not the point.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath and once more fixed him with a stern look. “I am thirteen years old now, Dad. You can’t protect me forever and I don’t want you to.”

Her father winced but she forced herself to go on, her tears running unchecked and her breathing becoming a little uneven. It was getting harder to push words out, but she couldn’t stop now despite the sudden, savage urge to throw herself into her father’s arms and let him take away the pain like he used to when she was little.

“I’m not that little girl anymore,” she rasped and try as she might she could not hold back the sob that erupted for her throat. “I know you just want to keep me from getting hurt, but you have to realize that you can’t—you can’t shelter me from everything and—and I just—it’s not f-fair and I want—”

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her shaking frame and with a sob Izayoi collapsed into her father’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and weeping into his shoulder as he gathered her close to him and held her as she cried. She clung to his shirt as he rubbed her back and murmured gently to her, nuzzling her head and allowing this desperately needed relief.

“I’m still m-mad at you-u-u,” Izayoi managed through her sobs, taking deep breaths to try and calm herself down. It wasn’t really working.

“I know,” Inuyasha replied with a hint of a smile, closing his eyes and tightening his arms around her. “You can be mad at me all you want. Your big jerkface of a dad deserves it.”

Izayoi made a sound that might have been a choked laugh but he couldn’t be sure so he just continued to hold her, rocking her gently in his arms, rubbing her back and growling soothingly in an attempt to help calm her down. She hadn’t let him come near her the entire weekend, and he relished having his little girl in his arms again, her scent in his nose, infinitely glad that she was finally giving him a chance to atone for his stupidity. He knew it stemmed from the fear of her growing up too fast. She was suddenly liking boys, and having a social life, and Inuyasha realized that as much as he wanted time to slow down, he knew he couldn’t and he had to come to terms with the fact that his little girl wasn’t so little anymore. Hell, she nearly reached Kagome’s shoulders; a few more years and she’d be taller than her, Inuyasha was sure.

With a shaky sigh, Izayoi moved to pull away and Inuyasha reluctantly loosened his grip, but didn’t remove his arms from her. He knelt there as she pulled herself together, wiping at her eyes, sniffling and regulating her breathing as he contented himself with rubbing a downy ear, waiting patiently.

She dropped her hands and blinked bright amber eyes at her father before offering a tentative, trembling smile. Inuyasha quirked a grin back and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Both of their ears flicked when the ring of the doorbell suddenly echoed throughout the house, but it went ignored.

“I’m sorry,” he said and then added with a sigh, “And you’re right. I know you’re not a little girl anymore, Iz, but you’ll always be my little girl, whether you like it or not, so I’ll offer you a deal. You do your old man a solid and try to be patient while I try and deal with you growing up faster than I can keep up with, and I’ll do my best to give you your space and understand that there are some things I can’t control. I’m sure it won’t be easy, but if it’ll avoid shitstorms like this in the future, I’m willing to try.”

Inuyasha aimed another crooked grin at her and nuzzled his nose with hers. “So whaddaya say? Yay or nay?”

He was finally grace with one of her beautiful smiles she got from her mother and nodded, eyes identical to his own brightening and showing more than a little bit of relief.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Deal. I love you, Daddy.” Izayoi pulled him in for another hug, her arms going around his neck and Inuyasha felt his chest tighten as he returned the embrace.

Ridiculously he felt his eyes grow hot as he rasped, “Love you too, babygirl,” and kissed her cheek.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome appeared in the doorway and smiled down at her husband and daughter. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Inuyasha sighed and reluctantly pulled away, dropping another kiss to his daughter’s head before standing up and going to see who was at the door. Izayoi sniffled and rubbed at her cheeks, accepting her mother’s hug when Kagome wrapped her up in her arms.

He’d already caught the familiar scent drifting down the hallway so when Inuyasha reached the foyer he wasn’t surprised to find their visitor standing there before the doorway, hands in his pockets and looking a little uncomfortable. To his credit, however, he didn’t look away from the half-demon’s gaze as he stopped a little ways before him, arms crossed and his posture lacking any of the hostility he’d had from their last meeting.

He heard footsteps approaching behind him then Izayoi’s soft gasp as she realized who it was but he didn’t glance at her and kept his expression a neutral mask of indifference. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, and he had to admit, he liked the kid’s tenacity.

Trying not to fidget where he stood, Raiden spared a brief glance Izayoi’s way to toss her a quick reassuring grin before turning his attention to the taller figure beside her. He cleared his throat, gathered his nerve, and sucked in a deep breath before starting what he came here to do.

“Mr. Taisho,” he began politely and bowed to both him and Izayoi’s mother who stood just behind her husband with a friendly smile. “Mrs. Taisho. I’m, uh, I’m sorry for coming unexpectedly, but I wanted to clear the air a little because of how things went on Friday. If that’s okay.”

Izayoi smiled while her father nodded his head to continue.

“Look,” Raiden began a little awkwardly, grimacing as he rubbed the back of his neck and dropped his gaze. “I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed that your daughter was free to go out with a complete stranger that you’d never before, and I should have asked first if it was alright if I can spend time with her. Izayoi told me what happened between you guys and I just—I feel bad.”

Actually he’d heard it from Rin, who was the school’s biggest gossip and also cousin to the girl he was interested in, but he doubted it was a good idea to mention their family drama is being broadcasted all over school by his niece. Judging by Izayoi’s grateful look, he’d made the right call.

Giving up on remaining stoic – he’d never been very good at hiding his emotions anyway – Inuyasha sighed heavily and then grimaced. He caught Kagome’s gaze, who shrugged and then nodded, and the half-demon grumbled slightly before turning back toward the boy.

“Actually,” he rumbled, frowning as he glanced at his daughter who had yet to take her gaze off of the younger dog demon. “She is.”

Raiden blinked and frowned a little. “She is...?”

He sighed again and reluctantly admitted, “She’s free to go out with who she wants without our permission. Iz has a good judge of character and I know she’s more than capable of taking care of herself. Just ask Daisuke,” he added in a mumble.

Raiden heard it anyway and perked up a little, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “You mean how she broke his nose, right?” At Inuyasha’s surprised look, he shrugged. “I overheard her talking to him while he was harassing her at school today and she asked him if he wanted her to break it again. He certainly deserved it for being a dick,” he said bluntly, unapologetic.

While Izayoi groaned softly and covered her red face with her hands, Inuyasha was thinking that maybe this boy wasn’t so bad if he was of the same mind of that brat that he was. And hadn’t Iz said something about him saving her from Daisuke or something? So he’d stepped in when his girl was in trouble. So to took action and didn’t hesitate to protect her. Definitely admirable.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome said suddenly, drawing both of their attention as she stepped forward and put a hand on her husband’s shoulder with an encouraging smile. “Don’t you have something you need to say to Raiden, too?”

While Raiden looked confused and Izayoi was lookin back and forth between them, Inuyasha rolled his eyes and dragged a hand down his face, knowing his wife was right, but still not liking the thought of admitting he was wrong.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled at Kagome’s gentle reminder and faced the boy standing before him. “Raiden, was it?” he asked, and the brat—er, kid nodded. “I’m sorry too. For, uh, acting like an asshole Friday and threatening you and shit.”

The boy nodded again and looked relieved. “It’s cool. You just wanna protect your daughter, right? I get that.” Then he smiled and said, “I wanna protect her, too.”

Kagome gasped and put a hand over her heart while Izayoi flushed deeply, infinitely pleased, and Inuyasha struggled to not pick his girl up and whisk her away.

So instead he grunted, looked down at the girl in question and asked resignedly, “You said something about going to the store.”

Izayoi blinked then her eyes widened and a small, hopeful smile curled her lips upward. She nodded and Inuyasha sighed—again—before looking at Raiden.

The kid met his gaze, unwavering, and satisfied, Inuyasha rumbled, “Have her back by seven. It’s still a school night even if I don’t wanna scare you off anymore.”

“Inuyasha,” Kagome chastised, nudging his ribs, and he grunted, unrepentant. It was true, dammit.

Raiden visibly brightened while Izayoi wasted no time in fetching her jacket and hurriedly shrugging it on.

“Yes, sir,” he answered and bowed respectfully.  “I promise to have her back not even a second later. Thank you, Mr. Taisho. For giving me a chance.”

Inuyasha pulled a face. “Don’t make me regret,” he grumbled called out as his daughter passed him on the way to the door, “Izayoi.”

She paused and looked over her shoulder, a mite impatiently, then sighed when he gestured her over to him. He waved to Kagome and she produced their daughter’s new phone out of nowhere – more likely she retrieved it from her backpack when no one was looking – and handed it over.

“For my piece of mind,” Inuyasha rumbled softly, “so I know you have a way to call me if something happens.”

Izayoi smiled in understanding and nodded, taking the device and sliding it into her back pocket. Then she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tight. Inuyasha glanced at the door, toward Raiden who was patiently waiting and politely looking away, and kneeled down to hug her back, kissing her cheek.

“Happy birthday, babygirl,” he whispered.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered, pulling back to beam brightly at him and kiss his cheek. “You’re the best.”

He grinned at her. “I try.”

Giggling, Izayoi bid her mother bye as well before hurrying over to Raiden, who smiled at her before looking over toward he parents and giving them a nod and small wave. Then they were walking down the steps, toward the sidewalk, and then Inuyasha’s view of them disappeared when Kagome closed the door.

Inuyasha groaned and dragged a hand down his face, suddenly feeling exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to go collapse on the couch and maybe take a nap but a gentle tug on his pants prompted him to look down to find his son staring up at him with big amber eyes, undoubtedly wondering where his sister was and what had just happened.

With a little smile Inuyasha lifted him up into his arms. “Tai,” he said and poked his tummy with a finger, “if you ever put me through half the shit your sister does, I’m gonna beat you bloody.”

The young half-demon blinked and then giggled. “Okay.”

Inuyasha nodded, satisfied. “How about you and me go watch some cartoons and call it a day? Your old man needs a break from life.”

“Yeah!” Tai said with a grin, always excited to watch cartoons on the big screen TV.

“You pick. What are we watching?”

“Spiderman!” he crowed, throwing his hands up and Inuyasha grinned.

“Spiderman it is, then.”

Watching with an amused smile, Kagome piped up, “Is mom allowed to join or is this a boys only thing?”

She watched as her boys exchanged a speaking look and tried very hard not to laugh when Tai’s face screwed up in intense concentration. Then he nodded once, Inuyasha nodded back, and when they turned to her she hoped the amusement was gone from her face.

“You can join, Mama,” Tai told her. “You don’t have cooties.”

Inuyasha choked on his laugh while Kagome said dryly, “Oh, I see. Well that’s a relief.”

Grinning, Inuyasha lifted an arm and his smiling wife tucked herself against his side. Together the three of them wandered into the living room to watch an animated Spiderman kick evil butt although between Inuyasha and Kagome, they had more fun watching their son reenact his favorite scenes while yelling, “My Spidey senses are tingling!”

[phoneboxfairy]

Morning After (Stone-age Nalu Smut chapter 2)

First chapter link here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810735/chapters/46906300

Lucy stirred. She was momentarily startled by the unfamiliar surroundings. At least, she was until she saw Natsu laying next to her. He seemed to be barely awake, one arm lazily curled over her waist.

Ohh... she remembered now.

"Hi."

"Hey." He wrapped his other arm around her, pulled her close. "Ready for another round?"

"You bet."

A kiss, then another, and another. Hands wandered. She leaned into each touch eagerly. Gods, his hands were so nice and warm...

Natsu was just about to relieve her of her pelts when something caught their attention.

Specifically, a loud banging and even louder shouting.

"LUCY!"

"Erza?!" The blonde yelped. "I didn't think they'd be back so soon."

Obviously the male heard her voice trembling. He pulled her into his arms and rested his forehead on hers.

"I ain't letting you go."

Lucy was torn.

On the one hand she missed her tribe, missed her sisters dearly.

On the other... she didn't want to leave her male, her Natsu. They had bonded in such a short time and Lucy didn't want to give that up.

She didn't want to lose him.

Bang.

Bang.

BANG.

"We know you're in there, male! Surrender Lucy or face the consequences!"

"She means it, Natsu. Let's go."

She didn't want to leave him, but she didn't want to die at Erza's hands, either.

Natsu stopped right before they got to the door. He pulled off his fang necklace, then slipped it down onto his female's neck.

The significance wasn't lost on her. She took his hand, seeking comfort as she gathered up some courage.

The pair was greeted by a small host representing the strongest of the female tribe. Mira, Cana, Juvia, Levy, and little Wendy-sama stood out in the crowd among others.

Erza stood in front of the hut, a rather fierce looking stave in hand and an equally fierce glare on her face.

"Lucy. Are you alright? Did this brute harm you?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Very well, then. Enough of this foolishness. Let's get you home before the brute can cause any more trouble."

"She's not going anywhere, female."

"She can speak for herself, brute!" Erza moved to swing at Natsu. Lucy stepped forward, standing in front of her male in complete defiance.

By this point a few males had arrived. No doubt Erza's loud commotion called them over. No surprise, Lucy thought. She was, after all, a stranger in the village. Instinct demanded they protect their home against possible threats, even if said threat was an intimidating female.  

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no. Erza, just because you had a bad experience with a male doesn't mean they're all bad. I want to stay with my Natsu. I... I love him."

At that moment, Erza, the Scarlet Demon, threw her stave to the ground. Lucy had never seen her tremble, had never seen her sink to her knees and weep like that.

"Erza..."

"No. It's fine. You're right, Lucy. I suppose I have been too harsh on you all. I simply don't want anyone to get hurt like I did."

This brought on murmurs from the females. Some of them even glanced over at the males, quite curious about the other tribe. Juvia, for example, seemed to be instantly smitten with one of them. Levy just did her best to look indifferent.

"Erza?!"

A new voice, a new male. Tall, blue hair, odd marking on one cheek.

Erza's mystery male reappears, Lucy thought, expecting a tender reunion.

...And then Erza slapped the male across the face. Lucy blushed and quickly turned away. No way was she about to get caught up in THAT.

“Hey Lucy?” Thank the gods for distractions. She turned to Natsu. The male had one of his cute confused expressions.

“Yeah?”

“What's...love?”

That did it. One question, one simple question, made her blush so hard she wondered if smoke was coming from her ears.

"L-love?"

"Yeah, love. I heard you say you love me?" Shrug. He was acting mighty casual for such a serious topic. "Are you okay? You sound like a spooked boar again."

"N, no. I'm fine. Just feeling a little shy, that's all. Love is, ummm...Love is when two people like each other a lot. They make each other happy and want to stay together for, um, forever."

Forever, huh?" This made the male smile.

"Yeah." Words failed her so she pounced, curled her arms around him, and snuggled her head on his shoulder. "Kinda like how I feel right now."

"Ohhh. I get it." Natsu chuckled and patted her head for about a second before letting his hand stroke her hair. "I think I like this love thing."

"Me too."

A kiss and a cuddle. Lucy was just about to suggest going back to the hut for some more fun when she heard a familiar voice. “Heyyy! Lucy!” “Cana? What are you doing here?”

“I brought you some clothes, and I wanted to see this male of yours.” The brunette handed her a bundle then flashed a knowing look at Natsu, who just looked confused. “Damn, Lucy. You have good taste.”

“Uhhh...Thanks. Sorry, Cana, I can’t really talk right now...”

“It’s alright. I get it.” Wink. Oh, she got it, alright. “See ya later, Lucy. Let me know if ya ever want to share.” She kissed Lucy’s cheek, pinched her backside, then took off to rejoin the other females.

“We’ll see about that.” A rather naughty image flashed through Lucy’s brain, making her blush. She needed to find another thought, something to distract her for a few moments. So she glanced at the others.

Despite the initial hostility the males and females seemed to be getting along...at least somewhat.

Erza and the blue haired one were deep in conversation, his hand clutching hers.

Levy was in what seemed like a harsh and heated debate with the larger male, although the sparkle in her eyes and the hint of a blush gave Lucy the impression that the debate wasn't the only thing that was heated.

And Juvia...well, she had asked a certain rather frigid male if she could sit on his face again, much to his shock.

Speaking of males...

"Lucy?"

"Huh?"

"Wanna go back to the hut?" And finish what we started. The implication was clear. Lucy blushed at the idea and felt sweet heat pooling in her belly.

"Sure. Let's go."

With no further ado Natsu picked her up then dashed into the humble abode. He set her down ever so gently on the bed then paused, blushing.

"I have an idea," she whispered. She slipped her pelts off slowly, well aware that he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

Then she untied her hair, letting the silky blonde tresses fall from their usual ponytail.

"Wow..."

Lucy blushed. She still wasn't used to being fawned over like this. But truthfully she rather enjoyed the attention, especially from her male.

"Bind my wrists. Not too tight."

Once that was done she got on her knees and leaned forward, resting her hands in front of her.

"What now?"

"I want you to take me like you did yesterday."

"Wait...can we do it this way?"

"I think so. Look." She wiggled her hips and gave him a very good view of cave-sama. "You have to get behind me and put club-sama right here."

Right where it belongs.

"Alrighty." He made fast work of shedding his pelts and moved next to her on the bed. She shivered when he stroked over her bare skin.  Back, thigh, bare breast. One particularly daring hand slipped between her legs and began to rub her right where she needed it.

What seemed like a million years later, she felt club-sama brush against her rump. Blush heated up her cheeks.

"Don't be shy. Go on." Her polite way of saying get on with it. Luckily he was getting better at taking her hints and cues. He pushed deep into her, treating her to some pretty delicious friction.

Lucy mewled.

"Feels so good..."

"It does..." Natsu's voice was little more than a growl. "How 'bout this?" He gripped her thighs and started pumping her.

"Mmmm that's, ahh, that's nice too." Nice was an understatement.

"Cave-sama's nice and wet. Naughty little female..." Dark, sexy chuckle.

"Only for you, Natsu."

"That's right, Lucy. I'm all yours, and you're mine." He moved faster now...

...perhaps a little too fast. She felt club-sama slip out of her.

And she whined.

"Natsuuu...I want more."

"It's okay, baby. We're not done yet." He reached over and untied her hands. "Get on your back."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I wanna see you."

Well, Lucy couldn't argue with that. As fun as the new position was, she felt kinda isolated not being able to see her male's face...or anything else for that matter. So she laid back, resting her hands above her head.

Natsu grinned. Lucy braced herself for what was sure to be very enjoyable indeed.

First, though, he lifted her leg up oh so gently, then rested her ankle on his shoulder. Then, at long last, he got back to properly pleasuring her.  

The first thrust seemed to set her every nerve ablaze. Something about the position, something as simple as her leg on his shoulder, added to the already incredible sensations.

She moaned. Loudly. She really got into it, bucking her hips with every single move he made. What delicious friction.  He went faster with a downright devilish smile and a dark chuckle.

"Lucy...Lucyyyyyy..."

"Mmmmmm, Natsuuuuu..." Her voice was a sensual purr. She scraped her nails down his back. He shuddered. "You like that? How 'bout this?" Her free hand wandered down between her thighs. Nimble fingers stroked over sensitive skin and she let out another feral moan.

"You're such a tease, female. I love it..." Growl.

"Then say my name, Natsu." More teasing. Well, he had just said he loved it...

"Lu...Lucy..."

"Louder, Natsu. Louder." She rubbed her sweet spot, gasping at the combined sensation of her finger and club-sama. "I'm so wet for you Natsuuuu..."

"Damn...Lucy...Lucyyy..." More growling, more delicious friction. So close...they were both so deliciously close to utter bliss... Natsu roared her name. Lucy savored her own climax as well as the feeling of him twitching and filling her with his hot seed.

Moments later they lay together in a tangle of limbs and sweat. Natsu kissed her forehead, while Lucy nuzzled his shoulder.

It didn’t take long for the pair to establish something of a routine. They made love, intent on learning all they could about one another. At the same time...Lucy was beginning to realize that there was much more to love than the physical stuff. They walked, they talked. Natsu even took her hunting and fishing.

Through it all they bonded. At first he always took her hand. But as time passed, it became more and more common for her to take the lead...and his hand.

Flash forward a year, and things were quite different. The males and females were officially no longer at war, much to Mas Ter’s chagrin. Relationships were becoming quite common between the two groups. Lucy was surprised to see how many had paired off. Erza and Jellal, Juvia and Gray, and Levy and Gajeel all joined her and Natsu as official couples.

The REAL surprise involved Gajeel and Levy. Lucy would have just about sworn they would have a rocky and brief tryst that would never amount to anything serious...at least, she would have until Levy announced she was carrying a baby.

This was the first child of what was bound to be many. Lucy had been happy for her friend but at the same time she felt a bit of envy and sadness. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone at first but truth is, she wanted a baby. She wanted...what was the word? Oh. She wanted to have a little family with Natsu, wanted to further their bond.

When she finally admitted this to him, he smiled and hugged her.

“Don’t worry about that, Lucy. We’re a family even without kids. And besides, at the rate we’re goin’, we’ll have ‘em eventually.”

“Aye!” Happy chimed in.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Natsu.” She couldn’t help smiling as she kissed his cheek. He grinned then pulled her into a proper kiss, a kiss that sent all her worries out of her mind.

It wasn’t until a few months later that Lucy got her wish. She happened to run into Wendy-sama one afternoon while Natsu was off hunting. The girl had squealed and hugged the very confused blonde.

“What is it?” “You’re carrying a child, Lu-chan!”

The world stopped spinning for a moment.

“You’re sure?!” “I’m positive! I can always tell when there’s gonna be a baby!”

Accurate. The girl had been the first to notice when Levy was carrying. It only made sense that her little gift would be as accurate now.

It took every ounce of willpower Lucy had not to blurt out her news the moment Natsu and Happy got back, giant boar in tow. Somehow she managed to be patient, somehow she managed to get through dinner with her tender little secret still intact. Her plan was to wait until they got back to their hut, wait until they had a bit of privacy.

Natsu...Natsu somehow figured it out before she said anything.

“Wait. Wendy I understand, but how did you know?”

“You smell kinda different. That and you’ve been smiling at me all night like you’ve got some big secret. What else could it be?”

“You know, you males are a lot smarter than we give you credit for...And that’s why I love you, Natsu.”

“Love you too, Lu-shee.” A slow, tender kiss that encompassed all the love they shared. That night, cuddled under furs with her mate’s hand curled around her soon-to-be swelling belly, Lucy felt content, like she had everything she ever wanted…

Sure, it wasn’t perfect like those fairy stories she had grown up hearing. That didn’t mean life wasn’t worth enjoying, wasn’t beautiful.

Even a relationship that had started out on the wrong foot had gone from purely physical to purely incredible, from confusion and kidnapping to a sweet love that made her heart sing.

And that, dear friends, was very beautiful indeed.

~~Fin