#even if it annoys him that tails says the shadow one is softer

[myymi]

Hi, I read your fic where Tails is wearing a Sonic hoodie and loved it! It's sweet how much they care about each other

I am curious, how do you think it would go if Sonic found Tails wearing a Shadow hoodie?

hihii!

on a surface level i don't think sonic would care much. sure he'd tease and poke at tails for it but that's just his right as a big brother

but a bit deeper i think sonic would just be happy tails has a family more than anything. aosth shows us the main thing he wants to give tails is a family that loves him, and i think he'd love to see that tails has that family now even if it does include his rival

[rin-fukuroi]

foxian reader that reminds Blade of Baiheng and it causes him pain that he has never felt before (literally just him being protective but not wanting to admit it) </3

Thank you very much for the request~

I'm sorry for making you wait so long. I hope the wait was worth it.

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Blade x fem!foxian!reader

Warnings: a little angst.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. UNDREAM, Neoni — Nightmare

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I like this work. Although I usually like to write more about the tougher Blade, sometimes it's nice to remember his softer sides and that deep down he is still capable of love, even if it hurts him.

It's amazing how only one thing, one look, one person can destroy an already shaky structure.

— Oh… — you look so scared. Your ears are slightly tucked in when you step back, away from the numb man. — You must be a Stellaron Hunter.

You're scared. And you're not at all sorry that meeting you broke down the fragile walls separating Blade from his past. Of course, you have no idea what's going on in his head while his scarlet eyes burn a hole in your chest, on which your trembling fist rests, convulsively clutching the fabric of your dress.

— Will you kill me?

Blade doesn't hear a word you say, cornered, with a soft fluffy tail pressed against your hip.

«So much like her…»

You take a step back as opposed to his step forward. The silence hanging between you and the killer wanted all over the Lofu makes your heart pound in your chest, but you can't take your eyes off him. The hilt of the cracked blade is still clutched in his long fingers in a black glove, while the shadow of the menacing tall figure of the man absorbs your whole being more and more, plunging you into a state of terrifying trance.

All sounds disappeared. Only your shortness of breath still breaks the silence for a man, while the ringing in your ears does not allow you to hear even your own rapid heartbeat.

The viscous crimson liquid in Blade's veins boils, and his head is so dizzy that he is hardly sure that he is still standing on his feet. These memories from the past stick into his shaky consciousness like needles. The memories of Yingxing, whose eyes now see in front of them a fragile but strong girl, shining with a gentle smile, from which painful cramps twist the stomach. But Blade's eyes only see you, trembling in horror in the face of death, which you are sure will overtake you right here and right now, in this dark alley, in which you had the misfortune to find yourself at the same time as the Hunter, holding out a bandaged hand to your face.

His cold touch brings you out of your stupor, making you flinch when Blade's thumb gently pressed against your cheek. Trembling lips open when you're about to say something, but the words curl into a sharp lump stuck in your throat.

Of course you're afraid. Of course, you don't understand why Blade is looking at you now with such regret and a desperate desire to utter words of remorse, but he just can't stop. So much… pain. So many memories torment the Hunter at this second, when both of you are afraid to break the suffocating silence. Each for their own reasons.

But you're just as surprisingly brave as the girl Yingxing once knew.

The man's thick eyebrows rise when you grab his wrist with a trembling hand. Now your face looks furrowed when you give Blade an annoyed look.

— If you want to kill me, then do it already, — your voice is permeated with such amazing confidence in what you are saying, and your tail swings so funny from side to side, shuffling along the wall behind you. — Or did you just decide to add harassment to your list of crimes?

Your ears abruptly straighten in amazement when you feel Blade's palm release your face, now moving to his forehead and covering his terrifying fiery eyes while a hoarse laugh escapes from his lips.

— What's your name? — the man asks in a low, velvety voice.

You hesitate, pressing your long ears back against your shiny hair again before, now with less confidence in your voice, giving your answer.

— Y/N…

The corners of Blade's lips lift slightly in a barely perceptible smile, after which a large bandaged palm hits the wall on the right side of your face.

— You are brave, Y/N, — the Hunter puts the blade back into its sheath with one deft movement of his hand, fixing his menacing gaze on you. — We will definitely meet again.

His last words didn't sound like a threat before Blade's figure disappeared into the darkness, as if he had never loomed over you like a heavy shadow.

It was a promise.

✧ ✧ ✧

You couldn't get that night out of your head.

You've never felt the breath of death so clearly before, and you've never seen a person who personified it. One glance at the Hunter was enough to see the road behind him, strewn with corpses, but … for some reason, just for a moment you felt the irresistible sorrow and longing that soaked Blade's fingers touching your cheek.

No, no, no. You were just too scared. Surely, murderers like him are alien to anything human.

But then why can't you get him out of your head?

Just like Blade can't stop secretly watching you, feeling like a real masochist. He could just run away from this suffocating sense of guilt, from the pain that he causes himself over and over again with his own hands, coming back to you over and over again.

Is he even allowed to have warm feelings for you? Blade knows he doesn't. These feelings burn him like an unbridled flame, in which one day he is destined to burn alive for the sin that he is going to take on his mutilated soul again.

But if the pain he feels every time your name pops up in his mind, every time he sees you, is the price he has to pay for the selfish desire to feel happy again for a moment…

Blade is ready to pay it.

Therefore, there is no longer a blade in his hand. Now his ruby eyes look into yours with awe and a desire to protect. Now the pads of his long fingers touch your chin with the certainty that you want it. Blade sees it in your almost childishly innocent eyes, looking at him with a mixture of fright and anticipation when he brazenly invades your life again, making the muscle in your chest tremble with an inexplicable feeling that you cannot resist.

— Sorry to keep you waiting… Y/N.

[squeiky]

This is going to get long. Sorry Op, but sometimes a post just happens to conincide whislt my writing/anlysis brain is on and well.. this happens:

I know this is sonadow posting but ignoring the shipping aspect- this actually encapulates a constant trait of Shadow the Hedgehog (and team dark as well) in which he often lacks the desire or need to constantly SAY or act (in the socially obvious sense atleast) as if he cares or is concerned about you (most people will consider his behavior "tsundere"-like in the fact that he openly has tendencies to deny any allegations of caring for someone, especially that of Sonic).

However,

whats intresting to is that not only does Sonic seem aware of this factoid (that others, aside from team dark memebers as they all dervive from similar ways of expression, dont seem to actievly be aware of), but openly engages with it in a fun, lighthearted and teasing way. Though Sonic is known for his mockery and clowning, when its particularly aimed at Shadow, it always feels like a confirmation rather than a sign of "just messin with him" (though of course it can always be the case).

Its not the best example but- lets say sonic is in need of help and Shadow is on a mission and on the way he decides has to save him. So, on the outside he appears more focused on external things, simply "doing this cause buissness is buissness" or he may be annoyed and scold Sonic for being too reckless and forcing him to have to save him on a mission.

Sonic, brushes it off and is joking about the situation- showing the more braver and stronger front of his persona. This however, may cause Shadow to get angry or annoyed as the light banter contrasts with the emergency.

So basically, the whole thinh could be chalked up to "Shadow get annoyed at Sonic for being dumb and Sonic teases Shadow cause he likes to mess with people" and nothing more.

But then if you examined it a bit more, it could be something more akin to "Shadow is very worried and concerned with Sonic being in danger and actively dislikes it when he is put in troubling situations, he has doesnt express this in a "oh my gosh are you okay🥺?!" So intead he resorts to simple correction of action via light "scolding" or simply telling him not to do it again. (In colors DS, when shadow was worried about his saftey, its simply a "good, your back." Or something similar. Again. Its always implied with him and never stated upfront.) Whilst Sonic, whom understands that hes worried, but requires some amount of vocalized validation to this fact, prys it out of him via the teasing, through the light banter of "why? you worried😏? ", "i didnt know you were such a good hugger" or something like that.

I think this attitude is what makes him feel safer around the people he is with, as if they are able to handle the mocking tone of Sonics more present persona, it would be safe to say that he can trust them enough to feel comfortable lets say.. be carried in someones arms in the middle of space while hes practically dying, because if they can handle the "annoying" part of him and still care about him deeply, then thats a keeper.

I think theres a trust and validation in that aspect.

(I think this especially also plays into characters like team dark, or even knuckles and Blaze. I think hes much softer on characters like Amy and Tails.)

Especially when you realise that Sonic was so pissed off at shadow he actively antagonized and called him a "faker" (yeah thats Sonic's thing. He started that.) And somehow, not only was Shadow about to play off of that in a fun way, he used it to make himself look "better" than Sonic and might actually be one of the first characters in game (that i know of) other than eggman to actually have seriously gotten on his nerves (to the point he was pacing around in jail all like pissed off), which is hilarious.

But overall, it just shows that Shadow can effectively take the worst of Sonic and send it back in a fun way (which grabs at Sonic's addrenline junkie fun-time addicted brain). If anything, once Shadow understands that Sonic literally is "what you see is what you get" he accepts that.

I think there thats where that respect comes from. In both parties as Shadow respects Sonics autheticty and expression, and in i think he may even find an appreciation for it.

Furthermore, you also can see how Sonic is capable of reading people quite well, and is able to understand other peoples thought proccess (which makes him good at making quick jabs that piss them off).

So when swapping the tables and haing Shadow in danger and Sonic the savior, the two probably would function the same way as i discussed prior- except sonic is much more capable of expressing the easy-to-pick up on "oh my gosh are you okay🥺?!" Type stuff. He might even literally say "ohmygosh r u okay 🥺?!" If hes THAT worried.. So Shadow never needs to "pry" anything out of him. In this light, Shadow is well aware thay Sonic cares about him (hes just annoying about it). Which makes it so that what Shadows gains from Sonic is less of that "validation & trust/comfort" and more of.. acceptance and understanding.

Because Shadow is often a character that in-universe is either mythologized, demonized or inhumanized ( inhedgehogized???) But when introduced to Sonic (who remind you is the FIRST character to seriously call Shadow a "heroic hedgehog" or something akin to that)

He becomes well. "shadow the hedgehog" not "Shadow the sciene project" or "Shadow the Ultimate lifeform" or "Shadow the dangerous entity" or what not. Theres a sense of "i take you as you are" type of way that Sonic gives to him. And with that he accepts whatever form Shadoe comes to him with. Never forcing anything on or away from him (to the point where Shadow straight up gives him his own "title" which again, is something SO intergral to who he is that the fact Shadow even did that just shows how much importance Sonic reprenst in his life. It took one person to show him that authenticty and acceptance thats hes

been craving ever since well.. probably maria). I think thats where that particular respect comes from and in some ways? Especially during the very last parts of SA2 where Shadow yells out to him the "i think your the ultimate lifeform!" To sonic and in turn when Shadow "dies", Sonic says hes "Shadow. Shadow the hedgehog" theres a tradeoff there.

The fact of the matter is, i think its more than just "oh look at this shadow says he isnt going to save him but then actually does" because 1. Two difrenet contexts (obviously) but 2. I dont think its even unrealistic for shadow to say he "wont save him" but then actually does.

He cares about Sonic too much to actually let shitty things happen, but wont actively coddle him like team sonic would. If anything, i personally think its more of I "i wont save you, so dont do something stupid, because then thats your fault and im not responsible for cleaning up after you." And less of a "i wont save you, I would let you get hurt/injured and die" type ordeal?

Idk, what do you, dear reader, have to say about this?

thinking....

[hhawks]

kghn thots

they haven't seen each other in five years.

i mean, outside of the court. outside of sweaty side hugs and olympic standard lights that glare into shoyo's eyes when he looks up at tobio. outside of the competition that they've grown up in, grown into.

five years. and then yacchan asks to meet.

it's a simple invitation. come over! i have sake and i have beer. that was all they needed to huddle together in the small apartment that could barely fit yacchan herself. the five of them— tadashi had dragged kei along, and kei could never say no to him— sit together on tatami mats and laugh under the influence of bottle after bottle of alcohol. there's nothing quite like the tinkling sound of a hiccup after a drink, the laughter that ensues, and the warm, comforting embrace that shoyo's begun to find himself slipping into.

"bakageyamaaa," he slurs, swatting at tobio. "shtop leaning on me."

"i'm not," tobio snarls. like a cat with folded ears, body still and tail swinging. "you're lying on me."

shoyo's retort is interrupted by a loud and repulsive burp, one that earns him groans and peanuts thrown at his face. he laughs it off, straightening up. "that's nothing. you should hear bokuto-shan's burps. those stink!"

this time he leans on tobio on purpose. he tilts his head and angles it for softer divot past the bone of his shoulder, and smirks to himself. this ought to get him riled up, he thinks.

a second passes. nothing.

two seconds, still nothing.

shoyo frowns. is he asleep? no, he's talking to yacchan. there's no way he hasn't noticed the weight of shoyo's head on his shoulder. he lifts his head and stares at tobio. watches the movement of his mouth, his jaw as he speaks. the curve of his nose. tobio has really long eyelashes, he notices. has he always had such long eyelashes?

and tobio notices shoyo staring, but pays no attention to it. he's too busy retelling his flight back to yacchan, the toddler he sat next to who he felt the need to protect, the bread roll and garlic butter that was surprisingly good. but eventually shoyo's curious eyes begin to annoy him, and he wants to know what is so intriguing about the left side of his face.

"hinata."

"kageyama."

"why are you staring at me?"

"i'm waiting for you to notice me," hinata says, and it's the most genuine thing he's ever said drunk.

there's a small shadow of a frown on kageyama's face. "what?"

"i want to dance," yacchan says, getting up. "i have a speaker— does anyone have any music? other than— other than tadashi. your music taste is trash."

there's a soft argument that ensues when she says that, tadashi following her to refute her claims, and kei trailing behind them, not wanting to be left alone with the two idiots.

"i said i'm waiting for you to notice me." shoyo repeats. his eyes are so big and so brown, and tobio almost feels unsettled looking into them. "i want you to notice me."

"i always notice you."

and then music starts. upbeat, pulsating, energetic. yacchan's kind of music. but they remain still, looking at each other.

"always?"

"yes. always."

"even when i was gone?"

tobio scoffs. "how can i notice you when you're—"

"i noticed when you were gone." shoyo interrupts him. "sometimes a court isn't a court if you're not on it."

he's drunk. he's had way too much to drink, and now he's talking out of his ass. tobio hides his flushed cheeks with the cup of beer he's been sipping at, taking a bigger gulp than he's ever before. he wishes he was as drunk as hinata was.

for a moment, they look at each other, and it feels like years ago. it feels like air salonpas and the screeching of volleyball shoes against unpolished courts, like 5am trainings and running alongside each other. it feels like competing against one another just to be next to one another. it feels like their young selves again, dancing the elephant in the room.

"i still have it," shoyo says suddenly. "i keep it in my wallet."

tobio's second gakuran button. they exchanged buttons on the last day of school, before they parted ways and shoyo left for brazil. before they only saw each other on opposing sides of the net. before the five years that separated them.

"i have yours too," tobio murmurs. pulls out a thin chain from under his shirt, the old black button hanging loosely against his chest.

after three years of being his most trusted person. after three years of growing together, learning together, being together.

you can return to the past whenever you like, tobio has discovered. to go back in time and visit the places you grew up. but none of it matters when the people around you aren't there too.

they stay like that for a while. until yacchan's music dims and softens to a slow ballad, and when shoyo peeks his head out the door he watches yacchan passed out on the floor, and kei and tadashi holding each other close, kei's playlist drifting through the speakers.

it would be a hundred times easier if we were young again.

it would, wouldn't it? tobio watches the lights carve shoyo's face into splinters, the planes of his nose and the angels of his eyebrows. he's been with men and women alike, and yet he's only ever felt intimate with shoyo.

"they're dancing," shoyo whispers.

"so they are." tobio sips at his beer.

and they stay like that, shoyo watching them and tobio watching him, time beating by, callously, maliciously.

but as it is, and it is.

they will never be young again. they will never be the people they once were.

but maybe, tobio smiles. they don't have to be.

two slow dancers, last ones out.

[vizowrites]

That’s One Hell of a Resume

{Set during the Harvest Moon Festival competitions}

~*~

To  Blitzø’s great surprise, the Harvest Moon Festival was actually turning out to not be a fuck fest invite after all.

He honestly hadn’t been sure when the games initially kicked off.  The horde of imps that had come to compete for the title of “the roughest, toughest, bastard in Wrath” had a proclivity for violence that could easily--and not inaccurately--be described as a passion.  Then of course there was Stolas, watching him thirstily from atop his fancy seat underneath his fancy tent, cooing and cheering out “Blitzyyyyy!!'' at every opportunity he got to speak.  Yet the honored owl prince somehow still managed to keep his pants on throughout each and every event--and even more impressively managed to keep his degrading sweet talk void of any sexual obscenities.  He hadn’t even been able to manage that much on a day trip to a theme park with his daughter.  Yet somehow...this wasn’t even the best part of the festival to  Blitzø.  It was up there to be sure, but it wasn’t the toppiest top.  The “dom of the disco”**, if you will.  

No, the BEST part of the festival--and the thing that kept the imp grinning from ear to ear throughout the entire competition--was that this honkytonk battle royale was shaping up to be the perfect opportunity to show off and be recognized for just how much of a boss-ass bitch Blitz actually was: 2nd to absolutely fucking none.

Well...maybe with ONE slight exception.

“I gotta say, you just keep on impressin’ me every chance you get,” that one slight exception said with a smirk, the tip of his tail flicking forward into a small curl.  “No wonder your killin’ biz is so successful.  You do every kill single-handed there, Boss Man?” The two were standing off on the sidelines together during one of the many interims inbetween contests, where the first round winners had already secured their victories and now were stuck watching the remaining shitty losers battle it out to find out which of them would end up being the absolute shittiest loser.  It was taking a stupidly long-ass time, a hell of a lot longer than  Blitzø would’ve normally had the patience for, but with his present company leaning up against the bleacher stands like that.....there were definitely worse ways he could be spending his down time right now.

“Nah,” he answered with a small flick of his wrist, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of where he’d last seen Moxxie getting his ass kicked and Millie sitting in the stands watching it happen.  “I know he’s not doing a great job of showing it right now--” he said just as Moxxie got elbow dropped by a shark “--but Moxxie’s not completely useless.  He did get me shot on a job once while he was in the middle of being a little bitch, but as soon as he finally found his balls again, he got things back under control pretty fast.  And Millie’s just a straight up badass.  If her parents had allowed her to play in the games, you’d have gotten your ass handed to you three rounds ago.”

“That so?” Striker’s lips drew back into a slight smirk, just enough for the light to catch on the very tip of his fanged gold tooth.  “Because I seem to remember a certain someone else bein’ the one to get themselves all roped up in a hogtie about three rounds ago.”  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about but it sounds like complete bullshit.”

“That’s kinda what I was thinkin’ myself to be honest after that first relay run--” Those snake-like eyes raked in every inch of Blitz’s annoyed face, feeling the corners of his own pleasantly sting as his grin spread even wider. “Right up ‘til I saw some o’that nice red color risin’ up in their face--”

“IT’S HOT--THERE ARE FUCKING VOLCANOES NEARBY OKAY!!” Blitz realized, very quickly, just how loud and defensive those words sounded, but he also realized just as quickly that there wasn’t anything he could do to take them back now.  Instead, he straightened himself up, cleared his throat, pretended that there wasn’t some of ‘that nice red color’ in his face now, and said in what he thought was a much more nonchalant voice, “Anyway, I’m starving, and since these last few dipshits are taking forever to get their asses kicked, I’m gonna go find something deep-fried to shove down my throat.  Catch you at the awards ceremony or whatever the fuck they do around here to finish themselves off.”

The I.M.P. Head made it a grand total of two steps before the unmistakable crunch of boots sounded behind him, followed by a faint scoff of a laugh and the distinct rattling of a tail as Striker joined him at his side.  

“There’s a whole row of food stands back there behind the stage,” he said with a nod, meeting  Blitzø’s stride and starting to veer them off in that direction.  “And now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind grabbin’ a bite.  Besides--I feel like I might owe you one for bringin’ up such a tender subject.”

The unrepentant but non-malicious smirk he sent Blitz’s way wasn’t at all softened by the wink that accompanied it, but it somehow brought a slight smile to the smaller imp’s lips all the same.

“You got fucking lucky and that was it,” Blitz insisted with a sharp flick of his tail, not having the faintest fucking clue why he was smiling about this in the first place but subconscioiusly hoping that swatting at Striker would be distracting enough that the taller imp wouldn’t notice.  “And besides, I could’ve gotten out of it if I had really wanted to.”

“Oh, so you wanted to be all tied up like that?”  The grin that spread across Striker’s face was even wider than the first, his razor sharp teeth now on full display. “Well now, if that’s what you were wantin’ you could’ve just asked.  I’d’ve been happy to oblige right from the start.” 

“Ha! Like I’d ever make it that easy for you,”  Blitzø retorted with a challenging grin, his eyes dancing with a truly impish gleam of delight as he and Striker rounded the stage together, his earlier thoughts of the food shacks that waited beyond almost entirely forgotten as they were overtaken by memories of their constant back-and-forth scuffle throughout the festival. “You beating me fair and square is one thing--even though you still totally just got really fucking lucky and also it definitely never even happened in the first place.  But if you were actually going to beat me...you better believe it’s not gonna happen without a fight.  I don’t just bow out like some sloppy bitch who can’t figure out where they put their car keys and has to take the walk of shame back to their shitty apartment at 4 in the morning.  If you wanna come out on top over me, you better fucking work for it.”  

The black tip of his pointed tail flicked up to poke Striker once in the center of his chest, punctuating the word ‘work’ perfectly. 

Striker’s tail, on the other hand, began to rattle.

“Yeah?” he said, his earlier easy tone starting to become weighted with something softer, but deeper.  Neither he nor  Blitzø made any indication that they were aware that he was guiding them both right on past the front of the stand that they had originally been headed toward, and instead had them disappearing into the shadows behind it. “You’re okay with not coming out on top so long as whoever does earns their place there?”

“I mean...”  Blitzø trailed off a bit as he casually leaned up against the back of the stand, folding his arms over his chest as he eyed Striker with that lingering gleam in his own gaze. “You have been able to keep up with me in all the other games...so I guess it might be possible for you to get the upper hand on me for at least one of them.”  

“Just me?”  The rattling sound intensified. 

“Well there sure as fuck wasn’t anyone else who was able to keep up,”  Blitzø rolled his eyes in annoyed exasperation at just how much everyone else truly sucked in comparison to the two of them, before he slowly looked back up at Striker--and realized that the snake-like imp was suddenly a lot closer than he’d been before.  Much closer.  

“...Striker?”

“Yeah, Blitz?”

“Please tell me we’re not actually talking about the fucking games anymore.”

A short, soft laugh was the initial answer, followed by that still rattling tail coiling around Blitz’s slender waist as Striker propped himself up on one arm against the structure behind them, his hand splayed just to the side of the crimson imp’s right cheek.  

“I haven’t been talkin’ about the games since you got me with your tail, Darlin’,” he whispered, his hooded eyes narrowing to glowing slits of pale gold as he leaned in almost close enough to touch.  “But I don’t know if there ain’t somethin’ to be said about that “fuckin’” part yet...”

Blitz’s words came back to him then, ringing in his head as clear as when he first said them: 

“...Well if you promise this isn’t some fuck fest invite...”

“.....You gonna work for it, Cowboy?” 

“Yessir, Boss Man.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So...lemme get this straight--”  Blitzø finally shifted his weight, easing it off of Striker and rolling to rest his back on whatever podunk concession stand they’d spent the last ten minutes fucking up against.  “--You tie me for first place in the games, you ride around on the most majestic fucking horse I’ve ever seen, you take down a hell hog with a single stab while completely and mercilessly humiliating one of my employees in front of his in-laws at the same fucking time, and you called me “Sir” when we first met?  AND you’re a great fuck??”

The quirked eyebrow and smug gold-toothed grin he got in reply said more than words ever could, especially when accompanied by the satisfied rattling of that long, spiked tail.

“That’s one hell of a resume you’ve got there.”  Blitzø didn’t even realize his own face had split into a grin until he saw it reflected in Striker’s eyes, hypnotized by the sheer reckless abandon he felt ignited between them.  “Want to join I.M.P.?”  

Striker couldn’t help but laugh, reaching up to adjust the brim of his hat from where Blitz’s tail had nearly knocked it off, his unwavering gaze sparking into an infernal glow.

“Tell you what,” he said, his tone a warm rumble of amusement meeting temptation.  “You and I head on back to the stage, revel in our well-deserved glory, and--once we’re satisfied it’s been rubbed into the faces of those sorry ass losers enough--I’ll head on back up to the farm and have a little talk with Miss Mildred’s folks about finishin’ things up around here for the season.  Maybe see if they can find another set of hands to join ‘em for the next one if mine are gonna be occupied with--” His hand found its way down to Blito’s face, the sharp claw-like nail of his thumb pressing under the shorter imp’s chin to tilt it up towards his own. “--other things.”

“Believe me, Cowboy,”  Blitzø’s eyes were burning, twin embers of eagerness that ran so deep he could feel the heat of it vibrating through to his very core--and his vocal chords.  “You’re not going to find a more hands-on job than the one you’re gonna get if you come and work for me.  ESPECIALLY in that order.” 

Striker’s tail snaked its way up and along past Blitz’s hip, the pointed tip flicking over his chest as it’s rattle joined in the chorus of that deep, heated purring.  

“Don’t mind if I hold you to that, Sir.”

“Oh fuck me--”

And Striker did. Again.

~*~

Random Notes: 

**My counterpart to the phrase “the belle of the ball”--”the dom of the disco”.  I think I’m way funnier than I actually am. :D

ANYWAY tho I really hope y’all like it!!  This is the first fanfic I’ve posted anywhere publicly in a hot minute so I hope it’s not a bad kickoff to something I’m hoping to really get back into!!  I have plans to post the full fic of this--with the non-censored sex scene to my AO3 oohlala--so if that’s something you’d like to see, feel free to lemme know here and I can get right on that!!  Otherwise have a great day, thanks for reading, and if anyone wants to hit me up for some lovely BlitzStrike talks, I’m always open to messages!!

Thanks again Lovelies!! <3

[19molly97]

On that note, can you imagine another game character finding themselves in the Sonic SatAM 'verse? Like, per say, Shadow the Hedgehog?

Shadow finds himself in Robotropolis, after being caught in chaos control gone wrong, he destroys a majority of the SWAT Bots out to get him. And with his chaos powers, he even destroys the roboticizer. Robotnik may try to float in front of Shadow, saying that GUN did Maria a favor. "They put her out of her misery."

(Robotnik better hope he can actually run. Because Shadow would not take it in stride.)

Because of Shadow's reserved, brooding nature, I could see him getting easily annoyed by the Freedom Fighters. (Specifically Sonic and Antione.) "The more you talk, the harder I want to hit you!"

Meanwhile, since Shadow is very ruthless and ambiguous in combat, the freedom fighters would question him on his methods and make sure Tails isn't alone with Shadow. (But seeing Tails as a more innocent kid and not the smart one he's used to, just might bring out a softer side to Shadow.)

However, I can picture him getting along better with Nicole, since she's straightforward and doesn't usually speak unless spoken to. And Uncle Chuck, since he has a sagely wisdom that would remind Shadow of Gerald Robotnik, (before he became twisted).

Feel free to message or comment any opinions for this. :)

If Sonic from the games switched places with Sonic from the SatAM cartoon, how would it go?

I personally think it'd turn out interesting. Sally might not notice it at first, but 'Sonic' is a bit more reserved and humble about his actions, he's giving credit where it's needed. But what drives the nail in is that Sonic tells Sally that she has an ego.(She kinda does, and I thought she was just being sassy.)

As for Game!Tails, 'Sonic" just seems more overconfident, show-offy, and overall annoying. Tails would figure out right away that this isn't the right Sonic. But SatAM! Sonic would be wondering about his friends back home, once he finds out.

[pastthevaulteddoors]

Jiang Cheng wasn’t running. No, he wasn’t breaking any Gusu rules. He was, however, sprinting like a mad dog around the bamboo houses of the Lan’s private dwellings. After turning around many bends to lose his quarry, he realized he himself was lost. Great.

And, on top of that, Jiang Cheng could still hear the looming, playful trot of his annoying broth- of THAT annoying person not far off, singing out his name and not caring a wit for the quiet of the mountain’s serenity. So, JC decided to hide rather than run. He had to do something to get that brat off his tail.

So he hopped a reed fence and couched beside someone’s back deck in hopes of missing his bro- that person’s attention.

It didn’t work. Jiang Cheng could hear Wei Wuxian’s happy humming as he headed his way. The hunt was a game to him, even giving JC warning before he pounced!

JC was not a coward, he was not hiding in fear of another man. He just... couldn’t really smack this one around and he was REALLY really annoying.

“Shit,” he cussed under his breath, just before a door slid open. Great, now the resident was going to have a reason to gossip about seeing a sect leader cower in the bushes (because, of course those told not to gossip were the biggest gossips of all!)

Before he could bolt, however, a figure stood in the doorway. They appeared almost ghostly in white Lan robes, shadowed heavily by the darkness of the room inside. But they weren’t a ghost, as a hand waved them inside. JC only hesitated a moment before hearing Wei Wuxian come near the reed fence before he dashed inside like purple lightning.

The reprieve of relief was momentary when the figure’s hand shot out and touched the side of his neck. JC was surprised a civilian could get past his honed training, when the hand retracted holding up a slip of paper. It looked like a miniature talisman and he could clearly make out the ‘tracker’ symbols in various, tiny writings. Wei Wuxian was TRACKING HIM! No wonder Jiang Cheng couldn’t get the slip.

A moment later, however, the small talisman burned away with a quick flicker of fire. Jiang Cheng looked past the hand holding the tracker and it took his eyes a moment to realize he was looking at Sect Leader Lan himself.

Before anything was said, however, the Lan Leader put a finger to his lips in a silent ‘shhh’ and hovered in front of the crack of the open door to block the view of the inside.

“Oh, Sect Leader Lan!” Wei Wuxian said, a halted tone as if he were just caught.. which he was just caught in the sect leader’s back garden. “Sorry, I was looking for, uh, well, have you seen Jiang Cheng? He was just around here and...”

“I did hear something stumble through the back,” Lan Xichen said smoothly, his smile barely seen in the dark room, contracting with the mild, overcast sunlight outside. “But it kept going. I thought perhaps it were a few rabbits come to say hello.”

“More like a feral cat,” Wei Wuxian teased. There was a long pause with a few hemmings and hawwings from Wei Wuxian. “Ah, okay. I swear he was around here but.. thank you!” And off he went.

Lan Xichen’s eyes followed him as he went before the door slid shut, sealing them into semi darkness once more. The man looked... bad, Jiang Cheng thought. His face was gaunt, making his otherwise pretty cheek bones look like blades. His eyes were dull, the smile not reaching them, and dark circles lay underneath. His smile was still a lovely as ever, but it was softer now, less humored, more forced.

His hair was down and limp, a little greasy, and he only wore a loose, open robe over his underrobes, clearly not expecting company, or perhaps he just woke up.

“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng grumbled.

“Don’t mention it,” Lan Xichen returned, his smile a little more pleasant. “I know how he loves you, but can be a handful.”

“I thought you were out of seclusion,” Jiang Cheng returned, raising a brow as he stepped away from the door. Lan Xichen followed and swept his arm to the table where a tea set was. Jiang Cheng highly doubted that the water was fresh and shook his head.

“I am,” Lan Xichen said, surprised. He took a seat and also appeared to wonder about the water as he peaked inside.

The room itself was not the bright, airy place he’d visited before. A handful of times he broke with shame and went to elders for advice they spoke in here. And since all of his leaders at Lotus Pier were dead, he sought out the next in line of his teachers. Rather than the sweet smell of fresh air, it was humid with dust and old incense, the blue light was yellowed, and the shadows lingered as if old memories that would never leave.

“You know it’s past noon time, right?”

“Is it really?” Lan Xichen gave up on the tea and swept his wrinkled robe sleeve across the table to wipe away an embarrassing layer of dust. “I was painting and lost track of time. I’m sorry I did not greet you at the gates as I should have this morning.”

“No bother,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’ve been here for three days.”

Another look of surprise crossed the sunken sect leader’s face. He appeared to Jiang Cheng like a deer; soft and fragile despite the strength under it all.

“I... I am sorry,” He stammered. “It.. I...”

“It’s fine. Wei Wuxian’s been my guide,” Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Pest won’t leave me alone.” He picked up one of the monotone painting still laid out to dry. It was obvious to him who it was, regardless of the unclean strokes and abstract feel. “I’m only here to check up on Jin Ling and his classes.”

“Oh- no, please Sect Leader Jiang, don’t--”

Jiang Cheng pulled the sheet of paper out of Lan Xichen’s panicked reach. “If you think I can’t tell who this is, you may forget that we co-parented that boy together.”

“I’m sorry, no one was...” Lan Xichen deflated. “It wasn’t for anyone else to see. I just... don’t want to forget his face.” He peaked up at Jiang Cheng from his messy, limp hair. He smelled a little ripe. “I’m sorry. I’m horrible for trying to... keep him.”

“Yeah, and he was the uncle Jin Ling liked more,” Jiang Cheng set the painting back down, which was quickly swept up by the other sect leader. “Kind of sucks that a man like that can be so human.”

“He was human,” Xichen protested, his eyes finally lighting up with passion. “He was just...”

“Human, yeah.”

“Strange...”

“Learning a few things about the complexities of the human heart. And sharing it.” He put a hand on his chest.

...

Somewhere in the woods of Gusu, Wei Wuxian crept up behind his lover and pounced him from behind. “They’re talking,” he said gleefully and kissed his cheek.

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said as he turned to get a better grip of his husband and place him properly into his lap. It ended up with a half lounge of the sprawling demon cultivator.

“They’ll be friends in no time, trust me!” he said, grinning with ease. “All I need to do is pester him every time he comes.”

[missturtleduck]

The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt. 4

Part Three│Part Five

“It was more of a ‘I’m on the verge of going ballistic at you too, Sokka, so watch your mouth’ sort of smile.”

The moon was a liar.

Now that was a sentiment that Y/N wouldn’t agree with lightly, and yet she was. Sure, her journey so far had been blessed with good weather and better friends, but screwing around with her sleep? That was evil. It wasn’t necessarily the moon’s fault, but it was easy to blame spirits and celestials for real world problems.

At first, the day seemed normal. They had set up camp in a lovely wooded area, laughing about Appa’s shedding problem as they went about their usual chores. Aang and Sokka made sure Appa was comfortable, Momo and Y/N went out looking for food – though she didn’t realise she had a lemur shaped shadow until he landed on her shoulder, making her yelp – and the Katara tended to the main camp with Toph. Sure, the girls managed to butt heads over the division of labour, but all in all it was an okay start to an evening of rest.

Y/N took her place on the floor, Momo curled up in the crook of her stomach; with no time to collect her belongings, she didn’t have a blanket or pillow, but her new friends were astounding at her abilities of staying warm regardless, and falling asleep anywhere. Sokka had offered his furs to her in the beginning and she managed to decline without her face changing to a deep shade of red. For an hour or so, she had managed to drift into a dreamless slumber.

“There’s something coming towards us!”

Momo screeched as Y/N shot up, eyes half shut, hand on her staff. “What is it?”

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she saw Toph with both hands pressed to the ground, her face scrunching up. “It’s like an avalanche, only it’s not an avalanche.”

“Your powers of perception are frightening.”

Biting back a grin, Y/N got to her feet, nudging Sokka with her bō. He groaned, rolling onto his other side and burying his face in his arms. She continued to prod him until he eventually got up, muttering something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch.

Under the orders of the Avatar – or suggestion, rather; he wasn’t very commanding – the group packed their stuff, climbing onto Appa ready to move away from whatever was coming their way. Squinting at the horizon, Y/N realised the scale of the thing pursuing them.

“Tank train,” She said, her voice low and dangerous. “Fire Nation. We need to move now.”

With confirmation of what was chasing them, urgency in the group picked up slightly. Y/N watched and watched until she saw the plumes of mechanical smoke disappear into the inky night, no longer visible over the ocean of trees. For a moment, she breathed a sigh of relief. Opening her mouth to say something, she realised no one was in the mood for talking. Sokka, head in his hands, was managing to catch some sleep despite being high in the air. Even Aang, who seemed to be constantly chipper, rubbed at his eyes, dark circles beginning to form under them. Y/N by no means necessary disliked sleep, but she could cope with missing it – more than these it seemed.

As Appa let out a rumbling yawn, he came to land in a clearing within the woods. Clambering from the bison, Toph seemed far happier with her feet on the ground, ready to sleep once more.

“See you guys in the morning!”

“Actually,” Katara said, her voice polite, her face annoyed, “Can you help us unload?”

Toph snorted, crossing her arms. “Really? You need me to help unload Sokka’s stinky sleeping bag?”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled to her lips; Aang, as animated as ever, pulled a face as he held the bag between two fingers, practically throwing it at Sokka. The non-bender proceeded to grow very red as he hopped into it, hitting the ground and nearly falling right back to sleep as soon as it happened.

“That, and everything else. You’re part of our team now, and- “

Toph pointed her finger, cutting her off. “Look! I didn’t ask you to help unload my stuff! I can carry my own weight.”

“Toph,” Y/N said gently, erring on the side of caution, “I only have my bō staff and I’m still helping. It’s not hard.”

“Well, you’ll get along so well with the Sugar Queen then, won’t you Little Miss Perfect?”

Her jaw dropped as she looked at the girl. Katara seemed to boil with rage, ready to go ballistic with her words. And go ballistic she did. It possibly didn’t help that Y/N also had the exact same idea, so the overlapping shouting at Toph may not have been constructive. Words like rude, selfish, and maybe even vulgar were thrown about. The argument ended with Toph slamming a rock up between them, closing herself into a makeshift tent.

“Should we do something?” Aang asked quietly, nudging a serene looking Sokka.

“Hey, I’m just enjoying the show.”

Y/N whipped around the smile at him, although it wasn’t the sweet smile that she often saved for him at the moment. It was more of a ‘I’m on the verge of going ballistic at you too, Sokka, so watch your mouth’ sort of smile. The grin fell off his face very quickly after that, and she felt some satisfaction watching him swallow his nerves down.

“I think,” Aang said, which was never a good way to start a sentence in this sort of situation, Y/N thought, “That you all need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Katara exclaimed, not calm.

With that, she walked away, and Y/N had the comical thought of steam rising from her head in anger. Sighing, she slumped to the ground, Momo taking his usual spot right by her stomach, curling into a ball on her lap. In his tiny hand he clutched her index finger. She might try to sleep, she reasoned with herself, but something about the course that tank train was on made her feel sick in her stomach. It felt wrong.

“Go to sleep,” A voice slurred next to her, Sokka’s voice.

“Can’t,” Y/N responded quickly, staring down at Momo.

His sleeping bag rustled. “Can’t or won’t?”

She smiled, softer than the earlier one she gave him. “Go to sleep, Sokka.”

Y/N didn’t have to tell him twice as he relented to her order, eyes closing as he began to drift. As he did, she spotted Katara coming back from her walk, hopefully calmer than she had been previously. She was not.

“The stars sure are beautiful tonight,” She said in a tone that rubbed Y/N the wrong way. “Too bad you can’t see them, Toph!”

Grimacing, Y/N watched the drama unfold. With a flick of the wrist, Toph sent a tremor through the earth, so strong it sent Katara flying – right into Sokka. So much for sleep.

Pushing his sister off, he glared at the two girls. “How’s a guy supposed to get any sleep around here with all this shouting and earthquaking?”

Unfortunately, something worse was on the horizon. Toph announced it as soon as Y/N spotted those smoke plumes again, far too close for comfort. This was not a usual route for a tank train to take. They were being followed, specifically hunted. But what was giving away their position? Surely it wasn’t the arguing.

“A few more minutes,” Sokka whined, pulling his sleeping bag over his face.

“Don’t make me carry you,” Y/N warned, moving Momo so that he could curl up under her shirt undisturbed as they moved.

He stared up at her as she offered her hand, something on his face that was more than bashfulness. Y/N didn’t ponder on it for long. Hoisting him up with strength that surprised him, they got back onto Appa as swiftly as possible, Y/N making sure to smother the camp fire and hide the ashes under dust.

She could feel Appa struggle as he descended over the peaks of a mountain range, coming to land on hard rock. Well, land was one word for it. Y/N was sent tumbling off of Appa’s back, clutching her stomach so she didn’t crush Momo and have to serve up Lemur pancakes for breakfast. The bison immediately fell asleep, unbothered by the luggage that had fell off of his back in the process. Even the animals were tired, Y/N realised, a gnawing feeling of anxiety growing inside her. They were being hunted, not only hunted, but driven to defeat in a psychological and personal way.

It couldn’t be.

Sokka brushed himself off from the tumble. “Okay, forget about setting up camp- “

“Well, Toph wouldn’t have helped anyway.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise that the baby still needed tucking in!”

“Will you two pack it in!” Y/N snapped, too angry and anxious to feel extremely conscious of the fact she was being stared at. “We are being hunted down by the Fire Nation, and you two are busy bickering! Stop it! There is no need, and you’ll realise that when we have soldiers, or worse, right at our doorstep!”

The silence was deafening, so jarring that it caused Momo to stir from his sleep and clamber up onto Y/N’s head – absolutely not helping her case in that moment.

“It could be Zuko,” Aang said, ending the long silence.

“Who’s Zuko?” Toph asked, the first calm thing she had said all evening.

Sokka rubbed his temples, face looking down into the dirt. “Oh, just some angry freak with a ponytail who won’t stop stalking us.”

“Sokka,” Y/N said, faux confused, “You have a ponytail. Why so offended by Prince Zuko’s?”

“This,” He interjected, looking vaguely offended, “Is a warrior’s wolf tail.”

“Aw, and I’m sure all the other warriors know how cute and perky you are,” She teased, pouting her lip.

He grumbled at her, sliding to the ground. “Go to sleep, Lady Y/N.”

With a scoff, Y/N began to sit, ready to join him in rest. However, Momo went from pulling her ears – ouch, by the way – to jumping on Sokka’s chest, chittering frantically. Alert, the lemur raised his ears, gliding to a ledge of rock, hopping on the spot animatedly. For her own peace of mind, Y/N followed the little creature to the ledge.

“Up,” She said, her voice panicked, “Everybody up now.”

She never thought they’d send Azula.

TAGLIST: @lunariasilver​

[author-morgan]

OH I actually got an idea so Eivor being a “lone-wolf” that’s another information I’ve read and the reader just LOOVES annoying him and shit gets heated-fluffy-and something i kinda love these kind of stuff 😤plz make eivor a lil bit “grumpy” but In a good way I just love grumpy boys 🙂AND THANK YOU💕✌️

Hi nonny, sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy it! inspiration taken from wild convos with @jaegers-and-kaijus

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

EIVOR GLANCES OVER his shoulder and breathes out a heavy sigh. You’d given away your presence by stepping on a twig on the narrow trail and snapping it. Turning, he crosses his arms with pursed lips. “I told you to stay with the others at the settlement,” he chides as gently as he can, though annoyance still seeps into his tone.

Stopping in front of him, you put your hands on your hips and puff out your chest. “Stay here with the womenfolk, it’s dangerous out there,” you say, trying your best to imitate the timbre of Eivor’s voice. He hadn’t said those words per se, but it is what he had meant. It isn’t that Eivor doubts your prowess or skills, only that Anglia is still a foreign land with many secrets and dangers. The settlement had lost its kennel master and his pack of hounds to bears not even a fortnight ago. 

His lips twitch upward, threatening to turn his frown into a poor smile. “It’ll be like old times,” Eivor remarks, motioning for you to come along with him. It will feel like old times, before the wars between chieftains to choose a true king and unify Norway. Too many of your people had died for the cause and when Eivor would not submit to King Harald’s reign, he took his people to safety —to Anglia. 

“Here,” Eivor murmurs his warm breath tickling your neck, hand resting on your bent draw arm, “lower this arm.” He presses down, eyes still narrowed on the deer grazing in a small forest clearing —a fine meal to bring back to the village. “Release,” he says. You let the arrow go, sucking in a large gulp of air as it whistled through the crisp air. A soft thunk is followed by a louder thud when the deer collapses. Eivor had felt his heart stop when you looked back at him with a bright smile. The thought of one of your first hunts together brings a faint smile to his lips, though he does not let you see. 

Old times you muse with a smile, trodding alongside him. Eivor had always been one to keep to himself, but that did not detract from his ability to be a leader among men —strong and just. A leader who would fight his own battles and lay down his life if need be, but he was always trying to prove something —to himself and others. Eivor has nothing to prove to you, though. He is among your oldest friends and besides Sýnin, you are one of his only confidants. You can think fondly on old times, but you are excited to learn what this new life holds. 

“Why’d you really follow me?” Eivor asks, his prior annoyance turned to mirth. In truth, he is glad to have your company —the burden of leadership among other duties has kept the two of you apart for many days. You give a small shrug, playing off the knot twisting in your stomach and heart as indifference. Eivor holds his arm out, stopping you in your tracks and raises a finger to his lips. 

The forest is dark and deep and silent. You glance up at the canopy searching for Sýnin, but the raven is not to be found. Eivor reaches behind his back, freeing one of his axes and your reach of the hilt of the blade on your belt —nervous. 

“Stay close,” he whispers, inching farther into the wilderness. He stops again after several steps. Now the silence is replaced with a low rumble —growling. A dark shadow moves in the underbrush. The black wolf bolts from its cover, teeth bared and jaws snapping. Neither of you notices the second, larger beast until it latches onto Eivor’s back. Sending them both rolling through the thicket in a blur of grey fur and brown leather —out of sight into a gully.

The black wolf surges, swiping its massive paw across your leg —claws sinking into your thigh. You scream at the burst of searing pain, slashing at the beast until the point of your blade sinks into its side. It rears back with a high-pitched yelp. You step back, foot catching on an upturned root. Just as you begin falling, the wolf leaps.  

Eivor pulls himself from the gully and glances around. When he sees both you and beast unmoving, his heart seizes. He pushes the wolf’s corpse aside and kneels, laying his hand against your bloody cheek. “Damn you,” he curses, shaking his head even as you smile at him. At first glance, most of the blood belongs to the wolf, but Eivor notices the ripped fabric at your thigh and frowns. “You should have listened,” he tells you, inspecting the three long, bloody tears in your skin. 

“When have I ever?” You counter, laughing as he slips his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees lifting and cradling you against his chest. “I can still walk, you know,” you tease. Eivor rolls his clear blue eyes, unable to hide the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He’ll take this as an excuse to keep you close. 

ANOTHER KETTLE OF water hangs over the fire for a bath. Eivor kneels in front of you, wet cloth in hand. Solveig had already collected your tattered britches to patch —besides a night shift and wool dress they were the only pair you had for now. He wipes away the dirt and blood, pleased to find the wounds were not deep —stitching or burning would not be needed, just a good cleaning and fresh binding. Eivor’s rough but gentle hands linger longer than needed.

He rises from the ground, tossing the dirtied cloth into the washbasin before fetching the kettle of steaming water and dumping it into the wooden tub. Eivor motions to the hot bath and averts her gaze until he hears the sloshing of water followed by a soft, content sigh. 

“Eivor,” you call, twisting around to see him looking at the scratches on his back —his tunic and jerkin hanging over the back of a chair. He makes a low rumble of acknowledgment, quickly glancing over his shoulder. A flush of color is on your cheeks, though you can blame it on the water and steam. “There’s enough room for two,” you tell him, motioning around at the tub. He hesitates but gives in to his heart’s desire. 

Water sloshes over the wooden sides when he slips into the tub, sitting in front of you, knees brushing together with yours. You lean toward him —scrubbing away the dried blood from a scratch on his shoulder. He shifts, straightening his legs, and draws you to him by the waist. Every time you’ve ever been this close to him, your heart skips several beats. He’s a good man, a good leader, my closest friend you think, and I love him. You drop the sponge and take his face into your hands, fingers deftly combing through his beard and tracing the scar on his cheek. “Eivor,” you murmur, “I have something to tell you.”

Eivor strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, fingers trailing over your neck and back into your hair. A soft smile on his lips lights up a twinkle in his eyes —softer than even a summer sky. “So do I,” he admits, feeling a fool for not acting on his heart’s wishes sooner. Eivor had tried convincing himself he was better off alone, but he is stronger with you. 

He draws in a deep breath and so do you. “I love you,” you both say at the same time. For a moment it doesn’t feel real, but warmth and elation fill your heart and his. Eivor tilts his chin up as you bend forward, pressing your lips to his. One of his arms wraps around your waist, bringing you flush against him —his beard tickling your cheek. The break lasts only a moment and when Eivor’s lips brush against yours for a second time, you can feel his smile. 

You lay your head on his shoulder, following the outline of the dark tattoo on his chest —a serpent consuming its tail— while he hums, fingers running up and down your spine. “Skatt mitt,” he breathes when the water grows tepid, he still needs to bind your leg. Eivor wraps his arms around you, rising from the bath and places you on a chair by the hearth, moving to gather a clean strip of linen. With a fresh bandage, he wraps the two of you in a roughspun blanket before the fire. It had always felt right when he wrapped you in his arms, but now it feels like home. 

“I want every day to be like this,” you tell him, leaning farther into his chest. 

He laughs softly, kissing your temple —arms tightening around you. “As long as there aren’t wolves every day,” he mutters, earning a chuckle from you too. This Eivor thinks this is a good life.  

@withered-poppies @ananriel @britishhotassassin

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle (3/?)

You don't remember passing out in the troopers arms, waking only when he sets you down, in front of the tree that's all too familiar to you. It’s raining  even more now and Crosshair feels particularly inadequate as he paces in front of you. What do you tell someone who’s just lost everything? 

“Crosshair…” Your voice is quiet as you say his name, he whips around at the sound, terrified someone had followed him into the forest. He waits for your next words, and it takes a moment but a small ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth. He nods and goes back to pacing in front of you. 

The crashing sound breaks both of you out of your perspective trances. Something is moving towards you, and quickly. In response, you haul yourself up off of the rainforest floor. Looking to the man in front of you for direction. 

“It’s fine.” He tells you, monotone. “Jus’ Wrecker.” You’re not sure what a Wrecker is, but quickly you discover a Wrecker happens to be Crosshair's older and much bigger brother. 

“Crosshair!” He booms, when he clears the undergrowth, clapping a rather large hand on  his shoulder, and you watch as the trooper takes a step backwards. ‘Not one for touchy-feels’ you think to yourself. 

“Ran into some trouble, bucket got chucked in a lake.” He explains. “Couldn't com in.” this ears him a boisterous laugh from Wrecker. 

“Accident prone as always.” He chuckles, before turning away to, presumably tell his comrades he's found Crosshair. You on the other hand, had backed up into the tree bark whilst watching this interaction. Crosshair is watching you watch Wrecker, and he wishes he could pick you up again, just to feel your heartbeat go from crazy to calm as you relaxed in his arms. It would be so much easier than talking or trying to talk,  to just scoop you up and  hide you from the world.  

“Tech and Hunter are only a few clicks out.” Wrecker says to Crosshair, subtle nudging him as if to say, ‘stop staring bro, you’ll spook her.’  Before moving over to you, and bringing his hand out, watching as you recoil more into the branches. Wrecker takes the hint, and  takes his helmet off before trying to shake your hand again. This time you let him, offering a small ‘hello’ in return. 

“You must be Fairywren.” He says, and you confirm the guess with a nod. “Cool name, much cooler than Crosshair.” He smiles at you, and you immediately decide that his talent, even with all the muscle, is undying kindness and radiating happy energy. Crosshair scoffs at his brother. 

“I hate to disappoint but it's just a nickname.” You’re still smiling a little, your old self shining through for that brief moment. 

“Still” He assures you, “it’s way better than any of ours!” You decide to lose yourself in the moment of happiness. Firing back at him with a:

“Oh I don't know, Crosshair isn’t that bad.” Wrecker laughs again, and you see Crosshair pause as he lifts a toothpick to his mouth, a small smile in the shadow of his tall figure. 

“Wrecker” he draws out that voice, so different to any other clone. He gestures to the forest edge he’d been watching as the leaves and twigs break and moves as Tech and Hunter join the three of you. They exchange words, far enough away from you that you don't hear them. A few glances thrown your way. And Crosshair starts to look more and more unimpressed. Breaking from the group with a grumble, and heading over to you, opting to lean against the tree with you. 

“Tech’s the small one.” He whispers to you. “Sergeant Hunter has the ridiculous hair.” rolling the toothpick in his mouth, you look up at him. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you're not trying so rude, but you're genuinely curious.

“I’m telling you, because you’re going to be putting up with them for the foreseeable future.” He sounds a tad annoyed but you dont push further.  

“You named after the tattoo?” You ask without thinking. Tracing it with your eyes, giving them something to do other than tear up in panic. 

“Got it after.” He responds, and from that you can gather he’s not very social, but what you need right now is a distracted mind, so you decide to test your luck. 

“Why  Crosshair though? Like I get it's your name but like why?”  You want to curse at how stupid you sound, but, the adrenaline has totally warn off now and your brain feels like goo.  

“Sniper.” He says blankly, turning around so you see  the huge rifle strapped to his back. 

“Oh…” you say, finally connecting the dots. “Well i'm called Fairywren after-”

“The birds, I know.” Crosshair  interrupts, before moving away from you as the rest of the group breaks apart from what you’re guessing was a debrief? Taking small steps towards them, taking in how different they all are. 

“Sergeant Hunter, at your service.” The one with longer hair says, shaking your hand. You take note of his face tattoo as well and wonder if he got his with Crosshair. 

“Wren, thanks for the save.” You introduce yourself, not pausing to think where you’d be without them.

“No problem,” Hunter says, his voice is deeper than Crosshairs but no less gruff. “Shall we get off this kriffing rock?” Turning around to his group, taking in their nods, before scaling the tree. 

The Havoc Marauder isn't exactly what you expected, but then again you don't know what you expected it to be like.  Maybe a bit more cluttered than it actually is but you like it nevertheless. 

“How many species are on this planet?” The clone named Tech asks you, he's the only one that hasn't introduced himself to you, but you're guessing it's only because his brain is working a million parsecs a second. 

“I'm not actually sure,” You say, feeling guilty as his face drops. “There's a number of overall species and all but the variations are so unique it's hard to classify them.” You quickly add, watching his eyes light up.

“So why the Fairywren then?” He asks after a lengthy (and largely sided) conversation of evolution in rainforest species. You feel Crosshair's eyes on you, tuning back into the conversation off and on again as he took or lost interest. 

“My grandmother once told me that the Fairywrens kept guard on your heart.” You tell him, and you see Crosshair lean forward on his knees to hear better. “She said that every Fairywren watches over someone, they keep them safe. She said my Fairywren was the brightest one there ever was because of how much she loved me.” Tech stays silent taking in the story, and Crosshair seems to be frozen in place. You don't realize that he’s realizing how stunning you are and kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Of course you're the Fairywren, bright blue and so beautiful it almost seems fake. 

“How do you know Krexx.” Hunter asks walking into the brig area where you had been sitting. And you freeze at the name, Crosshair glares at his sergeant for bringing him up, he hates the way your face falls at the mention of his name. 

“He took over when the separatists showed up, and he was put in charge of keeping everyone in line.” You snap.

“Hunter, maybe we should-” Crosshair starts but he gets interrupted. 

“How many Trandoshans were on your planet?” Hunter interrupts, and if you didn't think Crosshair could glare any harder than he was, you were very mistaken. 

“At least a hundred.” You tell him. “Less now.” 

“Why less now?” Tech jumps in, and his honest interest makes you smile a little. 

“I used to catalog plants when I was a kid, my dad kept journals, because he was a healer. So it was like a hobby of ours.” You explain, “Trandoshans don’t take too well to plant venom apparently.” 

“Genius” Tech breathes and you can't help but flush. 

“Any chance of a tail?” Hunter asks, and this time Crosshair interrupts. 

“No, checked the whole way back to the ship and then some.” His voice sounds taught, like he's about to snap. 

“Good, either way, I'll take the first watch, I don't want any missteps here. Get some rest.” He nods to you all, and even though it's nowhere near close to nighttime you don't argue. Wrecker passes by and ruffles your hair saying “g’night little bird.” Tech offers you a mock salute that makes you smile, before heading to where you assume the bunks are. 

“Extra bunk is down the hall. Door on the left.” Crosshair tells you standing up, and the air seems to shift, you feel lonely thinking about him leaving. So you follow him, hoping he’ll stay up just a little longer with you. He stops in front of what you guess is his door. And you thank every god  out there that it's across from the empty one. You see that there's no blankets in the empty bunk. 

“Need anything?” he asks, and he almost cringes by how rude it sounds. ‘Sure’ he thinks to himself. ‘Be rude to the sopping wet, traumatized girl in front of you, good one Cross.” You turn back to him. 

“No it's okay, i'll get blankets from Hunter or just snoop around until I find them.” You joke, Rubbing the back of your neck as the man in front of you sighs and rolls the toothpick in his mouth around. 

“Stay here.” He says, a little softer, disappearing into his room. In reality he wants nothing more to let you into his room, to drop that cold exterior he’s created. But he already knows he's no good for you. Crosshair slips out his door again with a blanket. 

“Wrecker will be passed out already, Hunter doesn't use blankets and Tech has what he calls the ‘mathematical epiphany of correct blanket weight, fluffiness and size’ to ensure a proper sleep. So the only extra one around is this.” He states, holding out a black fluffy blanket that looks so cozy you want to cry. You take it from him silently, subtly bury your face in it so you can tell if it feels the same way his shoulder does. It's softer but smells the same, and you can't wait to burrito yourself in it. Crosshair has turned away, going crazy as he sees you snuggle into something that's not him.    

“Crosshair,” you call as his door slides open again. “Thank you.” And before you can embarrass yourself you slide into the extra room. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers even though he knows you won't hear it.

[frozenartscapes]

Ghost - FE3H OneShot

“We need to talk.”

Dimitri’s eyes snapped open, hand immediately reaching for the dagger he kept near the bed.

“Don’t. It’s just me.”

“That’s the concerning part.”

He let out a long, tired sigh, hand massaging his head as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He sat up in his bed, normally shared with his beloved wife. But she was off on a diplomatic mission for a few days. It was when he was alone that certain people tried to talk with him.

“How did you even get in here?” he groaned with exhaustion. He honestly thought he was done with this. He honestly thought he had made peace with his past.

But she existed to prove him wrong.

“Should I even dignify that with an answer?” she countered dryly. She stood tall and proud, decked out in all her Imperial Regalia. Certainly not an outfit built for stealth, but then... It didn’t need to be.

His eyes drifted away from her face, to the gaping hole in her stomach. Blood seemed to seep unendingly from it. But she went unfazed.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

Edelgard scoffed. “Well, someone is a tad short tonight,” she observed with a roll of her eyes.

He could make a joke about her height. But he didn’t bother. He didn’t need her annoyed with him. She’ll go away sooner if she’s in a good mood. Instead, he sighed. “You haven’t visited in a while,” he said, “I assume this is for a good reason? Or are you bored?”

“I can’t say being trapped in this purgatory exciting,” she stated, a grimace forming on her face at the thought, “However I do have a good reason for bothering you tonight.”

“You sound so apologetic,” Dimitri commentated, before rolling over and burying his head with his pillow, “Could this not have waited until the morning?”

“Dimitri.” He peeked at her again. That tone was serious, and more so than usual. This wasn’t a night she had chosen to merely bother him. Satisfied that she had his attention, she continued solemnly: “They’re still out there.”

He let out a long, tired breath. “El,” he began sternly. They had had this conversation before. So many times, in fact. “We took care of them. We have not seen hide nor tail of them since the war ended. Even if they are still out there, they are no longer a threat.”

He flopped back down on the bed, intent on ending this conversation. But the rattle of chains in the dark room forced him to stay invested. “Don’t,” he muttered, “Don’t do this now.”

He could see the Dead. Only those he had known in life, it seemed. Family and friends, rivals and enemies - one thing bound them in similarity and that was that they always appeared as they did when they died. Glen with a hole in his chest. His father with a thick, bloody line across his throat. Patricia almost a skeleton, beaten and broken.

Edelgard was different. When challenged about it one day, the best response she could give was that she had died four times in her life.

He sat up again, looking down on a small, pitiful girl who looked not unlike her mother. Broken chains dangled from shackles that dug too deep. Black, infected blood oozed through the tattled rags of clothing that did little to hide the horrific scars and bruises. She was stick thin, filthy, her ghastly white hair falling in messy tangles in front of her face.

She looked like the girl he once knew in childhood and not all the same.

“Dimitri,” she insisted desperately. He winced, even her voice had changed. Far too young and delicate, but raspy and exhausted from all that time spent being tortured. “They did this when no one thought they were a threat.”

He swallowed roughly, feeling a lump of guilt settling uncomfortably in his throat. Discovering this part of her past still burned his soul like a red-hot blade. He would never forgive himself for not realizing, for not pressing. He knew something was up but he never questioned her. His damn chivalry and politeness left him in the dark, and ultimately led to her dying alone on the floor of Enbarr’s throne room.

This ghost form was his least favourite that he’d seen.

“You know I have informed my allies of their nefarious practices, and I have established a National Guard specializing in searching out such atrocities. So far, they have found nothing,” he stated as confidently as he could.

For such a small child in such a sorry state, she sure had a scathing glare. “They murdered ten Imperial children right under the noses of the entire continent,” she growled, “They did so in part because those who knew kept quiet.”

“My allies are not like the nobles of the Empire,” Dimitri countered, “I trust them to tell me if something is wrong.”

“My father trusted his allies, too,” she said darkly.

“So what will you have me do?” he demanded, “Our resources are stretched thin as it is, and the peace on the continent is fragile. If I start out on a mad search of an enemy hidden in the shadows all because a ghost told me to, it could ruin everything we’ve worked for!”

He blinked, and her form changed again. This time she looked no different than she did as a student. There were no outward signs of trauma, or any injuries to speak of. When she was in this form, it often became difficult to remember she was dead.

“You cannot continue to surge forward in the light alone,” she reminded him, “One of these days you will have to set foot in darkness, and if you are not prepared for it the monsters lurking there will devour you.”

“I’ve spent plenty of time in the darkness,” he grumbled, “I’ve worked hard to drag myself out of it.”

“Commendable, I will admit,” she relented with a sigh, “But delving into the darkness to flush out its monsters is different than being tossed in to suffer with them. You cannot ignore this, Dimitri.”

“I’m not ignoring it!” he snapped, “In case you haven’t noticed, El, but I’ve had my work cut out for me ever since the war ended. Byleth has had her hands full, too. It’s almost like starting an all-out war has done more damage than it fixed.”

She said nothing at first, merely glaring at him. Her form shuddered, only for a second. A blink and he would have missed it - missed the burned skin, the deadly teeth, the glowing red eyes.

“You chose to fight me,” she reminded him in a low, dangerous voice, “You won the war. But not all victories lead to showering peasants with gifts and children clambering into your lap. It’s your responsibility to protect your people.”

“And you would have done things differently?”

“The reason I started the war was for things to have been done differently!”

She was the Emperor again, her own blood once more pooling at her feet as her school uniform shifted into crimson armour. Her horned crown seemed to sprout out of her skull.

“I never would have risked so many lives and thrown this continent into such a precarious state if it wasn’t warranted, Dimitri,” she told him firmly, “You know why I did what I did. You’ve found my old journals and letters of correspondence to Hubert. After ransacking the Palace, you know everything.”

“I didn’t ransack-”

“Regardless, you know.” She held his gaze, the fire of the Crest forced onto her burning in her lilac eyes. “Those Who Slither in the Dark are still out there.”

“I killed their leader.”

“You lobbed off one head of a hydra: more have already grown back.”

“How are you so sure?”

“How are you so sure they haven’t?”

He let out a long, frustrated breath. “You aren’t going to leave me alone tonight, are you?” he groaned as he pressed his hands to his temples.

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “That depends,” she challenged wryly, “Are you going to let your mind rest? Or will you continue to let this guilt eat away at you.”

He sighed again, keeping his face buried in his hands. “How did you cope with this feeling, El? Surely you had guilt of your own?”

Her answer was frustratingly simple and complicated all the same: “I’m sure I did, or else I really would have been a monster. But don’t know. I never wrote it down.”

Dimitri slowly lowered his hands from his face, meeting her considerably softer gaze. “I really don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked slowly.

“Of course you do,” she replied, “But it’s rarely an easy choice.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” he began hesitantly.

“I left you some clues,” she reminded him. She levelled him a knowing look, her stance every bit as regal as it was when she was Emperor. “You’ll never find peace if you allow these thoughts to fester,” she told him sagely, “Just as you seem to think I will never rest until my enemies are defeated. You’ve always had a strong sense of justice, bending to the will of the ghosts in your head because you somehow think granting them justice through revenge will grant them peace.”

Her form flickered, and she was a schoolgirl once again. “Sothis knows I understand that pressure,” she sighed, “To be the only one left capable of doing anything to avenge the lost, and for it to never be enough. You shouldn’t let their demands control your life, or else you will lose it before you can ever call it yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a small grin. “So why should I even be listening to you?” he challenged, his voice feeling more vulnerable than had been in quite some time.

Her form shifted one final time, back to the girl who never left the dungeons under the Imperial Palace. “Because I’m not urging you for myself,” she said quietly.

Dimitri blinked, and she was gone. And he was alone in his darkened room.

---

AN: I had this idea concept in my head for a while now. Dimitri’s ghosts are representative of his trauma, his guilt, and his intrusive thoughts. I wanted to put a bit of a spin on it for Post-AM, in which there is a new ghost who visits him.

I personally headcanon that Dimitri and Byleth find things Edelgard left behind. I also headcanon that, even in AM, she intentionally leaves things behind. Clues, mostly. By the time the Kingdom Army is at Enbarr’s gates, she knew she was going to lose. Granted, Dimitri did unknowingly take care of a few things - killing Thales and Cornelia bring big ones. But I highly doubt an ancient civilization that survived thousands of years by hiding in the shadows and working its way into every corner of the continent would topple by killing a couple high-ranking members. The Agarthans strike me as a group with a whole host of people all scrambling to be the one on top. They might need time to recover, but I doubt they’re gone. And I think Edelgard is painfully aware of this when she dies.

So in her study, she keeps a journal. It’s hastily written, like it’s more of a memoir than a day by day log. Just the key points, what she is able to remember, what will get her motivations across. She writes letters she never intended to send to Hubert and her other supporters, all filled with hints and clues about her backstory, her plans, and where to push forward. And then she leaves it all out on the open on her desk, moments before walking into the throne room to become the monster of her nightmares.

Dimitri discovers these things, learns about what truly happened to her, pieces together missing information from what he knew or guessed. But it’s too late for her by the time he gets any of this and the guilt just eats away at him. It’s not long after the revelation that she starts appearing to him.

Only it’s not really her. It will never truly be her. He will never be able to ask her a question he doesn’t already know the answer to. He will never be able to tell her how he truly feels and know that she understands. He will never know if she is actually at peace.

But he does come to realize that he needs to finish what she started.

(Also I do have a reasoning behind her different forms, but I’m interested in what you guys picked up on before I explain myself.)

[fortune-fool02]

Childhood Friends

Dio Brando x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: angst, mention of family abuse, bit of fluff

Please enjoy.

In order for things to be balanced, there had to be something to equal them. The daylight had the night. The warm summer had the cold winter. The heads of a coin had the tails. Everything had something to complete it and make it whole, to balance it out. 

That was what [Name] was to Dio and vice versa. For as long as either of them could remember, the other was there. They had each other’s backs through thick and thin, day or night. If one needed something, all they had to do was ask. 

It was almost the perfect friendship. One built on years of trust, seeing sides of each other that no one -not even their families- saw. Dio never shed a tear, but around [Name], he has crumbled into a mess in her arms; often cursing his bastard father for abusing his mother in such an unforgiving, careless way. The man never appreciated his mother’s caring nature and he used her as he saw fit. 

[Name] never judged him for it. If Dio said that nothing was to leave the room, then she would keep her lips sealed. That was something he treasured about her, he didn’t feel the need to wear a mask on around her. He could lay himself bare to her and not be ridiculed and belittled. Instead, [Name] would just hold him in her arms and he would feel safe, like the rest of the world had faded away and all the problems with it when he was with her. 

And, in return, he saw an equally vulnerable side of [Name]. Her family -specifically her father- saw her a nothing more than a tool. Something to be used only for her intended purpose of following her father’s orders like a loyal dog at its mater’s feet. If he wanted something done, she was to do it without question; and if it was not done to his standards, she was to be punished. 

Dio has lost count of how many nights [Name] had snuck into his bedroom with shards of glass in her face or on her body somewhere; hours would tick by as he removed each shard and wrapped her up. Or noticing a fresh bruise or mark on her from her father’s hand. Each time it had happened, something twisted inside of him, a viper curling in his lower gut, ready to lash out. 

He had grown tired of pulling glass from her face or seeing her limp and try to put on a brave face. He had grown tired of his drunken bastard of a father and [Name]’s father’s iron fist clamped around his daughter’s throat. The two had come up with the plan to kill their parents and run away, somewhere far away where they didn’t live in their families’ shadows. 

Dio knew of an Asian Apothecary who sold an array of poisons. That would be their weapon. Though, [Name] was careful; saying it would be better to kill one off first and then wait before killing the other to avoid suspicion. Dio agreed. They decided it would be better if Dio killed his father first then [Name]’s father would be next. 

However, neither of them were expecting Dio’s father to have connections to a noble family. When his father laid in his bed, steps away from Death’s door, he told Dio to mail a letter to a noble house as the man owed him a favour. 

[Name] stood beside Dio as he glared at his father’s headstone. His suitcase sat beside him. Turns out that favour his father had was allowing the noble family -the Joestars- to raise Dio as their own. And that meant he had to move away. Away from Ogre Street. Away from [Name]. 

“Don’t fret,” he had told her when he saw the sorrow in her eyes, “I will remain in contact with you. You cannot get rid of me that easily.” The two had shared one final laugh before the carriage arrived for Dio. The two bid their farewells, her arms wrapped around him and his around her; both savouring their last moments together before reluctantly releasing each other. 

***

[Name] had waited. And waited. And waited. There was no contact from Dio. Not a letter or anything. She had continued to go through with their little plan and poisoned her own father three months later after Dio had left. 

Seeing as she was the only child of the [Surname] name, her father’s criminal organisation -his “gang”, he called it that to make it sound more impressive- had fallen to her. And she grabbed the bull by the horns and refused to let go. Much as she hated it, aspects of her father had made themselves known as she ruled his gang. Anyone who questioned her or failed to complete a job was introduced to the goons who swore loyalty to her father and thus, to her. 

Though, she has had her fair share of inflicting punishment onto those who she saw fit of it. Razors weaved into the knuckles of her gloves, slashing at their faces when she took a swing. Broken bones from the sledgehammer that leaned against the fireplace in her home. All of this, she did to prove her father wrong, to prove to everyone who saw her as weak and frail wrong. 

It was incredible what a person was capable of when pushed past their limit. And having a sledgehammer laying around. 

***

Dio sneered as he sauntered down the street, still as foul as when he was young here. Johnathan was somewhere in Ogre Street, searching for the Asian Apothecary in hopes to heal his father and gain evidence to thrown Dio behind bars for the rest of his life.  

So, he fled. He was unsure why he was so concerned, this was Ogre Street he was talking about. A rich, pampered brat like Johnathan stood no chance in that place. They would be upon him like rats on a corpse. Though, even with this in mind, Dio found himself wandering the streets of his childhood, recalling small things about the place. Like the baker’s on the corner where he and [Name] would steal pastries from. 

[Name]. Someone he has thought of each day since he left this place. He had wished to send her letters but had been unable to. How was she doing? Had she been able to kill her father and get away with it? He hoped she did, for he would hate to see her behind bars. 

As he wandered down the path, he stumbled upon a scene that surprised him. 

“You pathetic failure.” a woman spoke with such a calm tone it was unsettling, repeatedly slamming her knee into a man’s nose, blood pouring from it and staining her pants but she paid no mind to it. “You had one job to do and you couldn’t even do that.” Dio watched with wide eyes as the man crumbled to the ground, clutching what was left of his nose, apologises and begs spilling from his swollen, bruised lips. 

The woman looked down at the man, a glint in her eye that was sharper than any blade, and proceeded to slam her foot against his head, knocking him down. With an annoyed sigh, she dusted herself off and turned on her heel, her gaze catching Dio. 

Her eyes trailed up and down him, examining his clothing and silently judging. “You lost?” she asked, “People dressed like you don’t belong around here.” 

Dio opened his mouth to shoot an insult to her when he stopped. [Hair colour] locks that swayed slightly as she walked, softer than any silk her has ever felt before; [Eye colour] orbs that once sparkled with light now hardened to steel, sharpened to slice through any defences and expose the vulnerability of those before her. The years of being here have clearly taken their toll on the young woman. 

Dio could still see glimpses of the young girl who would sneak into his house each night just to be with him. Her eyes also widened as she examined him closer. In all her life, all the faces she has seen, no one had anything close to Dio.

“Dio? Dio Brando?” the words left her lips in disbelief. Dio only smirked at this, confirming her question. Though, he was not expecting the next thing. The palm of her hand connected to his cheek sharply, snapping his head to the side with the force behind it. 

“You absolute bastard.” she growled at him, “I waited for you. I waited every day for something from you and I got nothing. Not even a letter or a note.” The slap burned slightly on Dio’s cheek. Impressive, she still held that fieriness she had as a child. Though she was no longer afraid to let it show and burn. 

“I know. And I apologise for that-” he was cut off by her, 

“Seven years, Dio Brando. Seven. Years.” He sighed at that, hanging his head low. She was the one person in his life that bared an importance to him that was almost equal to that of his mother’s before she died, and he let that slip through his fingers. [Name] had every right to be angry. 

Before he could speak, her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, burying her head into his chest. He was caught off-guard by this but his arms soon found their way around her. 

“I’m just glad to see you again.” she muttered, holding him tighter. Dio smiled, nuzzling against her [Hair colour] hair as his hold tightened slightly. 

“As am I.” He replied.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC Genre: BTS Mafia!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Smut, Slow Burn "It's always darkest before the dawn..." It's a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right? 

AO3 | WP

Chapter 00: Prologue

"I’ve grown a bit taller  My voice has gotten a bit stronger..."

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 

Ten Years Ago Hwaseong – Gyeonggi Province South Korea

The air was frigid and crisp. There was a feeling of absolute quiet across the vast expanse of tall reeds; half dead while others tried desperately to cling to what life remained in their roots. The occasional crunch of leaves and scuffle of rocks could be heard – ripping through the quiet as the afternoon sun soon sank into the horizon. More undergrowth was crushed underfoot, approaching a certain spot. A destination was set by those same sets of sounds; the distinct sound of sneakers trudging with a purpose but were in no hurry.

A lone figure sat on a large rock near the Hwaseong Riverbank. One leg hung lazily off the edge, the other perched so that an elbow could rest along the knee. His blazer was loose, the tails fanning around his backside just where he sat. A cigarette poked from his full lips as the ember burned silently, flaring a bright orange when a sudden gust of wind would push against him. The sound of the brush being pushed aside began to grow louder but he made no move to face the direction of the noise.

After all, he knew who was coming.

“Namjoon-ah,” came a voice, familiar and deep. Namjoon craned his neck, the cigarette still hanging from his lips. Looking up at him from the ground, the person flashed him a half gummy smile. “You wanna start a fire?”

Namjoon grinned. “Yoongi Hyung.”

Reaching into the inside pocket of his blazer where a crumpled pack of cigarettes were hidden, he tossed them down to Yoongi and he caught them easily. Namjoon watched as the older man lit one of the smokes before clambering up onto the rock beside him. Yoongi handed the pack back to him, exhaling as he leaned back on his hands to look at the sky.

“Those things are going to be the death of you one day,” came Hoseok’s voice from the tall reeds.

They both turned to see Seokjin and Hoseok pushing the honey wheat stalks to the side as they looked up at them.

Seokjin clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Both of you.”

Yoongi made a motion for the two of them to come join them on the rock. Namjoon opened and closed the lid of the Zippo lighter – the soft clinking sound a cadence that helped put him at ease. They clambered onto the rock, Seokjin choosing to stand as he turned his head in either direction – as if he were trying to spy something out. Namjoon caught Yoongi bumping Hoseok’s shoulder, holding the cigarette out to him and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the disgusted expression that painted Hoseok’s face – his dark fringe flying in every direction as he shook his head to decline.

The conversation that bubbled between them was short-lived as another body burst through the reeds, looking winded and as though he’d just gotten finished with a track meet race. Namjoon raised a brow as Jimin’s hair clung to his semi-sweat soaked brow, his hand gripping tightly to his uniform jacket. Yoongi clicked his tongue repeatedly along the back of his teeth, cigarette moving up and down with the gesture. Namjoon was already putting his out on the edge of the rock.

“Sorry I’m late, Hyungs!”

“What took you so long?” Seokjin asked, though everyone knew that he wouldn’t really give Jimin grief about it. “We were waiting here forever.”

Jimin’s smile fell a margin, worry lines creasing his brows. “W-What? Really?”

Seokjin laughed as Hoseok elbowed him in the leg while casting Jimin a reassuring gaze. “We just got here. Don’t listen to him.”

Relief washed over Jimin’s face just as Taehyung came strolling through the brush, bumping his shoulder into Jimin’s playfully. The two of them shared a smirk as Taehyung shoved his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants. The stick of a lollipop poked out the corner of his mouth as he flashed his boxy smile to them; sandalwood tresses falling around his eyes.

“What did I tell you about the sugar, Taehyung-ah?” chided Yoongi, taking a drag of his cigarette. Translucent smoke expelled from his nostrils as their eyes met. Taehyung’s smile dropped as he continued to suck on the candy. “You’re hyper enough without that shit.”

Namjoon watched Taehyung’s boxy smile return almost instantly and he rolled his eyes. “It’s the only way I can stay awake in my classes these days.”

“It’s luck that he’s made it this far,” said Jimin, sighing softly, “and he keeps bugging me to help him with homework all the time.”

Taehyung pulled the sucker from his mouth, blowing a raspberry at Jimin. “I’m not even going to college. Why are they pushing me so hard?” He frowned. “It’s annoying.”

The others cast a sidelong glance toward Namjoon and he shrugged, retrieving another cigarette from his jacket. Spinning the Zippo between his fingers, he lit the end and expelled a half sigh after the first drag. Out of everyone in the group, he was the only one who received a full sponsored scholarship to Seoul University. Like most post-graduate students from high school who were planning to attend college, they usually took a few months off before going to school.

For a year, he’d moved away from Hwaseong and left the rural country life behind. He got to see Seoul in all its splendor and all its glory. There were good and bad things about the big city life. It was crowded, loud and smelled thick with smog. It was the odious stench of a thriving metropolis and where people cared more about themselves than each other. Money talked even more in the city than in the country and there were few people he could trust in the city. Not like in the countryside. Justice was practically laughable, and gangsters walked the streets proudly, as if the law couldn’t touch them. Usually because they couldn’t.

It had been a disgusting year of solitude and study.

He’d missed his brothers.

“So Namjoon Hyung,” cut Taehyung’s voice through his thoughts, “why’d you call us out here anyway? Come to brag about city life to us ignorant country folks?” Even though he was smiling, Namjoon could hear the quiet bitterness nestled in the back of Taehyung’s words.

Hoseok cut his eyes toward Taehyung and snapped his fingers at him. “Watch your damn mouth, Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung rocked back on his heels in the grass, a few pebbles crunching under his sneakers as he shrugged with his hands still in his pockets. “What?” he asked, closing his eyes as he sucked on his candy for a moment. “Figured he left for the big times and wasn’t planning on coming back. Who can blame him though, right?” His eyes reopened as he looked up at Namjoon just as a column of ash fell off the end of his cigarette. “I wouldn’t come back to this backwater town if I was him, either.”

“Cut it out, Tae Hyung,” came a softer voice in the reeds.

They all turned to see Jungkook appearing through the pale stalks. He looked tired, as if he’d been carrying the weight of their nation on his shoulders. But they all knew what the truth was. The duffel bag hanging from his shoulders as one of the straps of his overalls fell off his arm and the smudge of dirt on his cheek was proof enough. His face looked a little red and sweat dripped from his hair and chin, his work boots scuffing along the grass as he dropped the duffel at his feet – setting his white hardhat on top of it.

“Namjoon Hyung didn’t come home to gloat.” Jungkook wiped a forearm across his forehead to rid it of the sweat. “Stop being an asshole.”

Namjoon frowned, the image of Jungkook in his factory work clothes twisting something inside of his heart. His year in Seoul had opened his eyes to a reality he’d wished he’d remained ignorant to. He could have said fuck college and stayed in Hwaseong with his friends – with his brothers. Finding work in their little country town would have been easy for Namjoon and he could have been happy, blissfully ignorant to the truth of just how dirty the real world was.

Call him selfish, but he didn’t want to leave his best friends behind while he suffered in silence alone. Would they understand him? Would they hear what he had to say?

“Namjoon,” called Hoseok, bringing him back out of his thoughts; out of his own internal guilt. “Tell us what’s on your mind. Why did you want to meet?”

He looked at all of them and they waited patiently to hear what he had to say. He didn’t just call them all up to hang out or talk about the good times. No. He came back because he wanted to ensure that his friends had a future, and a successful one at that. But it would mean dipping their hands into the dirt; to feel the grime under their fingernails.

Not like farmers did, but the way that criminals lived and breathed.

He jumped from his perch on the rock, picking up a flat river stone as he pulled one last drag from his cigarette. Namjoon reared back and slung the stone out into the river, all of them watching as it skipped along the dark pool’s surface before finally sinking down below and onto the riverbed. One by one, they all approached him – forming a semi-circle around his back. There was no turning back from this once he said what he had to say. They would either listen or cast him aside. He just prayed that it wouldn’t be the latter like he continued to fear.

Spitting the butt of the cigarette out into the water, he turned to look at his friends – a wistful smirk forming on his face.

“You guys wanna come to Seoul with me?”

[evergreen-dryad]

like clouds passing by

7 - childhood friends AU - MDZS, Wangxian, early 2000s

—the one where WWX and LWJ are neighbours on the same street, and before WWX moves away he gives LWJ the rabbits they bonded over.

from this list of prompts here for August.

.

If he were to tell his story, he might have told it thus:

Once, there was a little boy who often played by himself. He lived on a street with two other houses: one red, one purple, his own blue.

When he was younger, Wang Ji had not thought much of people, or of animals. What mattered most were rules, and the fulfilling of them. When things turned out exactly like clockwork, and all words were accounted for.

Days were spent doing schoolwork, practicing calligraphy, and running through scales on the piano after his elder brother had had his turn, with their uncle providing guidance.

It was a peaceful, sleepy existence, and the trees whispered unceasingly at the doors and windows. But things never do stay the same, do they? The blue boy and the boy from the brick-red house met.

This was how it happened.

He had been absorbed in reading, as he had been prone to do as a child. Lan Wang Ji would faithfully parse through each schoolbook, carefully memorising every piece of information, so that it may be laid out for recitation. Teachers had loved him, for he had not been given to noise.

He can't remember what exactly he had been reading anymore, but he remembers he had reached the part about Yu The Great, of how he had redirected the river—

When a terrific shriek had rent the air.

Lan Wang Ji stilled. He remained seated where he was. Slowly, he craned his head outwards, leaning out of the inner shade of the porch.

The wails soon got louder as the source shot into the garden. Wang Ji promptly retracted his head, alarmed at the sight of — another child, howling his head off, hurling curses at whatever was behind him, and then honing in on him.

Wang Ji flinched. Fists tightening, he quickly scooped his book into his lap before the loud footsteps could stomp over it. The strange child, cowering behind him, was now whimpering and murmuring words— Wang Ji realised then he was screaming the same words (don't come here, get away!) – so rapidly, they almost sounded like a mantra.

“Coward!” Another voice echoed over the wall. It whistled, and the puppies that were about to trespass into his garden as well retreated, tails wagging as they bounded back to their owner.

The noisy one behind him moaned some more. He was starting to sound grumpy. “Who wants to play with you anyway!”

A disdainful “Hmph!” sounded before cooing to the puppies: “Love, Jasmine, Princess, let’s go!”

Gagging sounds. “Why did he have to name them like that… they don’t fit their names at all!” Exhaling, the intruder peeked out from behind him. Grey eyes, he realised with surprise. Their lashes were still wet from tears. This person had been genuinely frightened after all. Those eyes locked onto him then.

Silver and gold interlocked at that point.

Wang Ji did not look away. Surprisingly, he found himself holding his breath. Even more surprisingly, the boy in front of him broke into a huge grin.

“Thanks, friend! Those dogs sure were scary, weren’t they!” Once he began, it was as if a dam broke and the chattering flooded out.

Wang Ji, bewildered, and rather annoyed he had been kept from reading, decided this visitor needed showing out. Unbothered, the strange boy got up to follow him.

"Those dogs, ugh! Bark whenever they see anyone! Who says they're just being friendly, they sound so angry, clearly they're about to bite." He shuddered theatrically.

Wang Ji chose to walk faster.

"They chase every living thing under the earth, for no reason why! Just too cruel, nearly scared me and my rabbits to death-! Oh."

The boy actually pouted at him.

"You want me to go already?" Wang Ji was about to tell him to have a good day when the boy leaned in conspiratorially, as if to confide a secret.

"Want to see my rabbits?"

Wang Ji opened his mouth to refuse. He closed it again.

"Rabbits?" He finally spoke to the strange, smiling boy. At his question the boy actually lit up.

"Mn, rabbits! I've two, one white one black. They're really cute~" He said in a singsong manner, arms propped behind his mop of hair.

At this point in time, Wang Ji had still not seen a rabbit in real life, let alone met one. He had only read of them in the fairy-tale books in the library, and occasionally on the television. So he was understandably piqued.

Yet he still hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was okay to just step into another person's residence without prior permission. The boy seemed to pick up on his uneasiness, so he said:

"Wait a mo!"

And off he ran. He shrieked a little as the puppies from next door barked and lunged at him, but fortunately they were leashed this time. Wang Ji watched his back disappear into the house next to the Jiangs’.

He stood there momentarily, before returning to his book left on the porch. This time, he sat on the outer edge.

The sun has gone behind the clouds, he told himself. Late afternoon sunlight spilled over him and the pages, pleasantly warm. Shadows of leaves swayed together with the yellowing light on the grass.

A larger shadow loomed and blotted over the white paper. Wang Ji looked up to see the boy carting two little rabbits by their ears.

He came, laughing and forever unable to stay still, into the quiet garden, bearing two rabbits.

He was shocked speechless.

"What's wrong? Your face got even stiffer than before.” The boy laughed, and presented them to him as if they were hunting trophies. They dangled quietly, without protest. “That surprised to see me?”

He tensed. "Put them down."

The boy looked at him bemusedly. "Ah, so that's what you're worried about." He tucked them into the crook of his arms, hand gently petting them. They really were very docile, Wang Ji noted.

"Doesn't it hurt them?"

“Hmm, my dad likes to lift them up like that, I think they must have gotten used to it." The boy circled a finger around the delicate ear of the white rabbit. It flicked upwards, tickled.

"You shouldn't do that." He said, young face serious.

The boy peered at him, a smile playing about his thin lips. "Relax, I never do it for long. Just did it to surprise you, haha!" He sat down beside him; the rabbits let down into his lap. They scrambled for footing and blinked curious eyes at him, whiskers quivering. One pair red, the other black.

"Want to hold one?" He offered in a softer voice.

Lan Wang Ji stared as the black one sniffed one corner of his book, considering. "Mn." He gingerly brought a finger closer to the twitching nose. A thought suddenly occurred to him. Do rabbits eat paper? Fascinated despite himself, he let the wandering nose creep closer.

(They do.

If Lan Wang Ji ended up with a slightly nibbled page, he did not say a word.)

His finger made contact. The rabbit looked up at him, ears perking.

It gently nosed back, butting his finger.

Wang Ji soon found himself booping a rabbit repeatedly as it raised its head higher and higher, chasing his finger on the way up.

A light laugh drifted next to his ear. Wang Ji glanced at him briefly, and looked away when they made eye contact.

“He just wants you to rub his head properly.” He was informed with a fond smile. The white rabbit remained curled up contentedly in its owner’s lap, watching its companion’s antics with lazy disdain.

So it continued until Lan Wang Ji ended up learning how to hold two rabbits that day, instead of Chapter 7 of the history textbook. The boy wouldn’t go until he had held both in his arms and petted them to his heart’s content, which was …not easy to determine, to say the least.

The boy kept scrutinising his face for any change in detail. What was he looking for?

"You should go soon-”

“Hold them longer. Hug them to your heart! Stare into their eyes!”

“…” He complied. The boy's eyes were too insistent, so he followed each step as bidden. Wang Ji gazed down into the blinking eyes of the rabbits held securely to his chest, and felt ...comforted. It was strangely soothing to feel two little heartbeats next to his own.

“Alright,” he sighed, voice squeaking on the verge of laughter. “I’ll take that as a smile.”

Wang Ji immediately frowned, puzzled. He almost felt for his face. Is that what it was? Why was he so eager to coax a smile out of him?

“You like them, so I’ll bring them over again~” With that, the boy bounded out of the garden into the fading evening light, as silent as he had come. Wang Ji got up—

—and finally noticed his clothes were mussed with small hairs.

.

// I wrote this in 2019 originally for LWJ’s birthday event, but I never managed to finish it. It’s been lurking since at ~10k words, haven’t written any more of it. Not sure if I will, it’s very long. If anyone’s interested in reading more, I can post the rest of what I’ve written!

So! Much of my childhood ended up bleeding in! I’ve a lot of fond memories like that, aha. Tried to set it in China at first, remembered the 1-kid-rule was in place at that time, gave up.

-have decided to style their courtesy names in canon as their only names in this modern au, hence the space apart.

[unlockthelore]

Where The Heart Lies

An average day in the Elric-Rockbell residence includes a great deal of bargaining, bantering, and bickering. And they wouldn’t have it any other way. From the story One is All, All Is One on AO3. For more updates, follow the one is all all is one tag on this blog.

Winry ignored the pins and needles digging into her knuckles as she twisted the bolt a bit tighter. Aching fingers curled around automail ones turned to and fro to test the range of movement. Wires exposed from beneath the joint panels cast thin shadows over her work desk until the arm was set down beside its counterpart upon a small metal stand. Pain throbbed in her shoulders as she leant back, massaging against the hollow of her throat then rolling her shoulder blade. Papers with half-written scribbles and designs overshadowed both the ones with lilting script and the harsher ones depicting numbers and addresses to which parcels would be sent.

She sifted through each one with heavy-lidded eyes, stacking them aside then peering at them closely to ensure she had the correct pile. Once the grain of her desk could be seen, she raised a brow as the white order papers gave way to colorful ones. Slipping the page free of her work, she smiled faintly at the drawings in crayon and pencil. Her desk chair creaked as she shifted backward, and she slowly rose to her feet. The buzzing in her legs and deadened lead feet ignored in favor of wandering over to her bulletin board, rummaging around in a small box of tacks for a new pin.

The picture was tacked up aside of a photograph of two smiling children covered in dirt and pond slime while their father, who fared no better, held them from behind with a sunny grin. Her fingers brushed against the photograph. His joy, as beloved to her as an order for a custom-made piece, brought a smile to her face. Immortalized as it was through photographs — a moment frozen in time — she could remember the day vividly. Her eyes drifted close for a moment, and she ran her finger over the dried wax from the crayons, the drawing reminding her of what she had to finish.

A gentle creaking interrupted the silence as she stifled a yawn, her wrist covering her mouth. Den’s head poked through the opening then butt against the wood to push it open further, trotting through with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Hey there,” Winry mumbled, rubbing her fingers through her hair, her headband pushed up from where it slipped beneath her goggles. “Seems we’re both up pretty late, huh?”

Den, of course, gave no other answer beyond a panting bark. His tail whipped against the boxes emblazoned with the symbols of Rush Valley as he trotted inside, bumping his head against Winry’s leg while she walked back to her desk. “I should be done in a little while,” she said, scratching behind one of the hound’s floppy ears. “As long as it’s not too late, Ed won’t notice a thing.”

She sat down and stretched her arms above her head, fingers joined and cracking at the joints before falling to her lap as she deflated with a sigh. Balancing her job with everyday life was a struggle, but it was definitely worth it. She glanced at the photograph on her desk — wide and filled with so many faces of friends they’d made along the way and of family that’d come later. Ed and Al, whole just as they had promised, sporting big smiles at the end of their journey.

It took them so long to get to where they were now. Deciding to work from home and to send orders out to her clients was a no-brainer. If she could spend time with her family and continue her passions, then she was all the better for it. She could practically hear Ed telling her not to give up and all of his belly-aching about taking care of the little things while she put her hands to good use at what she did best.

“Dork,” Winry muttered under her breath, rubbing Den’s head at the confused snuffling. “Don’t worry about it…”

Her stomach growled, and she grimaced, pressing her hand to it and sitting upright. When was the last time she’d eaten anyway? Glancing around her desk for the clock she kept, she raised a brow at the plate and steaming mug set at the corner of her mess. Her fingers curled around the mug’s handle and brought it close to her nose. Dark chocolate cocoa greeted her with its bittersweet scent, a touch of honey sweetening her tongue as she took a sip. The plate housed a sandwich with the corners cut crisply, and upon further inspection, just a bit of everything as she liked it.

Winry was confused but grateful, taking a hearty bite as she continued working with her other hand. Den curled up by her feet with his tail thumping at the legs of her chair rhythmically. With that, and the sound of her wrench cranking and burners hissing, she barely noticed her surroundings, and time seemed to slip to a crawl.

“Hey, you gonna spend the whole morning working?”

Winry shrieked at the cold touch on her shoulder and whipped her head around, wrench raised and clutched with intent to throw. Golden eyes widened in concern, and shock mirrored the stricken expression on her husband’s face, his hands immediately raised in a familiar defensive pose. Her face warmed as a blush appeared across her cheeks, heart thumping as she lowered her weapon.

“Ed?” She muttered, rubbing at her eyes to ensure that he actually was there. After a few strokes of his stricken expression remaining and then a few more of it gradually turning to one of amusement, Winry huffed. “What are you doing up so late?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Could ask you the same thing,” he said, reaching over to flick off the desk lamp.

“Wh—“

Protest parted Winry’s lips quickly, but snapped them shut when she noticed that without the amber glow, the room was still lit. Curtains drawn over the window, normally dark as the world was at night, were now faintly lit with blue dawn light.

“When did it get to be morning?!” Winry whisper-yelled, jumping up from her chair and hurrying to the window. “And we have so much to do today. How did I lose track of time?!”

The curtains were thrown open, and to her dismay, the sky was already beginning to tinge a light blue. Smudges of hillsides and grassland on the horizon blanketed in mottled shades of grey and black. Mortification aside, realization dawned on her that she must have been in her workshop all night. She cast a longing look over her shoulder at the blond man skimming over the order slips with a finger pressed to the papers to guide along as he read.

“I don’t know,” Ed murmured, and Winry wished she could gauge whether he was upset or neutral. Usually, when his head was stuck in a book or when he was in the middle of reading, he always had this blasé, distracted tone. “This is a pretty big order, isn’t it?”

Guilt twinged at hearing the genuine interest in his voice. Winry eased the curtains shut then pressed her hands together, fingertips to knuckle then back, feeling the ache in her joints; but it was nothing compared to the one in her chest.

“Ed,” she started gently, swallowing when he gave a distracted hum in reply. “You didn’t…”

Her words trailed off, and after a moment of silence, Ed lifted his head to glance towards her. His puff of breath was soft. Lips curved into a smile that made his disinterested look gentler, an arm offered to her which she gladly took, pressing close to his side with her hand flattened to his back.

“Nah, it wasn’t one of those nights,” he assured. His voice was deep and warm, lips brushed against the crown of her head. Winry wanted to tell him to wait until she’d bathed. Her forehead was likely clammy from sweat, and she could hardly imagine how her hair smelled, but neither must have bothered him as he pressed a smile to her cheek, accompanied with another kiss. “I just woke up when I noticed the bed was cold and realized that my wife was somewhere else.”

Winry huffed and poked his side, ignoring the jolt in her stomach at the raised skin from one of the scars bisecting his stomach.

If Ed noticed, he didn’t say anything, continuing on his tirade with a haughty tone and a light squeeze to her shoulder. “Poor Den was in and out of the room so often, you didn’t even notice him.”

Almost as if to punctuate what Ed said, Den barked and panted, looking up at them expectantly. Ed tipping his head towards the canine with a raised brow as if saying see? Winry tucked her arms around his sides and hugged him close to her. Whether it was from the exhaustion from or the weight of knowing he was on his own, she didn’t know, but the guilt was heavier on her than usual.

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, come on…” The snobbish tone was replaced by a softer, tender one. Ed’s hand, calloused and large, set against her shoulder and pressed to hug her closer. “I know how into your work you get, Winry. It’s fine.”

She wanted to disagree, but he was just as stubborn, and she knew he only meant what he said. It was one of his more annoying traits. A light kiss was pressed to the top of her head despite the smoke in her hair, and when he pulled away, Winry lifted her head to meet his gaze.

“Just promise me that you’ll take a break.” His eyes were almost brown in the weak light, cheeks rounded with joy. “Alright?”

Winry sighed softly then pressed a kiss to his jaw, delighting in the brief flicker of surprise. “I promise.”

It was difficult to tell if he was blushing or not, but she had a sneaking suspicion from the way his eyes darted away from her. Years of marriage, two children, and a host of experience between them, yet he still turned red when her lips grazed his skin. Some women might have found it immature, but none of them would ever get the chance to be with Edward Elric.

“And drink your water,” he mumbled in that quiet, pissed-off tone he often used when he was embarrassed, arms withdrawing from around her as he turned away.

Winry giggled. Seconds from calling out a retort that she normally would, she paused and glanced toward her desk. The plate where her sandwich had lain was gone, and in its place were peeled apple slices on a small saucer. The mug she’d been nursing for the better part of a few hours was also missing, replaced by a cool glass of water misting on the sides with a coaster set beneath it.

“… Wait….”

She distinctly remembered having gotten herself cocoa and food before she shut herself in her workshop. Den kept coming in through the door by pushing it open and eventually, she gave up on shutting it. Engrossed in her work as she’d been, she hardly noticed when her meals kept replenishing themselves. Grateful to take another sip or bite so that she could continue with what she was doing.

“That was you, Ed?!”

He tensed in the doorway, his loose hair falling over his shoulders and whipping around to drape down his back as he pointed at her. “Hey, don’t sound so surprised. Sickness and health, remember?” His nose wrinkled, voice lowering as he whirled his head away. “I’m taking care of you just like you took care of me, so get used to it.”

So that’s what it was. Fondness swelled in her chest as she took a few steps toward him, careful of Den’s wagging tail as she passed by.

“… Ed…”

“Wh— Hey, what’s with the eyes?” He turned to face her, lips pressed into a frown. “I know you’re tired and all, but — mmmph!”

He really did talk too much. Winry smiled against the soft touch of his lips to hers, sighing gently when he drew her into a tight embrace. While she knew that she didn’t smell the sweetest , he still carried the scent of musty books and chalk. Her heart thudded at the familiarity and how easy he coaxed her lips apart. The bittersweet taste of dark chocolate met with a charming hint of mint. Winry’s fingers nestled in Ed’s hair when they parted, a smile curving her lips and brushing against his own.

“I love you too, Ed.”

The puff of Ed’s breath was soft against her mouth as he laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“What, wh— ah!” Winry shrieked as she was lifted up in his arms, her ears burning at the tight squeeze around her thighs.

“I’ve been refilling your drink and getting you food for the last hour, and you didn’t even notice,” Ed complained , tucking her close to him as he carried her into the hall. “You’re tired. Come on, Den.”

Winry squirmed, though it was mostly for show. She did feel exhausted and could barely keep her eyes open. Knocking her fist against his shoulder blade as he carried her down the hall, grumbling all the while.

“But you just said that if I promise to take a break, I can keep working!”

“That was before I realized being a gearhead was frying your brain!”

“What was tha—”

Their arguing was interrupted by the soft patter of footsteps. Winry peered past Ed down the hallway where the faint light from the windows cast shadows over a squirming bundle dragging across the floor.

“Uh-oh…” Ed mumbled, looking over his shoulder. “Here, I got her.”

He set Winry down on her feet, slipping away from her, pressing a light peck to her forehead before he jogged down the hall.

“Nina?” He called in a hushed tone, reaching out for the squirming bundle. “Hey, where’re you going…?”

From beneath the quilt, a little girl with sandy blond hair poked her head out, her wide blue eyes watching him curiously.  “Daddy…?”

Winry smiled slightly, leaning against the door while Den sat at her feet. Edward muttered to their daughter while chasing her into the living room. “Come back here, where’re you off to?” He asked, scooping her up in his arms, blanket and all.

Nina sniffed and rubbed her hand against her nose, trying to keep a grip on her blanket with the other. “Hungry…”

“Yeah?” Edward bounced her lightly, glancing over his shoulder at where Winry stood.  “Well let’s eat the apples your mom didn’t want, huh?”

“Who says I didn’t want it?” Winry called after him as he stepped into her workshop.

“Hey! Back to bed,” he called, pointing a finger around the doorway. Nina’s giggling joined Winry’s chuckling, her squealing laugh, likely from Edward tickling her, breaking the morning quiet. “You’re going back to bed too after a snack.”

Winry shook her head and started climbing the stairs, covering her mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Geeze, when did I get to be the responsible one around here?”

That’s part of having a family, Ed. Get used to it.

[kpopmalereader]

brilliant ; huang renjun, lee donghyuck

• summary: you were banished from your coven, and as renjun is showing haechan around, haechan becomes curious of you • pairing: fairy!huang renjun x warlock!male!reader x witch!lee donghyuck • word count: 4035 • to do

i was really happy with this when i finished with this but the more i think about it the less i like it but i hope you enjoy !

You hold your hands up in surrender, slowly stepping away from the woman currently yelling at you. “He fell and it looked like he was injured, I was only trying to help.”

“My child will never need any help from you.” The woman turns from her violent, spitting acid rage to the personality of a loving mother, turning to tend to her very young and very confused child.

You give up the idea of doing any shopping and slowly turn, keeping your shoulders rolled forward in the hopes of seeming meek and like you don’t want any trouble.

Because you definitely don’t.

Enough eyes are on you throughout the day without a random mother screaming at you for “negatively influencing her baby.”

You quickly and quietly walk down the sidewalk, keeping your eyes trailed on the ground. As you walk you sidestep someone, not even bumping into them but apologizing, nonetheless.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” You repeat, not looking at their face.

“Who’s he?” Haechan asks. His eyes follow you as you glance around quickly before ducking into an alley, disappearing from his view.

Renjun sighs in your direction and shakes his head. “His name’s Y/N, he’s a warlock.”

Haechan looks up at Renjun at that statement, eyebrows furrowed low. “Why? What happened?”

“Nobody really knows,” Renjun adjusts the job-required flower crown situated on his head, plucking a flower off that he deems annoying. “He never talks about it and everyone else acts too scandalized to mention it. I’ve always felt bad for him, he was always really bright and nice. He loved everyone and everyone loved to be around him. But then,” Renjun gestures to the empty air in front of him. “Whatever he did, or didn’t do, caused everyone to hate him overnight.”

“Some people are still… quietly polite with him, some just kind of pretend he’s not there, but some definitely do go out of there way to make sure he regrets whatever happened. I always try to be nice to him and make him feel welcomed but with my job title, I need to stay on as many people’s good sides as I can.”

“But nobody knows what happened?” Haechan shakes his head and taps on the table. “That doesn’t seem fair,”

“A lot of people aren’t.”

“They didn’t have a trial? They didn’t let him state his case? They just turned against him with no other knowledge?”

“They’re old fashioned around here, Hyuck.” Renjun begins. “If the elders say he’s a traitor, everyone believes it without question. And at this point, Y/N’s probably too afraid of being hated even more if he tries to argue.”

Haechan squints at the alley you disappeared down, thoughts running a mile a minute. “Do you know where he lives?”

“I could probably find it.” Renjun shrugs, not quite understanding what Haechan’s intentions are. “Why?”

“Do you have time before you have to go back?”

Renjun gestures in between them, still not catching on. “It depends on when you’re done looking around, I’m assigned to you until we go back and then I’m sent to the next person.”

“Well, Mr. Tour Guide,” Haechan smiles brightly, one others would assume is innocent but Renjun knows it’s far from it. “I think I want to get to know some of the locals, starting with him.”

Haechan’s already off of his chair and walking away by the time the thoughts in Renjun’s head finally click together.

“He’s not! He’s,” Renjun manages to catch up to Haechan before he disappears down the same alley you did and shakes his head. “He doesn’t live this way. He just doesn’t like walking through the crowds, so he hides and then… teleport isn’t the word he told me… shadow travel is what he called it. He just fades and then shows up wherever he wants.”

Haechan stops at that and tilts his head towards Renjun. He crosses his arms. “That’s… Yeah, that’s powerful. Once I befriend him, I wonder if he’ll teach me.”

Then it’s Renjun’s turn to stop. “Befriend him? You don’t even know him yet? We don’t know what he did.”

“Or didn’t do,” Haechan points at him, smile equally bright and mischievous. “I plan to find out what happened.”

*

You hold your hand behind you as Renjun and Haechan walk up, trying to slow them down. “Hello, Renjun.”

Your voice is a lot softer, sweeter than Haechan imagined a banished person’s voice would sound. You’re hunched over a small patch of flowers, knees pressed against your chest as you watch the area.

“Hello, Y/N.” Renjun steps forward slowly, Haechan half-tiptoeing behind him. “What are you looking at?”

“There’s a snake. He looks stuck, but I don’t want to grab him until he calms down a bit.” You state and sit down, glancing over your shoulder. “Did you need something?”

Renjun shakes his head and pulls Haechan forward, nodding for him to talk first.

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Renjun is showing me around. I noticed you earlier and you seem… different. Interesting. I wanted to see what you were about.”

Renjun’s eyes go wide and he begins to scold Haechan for being so blunt before you smile and shake your head. “I’m afraid I’m not as interesting as most people see me.”

“My first memories of you are going to be your sheer power and easily messing around with a snake.”

“Fair,” You shrug your left shoulder, slowly reaching forward with your right hand.

Haechan walks closer to you as you lift up a stick, a red snake coiled around it. You seem completely at ease and relaxed as you lift its tail from where it’s stuck between a fork in the branch. The snake hisses slightly, sensing some danger but not enough for it to be genuinely upset. It slithers into your hand when you hold it out, rolling up into a ball.

“He must be a baby.” You chew on your lip and place him in your apron pocket. “I’ll get him something to eat, make sure he’s healthy before I let him go.”

“You’re just going to let him chill in your pocket?” Haechan scrunches his nose up. “Isn’t that… dangerous?”

“He’s a common kingsnake. None of the kingsnakes are venomous. They’re actually pretty docile, at least all the ones I’ve had around.” You stand up and wipe your hands off. “I think they’re really cool actually; they kill and eat rattlesnakes. They mimic them too. They vibrate and shake their tales on dry leaves to make the rattle sound.”

“They can still bite though.” Renjun points at you.

“Most animals bite.” You point back at him. “People can bite, doesn’t mean you’ll be poisoned.”

Haechan watches as you grab the flowerpot you were carrying previously (before getting distracted by the snake you deemed in-need) and take it towards the front of your house. “How do you know so much about snakes?”

You hum and turn around to him. You wave your hands around at the woods surrounding your house. “When you grow up and live in places like this, you kind of learn things about the animals that are around. Plus, I like nature, I like learning about it. I’m a bit of a… stereotype in that sense.”

“You’re a witch that lives in the woods, surrounded by different plants, know everything about animals,” Haechan starts to list off.

“Used to have a pet bat and right now he has a pet fox,” Renjun adds. “Didn’t you have an owl too?”

“Okay, one, the bat couldn’t take care of itself, two, someone had the owl, clipped its wings and the tried to set it off into the wild which is such an idiotic and mean thing to do, so I took care of it.”

“And the fox?” Renjun asks, unable to keep the smile on his face hidden away.

“Her mom was nowhere to be found and she couldn’t take care of herself.”

Haechan and Renjun make eye contact, Haechan’s smile exceptionally bright. Renjun shakes his head at his friend, following you as you walk around your garden.

“Oh, right, do you guys want to go inside?” You scratch your arm, glancing between them and the ground. “I’m not used to having people over.”

“No, we’re alright.” Haechan watches you for a second as you rock up on your toes and sheepishly look around, not knowing what to do with the attention. “Actually, I think we’re going to leave soon. Renjun should probably get back to work.”

You nod and awkwardly wipe your hands on your apron. “Alright, uhm, thank you for stopping by.”

Haechan smiles at you (and becomes smug when you naturally smile back). “Hopefully, we’ll be able to come back soon.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s nice. Having people around, I guess.” Your cheeks turn red as you speak.

“Try not to get bit by a snake before we come back.” Renjun smiles and turns with Haechan as he starts to walk away.

*

“So, you don’t… go out much?” Haechan asks. “I don’t mean that in a rude way,”

You hum and sit back. “Uhm, no. No. I’m not really, I’m not really accepted. People don’t really search out the person that’s shunned from the town.”

You jump up to sit next to him, taking your gloves off. He hums and continues to twirl the flower in his hand.

“Can I ask why you’re shunned? Renjun told me they didn’t have a trial, and nobody knows what happened.”

“I don’t like to talk bad about people, I don’t like to say things and make someone else form opinions without actually knowing the other person.” You state, pointing at him. “I want that to be obvious first.”

He nods, waiting for you to continue.

You sigh and shrug your shoulders, seeming much more tired than you were previously. “This isn’t supposed to be a brag or anything, but I’m considered fairly powerful. I come from a powerful family and I’ve been training since I was young. My family had a lot of stake in this community and were always outspoken about what they wanted of this area, what they wanted to happen, who they approved of, etcetera. And now that I’m the only one left of my family, everyone has been trying to get me to choose sides and be more forward about what I believe in but they only want me to believe in the things they agree with.”

“I don’t like the things the leaders here are doing, I’ve always been honest about that and nothing is going to change that.” You continue, becoming angrier with every word you speak. “The leaders of the coven made a decision I didn’t agree with, they’re almost going back in time with their ideologies. Instead of moving forward in time, instead of growing with the world around us, they stay still and argue against any improvements because they’re scared of change.”

“I made my opinion on that very clear, nothing about our world is conventional. The world is changing every single day, for better or worse, and our part of it is changing even more so. I sound like a politician but it’s the way I was raised and what I believe is true. The leaders didn’t like that, they thought I was too powerful and that I had too many supporters and people liked me too much for me to have different ideas than them. When I started openly disagreeing with them they decided it was a treason against our world and made up rumors and lies about me that most people blindly believed, and I was too scared of being even more of an outcast that I didn’t immediately argue against them which caused even more people to turn on me.”

You shake your head and pick up a flower lying on the ground. You pick off the petals, floating them around your hand. “I didn’t mean to rant I just feel very passionately about being silenced.”

He shakes his head quickly after you, watching the petals gently fly around before reattaching on to the flower. “No, I- No. That’s… Really? And you’ve told people this?”

“You and Renjun are the only ones who’ve bothered to listen to me.” You drop the flower stem above the larger bush and Haechan is amazed when he notices the flower planting itself next to its companion. “I try to believe everything happens for a reason; I want to see what comes of this.”

“That must be so… difficult. Not being heard, nobody even bothering to hear your side.” Haechan stands and begins to pace on your porch, heartbreaking for you. “No wonder you didn’t get a fair shot at defending yourself.”

“They think of as a threat to their normal. They should’ve known my family didn’t take too well to complacency. I don’t think it’s a good thing for everyone to agree without questioning.”

He nods slowly. “I don’t either.” He brushes his hair back and sits next to you again. “I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how you feel.”

“I’m slowly getting used to it. I would rather be by myself with my ideas than change them for people to agree with me.”

“Well, now you have me. And Renjun! And we won’t make you change any of your ideas unless we think they’re harmful.”

“But you’re both the type to talk about it and not turn your backs immediately.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Renjun about that compliment.”

Renjun stands across your front garden, hands in his jacket pockets. “What compliment?”

“He said we’re not complete assholes like the rest of the world.” Haechan leans into your side. “Right?”

“Yep.” You nod and gesture for Renjun to join you. “Haechan was asking me about why I’m disliked, and I said you’re not like the others.”

“Ooh, thank you so much.” Renjun rolls his eyes as he speaks but just about sits on your lap as he sits next to you.

Haechan repeats the story for you, not wanting you to get any more upset than you are. Renjun’s chin slowly lands on your shoulder during the retelling, face contorted in a way you’re not familiar with.

You shrug the shoulder opposite him. “It’s not your fault, I didn’t tell anybody about it, I can’t exactly expect help if I don’t ask. And I was serious when I said I’m getting used to it.” You address Haechan, nodding once. “It makes me appreciate things more. Like, hey, if I wasn’t a complete social outcast would you have shown interest in me?”

“With your face? Definitely.” He answers, sun-bright smile returning. “Even if I saw you and you didn’t have any type of tragic backstory, just talking to you once or hearing about you… I would be as whipped as I am right now. Renjun too.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring him and missing Renjun’s face turning pink. Renjun pushes Haechan’s shoulder and glares at him as you drop down and continue fixing your plants.

“Relax your wings,” Haechan smiles and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “He thinks we’re joking.”

“That doesn’t mean you need to poke it,” Renjun whispers despite you walking further down the yard. “I don’t want to feel like we’re taking advantage of him.”

“Fine, we’ll make him fall for us first. It’s been a month since we started talking to him, can’t take too much longer for him to fall for my striking good looks and your okay personality.”

Renjun smacks him a few times, stopping and smiling when you look up at him with a confused (and concerned) look.

*

You burst out your front door as Renjun and Haechan make their way to your house. Something unknown is smeared across your forehead and your arm. You jump down the stairs and smile wildly, gesturing for them to come forward faster.

“Come on, come on, I wanna show you something!” You reach forward and grab both of their hands, dragging them inside your house.

As you drag them forward, Haechan pokes at the stain on your arm and makes your face and arm become clean again, shaking your head at them.

You lead them down the winding hallways until you reach what’s supposed to be your formal dining room but turned into an area you do just about anything besides formal dining.

“I’ve been working on this for the last two days. That’s why,” You drop them off on one side of the table, moving around to the other side to lift up a giant cauldron. “That’s why I haven’t been talking as much or going places because I’m very,”

You jump up slightly trying to show your excitement and focus on your latest project. You lift up a basket of round objects. Haechan mentions they resemble bath bombs, to which you and Renjun gave him a strange look, even though he believes you’re not in any place to judge.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Renjun asks, raising his left eyebrow at you.

You hesitate before shrugging much more nonchalantly than you should. “I’m not sure, I’ve got a lot of caffeine in my system but look, I can’t believe this, I just thought of it a few days ago and I’m absolutely amazed it actually worked. I’m unbelievably excited. I couldn’t wait to show both of you.”

Haechan nods and takes a step forward. “Alright, show us. That way you can calm down a bit and get some sleep.”

You look towards Renjun for permission and he nods as well, leaning up to get a better look at the basket.

“I was working on something else, but I was distracted by- I was distracted.” You clear your throat and shake your head, picking up one of the objects. “I was going to dispose of it, but I accidentally dropped it and it kind of exploded but the area became weirdly… cold? I guess? Like frozen, like the ground froze. And I had an idea.”

They try to follow your excited rambling, focusing their hardest on connecting all of the points.

You hand Haechan the ball and smile brightly. “Throw it down.”

He steps back, incredulous look questioning everything about this situation.

“Just trust me. Throw it on the ground.” You point to the open area next to him, tapping the table quickly.

Haechan turns and flinches as he throws the ball down a few feet away, curling up his other fist.

As the ball hits the ground, a popping noise rings through the room and the ball explodes white. The ground around the area instantly freezes and the space above the spot seems to fall.

“Is that snow?” Renjun moves closer, eyebrows furrowed. “It is. It’s snowing, you made it snow. And the ground is completely frozen.”

You nod quickly and climb over the table, holding your hand out for the snow to collect on your hand. “I made this one, one were it’s like a snowstorm, rain, thunderstorm, heat, wind, everything.” You breathe out deeply and wave at it. “What do you think? I was planning on making them bigger, like these are sample sizes but if I make bigger ones, they can be big enough to have mini snow days or the rain can be used like sprinklers for gardening? Or maybe for educational purposes?”

Haechan hugs you quickly, shaking his head the entire time. “That’s amazing. It’s incredible. You are the most brilliant person I’ve ever met.”

You blush and laugh. You attempt to shrug before Renjun pushes your shoulder down, joining in with Haechan’s compliments towards you.

“I would never have thought about anything like this,” Renjun states, brushing your hair out of your face. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like inside your head, honestly.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You repeat, hiding in Haechan’s shoulder.

Renjun raises an eyebrow at Haechan and shakes his head, proud smile spread on his face. “Now that you’ve calmed down a bit, I think you should take a nap because, and don’t take this the wrong way, your face is always beautiful, but you look exhausted.”

You blush and nod. “I feel exhausted. I think my commitment to the project was what was keeping me on my feet. Thank you for coming, you don’t have to stay around while I’m sleeping.”

“Are you kidding?” Haechan asks. “We’re taking a nap with you. But beware, Renjun’s a cuddler.”

“I’m not, Haechan is infinitely worse.”

Your eyes dart around the room. “We’re going to sleep in the same bed? All three of us?”

Haechan winks at you, grabbing your hand and Renjun’s. “You’re going to have to get used to it.”

“Yeah,” Renjun joins in, surprising himself and Haechan. “After we make you fall for us, we plan on spending a lot of time loving on our genius outcast.”

*

After your very long and very needed nap, where you were squished between two of the biggest cuddlers you’ve ever met, you and Haechan and sitting at your counter, watching Renjun make a quick lunch.

You awkwardly fiddle with your hands as you think too hard on the conversation you had with them before you fell asleep. You clear your throat and lean forward. “Uhm, were you- were you two serious about what you said before? About me… falling for you… or whatever?”

They make split-second eye contact before Haechan nods slowly. “Yeah, why? Is that what you were thinking about?”

“I’ve never,” You search for the right words, looking up at Haechan for some help. “I’ve never had feelings like that for anybody before.”

Haechan nods again. “That’s perfectly okay, you don’t have to-”

“No. No. That’s not what I’m trying to say. That’s perfectly okay, but it’s not what I’m trying to say. How do you know? How do you know when you like someone like that? How do I know if I like you two like that?”

Renjun floats up gently, sitting on the counter next to you. “That’s… a hard question. Everyone falls differently.”

“I think of you two as more than friends.” You start and Haechan holds your hand, trying to ease your mind a bit. “But I haven’t had friends in a long time and I don’t want to mistake my feelings for something more and hurt either one of you. But I like cuddling with you and I like when you two flirt with me. I like when we act like we’ve known each other for our entire lives. I get excited when I see you and I miss you when you’re not here and as I’m explaining this something in me says it’s more but I’m not used to it.”

Haechan smiles and leans closer to you. “Well, I will say that everything you’ve described liking, that’s how I feel when I’m around Renjun. That’s how I feel when I’m around you.”

You look up at him and Renjun, looking between both of them. “Really?”

“That’s how I feel too. I want you to be with us the same way we’re with each other.” He starts. “But I don’t want to pressure you into anything. If you want to try to be more with us, we are completely down and ready, but if you ever at any time feel like you want to change our dynamic and go back to the way we are now, we understand.”

“We want you to feel comfortable with us. We’re never going to not be your friends, we’re in this for the long run, if we’re dating, if we’re friends, anything.” Haechan adds, pinching your cheek softly. “We’re not just in this for your power and your cute face.”

You scrunch up your nose and nod. “Would you two be okay with taking it slow? Like slowly becoming more and more…” You gesture between the two of them. “Like you.”

Haechan coos at you, petting your head. “You’ve thought about this a lot, didn’t you?”

You nod again.

“Does this mean I’m allowed to kiss you and take you out for ice cream or food whenever you think of a brilliant idea like earlier?” Renjun asks, barely hiding his smile from you.