#i don’t see the point in explaining this au anywhere else

[larvabyte]

my bf and i sometimes talk about a crack au where cyrus has court mandated therapy and spends his days playing truck simulator

[pressureplus]

Ok ok hear me out.. what if, you did a part two of “Reflection” but the reader finally gets to read Sebastian’s document? And kinda sees how similar they look. It’s kinda dumb because it wouldn’t really much to write about but it’s just a thought 😭

No no, don't apologize. I can work with anything as long as its got 1 sentence or three descriptive words and a vibe! I can easily make you a part two!

Doppelganger

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

At last you purchased that damn document of his. It had sat on his desk almost teasingly out of your hands. A previous attempt to grab it had ended with his hand pressed over the classified file and a smile. His words spoken slow, as though you were stupid, as he explained that you certainly didn’t have enough for that. Now you could finally touch it all you want. A part of you was feeling a bit sassy when you snatched it right off his desk proudly. The thousand data pieces you just sold to him being shuffled away. You ignored that, for the most part, more focused on finally getting your hands around the classified information you’d been curious about. Finally popping open the file to see what it is he’s been leaving on his desk, you’re met with tons of information. A few pictures falling out that you don’t quite manage to catch.

You ignore them, taking a seat in Sebastian’s shop as he moves around the room, shuffling different pieces of paperwork and chips into places. His hands reaching up for the vents above his head and tugging out a few spare pieces of equipment. You can hear him opening the packs her wanders around with, attaching things to the straps around his body. You choose to ignore that for now. Instead choosing to read the file in front of you. Your eyes scan over the first line, catching onto three things at once. His technical experiment name, his codename, and finally his legal name. Your eyes scanned each individual word quietly. The shuffling in the background not particularly drawing any of your attention. There’s that shoot to kill statement you’ve heard a thousand times before. You’re starting to understand why he’s so aggressive. You’d be pretty pissed too if you were an experiment gone wrong, especially if you hadn’t even done the crime you were accused of.

At last you shut the file, eyes being drawn back to the images now laying on the ground. You scoop them both up. In your hands is an image of current Sebastian, larger and aggressive. He looks damn near ready to shoot the camera. On the other image…you. No wait, not you? His jawline is a bit sharper and he’s got a scar on his face but he looks so much like you. Honestly, it’s a bit shaking. A mugshot that isn’t yours but looks so much like you. The more you stare at it the more begins to make sense to you. The dots connecting on why his reaction to your face was so aggressive. Why he tends to almost stare a little too long. You thought it was because he found you ugly, or because he was trying to grieve the death of a loved one. In some ways, you suppose, he is. He’ll never have this face again. He’ll never be able to see himself properly in the mirror and he certainly wasn’t the innocent man accused of a crime he didn’t commit anymore. How many people had he killed trying to get what was necessary to escape? How human was he anymore, without his face, without his body. Was it human desperation, or animal?

“You never told me you were so pretty.” You joke as Sebastian jolts. It seems he’d gotten so wrapped up in adjusting things that he hadn’t even realized you were still in here. His eyes flick from your face down to your hands. You turn the picture of him around, pointing at it. This only seems to make him mildly uncomfortable as he looks away with a huff.

“Could you not have opened that anywhere else?”

“Sorry…it’s just…you really are handsome.”

“I was, I guess. That was a long time ago now quite obviously.” He slithers closer, scooping up his file and taking the pictures back. He’s careful to push them back into the titled document before shutting it. Then and only then does he hand the folder back to you.

“You still are, maybe you look a little different now, but you’re still very pretty.”

“That’s not a funny thing to joke about.”

“I’m being serious, Sebastian. You’re pretty with or without a human face. Even if this one isn’t really ideal…I still think you look great.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve still got yours intact.”

“If it’s too painful to look at, I can fix that by wearing my helmet all the time? I just want you to be comfortable. I want you to know that even if you’re not human anymore that doesn’t make you…a monster.” He hesitates, the words sinking into his skin. He’s quiet for a good while before sighing. His hand coming up to his face to drag downward, a display of his exhaustion.

“Just…get out. Take your folder, your batteries, and go back to getting that crystal.”

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— you taught me secret language you know i can’t speak with anyone else ; don’t let your self-doubts and insecurities win or else you’ll not going anywhere

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

It’s been four days. And you couldn’t shake the embarrassment from your last interaction with Tsukishima. Confessing your feelings to him that night, sitting together in his car as he celebrated your birthday—just the two of you with muffins and a simple bracelet gift—felt like a mistake now. The memory haunted you, the weight of your words and the silence that followed too overwhelming to face.

So, you did what you thought was best: you shut him out, distancing yourself in every way possible. You even archived his chat on your phone. Out of sight, out of mind. The thought of seeing his name sent your heart into overdrive, and you couldn’t afford distractions, not when you were already drowning in assignments. It was easier to pretend he didn’t exist, to focus solely on your work, but it wasn’t sustainable.

Your assignments had become your life. The deadlines, the stress—they consumed you. You threw yourself into your studies to the point of exhaustion, trying desperately to escape the lingering thoughts of him. It was easier this way. Easier to lose yourself in the endless tasks than to deal with the complicated mess of feelings you didn’t know how to untangle.

Still, there were moments when you couldn’t help but remember how he used to help you. Tsukishima would explain things in a way that made everything seem so simple, without the frustration or pressure that usually came with your academic struggles. He’d lend you his old notes, give you study references, and somehow, just knowing he was there made things less stressful. But now, those memories were just a painful reminder of how much you missed his presence—his calm, straightforward way of teaching that made everything feel less chaotic.

But missing him didn’t mean you were ready to face him again. Not yet.

Tsukishima had noticed the shift in your behavior almost immediately. The night you confessed your feelings to him in the car, when he celebrated your birthday privately. You were so vulnerable, admitting how you felt, and all he did was sit there in stunned silence. No words of comfort, no response. He just shifted silently, unable to process it in the moment.

He regretted it now—every second of it. The way he just let the moment slip by without saying anything, how his silence had caused this distance between you two. He didn’t mean to hurt you. The truth was, he hadn’t been expecting the confession. It caught him off guard, and instead of addressing it like he should have, he shut down. Now, that silence was haunting him.

Every time he pulled out his phone to message you, he hesitated. His fingers would hover over the screen, typing out a few words before deleting them again. What was he supposed to say? Hey, why are you avoiding me? It sounded accusatory in his mind, like he was placing blame. But that wasn’t it. He didn’t want to push you away further.

He’d already sent a couple of messages, simple ones—checking in, asking if you wanted to study together or meet up for lunch—but every time, he was met with silence. No response. It was like you had vanished. He even thought about messaging Yamaguchi to ask if he had noticed anything different, but that felt like a step too far. He didn’t want to seem like he was overthinking things.

It wasn’t just about the confession anymore—it was about how he missed you. He missed your presence, your questions, the way you’d show up stressed with assignments, and he’d offer to help. He missed being the one to simplify things for you, to lend you his old notes and references. It was a strange kind of absence, one that gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.

Tsukishima found himself lingering in places where he knew you’d pass by—near the class hall, at the library, even by the volleyball court—hoping for a chance encounter, hoping for the opportunity to casually start a conversation. But every time he saw you, you’d turn the other way, or walk faster, or pretend to be engrossed in something else.

And that stung. More than he expected.

One night, as he sat alone in his apartment, his phone resting on the table in front of him, Tsukishima stared at your contact. The chat was quiet, no new messages. He felt the weight of the silence, the kind that crept into the spaces between his thoughts and made him restless. He wanted to send you another message, but what could he say that he hadn’t already?

Finally, he picked up his phone, taking a deep breath before typing out something simple, something that wouldn’t seem too desperate.

Hey, I haven’t seen you around lately. Everything okay?

He hit send before he could overthink it, before the nagging voice in his head could convince him otherwise.

But again, there was no response. No ‘read’ notification, nothing.

For the first time in a long time, Tsukishima felt uncertain. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—like he was waiting on something beyond his control. And it unsettled him.

He leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to care this much. But here he was, sitting in his quiet apartment, wondering why the silence between you felt so loud.

---

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had just finished volleyball practice, the cool evening air brushing against their skin as they exited the gym. They were chatting casually about their next tournament, already making plans to grab snacks at the culinary festival. The smell of grilled food was enticing, and Yamaguchi was in high spirits, talking about the strawberry tanghulu he was craving.

As they turned a corner in the hallway, a sudden collision interrupted their conversation. Papers flew everywhere, scattering across the floor like fallen leaves in autumn. The three of them froze for a second, momentarily stunned by the abruptness of the accident.

You were kneeling on the ground, hurriedly gathering your scattered notes, mumbling an apology under your breath. “I’m so sorry, it was my bad—”

Yamaguchi, always quick to help, was the first to kneel down, reaching for your papers. “No, it’s okay. We weren’t paying attention either,” he said, offering you a kind smile as he handed over the documents he had gathered. Tsukishima followed suit, quietly picking up a few stray papers, though he paused when he realized that you still hadn’t noticed who you had bumped into.

You kept your gaze lowered, focused on reorganizing your papers, as if determined to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. “Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the stack from Tsukishima’s outstretched hand, not even looking up at him.

For a moment, he stood there, his hand lingering in the air. Your voice had been quiet—almost too quiet. Tsukishima’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you, searching for something in your demeanor. You were more flustered than usual, your movements rushed, as if you were eager to flee from the scene.

“I gotta go. Thanks for your help,” you said quickly, pushing the papers into your bag. Your voice was strained, and before either of them could say anything more, you straightened up and took a step back.

But Yamaguchi wasn’t ready to let you leave so easily. “Hey, wait,” he called after you, his tone light and inviting. “Do you want to grab some snacks with us? There’s a culinary festival at Hall B. They’ve got all sorts of good stuff.”

You stopped in your tracks, hesitating for a moment. Tsukishima noticed the way your shoulders stiffened, your hand clutching your bag tightly. Slowly, you turned to look at Yamaguchi, and then, reluctantly, your eyes shifted to meet Tsukishima’s gaze. His expression was sharp, intense, as if he were waiting for something—anything—from you.

Your heart clenched in your chest. The memory of that night in the car came flooding back—the night you confessed, laying your feelings bare, and all you received in return was his silence. The hurt you felt then rose to the surface now, simmering beneath your skin. You couldn’t stand the way he looked at you, the same cold, unreadable expression. You blinked a few times, trying to push the emotions down, but the frustration bubbled up, filling you with a sudden rush of anger.

“I… I have something to do, unfortunately. Sorry, maybe next time,” you stammered, your voice a little too stiff, the smile you forced onto your lips weak and fleeting. Without waiting for their response, you turned on your heel and walked away, your pace quickening with every step.

Tsukishima’s gaze followed you until you disappeared around the corner. His fists clenched at his sides, a quiet frustration settling over him. He didn’t like the way you had avoided his eyes, the way you had brushed off Yamaguchi’s invitation, but what bothered him most was the tiredness he saw in you. You looked worn out, emotionally drained, and it struck something deep inside him—a protective instinct he wasn’t used to feeling.

Yamaguchi let out a confused hum, frowning slightly as he watched you leave. “What’s up with her?” he mumbled under his breath, turning to Tsukishima. “She didn’t even look at you… that’s not like her, is it?”

Tsukishima pushed his glasses up, trying to mask his own unease. “She said she has something to do.”

“Yeah, but she seemed… different,” Yamaguchi pressed, his brow furrowing. “It’s not like she’s close to me or anything, but she usually doesn’t act like that. She’s always polite and thoughtful. I don’t know, it just felt off.”

Tsukishima didn’t respond immediately, but the tightness in his chest hadn’t eased. He hated how helpless he felt right now, how every part of him wanted to chase after you and explain himself—but he couldn’t bring himself to move. You had your reasons for leaving, and he wasn’t about to make things worse by pushing you when you clearly didn’t want to be around him.

After a moment of silence, Yamaguchi spoke again, this time his tone softer. “Did something happen between you two?”

Tsukishima tensed at the question, his shoulders stiffening. He didn’t expect Yamaguchi to be so direct, but the concern in his friend’s voice left no room for dodging the truth.

With a heavy sigh, Tsukishima relented. “Yeah… something happened.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but he remained quiet, waiting for Tsukishima to continue.

Tsukishima hesitated for a moment before explaining what had happened in the car that night. He told Yamaguchi about your confession—how you’d poured your heart out to him, and how, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t known what to say. The weight of his silence, and how it had clearly affected you since.

Yamaguchi groaned loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Tsukki… why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I wanted to,” Tsukishima muttered, his voice edged with frustration. “But she ran away before I could even process what she said.”

“Ran away?” Yamaguchi raised an eyebrow, biting into his strawberry tanghulu. “You’ve been an athlete since high school, Tsukki. Don’t tell me you couldn’t catch up with her.”

Silence hung between them for a moment, and Tsukishima sighed deeply. His gaze shifted downward, lost in thought. “It’s not that simple. I mean, I know I’m interested in her. She’s been on my mind more than anyone else… and after what happened with that drunk guy in the park, I just—” He paused, the memory of that night flaring up, the fear he felt seeing you in danger.

Yamaguchi looked at him, a knowing expression crossing his face. “You love her, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima groaned again, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “She’s only 20. What if she’s just confused about her feelings? I don’t want to be that jerk who takes advantage of someone who isn’t sure.”

Yamaguchi’s expression softened, and he let out a deep sigh. “I get that, but maybe you’re overthinking this. If she confessed to you, it means she’s thought about it.”

Tsukishima’s expression didn’t change. “Her mom controls so much of her life. She hasn’t even had the chance to figure out what she really wants. I don’t want to get in the way of that… she deserves more than being tied down by someone like me.”

Yamaguchi looked at him incredulously. “Now that doesn’t sound like you at all. Since when did you let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

—-

You sat nestled between the library bookshelves, your legs folded beneath you, your head resting wearily on your arms. The pressure of your biochemistry assignment had drained you, particularly the report on Protein Biochemistry—analyzing enzyme kinetics and purifying a specific protein. You had to design the experimental process for extracting, purifying, and characterizing a recombinant protein, including interpreting results from chromatography, electrophoresis, and spectrophotometry. The sheer volume of data, graphs, and analysis overwhelmed you, and after hours of staring at equations and assay results, your body gave in.

Your papers had spilled out around you, strewn on the floor, as your mind drifted off—not into sleep, but something close enough. Earphones were still in your ears, faint music playing, trying to provide a sense of calm that the stress had stolen from you. You had only meant to rest your eyes for a minute. Yet, here you were, curled up and barely holding it together in the dim light of the library.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on the library's quiet floor snapped you from the haze. It wasn't deep sleep—you had only let your eyes close momentarily—but it was enough to make the sound of someone nearby feel like an intrusion. You heard the soft rustle of paper, and when you blinked your eyes open, you saw Tsukishima crouching beside you, one of your crumpled assignment pages in his hands.

"Are you gonna sleep here?" His voice was soft, laced with sarcasm, but somehow not as cutting as usual.

Your eyes widened slightly, startled by his presence, but you quickly collected yourself. With a silent nod of thanks, you gently took the paper from his hand, avoiding his gaze as you gathered the rest of your scattered work. You could feel his eyes on you, watching as you stuffed everything haphazardly into your bag. You didn’t want him to see the state you were in—exhausted, frustrated, and on the brink of breaking down from the weight of the assignment. It was easier to avoid him than to admit how much his presence affected you lately.

You stood up, checking your phone: 7 PM. Five hours had passed since you first sat down to tackle your work, and the time had flown by in a blur of confusion and growing anxiety. Your back ached from sitting in the same position for too long, and you stifled a groan as you slung your heavy backpack over your shoulder.

Tsukishima let out a small sigh as you brushed past him, clearly annoyed that you were still avoiding him. He stood up beside you and followed as you began walking toward the exit of the library.

After a few moments, you noticed him still walking next to you, matching your pace, and before you could ask why, he handed you a bottle of water. The gesture caught you off guard.

You hesitated, but then you mumbled, “Thanks,” as you took the bottle from his hand. You hadn't realized just how thirsty you were until now, the dryness in your throat suddenly impossible to ignore. You took a long sip, your steps continuing in silence beside him.

It wasn’t until you had nearly reached the library doors that Tsukishima finally spoke again. "I want to talk to you," he said, his voice a little firmer this time.

"About what?" you asked, your tone clipped as you kept your eyes ahead, unwilling to look at him directly.

"You know what," he said, the irritation creeping into his voice. You could tell that your avoidance had worn him down, and his patience was running thin.

That anger that had been bubbling beneath your exhaustion finally surfaced. You stopped walking, turning to face him. "Your silence has been clear enough for me," you bit out, your voice trembling with the frustration you’d been holding in.

You turned to leave, but Tsukishima’s hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you. "Come on, you’ve been avoiding me for days. And we both know it's hurting us equally,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

You pulled your wrist from his grasp, turning on him with a glare. “Fine. Talk now, then,” you snapped, your heart pounding. “Tell me it was casual for you to save me, help me, hug me, kiss my hand, let me sleep on your arm—”

“I like you too,” he interrupted, his voice steady, but there was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his eyes. “I like you too, okay?”

The world seemed to stop in that moment. The words you had been longing to hear felt like a balm to your aching heart, but the frustration remained. You felt tears prickling your eyes, the exhaustion and emotions mixing together as your breath hitched. "Then why didn’t you say anything?" you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks now that the dam had broken.

Tsukishima stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your face, gently wiping away the tears with his thumb. His touch was so gentle, so unlike the sharp edges of his personality you had grown used to. “I didn’t expect it from you. I was going to confess too, but… as a man, I was offended you made the first move.” He let out a small sigh. “That’s not an excuse, I know. I shouldn’t have left you hanging, confused.”

Tsukishima’s voice dropped, a subtle mix of uncertainty and self-reflection. He gazed down at you, his usually confident demeanor softened. “Do you really think you like me?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “I mean, I was a jerk. A grumpy TA who gave you hard days. I made things worse for you when you were already struggling…”

His words trailed off, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to process his own feelings. "You deserve better than that."

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch despite everything. “But you helped me through things I was struggling with… even when you didn’t have to,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tsukishima chuckled softly, his thumb continuing to wipe your tears away. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in an embrace that felt so natural, as if this had been waiting to happen all along. His fingers combed through your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, breathing in your scent, his hold on you tightening as if he feared letting go.

“Okay, okay, stop crying,” he teased lightly, though there was still softness in his voice. “I told you, I like you too.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, wiping your own face now as you calmed down, still buried in the warmth of his chest. There was a comfortable silence between you as he held you, and you felt like you could stay there forever, the world outside fading away.

You tilted your head up to look at him, your face still flushed from crying but with a small smile tugging at your lips. “So… does that make you my boyfriend now?” you asked, your voice soft but with a hint of playful curiosity.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but smile at your question. He chuckled softly, shaking his head before nodding. "Yeah," he said, his voice filled with amusement and affection.

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[gunilslaugh]

What's Our Problem?

Lee Jooyeon Summary: What happens when you and frenemy Jooyeon get lost in the woods together. (non-idol au)  WC:~1k Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

“This is all your fault,” Jooyeon blamed you, making you scoff. 

“My fault? You’re the one who ventured off and got us here. My only fault is being stupid enough to follow you,” you retorted. 

“Well why did you follow me?” He stopped in his tracks to face you. 

“Cause I didn’t trust you going off by yourself,” you sassed, also turning to face him.

“Looks like you shouldn’t have trusted yourself either,” he sassed you back.

“Could you give it a rest?” you sighed, resuming walking.

“Hey! Wait up!” he called after you.

“Why? I’m probably the last person you want to be stuck with anyway,” you say once he caught up to you. 

“I never said that,” he mumbled. 

“Let’s just try and find the others,” you changed the topic. An awkward tension falls over you and Jooyeon. The only sounds that can be heard are either of your footsteps against the ground.

“I think we passed this tree before,” Jooyeon awkwardly speaks. 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” you say. 

“So we’re lost and going in circles, great,” he said sarcastically. 

“I mean if we know this tree we’re not completely lost.” You tried to make the situation better. Jooyeon chuckles. 

“I guess you got a point,” he states. “Don’t they say if you’re lost it’s best to stay where you are?” 

“Yeah and walking around in circles isn’t getting us anywhere. Maybe we should just stay here for a while,” you suggest. Jooyeon nodded in agreement. He moves to sit down leaning against the tree. You join in sitting down beside him. That awkward silence once more settled over you and Jooyeon. 

“What exactly is our problem anyway?” Jooyeon broke the silence. 

“We’re frenemies?” you answered with an awkward chuckle. Jooyeon sighs. 

“I know that, but I’ve been sitting here thinking. Trying to find out why we’re frenemies and I couldn’t think of a reason,” he reveals. His sentence makes you think about it too. How did your frenemy relationship with Jooyeon come to be? You drew a blank as well. It seems like you and Jooyeon simply always bickered. 

“I can’t remember either. I just remember fighting with you,” you laughed lightly. 

“Me too,” he laughed too. “I don’t really want to fight with you all the time. I just don’t know how else to talk to you,” he says. 

“We’re talking now,” you pointed out. It was definitely a bit awkward, but it was nice at the same time. You definitely preferred it to getting on each other's nerves all the time. 

“This is different. Our lives are at stake,” he played. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure Jungsu will come find us any time now,” you said. 

“I think it’ll be Gunil,” he states. 

“Wanna bet?” you smiled, sticking out your hand. 

“You’re on.” He shook your hand. The awkward tension gradually left the longer you and Jooyeon stayed sitting under that tree. Finding out that the two of you actually had a lot more in common than you thought. 

“Y/n! Jooyeon!” The two of you could hear your names being called. 

“Over here!” The two of you shouted simultaneously. Not too long after Seungmin and Hyeongjun emerge from the woods. 

“There you two are. We’ve been looking for you two forever,” Seungmin stated. 

“We were both wrong,” you say, turning to Jooyeon. 

“Yeah, it looks like we both lost,” he said. 

“What are you two talking about?” Hyeongjun asked. 

“Y/n thought Jungsu would find us and I thought Gunil would be the one to find us.” 

“We made a bet on it.” The two of you explained. 

“Sorry to disappoint you two,” Seungmin said lightheartedly. 

“I’m just glad someone found us,” Jooyeon says. 

“Me too,” you agreed. Jooyeon pushed himself off of the ground and dusted off his hands before sticking one out to you. You’re a bit shocked to see his hand laying out in front of your face. You halfway expect him to pull it away when you go to grab it, but he doesn’t. He actually helps you to your feet. 

“Thanks,” you tell him. Seungmin and Hyeongjun are staring at the pair of you with complete bewilderment. 

“What exactly happened while you two were lost?” Seungmin asked. 

“Our lives were at stake,” you chuckled while repeating Jooyeon’s words from earlier. 

“Yeah they were very much at stake,” Jooyeon joined in on the joke. Your answers did nothing to solve Seungmin and Hyeongjun’s confusion. 

“Let’s head back before it gets dark,” Hyeongjun said. The four of you started on your way back. 

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

“Y/n! Jooyeon!” The other happily greeted the two of you upon your return. 

“We were so wor-wait. Guys, are you sure you brought back the right Jooyeon and y/n?” Jiseok asked. 

“We’re pretty sure. They do seem a bit strange though don’t they?” Seungmin said. 

“More than strange. They’re holding hands!” Jiseok yelled. You didn’t even realize until Jiseok yelled it out that your hand was indeedly still grasping onto Jooyeon. Jooyeon didn’t realize it either as he looked at your linked hands. Even now that you both know, you still don’t let go. In fact you give each other’s hand a squeeze. 

“What happened while you two were lost? We were scared you two would be beating each other up, but now you’re holding hands?” Gunil asked, completely confused. 

“We figured out what our problem was,” you tell them. 

“What was it?” Jungsu questioned.

“We don’t have one,” Jooyeon smiled at you and you smiled back. 

“Seriously, did you bring back the right people?” Jiseok asked again. Resulting in you and Jooyeon laughing. 

“Look, it was all his fault that we got lost in the first place.” You assigned the blame onto Jooyeon. 

“Well you’re the one who kept walking us in circles,” he blamed you right back. 

“As if you were giving help with directions,” you argued back. 

“Oh thank god it really is them,” Jiseok remarked. “But why are you two still holding hands?” Jiseok lifts up your still linked hands. You and Jooyeon look at your hands then each other. You could figure it out later.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

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[cositapreciosa]

Serve, love & protect

Bodyguard!Gilbert 'Gilly' Lopez x reader, the usual for the show, 1584 words

a/n : bodyguard au cause we love them tropes

Tagging my Gilly people @narcolini @drabbles-mc <3

‘’ You lied to me. ‘’

‘’ I did. ‘’

‘’ Are you even dating me or is this all a big joke too? ‘’

He sighs, and suddenly the big SUV feels too small for the both of them. The cracked glass across the windshield makes it hard to see, the busted window in the back letting the wind whistle between his ears.

‘’ I… ‘’

His tongue rolls in his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say. On one side, he shouldn’t tell you, admit that he likes you, not when your dad had been clear about that in the contract. All means necessary, don’t fall in love. On the other, how couldn’t he, when you had been so kind, so charming since the beginning, why wouldn’t he want to date you?

‘’ Don’t. ‘’ You answer back, sinking into your seat. ‘’ I don’t want to know. ‘’

He had done lots of business with your dad before, a strong man with piercing eyes, sharp suits. That is where the offer came from, between gun trades and small talk. Got a babysitting job for you, Gilly, easy work, easy cash. More like a bodyguard job, a dumbass bodyguard job with actual danger, guns and wounds. Your dad had told him you wouldn’t be easily convinced, that to ensure your safety he would have to be less traditional, less leather and handgun, more friend, even closer if needed. And he did, even if he knew it wasn’t part of the plan, letting you run your fingers through his beard, sharing the same side of the bed, he just couldn’t say no.

‘’ Listen, baby, I- ‘’

‘’ Don’t- oh my god, Gilly what the fuck is wrong with you?! ‘’

Your hands are tight, gripping the door handle as he takes a sharp left. You turn to face him.

‘’ Stop it, it’s over! Don’t ‘baby’ me, don’t… ‘’ you gesticulate around, hands flying, ‘’ Just stop. ‘’

You raise your palms to your eyes, pressing, muttering things he can’t understand. He can sense your distress, he knows you now, better than anyone, more than your father would like him to probably. It has been months since you two had been together now, good months, the best ones for him this year. It was an easy job at first too, simply because you never were a primary target, just one that they would try to hit if deals went wrong. Being the child of a gun lord usually came with a fair share of barrels pointing back, and, from what he had seen from you when bullets eventually started flying, staying low and away from the windows, this whole routine was old news to you.

‘’ Please don’t be mad, I can explain. ‘’ He tries again.

You scoff, and he watches as you squint your eyes at him. It makes him feel small in his seat.

‘’ I don’t think you can, Gilly. Save your breath. ‘’

The car is colder now that the sun has gone down and he watches the wind wrap around your hair, lets the breeze bring goosebumps to his arms. He knows the two of you are too exposed, in this beat-up car, bullet holes on each side. It pains him that he knows the only place you will truly be safe is at your dad’s house, and he has to bring you there, not the club, not his house, not anywhere else. Drop you off, collect his hazard pay and leave. Leave you and hope you will answer his texts, even if he something tells him you probably won't.

He takes a left turn, fast, into a poorly lit backstreet, almost propelling you against your window side. The breaks get pressed just as fast, and you have to brace yourself with your hands on the dash.

‘’ Have you gone mad?! Did they hit you on the head or something?! ‘’

Gilly turns off the car and pivotes to you, bringing his arm up to wrap the back of your seat, caging you in.

‘’ I can explain. ‘’ Let me, please.

He is observing you, the frown between your brows, the anger in your eyes, the dried blood on the side of your face. It is superficial, really, barely a scratch, but he has to hold himself back from reaching out, move your chin to the side so he can get a better look. He breathes your name as the overhead lights dim out, leaving the two of you in the dark, pleading. He can smell your perfume, hear the shakiness in your breath.

‘’ Okay, whatever. ‘’

You cross your arms around your chest. Even in the darkness, he knows you are watching him, waiting.

‘’ I like you, I do. ‘’ He starts, ‘’ I wasn’t supposed to, though, we just needed to be friends, you know? So I could make sure you were safe. ‘’ But I failed.

‘’ My dad hired you. ‘’

‘’ He did. ‘’

Your shadow moves, moving to the side to lay your head on the headrest. Your voice is soft, going through the motions, exhausted. You must be tired, the rest of the adrenaline dripping out of you in waves.

‘’ Do you work for him, selling the guns and stuff? ‘’

‘’ More like with him, I’m in a motorcycle club. ‘’

We buy them, he could have said, sell some back if they ever come across a nice shipment from god knows where, but he doesn’t. You are smart, you get it.

‘’ You’re used to getting shot a lot. ‘’ It is not a question, more like a fact, piecing the information together.

‘’ You could say that. ‘’

He holds his free hand out, and you take it, his warm fingers taking in your cold ones. He can tell you have softened up, put down the axe.

‘’ You really like me? ‘’

‘’ I do, very much. ‘’

You squeeze his hand, gently, even though he can’t see, he knows you are pursing your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. You move gently, twisting between your seat and the cup holder, leaning down and pressing your cheek on his shoulder. He can feel your body relax into his.

‘’ Can we go home now? I want a hot shower. ‘’

‘’ I know you do, baby, we’ll be there soon. ‘’

He lets you nuzzle into in shirt, caressing your hair with his free hand. He starts the car, driving back up to the main street. He doesn’t have the guts to tell you you are going home alone tonight, that there is no way in hell your dad will let you sleep somewhere else.

To his surprise, you don’t put much of a fight when you notice the gates around your dad’s house, or when he says your name into the intercom so you can be let in, but you are a smart one, of course, you picked it up. The nuances, the conflict inside of him, how he couldn’t get out of the car at first, couldn’t let go of your arm when people started pouring out the house. I’m good, Gilly, you whispered to him, thank you. And so he listens, he lets go, picks up his cash and leaves.

.

A week passes, a long one, of mindless thinking, passing time, putting cars on the lift and then bringing them down. He hears about you at Templo one morning, barely a sentence, something about your dad catching the guys, how business between him and the Mayans has been booming since then. Thanks, Gilly. Good job, man. The military training finally paying off, uh? He nods and smiles, but he doesn’t ask about you. He tries to play it low, make it seem like he is not taking the biggest hit of his life.

When he gets home that afternoon, something is different, maybe it is the way the grass is bent where it usually isn’t, how the doormat is slightly crooked, but it is you sitting at the diner table that makes him stop in his tracks.

His hand is still on the gun at the back of his waist, his other tight on the door handle when you wave at him, a small smile on your lips. Your hair is slightly shorter, different, and you are wearing too many layers for the California heat. You speak first.

‘’ Hey, baby… ‘’

Gilly lets go of the handle at his back and closes the door behind him. Baby. Baby. You stand up before he can talk back, nervously taking a few steps towards him.

‘’ We were on lockdown, I couldn’t call, I couldn’t leave. ‘’ Your fingers are pulling at threads on your jeans pocket. ‘’ I’m sorry, Gilly. ‘’

He melts, there is nothing else he can do. His arms find their way naturally around you, one hand on your head, pushing your cheek against his chest. He knows you can feel his heart beating in your ear, hear the relief that comes out of him with a sigh. There is no hesitation when you hug back, warm fingers griping at his cut.

‘’ I will never lie again, I swear. ‘’

You laugh, and it makes him squeeze tighter.

‘’ It’s alright, only for good reasons from now on, okay? ‘’

Okay, he will. Protecting you will be a full-time job now, maybe not the small contract he thought he was going into, something different, something warm and meaningful—soft, loved.

The most pleasant job in the world.

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: Did I say two parts? I meant three lol. (It got too long, I’m sorry.) 

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death…

Bonus Track #2: One Last Hunt

“Okay, try not to panic,” Sam said. Dean had him on the phone while he sped through town in the Impala. 

“I’m coming now, but I won’t get there for a few hours,” Sam said. “My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”

“Thanks, man, but I can’t afford to wait,” Dean said. “She fucking disappeared. I don’t see her anywhere…I’m gonna have to start at her job. That’s where she first took off from.”

“How did she seem this morning?”

“Fine, I guess. I left before she woke up,” Dean said. He still felt guilty about the fact that he didn’t bother waking you up to say goodbye. 

“Okay, yeah, start at the museum,” Sam said. “Let me know what you find, and I’d loop in Bobby. Probably Jack too.”

“Bobby’s meeting me there…but we don’t need to bring in Jack yet.”

“Dean, he’s her dad—”

“This isn’t his thing. It’s ours,” Dean said firmly. “If it’s a demon, I’m gonna find her and exorcize that son of a bitch.”

Sure enough, Bobby met Dean at the museum where you worked. The old man was worried, Dean could tell, even if he wouldn’t say it. But he knew the drill: now they had a job to do.

“I’ll go in first, flash my badge,” Dean said. “Meet me in the library.”

“Roger that,” Bobby agreed. 

Dean had a decent rapport with your boss, Jerry. When he explained that you were actually missing, Jerry was concerned for your wellbeing instead of irate that you’d taken a very valuable book from the museum. 

It gave Dean a theory to lie about on the fly: that you’d been mugged and taken hostage, presumably by someone who might’ve wanted to steal the ancient text. 

“How ancient are we talking exactly?” Dean asked.

Jerry gave him a look. “Ancient Egypt.”

He showed you the inventory log on the new shipment you were supposed to compile into the system. The title missing from the rest was called The Eye of Ra. 

“All right. Thanks, Jerry,” Dean said. “Anything else you can tell me about this book?”

“It’s a recording of the great deeds of the Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses,” Jerry explained. “It was said to be touched by Ra himself.”

Touched by Ra, Dean mused. Ain’t that just fucking swell. 

Whatever happened to you, Dean knew it was because you touched that book.

For the next few hours, Dean and Bobby worked together on deeper research in the library. Now that they had a starting point, Bobby was able to find some intel. 

“The Eye of Ra was actually a nickname,” he said, earning Dean’s attention. “For Sekhmet, their goddess of war.”

Dean’s brows furrowed at that. “Why’s it never the goddess of peace and fucking tranquility?”

“Among other things, she was the daughter of Ra,” Bobby said, raising a wry brow. “And she was known as the bringer of plagues and death…and sometimes healing. Go figure.”

Fucking hell, Dean thought sourly. This was getting worse by the minute. 

“Okay, what does this have to do with the book?” he asked. Though he had some idea.

“Well, she ain’t been alive in a millennium. But she had a husband. The god Ptah, a craftsman,” Bobby said. “According to this, when he was eventually killed, she sealed her soul away until she could find a way to rescue him from the underworld…I’ve gotta think she sealed it in that book.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the now aching spot between his brows. An ancient Egyptian goddess was most likely possessing his fiancé. 

And it was much worse than it sounded on paper.

“Okay, which means she’ll be looking for a way to bring back her husband,” he said. “So how do we find her?” 

Just then, the police radio buckled to Dean’s belt sounded off. When he listened closely, his eyes grew wide. It was a report of five murders committed at a nearby gas station. 

Dean pulled up to the local 7-Eleven. Bobby was on the way, but he’d been caught up in traffic while Dean was allowed to use his police siren to his advantage. 

He then used his badge clearance to get behind the yellow tape and over to Jack, who was still on duty. 

Dean stepped inside the gas station and surveyed the brutal scene: the nice old man who owned the place, plus four patrons were lying dead. 

Their skin was covered with boils.

Jack wore a disconcerted frown along with his crossed arms in his police jacket. 

“It’s almost…biblical,” he remarked. 

Dean knew just how right he was. Jack seemed to know that too when he glanced over.

“Is this your kind of thing?” he asked. 

Dean nodded. “I might know what’s going on here. Let’s check the security footage…but no one else can see it but you and me.”

Jack nodded, leading Dean to the back of the store. Jack was shocked by what he found in the footage. Dean watched grimly, but not surprised as you came into the frame. You tilted your head at the owner, who seemed to ask you something. 

You raised a hand, and with a flare of magic, everyone in the station was cowering and screaming as a plague of boils covered their bodies, and eventually ended their lives. 

“Christ,” Jack gasped. “What the hell—”

“It’s not her,” Dean told him. “She’s being possessed. I’ll handle this, Jack. Just make sure this footage gets buried, along with whatever prints she might’ve left behind.”

Jack barely had time to agree. As if that kind of thing was so easy. He called after Dean as he took off out of the station. 

Dean didn’t see Bobby yet when he got outside, but he didn’t have time to wait. 

However, he did spot someone familiar hanging out in front of the department store across the street. Dean jogged across and raised a hand to flag down Jessie Deluca. 

The kid was gnawing on what looked like a melting Butterfinger. He groaned in annoyance when he saw Dean coming.

“Not you again,” he muttered.

“Yeah, me again,” Dean said. “You been standing out here long?”

“Look, grandpa. I’m just chillin’ here,” the kid sassed. It sparked Dean’s irritation, as well as his impatience.

“I don’t give two shits if you’re contemplating the great Butterfinger Heist of 2008, all right?” Dean pointed back to the gas station. “You see that?”

Jessie’s expression faded from some of its assholeness, becoming more solemn. “Yeah, I heard someone died or something.”

“That’s right,” Dean nodded. “Did you see anyone walk out of the station?”

“No,” Jessie said. But Dean could tell it was a reflex, not the truth. 

“Listen, Jessie. I need your help,” he said, more earnestly. “I’m trying to find someone. So if you know anything, I need you to tell me right now. Please.” 

Dean stared down in the kid’s brown eyes. Eventually, Jessie relented. 

“When I came out of the store here, I saw some business lady walk out. I think, after it had all just gone down,” Jessie confessed. “She looked fine.”

Dean sighed and nodded. “Okay. What’d she look like?”

“Uh…black skirt. Great legs,” Jessie said, his lips curving a little. Dean raised a brow. 

“Anything else?” he asked wryly. 

“White blouse, heels…actually, she kinda looked familiar,” Jessie added as he thought harder about it. 

“Good. Now tell me what direction she went in,” Dean said. Jessie nodded and pointed him down the street. 

“I think she went down there. I saw her turn the corner.”

“Where? What street?” 

“Dude, I don’t know!”

“Then show me,” Dean insisted. He grabbed Jessie by the shoulder and guided him forward. The kid looked annoyed, but he begrudgingly agreed to lead him down the street. The two of them walked brusquely, with Jessie trying to match Dean’s longer strides. 

Dean glanced over at his companion, who was still working on his Butterfinger. 

“When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t covered in chocolate?” he asked. Jessie didn’t look at him when he shrugged. His winter jacket hung off his skinny shoulders, making him look ten rather than thirteen. Dean’s heart twinged.

“Listen, next time you’re itching to knock over a department store for KitKats, come by the station,” Dean said. “Find me or my partner Jody Mills. Or even my boss, Jack. We’ll get you a burger or something.”

Jessie briefly looked up at him, but all too soon, his gaze returned to the ground. 

“What do you care?” he said. 

“Maybe I know something about having to fend for yourself,” said Dean. “Sometimes going hungry, not knowing when somebody’s gonna come back for you.”

Jessie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, but Dean hoped he’d gotten through to him.

Jessie led him around the corner at the street he thought he saw you turn down. He and Dean didn’t have to walk too much farther before he found you through the window of a bakery, of all things. 

“What the hell?” Dean muttered.

He pulled Jessie to the wall by the window for safety, but both of them snuck a peek inside. 

You were once again wielding magic to spread a plague of boils across an entire room of screaming, agonized patrons just trying to get their donuts and cream pies. 

Jessie started to utter a cry of alarm, but Dean quickly covered the kid’s mouth with his hand and pulled him back to his side. Dean waited, stock still, until the screaming inside the bakery subsided.

He looked down at Jessie and raised a finger to his lips. Though he was scared, Jessie nodded. Dean led him around the corner into an alley beside the bakery.  

“What…the fuck was that?” Jessie hissed. 

“Keep your voice down,” Dean warned. 

Then suddenly, it donned on the kid as he looked up at Dean. “Oh, shit. That’s your freakin’ girlfriend.”

Dean let out a sharp sigh. “It’s not her…exactly.”

He knew Jessie didn’t understand. Dean sighed again and grasped Jessie’s shoulders. 

“Look, you’re right to be scared. There’s something evil in there…that’s why I’ve gotta save her,” he said. “Now you, you’re gonna run. And don’t look back until you’re home, got it?”

After a moment, Jessie nodded shakily. Dean nodded back, patting him firmly on his shoulders. 

“Good man,” he said. “Okay, scram.”

Jessie seemed reluctant, like he felt some type of way about leaving Dean behind. But at Dean’s encouraging look, Jessie took off running. Dean hoped he headed straight home.

Then, rolling his shoulders, Dean braced himself. He drew his gun, which was filled with silver bullets. He didn’t think it would work on an Egyptian goddess, nor did he want to pull a gun on you. But for the threat of it alone, he would have to draw it with the safety on. 

He entered the bakery, where you were perusing the selections with a dispassionate look. All around you was death. 

But you perked up when Dean entered, eyeing him curiously in recognition. 

“Feelin’ a snack?” he asked. 

“I have been asleep for a very long time,” you replied, holding up a pastry. “What is this confection?”

“Cherry Danish,” Dean supplied. “You’re Sekhmet, right?” 

Your lips twitched. “You know of me?”

“I do now,” he said, carefully stepping further into the bakery with his gun pointed down, avoiding stepping on the bodies. He noticed the book you left closed on the counter. The goddess saw him noticing. Her gaze cut to him in amusement.

“Why’d you kill these people?” Dean asked. “Didn’t bow down at the right angle?”

“Among all of my brothers and sisters, I alone was favored by my father,” she said, “because my job was to balance the world, between life and the afterlife.”

Sekhmet brushed her fingers against a glass case, and with a small spark of magic, the glass cracked into thousands of fractals, but didn’t shatter. 

“And I did exceedingly well at this,” she said. “Though I see that my work has been undone. This world is rife with imbalance.”

“Mass genocide. Nice,” Dean quipped. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”

Sekhmet’s head tilted at him with reluctant interest. 

“I heard you’re looking for your husband, who went an offed himself,” he added. 

The goddess’s lips pursed and she slapped a hand on the glass counter, making it shatter. Dean turned and shielded his eyes with his arm. By the time he recovered, Sekhmet was coming around the counter. He took a few cautious steps in the opposite direction.

“My husband was unjustly slain by the very people who once worshipped us in droves,” she said, her tone exacting and harsh. Her eyes, however, were heavy with fury and pain. 

“He was an artist. A creator in purest form…his talents were wasted on this abomination of a world,” she said, with disgust at her surroundings. But as soon as her anger came, it diffused into exasperation. 

She picked up a glazed donut and took a bite, crossing her arms. She hummed in delight, making Dean’s brows raise. 

“Well, I can help you find him,” Dean said. It was a bluff, to be sure, but it still earned Sekhmet’s attention.

“Can you?” she asked in amusement. She didn’t believe him. Yet. But she drew closer to Dean, tilting her head just so. All the while, Dean inched towards the far end of the counter where The Eye of Ra had fallen to the ground. 

“And after, you let my girl go,” he said.

“You know of a way to reach the Underworld?” Sekhmet’s gaze roamed over him in disdain. “Unlikely.”

“Well, I’d call it a gate to Hell. But same difference, right?” Dean quipped.

The second he tried to reach down for the book, however, Sekhmet pinned him in place with a vibrant amber coil of magic. Dean grunted as she forced him to the ground, onto his knees between the bodies of a young man and woman, likely a couple. 

The goddess stopped in front of him, looking down at his face with interest. 

“Dean Winchester, as you are called. I understand why you continue to display such reckless judgment, all but throwing your very life at my feet,” she said. Her lips curved knowingly. “I hold your lover, correct?”

She harshly grabbed his cheek in her hand, and Dean glared in response. She seemed to ponder something as she considered him.

“Soon to be your wife,” she realized.

And Dean had a feeling she was in your head, sorting through your thoughts and memories like any demon would. He didn’t know what was worse: the thought of you being awake in there, unable to fight this bitch’s hold, or if Sekhmet had completely taken over your body and shut you away. 

“Just let her go,” Dean said, almost pleading. “You can have me. I won’t even fight you.”

“Such self-sacrifice,” she said. “The only noble act humans are capable of.”

Before she could decide whether to kill him, or keep him for further amusement, the front door of the bakery swung open.

Bobby came in first, followed closely by Sam and Eileen. 

Bobby was holding a damn crossbow, which he aimed and shot off at Sekhmet. It was a warning shot, just grazing her shoulder. But it burned her with a sting of flesh that made her hiss in pain. She glared up at Bobby, and after grabbing the book before Sam could, she disappeared in a whirlwind of magic.

The coil holding Dean in place shattered, allowing Dean to catch his break and get to his feet, with Sam’s help. Dean had to admit, it was good to see his brother. 

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean reached over and pat the other man’s shoulder. 

“I’m good,” he said, though with a sigh that belied his weariness. “Hey, Eileen. Thanks for making it to the party.”

The pretty brunette offered him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his arm. “We came as soon as we could.”  

Dean nodded and turned to Bobby, who still held his crossbow. He wasn’t happy about the old man shooting at you, but he recognized that it had saved his life.

“Why’d that thing hurt her?” he asked. 

“The arrow’s dipped in a potent mix of salt from the Dead Sea…and Egyptian wine, among other things,” Bobby replied. 

Dean frowned in confusion. “Why the fuck?”

“According to the lore, Sekhmet could be subdued with alcohol,” Sam explained. 

“Great, we’ll just get her drunk and all our problems will be solved,” Dean quipped dryly. He grabbed the radio from his belt. His gaze returned to the dead bodies on the floor with dismay. 

“I’ve gotta call this in. Bobby, get the security tapes.”

After Dean finished calling in the deaths to his precinct, he shared a disheartened look with Sam, who grasped his shoulder in support.

“We’re gonna find her, all right?”

They regrouped at Bobby’s house once Jack took over at the bakery. Now the three men and Eileen were congregated in the living room, trying to decide on their next move. 

“You told her about the Hell gate?!” Sam said incredulously. 

“Damn it, Dean!” Bobby slapped the coffee table in exasperation. 

“All right, lay off! I was improvising under fucking duress,” Dean snapped. “At least we know where she’ll probably go next, assuming she finds out where the gate is.”

“She’s a goddess, Dean. One of the oldest and most powerful in ancient history. I’m sure she can figure it out,” Sam said, rubbing at his tired eyes.

And, as Dean remembered, Sekhmet was rooting around in your head. She’d find the gate for sure.

Eileen looked between the brothers, clearly worried. Sam had told her about what you, him, and Dean had gone through to close that damn gate to Hell last year. 

“So how do we stop her?” Dean asked. Without hurting you, was implicit. Bobby heaved a sigh.

“We gotta burn that damn book,” Bobby said. “But we’ll need to be smart about it.”

So that was how the four of them ended up driving to southern Wyoming. They stopped along the crossroads by the train tracks, and ventured in on foot into the very clearing where their final battle against Yellow Eyes took place.

Dean thought he’d be able to put his past behind him, but the universe clearly liked to kick him in the balls.

Evidence of this came when he saw you standing at Samuel Colt’s gravestone. Or rather, the goddess Sekhmet. 

She was expending large forces of magic to try and open up the gate to Hell. The book that bound her soul lied on top of a nearby headstone.

Dean gestured for Sam, Eileen, and Bobby to hang back and fan out, while he stalked forward. He’d changed out of his police uniform in favor of his familiar jeans, shirt, and a red plaid shirt, hoping that at least would help you focus on him, wherever you were deep inside your mind. 

But he called out to Sekhmet from a (relatively) safe distance away. 

“Are you stupid or something?” he mocked. 

Sekhmet paused in her magic wielding. She craned her head over her shoulder at him in annoyance, with amber rings illuminating her eyes. 

“There’s only one thing that can open up that gate, and I’ve got it right here,” said Dean. 

He pulled out the Colt from behind his back. 

Sekhmet’s gaze narrowed on the gun, then at Dean with a slow smirk.

“Why, by the gods, should I trust your foolishness?” she asked. 

“Because we’re about to make a trade,” Dean said. “The gun for my girl. You let her go, or you’ll never see your husband again. In this world, or the next.”

Dean pointed the gun at her and cocked the safety back. She didn’t have to know the barrel was empty. 

“You cannot harm me, even if there was ammunition in that weapon,” Sekhmet replied knowingly. 

She turned to him and reached out with a magic-fueled hand, but before she could grab Dean, Sam shot his own gun. 

It deployed a net of rope that twined around her frame and held her in place. It was soaked with the same concoction Bobby shot her with in the bakery, and it made her fume with outrage.

It didn’t completely weaken her though. Her hands were still free to fling Sam and Bobby away from her with magic. 

She then turned to grip Eileen, who was nearly able to steal the book. And the goddess sent Eileen across the clearing, breaking a headstone as she fell. 

Sam had been trying to pick himself up from the ground, but he gripped at his chest, feeling his soulmate’s pain. He scrambled over to her prone form on the ground and checked the cut along her hairline. 

“Eileen,” Sam called, pressing his hand to her cheek. He had one eye on her, and another on his brother. 

Because meanwhile, Sekhmet had broken free of the ropes holding her captive with a cry of fury. 

Just in time to grab Dean by the throat when he tried to surprise her from behind. She forced him down to his knees and smirked in satisfaction as Dean struggled against her hold.

He called your name, trying to reach you through the goddess’s hold on your mind.

“She is gone from this world,” Sekhmet taunted. “This is but a vessel for my eternal soul.”

“I don’t fucking believe that,” Dean choked. “If she was gone, I’d know it. Deep in my bones I’d know it.”

Her mouth twitched, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of slowly choking him to death. Or maybe, something was holding her back. Dean could only hope it was you, trying to break through. 

He looked into your eyes and tried to find you through the cold disdain of a goddess.

“Whatever happens, I’m not letting go,” he gritted out. He held tight to your wrist, on the hand wrapped around his throat. 

“I love you, you know that?” he said. “From the start…you closed the door in my face when I tried to kiss you. Teased me. Never took my shit. But you never left me either. No matter how hard it fucking got, you kept my feet on the ground. You never called it quits…‘cause we never say goodbye. Right, baby?”

Slowly, slowly, Sekhmet’s hard exterior faded. The amber rings of magic receded from your eyes, and the woman he loved was there again, softening your face into shock and horror. 

You released your grip on Dean. He stumbled to the ground as he coughed and gasped for precious oxygen. 

He straightened enough to grab your hand. You reached out for him instinctively. 

“Dean,” you said with shaking effort.

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart,” he said. He turned back to see his brother helping Eileen to her feet. “Sam, the damn book!” 

Sam snapped to attention and quickly looked for The Eye of Ra. It had been knocked over from the headstone onto the ground. He grabbed it and fished out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean’s attention turned back to you when you squeezed his hands.

“I can’t hold her for long,” you said tremulously. Your whole body was shaking. “She’s so damn strong…”

“It’s okay, we’re gonna fix this,” Dean said, brushing your hair back from your face. 

You closed your eyes and gasped. But when you opened them once again, they were hard, and glowing with magic. 

Sekhmet tossed Sam away from the headstone. 

Dean tried to hold her back, but she backhanded him hard. Sekhmet followed where he fell. She reached out and gripped him by the neck again, this time choking him with a vengeance. 

But then she gasped, as if in pain. She turned her head and found Sam with the book in one hand, and a lit match in the other. As the book started to burn, Sekhmet weakened. 

Dean caught her before your body could hit the ground. 

Sekhmet released a shaking breath; she gazed into the dimming sky, painted in its golden, amber hues, and knew that her soul was dying. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. 

Dean almost felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was the sight of your pained, weeping face that tugged at his heartstrings.

“You’ll just have to join your husband this time,” he said.

Sekhmet’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “This world was never made for us…but we shall soon be together for all eternity.”

She looked up at him with a rueful smile. 

“You understand,” she said. “A soul bond can never be destroyed.”

And with that, the haze of magic drained from your eyes as your body went limp. 

Dean’s brows furrowed with worry as he called your name. Behind him, Sam helped Eileen draw near with a limping Bobby. All three watched with worry at Dean’s side…until your eyes opened, revealing their natural hue. 

You took in a tremulous breath. “Dean.”

His eyes burned with emotion, but he closed them as he held you tight. All he could do was press his lips against your forehead in relief. 

You clung to him right back, for as long as you needed to. 

AN: Fun fact — According to Egyptian mythology, the only thing that could stop the goddess Sekhmet from ending humanity with bloodshed was by getting her drunk on beer, which had been dyed red to simulate blood (which she also liked to drink, apparently). 

Egyptians (the survivors) would drink beer mixed with pomegranate juice and get drunk to celebrate not being killed dead. (Woo!)

Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed Part 2! All the fluff is coming in the finale of Part 3, very soon…

Next Time:

Dean brings you home. The two of you figure out how to move on from here...

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[astrowaffles]

aiming for your heart

general audiences | tomo-chan is a girl! au | for @fengqingaction

“I have something to tell you,” Feng Xin blurted out, coming to a stop.

Mu Qing stopped walking and turned around. “Is it important? I kind of have to get home-“

“I like you,” Feng Xin interrupted.

Mu Qing stared at her.

“No, I-I mean, I love you,” Feng Xin corrected, fiddling with her fingers.

Mu Qing stared harder, narrowing his eyes a little like he was trying to figure out what she was saying. Feng Xin allowed him to scrutinise her, hoping he could see her sincerity or something and praying he didn’t ask a stupid question like ‘why?’.

“Hmm,” said Mu Qing, which sounded an awful lot like the lead-up to a rejection. Feng Xin braced herself as Mu Qing opened his mouth-

“I love you too, bro. Where’d this come from? Are you dying?”

Oh.  He hadn’t understood at all. He hadn’t even considered that this might be a romantic confession, that Feng Xin might have romantic feelings for him, and now he was walking away and chattering about how he wished Feng Xin was dying so he got an excuse to dress up for the funeral, and Feng Xin never really got a chance to explain herself.

She sighed. Well, Mu Qing wasn’t going anywhere, was he? There was always another chance. “Hey! Wait for me!!” she called, rushing to catch up.

Yeah. She could just try again tomorrow.

“THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING!” Feng Xin yelled, slamming her head down onto her desk. “He’s such an idiot!”

“There, there,” Xie Lian soothed, stroking her hair. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“It’s hopeless!” Feng Xin complained, turning her head to the side so she wasn’t face planted into the wood of the table. “I don’t think he even knows I’m a girl!”

“He does,” Xie Lian said, though she didn’t sound very confident about it. “He can’t be that oblivious. Don’t worry, everything will work out.”

“When?!” Feng Xin wailed despairingly. “I’ve been trying for weeks!”

“Maybe he just needs a little push,” Xie Lian suggested. She stopped stroking Feng Xin’s hair in order to pull her phone out from her bag. “Should we google it?”

“No, it’s all stupid advice, I’ve tried.”

“Oh.” Xie Lian stowed her phone away and tried to think. “What’s something super girly that you could do to make him notice?”

“I dunno. I wear a skirt and I have long hair, what else does he need?”

“Don’t be stereotypical,” Xie Lian admonished. “Besides, your hair isn’t that long.”

Well, that was true. Feng Xin had an uneven and shaggy bob, which barely seemed like hair at all when compared with Xie Lian’s shiny, long, straight hair. Neither were her eyelashes anything to write home about compared with the luscious, jet-black ones Xie Lian’s girlfriend Hua Cheng had.

Feng Xin needed new friends. Ugly friends, if possible.

“Well, any suggestions?” she asked. Xie Lian pulled a face that was clearly meant to mean ‘yes, but I’m not sure if you can do it’.

“Just spit it out,” Feng Xin commanded.

“Well- have you tried being, um, a bit .. gentler?”

“What?! I’m very gentle! Just yesterday I rescued a frog from being run over!”

“That was after you’d punched Mu Qing for getting in the way,” Xie Lian reminded her. “Anyway, I didn’t mean literally. I meant- have you tried talking in a prettier way? You know, more feminine, more polite, something like that?”

Feng Xin considered it. “You mean, talk like you?”

“Ah-“ Xie Lian flushed. “No, not quite. But, maybe a little like me…”

“I suppose you’re in a relationship and I’m not, so it works,” Feng Xin reasoned.

“Possibly,” Xie Lian hedged. “We didn’t really have this problem, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s worth a try!” Feng Xin sat up just in time for the bell to ring. “I’ll try it as soon as I can!”

“Why are you talking like that?” Mu Qing asked.

“Talking in what way, my fine sir?” Feng Xin replied, trying to choose a sandwich.

“Like an idiot.”

Normally, Feng Xin would’ve punched him by this point, but in the name of being gentler she simply gritted her teeth and tried again.

“I am not speaking this way out of idiocy, my lord, but simply a desire to be more elegant,” she sniffed, grabbing the lunch she’d chosen.

“It’s not working,” Mu Qing told her. He was stood slightly over her, trying to choose food of his own; Feng Xin blushed a little and tried not to move so they wouldn’t bump legs. “Stop talking like a weirdo.”

At that, Feng Xin could almost feel a vein popping in her forehead. “I ask that you refrain from such-“

Mu Qing moved away, allowing Feng Xin to move too; this newfound freedom caused her to swing around too fast and almost fall into Mu Qing.

“My apologies,” she said, a little breathless.

“You sound stupid,” Mu Qing said, completely ruining the mood.

“You’re so annoying!” Feng Xin exclaimed, shoving him away.

“Hey! What did I do?!”

“You were a total moron!!”

Mu Qing looked genuinely offended at that, and reached out to shove Feng Xin back. “I didn’t do anything! All I did was say the honest truth-“

“You’re so insensitive!” Feng Xin whacked him over the head with the side of her hand.

“You’re a brute!” Mu Qing jabbed her in the side.

That annoyed Feng Xin; she drew back her fist to land him one right in the eye.

“Who’s next, please?” the cashier called.

Feng Xin scowled at Mu Qing’s pleased smirk, and moved to buy her food.

Feng Xin carried the despondency from her failed throughout the rest of the day, complaining to Xie Lian through her entire lunch break (after abandoning Mu Qing in the hallway, of course) and moping through the last lessons of the day. Even the weather seemed to agree with her, as clouds gathered in ominous black groups in the once-blue sky.

The last lesson of the day, English, ended with a rumble of thunder. A quick glance out the window proved Feng Xin’s ears correct: it was raining, hard. Thank god she’d brought her umbrella – but Xie Lian probably hadn’t.

“Maybe Hua Cheng will bring her one,” Feng Xin said hopefully, even though she knew the girls didn’t live in the same direction. Not that Hua Cheng would mind walking two ways; she loved to spend extra time with her girlfriend.

With that comforting thought, Feng Xin took her time walking to the lockers, allowing the rest of her class to rush past her and out the door as if leaving faster would make the rain any lighter. By the time she reached her locker and had changed her shoes, only a few students still lingered by the doorway; probably the ones who’d forgotten their umbrellas and were hoping the rain would ease up, Feng Xin thought.

A closer inspection revealed two of them to be Xie Lian and Mu Qing, deep in discussion about something. Feng Xin didn’t know they were that close: they’d all played together as kids, of course, but they’d never really done anything as a duo as far as she knew.

Mu Qing looked annoyed, or at least flustered. Xie Lian looked knowing and perhaps a little smug, as if she had finally managed to prove an idea she’d had for a long time.

“Hey guys!” Feng Xin chirped. “What’s going on?”

“He forgot his umbrella,” Xie Lian said before Mu Qing could say anything.

“Aren’t you here because you’ve forgotten yours, too?” Feng Xin asked her. “Do you want to share mine?”

“What are you doing?” Xie Lian whispered. “This is your chance to share an umbrella with him!”

“That’s gonna make us look like a couple!!” Feng Xin fretted.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Stop whispering,” Mu Qing demanded. “I’m fine walking home by myself, so you go with dianxia, Feng Xin.”

The childhood nickname made Xie Lian smile a little, but she insisted, “I’ve got one coming for me. You two go on ahead.”

Feng Xin attempted to use her puppy eyes, but Xie Lian’s immunity once again came in useful as she shook her head with a slightly devious grin. “Go on, Xin’er. Look, here’s San Lang now!”

It was true. Hua Cheng was making her way down the rows of lockers, accompanied by the telltale jingling of her jewellery.

Feng Xin winced. She didn’t particularly enjoy Hua Cheng’s company and preferred to leave the two lovebirds alone, but she equally didn’t want to be left alone with her own crush.

“Go on,” Xie Lian repeated, giving her friend a little push. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Well, if you’re sure….” Feng Xin edged over to Mu Qing. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” said Mu Qing, not looking at all ready. “Let’s go already.”

“Alright, alright, don’t be so impatient.” Feng Xin opened the umbrella and stepped out into the rain. “We’re going.”

Xie Lian waved them away just as Hua Cheng arrived at the door, immediately throwing an arm over her shoulder to drag her into a side hug. Xie Lian laughed and allowed herself to be fussed over.

“Disgusting,” Mu Qing commented.

“Huh?! Don’t tell me you’re homophobic!”

“What? No!”

“Then what’s disgusting about it?”

“The PDA,” Mu Qing said, with a slight shudder. “They’re all over each other.”

“I think it’s nice,” Feng Xin defended, leaving out the it would be nicer if it was us instead.

“I guess if you like that kind of thing,” Mu Qing shrugged.

“Okay emo,” Feng Xin teased, and cleared her throat to begin her Mu Qing impression. “’I’m so sad and my soul is so dark. I relate to wilted roses and I love ‘My Chemical Romance’. My favourite song is-‘”

“Shut up,” Mu Qing snapped, but his eyes were laughing. “Hey- aren’t you gonna get under here?”

“What are you on about?”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Your shoulder’s getting wet.”

Feng Xin looked across, and sure enough, her shoulder was outside of the umbrella’s range, and soaked through. She looked at the gap between her and Mu Qing; it was sizeable, but not big enough that she was willing to close any of it. It was already so uncomfortable walking alongside him like this, when normally they’d have the entire pavement to spread out over. She could smell his cologne.

It smelt good.

“Come here,” Mu Qing said, taking hold of her elbow and pulling her in. Feng Xin squeaked as she was hauled in towards her crush. "It’s your umbrella, you know. You should be under it.”

“But you’re the guest,” Feng Xin argued, trying not to think about their shoulders, which were touching.

“What kind of guy would I be if I let a girl get soaked through while I sheltered under her umbrella?” Mu Qing returned.

“So you do know,” Feng Xin noted.

“Huh? Know what?”

“That I’m a girl.”

“Duh??”

Well, this was potentially worse than just not knowing at all. If Mu Qing didn’t know, then when he found out, Feng Xin would have another chance at confessing, she mused. Mu Qing jostled next to her as they walked in step; she tried not to notice as the amount of shoulder touching slowly increased. But if he’d known all along, ever since they were younger, maybe even since they’d met-

“On second thoughts, you can have the umbrella!” she wailed, overcome by the casual contact. She shoved the handle at Mu Qing and immediately set off running.

“Wha- hey! Come back!” Mu Qing called.

Feng Xin heard him set off after her. They’d trained karate together ever since they were little, and once upon a time, Feng Xin could be sure of beating him in every match. Now they were grown up and Mu Qing’s testosterone had kicked in, there was practically no way she could win in a test of physical strength.

Well, she still won the karate matches. Just not the fistfights.

Either way, Mu Qing ran faster than her if everything else was equal, and she really didn’t want him to catch up, even if he was still carrying the open umbrella and slipping a little on the wet pavement. She put on a burst of speed that drew a frustrated squawk from Mu Qing behind her.

“WHY ARE YOU SPRINTING?!” he screamed, umbrella flapping as he ran.

“JUST WALK NORMALLY!” she screamed back, not slowing. She couldn’t go back there, not back to the warm haven of Mu Qing’s scent and casual, almost unnoticed physical contact, walking side by side like they were- like they were dating or something.

“NO!” Mu Qing hollered, speeding up. Feng Xin started to panic; he was gaining on her.

Her legs were beginning to tire, tensed from trying to keep her grip on the slippery concrete and stressed from trying to keep ahead of someone she knew would catch up eventually. She skidded to a halt as best she could, hoping he wouldn’t notice and would just speed past.

To her dismay, he noticed, sliding to a stop next to her.

“What…was…that..about?” he forced out through wheezing gasps, hands on his knees.

“Nothing,” she shrugged.

Mu Qing held out the umbrella and she obediently took it from him, sheltering them both while still trying to maintain as much distance between them as she could.

“If it was nothing….don’t do it,” Mu Qing managed, finally straightening up.

Feng Xin blushed a little at his ruffled hair and uniform. It was rare to see him like this outside of the dojo. “Sorry,” she said, and half-meant it. “Let’s walk the rest of the way.”

Mu Qing opened his mouth, probably about to say something like ‘finally’ with his signature eye roll, when he stopped. A weird sound came from the back of his throat, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t.

“Are you okay? You’re looking a little red-“

Without warning, he took off at a sprint.

“HEY!” Feng Xin yelled, about to run after him. As she turned to set off, she caught herself in the reflection of someone’s window. Soaked through, hair bedraggled, skirt sticking pathetically to her thighs, and- oh. Shirt gone practically transparent with water.

In her mind’s eye, the moment replayed: tips of Mu Qing’s ears violently red and his cheeks following suit, eyes trained intensely on her eyebrows, hands clamped tightly together.

“Hm,” she pondered, evil grin forming unwittingly on her face. “If I can get a reaction like that out of him….”

…maybe she had a chance.

A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions

[fanfictionstuff]

Red String of Fate part two

Amaimon x Reader soulmate AU

“Let’s go.” The oddly dressed demon starts to tug you towards an alley. “Wait, no! What are you doing? I’m not going anywhere with you.” Amaimon drops your wrist, staring blankly. “Why? Aren’t you my soulmate? I want you with me.” He states bluntly. “Y-yeah.” You stutter, trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, but we need to be realistic. I’m not just leaving with you; I don’t care if you’re my soulmate. Until earlier today, I had just assumed my soulmate was dead, and that’s why I had a broken string.” You measure the length your string had been earlier in the day. “See? This is where the string stopped before.” You point at the spot as you speak. “There’s not enough known about soulmates; I’m not going anywhere with you in the dark.” You notice Rin checking out at the register from the corner of your eye.

“Can we talk later?” You ask cautiously, hoping he’ll agree. He stares at you long and hard; for a moment, you’re fearful he might try to kidnap you or something. “Later?” You nod. “Yes, maybe tomorrow, we can meet up and have time to talk. Preferably in daylight.” You wait with bated breath, silently praying the demon will agree, and to your relief, he finally nods in agreement while sounding completely nonchalant. “Okay, bye.” You watch, slightly miffed, when he turns his back to you and walks away. Why do I feel disappointed, I asked him to leave.

Rin steps out of the shop a few moments later. “Hey ____, I got some snacks we can easily eat without making a mess while looking for your soulmate. I figured these would be less of a mess-“

“Thanks, but I think I’ll return to my dorm.” You grin, but you’re unable to hold it when Rin doesn’t return the gesture. “Something wrong?”

“You were really excited. Did something happen?” His eyes widen when a thought crosses his mind. “Wait, did you find him? Is he actually a baby? I had been joking but-“

You jokingly hit his shoulder. “Oh my god, no. It’s just that I think maybe you were right, and I should look into it during the day. Maybe tomorrow or something.”

Rin gives you a look of confusion, then slowly nods. It’s odd you’d change your mind like this, but he figures maybe you’re a bit overwhelmed at the idea of having a soulmate who is actually alive or something. “Okay, well, let me walk you back to the dorm.”

Shiemi glances at you as you help pull some weeds from the garden. “Rin told me you’re connected to your soulmate now.” She fidgets a bit and continues before you have a chance to answer. “I didn’t know you had a soulmate.”

“Huh?”

Panic crosses her face. “I’m so sorry! Was I not supposed to know? I’m really sorry-“

“Shiemi, relax. I don’t mind that Rin told you. Honestly, I didn’t realize you didn’t know.” You glance at the string. “It’s been here forever, and up until yesterday, it was just about this long.” You raise your other hand to show the length. “I never think about it, so I never talk about it.” You pause to think before continuing. “Because nobody else can see it; it’s just kind of forgotten and just a part of my body.” You laugh awkwardly, unsure if that’s a good explanation or not. “But yeah, it’s been kind of frayed for the last eighteen years; at least, I assume it was there when I was a baby. I don’t remember a time without having it.” You look down at the strong while recalling yesterday’s events. “Yesterday, when I was hanging out with Rin, I looked down and noticed it was long and leading somewhere.” Your gaze follows the thread as you explain it to her. “It’s the same size as a string of thread and can’t be physically touched, so it’s easy to forget about. I don’t know how long it had been extended until I noticed it.”

The blonde stares at your finger, looking curious. “Have you found them yet?”

“…..Do you promise not to tell anyone? Not even Rin?”

Shiemi gives you an unsure look, but after a long moment of silence, she finally nods. “Yes. I promise.”

You glance at your little finger, tracing your fingertip along it just as Amaimon had done with his claw the night before. "What if he's not a good person?”

“Did you meet him?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think he’s not a good person? Was he mean to you?”

Your focus returns to the weeds you’re pulling from Shiemi’s garden. “No, not to me…” You bite your lip, not wanting to share too much. “He’s so odd, and I want to get to know him, but I’m nervous. I’m so normal and boring compared to him. He seems to be the complete opposite of me.”

“_____, he’s your soulmate. That means he’s your perfect match, right? You’re his perfect match.”

“Ah, Amaimon. Where have you been, dear brother? Did you finally find your soulmate? Is she an infant?” Mephisto jokes as the younger demon king steps into his office.

“No. She’s a student at your school.”

Mephisto quirks a brow. “Oh?”

Amaimon nods, but a flicker of annoyance crosses his face before he regains his composure. "She's Rin Okumura's closest friend," He says with a hint of jealousy. Mephisto observes the shift in Amaimon’s emotions with curiosity; it’s not an emotion he’s seen from the younger king before.

“It's bothering you?” He asks cautiously, knowing that a possessive demon is never a good thing, especially one as powerful as Amaimon.

“She left with him; if she’s my soulmate, why is she with him?” He childishly complains.

Mephisto strokes his chin thoughtfully. "So, she was left with him? Did they appear to be together when you came across them?"

Amaimon nods.

“They’re best friends, _____ wasn’t meant to attend this school.” Mephisto lets out a heavy sigh. “However, Rin needed some extra support, so I had her enroll and placed her in exorcist training. She only discovered the existence of this world recently.” In a puff of pink smoke, a slim file materializes in Mephisto’s grasp. “Would you like to know more about her? There's not much information, but it covers the basics. Then, when she's by herself, you can approach her.”

The Earth King strides over, snatching the file from Mephisto's outstretched hand before quickly disappearing.

You're never alone. Amaimon chews on his thumbnail out of aggravation, peering at you and Rin walking down the sidewalk. If you're not with Rin, then you're with that blond human girl. He's been trailing you for three days now. Why must you always be in someone's company? Amaimon's irritation grows as he wonders if you're trying to avoid him. He can feel the string around his finger tighten whenever he gets near, so he knows that you're aware of his presence.

He's right, you’re fully aware. As Rin launches into a tirade about Yukio’s strange behavior recently, your eyes trail down to the string. You can sense Amaimon’s eyes on you, but you’re too nervous to look in the direction the string leads. You don’t trust yourself not to stare at the alluring demon king.

“Hey, Rin?” You feel the invisible tether between you and him pulling harder; it's impossible to ignore. It started as a subtle tug when you first met, but now it's almost painful. "I think I'm going to skip cram school today." Rin raises an eyebrow in response. "You? Skipping class? You must be sick." He teases, placing his hand on your forehead to check for a fever. Irritated, you swat his hand away. "Cram school isn't like regular high school. It's a lot, and I just need a break today." Pushing him towards the nearest door, you say, "I'm going home to relax."

The moment the door shuts behind Rin, you feel Amaimon’s presence behind you. “Would you like to get dinner?” You question, with your back still to him. “Dinner?” He sounds weirdly bored as he parrots you.

“Yeah, if you don’t want to-“

“What do you want to eat?” As he questions you, he tugs you closer to him and forces you to face him. You’re hit with the scent of blueberry candy, your eyes look at his lips the lollipop hanging from his mouth. “____?” He nudges your shoulder, waiting for your answer.

“Pizza? Do you like pizza?”

He gives a nonchalant shrug, his expression still conveying boredom. "I don’t know," he says. He hasn't had the opportunity to try it in Assiah yet.

“Oh, uh, would you like to try it?”

Amaimon silently nods, motioning for you to lead the way.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you. You fidget as you walk alongside him, tugging at your skirt or a button on your uniform top to keep your hands busy. The stares from strangers don’t help, you can’t blame them though, you’re a normal-looking student while Amaimon looks…odd. It’s even more awkward when those staring suddenly snap their head away after making eye contact with Amaimon. So, you quicken your pace, quickly making your way to the restaurant and away from any staring eyes.

As you walk into the restaurant, a young waitress greets you with a nonjudgmental look. She smiles genuinely and addresses you by name. "A date?" Her tone is playful as she glances between you and Amaimon. Usually, you come in with Rin or Shiemi, so this new companion catches her attention. Panic sets in slightly - would it be considered a date? How should I refer to it? What if he-

“Yes.” Amaimon answers for you.

Hana, the waitress, beckons you to a corner booth for some added privacy. To your surprise (and hers), Amaimon chooses to sit next to you instead of opposite. Hana sets a menu down on the table, giving you a sly wink before leaving you two alone. You open the pizza section and slide the menu towards Amaimon.

His brows slightly furrow at all the options as his eyes scan each photo and carefully reading the description. While he’s focused on that, you can’t help but openly stare at him. As a child, you had dreamed about finding your soulmate, but that dream died as you grew older; you couldn’t find anything about broken strings as you started looking more into it when you could read proper books. At least, you had thought it died. The feeling that washed over you that night when you looked down and saw that the string grew in length is indescribable. The hope you had as a child came back ten times as strong. But then, finding out he’s a demon. Shouldn’t you feel disappointed? Sad? Your soulmate is a being that you hadn’t even known existed until a few months ago. You’re currently being trained to exorcise his kind. Instead, you feel a strong urge to hold him and never let go. A pinch on your little finger snaps you out of your thoughts. Your face burns red as you notice he’s staring back.

“Which one do you like?”

“Huh?”

“The pizza, which one do you like?”

“Oh uh-“ Shit. There’s so much dumb drama over it, and the ones who don’t like it are so loud and dramatic about it. You really don’t want to order it and him not like it so “-cheese.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not; I like cheese.”

“Which one is your favorite?”

“…pineapple and ham.”

“Okay, I want that.”

You stare, unsure what to say. What if he doesn’t like it? It might completely turn him off pizza. You wave the waitress over. “Could we get a large pizza? Half Hawaiian, half cheese.”

As it arrives, you fidget, worried he might hate it or think you’re weird for liking it. Rin teased you endlessly for a year after learning you like pineapple on pizza. Your eyes anxiously watch him pick up a slice of the Hawaiian and slowly bring it to his lips, taking a bite. He swallows and looks at you with an oddly neutral expression. “I like it.”

You grin excitedly; he doesn’t think it’s gross. “Oh good, try the cheese too, and tell me which one you like better.” You probably shouldn’t be staring at him so intensely, but you can’t help but be curious. Which will he prefer? “That one is better.” He points at the Hawaiian while finishing the cheese.

“Oh great, so when we order pizza in the future, we can whole a whole pineapple and ham. I mean, if you want to. I understand if you’re not interested, I’m kind of boring.” You admit awkwardly. He stares long and hard before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. You lose yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours, a rush of emotions flooding through you. The world around you fades away as you lean into the kiss, feeling the warmth of his touch sear through your being. His kiss is both gentle and demanding, a contradiction that mirrors the complex nature of your relationship.

When you finally pull away, your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can see the intensity in Amaimon's gaze. There is a hunger there, a raw desire that sends shivers down your spine. As you catch your breath, trying to make sense of what just happened, he leans back slightly, his expression unreadable.

"____," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending a jolt of electricity through you. "you intrigue me."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. You feel a surge of conflicting emotions - desire, fear, excitement - swirling inside you.

Your eyes widen as you remember you’re in a restaurant, and it’s extremely inappropriate. Your eyes dart across the restaurant to see if anyone noticed, and of course, Hana is grinning like an idiot, openly watching you and Amaimon.

Ignoring Hanna's prying gaze, you clear your throat, attempting to regain some composure after the unexpected kiss. Amaimon's golden eyes watch you intently.

"Um, we should probably finish eating," you mumble, feeling a wave of self-consciousness wash over you. The atmosphere between you two has shifted, charged with a newfound tension that both excites and unsettles you.

Amaimon merely nods in agreement, his expression inscrutable as he continues to observe you with that piercing gaze. As you both turn your focus back to the meal, the silence between you is heavy.

The taste of pineapple and ham pizza lingers on your tongue, mixing with the lingering sensation of Amaimon's kiss.

After finishing the meal in awkward silence, you signal for the check, eager to leave, and silently pray Hana doesn’t tell Rin or Shiemi about what she saw.

You stand in front of your building, a lump forming in your throat as you struggle to say goodbye. Every fiber of your being resists the idea of separating from him. It feels wrong, almost unnatural. You force yourself to say the words, though. “I-I guess I’ll see you later? Maybe tomorrow…” Your voice trails off, unable to completely hide the disappointment. Why am I like this? “…unless.” You bite your tongue. Shut up, idiot. Amaimon leans forward and presses his lips against yours. As he pulls away, his words send a shiver down your spine. “Show me your house. We can decide if you'd rather live here or at Brother’s home.”

“What?!”

[iridiss]

Eide is a challenge to write for, since we only have about 3 lines of spoken dialogue from him in Night in the Woods, and even though he’s a very prominent and important character, everything else he does is so heavily shrouded in mystery that there are a thousand different versions of him you could extrapolate from the mist that is his original character.

All we have of him are the lines:

“There they are! They’re right there! I’m gonna kill them!”

(after he’s told to shut up) ”He…shot…me!”

Then it’s not confirmed, but the position of the text bubble also implies he says “Ones ‘e takes a shining to. It rubs off on ya. You can do things.” When explaining Ed Skudder’s “glimmer” gift, which would line up with Eide’s own gifts, if he was one of the people the Black Goat “took a shining to.” But again, it’s not confirmed that it’s even him speaking

He’s depicted as the most aggressive, trigger-happy and violent member of the cult, contrasted by the calm, apologetic, or wisened members next to him. He shouts to kill the main crew immediately, while the member next to him apologizes to the crew for a separate incident, showing a strong contrast between him and the rest of the miner cult. He has a dynamic with the leader that’s effectively “annoying brat keeps having to get told to shut the hell up and stay in line,” he’s rebellious against said authority and acts out against his orders by chasing after Mae, and on the more spiritual side, he has some kind of psychic connection to Mae and The Black Goat, to the point where he’s special enough to be blessed with special powers by The Black Goat. He’s also the only character we see going out and doing the cult’s dirty work, and though I’m sure plenty of the other members do their part as well, it’s narratively important enough for Eide to be the only one spotlighted for his work, which is a natural reflection on Eide as a character.

And that’s all we have of him that’s set in stone, and even that's a tad extrapolated. Anything else beyond that is speculation, including his identity, his motives, why he chases after Mae, why he follows her, why he appears in her dreams, everything. He is a creature of pure folklore. He’s very likely to be an older man, anywhere between his late 50s-60s at the youngest to possibly "older than we can even comprehend" at the oldest. He may be older than the town itself. We don’t know. We know he’s a cat, like Mae, further solidifying their connection. He has curly fur, and he has two nicks in both ears, which similarly ties back into Mae’s own nicked ear. We know he’s freely a murderer and serial killer, likely without regret or shame.

Using what we have, I’ve decided that this AU version of Eide is a larger, older male cat, whose personality is brash, aged, aggressive, violent, trigger-happy, grouchy, brazen, vulgar, egotistical, and very lacking in the “empathy and kindness” department. There are a lot of different roles he could have played for the AU, he could have fit Aym/Baal’s replacement, he could’ve been the weapons-seller, but due to his special, psychic connection with The Black Goat and Mae (and his importance in NITW), I figured the best position for him would be the previous Red Crown holder. (red crown holder also fits with him aesthetically due to the cult’s strong red association in both games)

So with all of that addressed, let me introduce you to: Eide, “The Ghost of Death”

Eide’s name is a legacy written in blood across the lands of the Old Faith. To civilians, grunts of the four main cults, and smaller “monster” enemies, Eide was a nightmare. A monster you told stories about past midnight and around the fire to terrify your little siblings over. He had been the blessed bloodhound of The One Who Waits for generations. Beatrice Santello is the only witness that remembers him, that was alive during the time of his legacy, though she’s grateful she never met him. He went after the armies of the Old Faith, culling them down to weaker and weaker numbers, he took down the previous witnesses of Leshy, Heket, and Shamura, freeing up the positions for Angus, Gregg and Lori to fill later. He wanted to be the one to kill the Old Gods, he wanted to be the legendary crown-holder at the top of the world, known throughout history as The Godkiller. But Narinder only hired him to set the stage for the true, Lamb savior to arrive, and he had to remind him of that countless times. He was not the chosen savior, he was not The Lamb. He may have been the best there ever was (and will be, as Eide insistingly grumbled), but that was not his place. He needed to stay in line, Narinder told him.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He was better than that. He deserved that damned throne, and he would get it, no matter what anyone said. It would be his.

Leshy, the weakest, was his first target. His army had been massacred, his Witness was nowhere to protect him, and he was still trying to recover and rebuild from Eide’s last attack. Eide tracked him down, found him in his lair, and went for the kill. That glory, that power, that would be his, all his.

But it wasn’t.

Maybe he was blinded by his emotions, maybe it was the slightest mistake, maybe it was a lucky roll of the dice for Leshy that day, maybe he jumped wrong, maybe one of those damned grunt archers got a once-in-a-lifetime shot, who knows. But one moment he was leaping to slice Leshy in half, and the next moment, Leshy’s jaws came down on him, the whole world went black, and he woke up revived in Narinder’s realm with a chunk of his side missing and his dominant arm gone.

Leshy had killed him, and TOWW had to bring him back at the expense of his own power. He had failed, for the first time in his life. Narinder screamed at him, furious that he disobeyed his orders and jeopardized their mission and Narinder’s own success due to his ego, his disobedient, insolent pride. Eide yelled back, but that only worsened his position.

That day ended with his status and power as the Crown Bearer being revoked. And in an instant, he had nothing.

To the rest of the world, it was as if the Ghost of Death disappeared one day. Rumors and stories were told of seeing his shadow in the woods at night, beasts preying on villagers in the night would be blamed on him, and a fear of his return or a surprise attack from the infamous monster Reaper would remain for the following decades, before his memory faded away into an urban legend and the next generations forgot him. The “Ghost of Death” had once referred to a very real Reaper that waited around every corner to take your soul down into the pit of Hell, but soon enough, a ghost is all that he became. A whisper on the wind, an urban legend, a ghost story, an imaginary shadow in the woods at night.

Eide now lives in a small, isolated cabin in the deep, dark forest. His warrior days are over, and now all he can do is burn his time and keep an eye on the events going on. He watched as the lamb prophecy was revealed to the other gods, he watched with intrigue as the lamb species was culled, and he waited with hope and anticipation for Narinder’s call after they went extinct. There were no more sheep in the entire land, so surely he was all he had left and he would be able to live his glory days again soon.

One day, he was called back by Narinder, his moment had come—only for his dreams to be shattered by the sight of a 4-foot tall weak-ass black-furred kitten.

TOWW explained to him that as the previous holder, Eide’s job would be to mentor the new holder and teach her everything she needs to know to kill the Gods and truly be His savior.

Eide froze.

He looked at Mae.

Mae waved at him.

He took a deep breath.

He would fucking kill her.

…but unfortunately, he can’t. His job is to mentor his replacement. The “true” savior. This little brat.

He’s going to lose his mind out here.

[moosemonstrous]

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - acceptable losses

Tony hates the countdown display. It doesn’t make him feel any better that it was, technically, his idea to put it up in the first place.

You can see the clock from anywhere in the dome, and the support side has its own copy. It’s inescapable, the orange glow illuminating his every anxious thought, the soundless downtick keeping him awake at nights even in his apartment in the city.

He’s redone the calculations again. His math checks out. It always checks out, because you can use numbers to lie to others but not to yourself. His predictions have been broadly correct five out of six times over the last three years. Every time, he hopes to be wrong, and knows that he isn’t – the water temperature in the immediate one thousand feet around the Breach rose by point-oh-three degrees overnight, T minus seventy two hours. The submarine drones haven’t reported any lesser beasts coming through since Thursday.

The next demon is coming. And they’re two jaegers short.

“Crimson Typhoon won’t be ready in time,” Ivanov drums his fingers on the metal surface of his desk. He’s not prone to nervous ticks. Half the time, Tony can only spot his tells because he spent his twenties at a poker table. “We need to make a decision.”

Of course, he doesn’t want to be the one to explicitly make it. He’s been avoiding the subject altogether for weeks now. On one hand, Tony kind of feels bad for him, because he vaguely remembers the funerals after The Charger’s last run and nobody was having a good time with it. On the other, it’s not Ivanov who’s name will be on the outcome report if they— God damn it.

“We’re going to get that kid killed,” he sighs.

“We are at war. And your protégé seems confident.”

“Uh, yeah, call me when he ever doesn’t, I’ll mark the date.” He’s still so smug about that damn Kwoon sim, too. Explain that, he said, and Tony never wished so much he’d spent any proper time on neurology in his life. Vicky threw in the towel at this point – Reyes is too speculative for her. There’s a reason medical doesn’t come under R&D. “No point delaying the inevitable, huh?”

“We can delay all we like,” Ivanov grunts. At least he doesn’t look like he likes it any more than Tony does, even if he suspects it’s for very different reasons. “But if we don’t use The Charger and the next demon goes through the port like Bladecrest did through Los Angeles, we are all out of a job.”

Trust the soldier to make it about the bottom line. “Great. I’ll pick up the black box reports from the archive on my way down.”

Ivanov raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think I changed my mind on this?”

“Are you kidding me?” Tony rounds on his desk, slamming a palm down. “You have to declassify them. I can’t sign off on a trial drift if we don’t know—”

Ivanov cuts him off, looking at Tony’s hand like he’s fantasising about cutting it off, too. “I will tell you what you need to know,” he says in the same tone of voice he uses to explain the week’s biosamples have been held back in customs again. It’s bullshit, but not in any way Tony can argue against. “Hell Charger malfunctioned from corruption damage. She killed both of her pilots,” God, Tony hates when he uses people pronouns for that thing, “and almost everyone in the hangar that night. I have been trying to get her taken apart for scrap from the second I made rank. I was always told the expense is prohibitive, there must be something else to make her work.” He stands to lean over the desk. Tony takes an involuntary step back. “She killed six potential pilots over the years, but I’m sure you and Cho know what you’re doing.”

There are many things Tony wishes he could take back. Most of the last fifteen years, if he’s feeling dramatic. None quite so fervently as the moment he thought he can get back at the Colonel for blatantly breaking the same rules he uses to red-tape Cho’s research.

“Ivanov, come on,” he pleads. “You can’t expect me to fly blind on this."

The Colonel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe a tragedy is what we need to end this vibranium deadlock.”

*

Amadeus isn’t used to having second thoughts. He takes in the available information, draws the potential conclusions and picks the most reasonable course of action – there are no unpredictable outcomes, only missing data.

He really, really thought he’d have The Charger’s run reports before doing this, though.

“He can always say no,” Jen said when she put together the paperwork. “The risks are clearly outlined in section fifteen. All we can do is make sure he reads it.”

Reyes is definitely reading it. Amadeus has been sitting on his hands for an hour while Ivanov, Jen and one of the tech reps go over the thick stack of liability documents. He’s not allowed in the room as to avoid influencing the final decision – like out of everyone, it’s him who can convince Reyes of anything.

Mostly, he can chalk up his anxiety to excitement – finally, things are moving along. Finally, he’ll get to test his long-standing theory about Hell Charger and prove that Banner was right all along. Finally, they can start working on Tony’s abandoned personal armour project instead of drowning billions upon billions of dollars in unsustainable, power-intensive, unwieldy jaegers that are as likely to cause destruction as to prevent it.

Section sixteen outlines provisions for dependants in case of the test subject’s demise. Until this morning, Amadeus didn’t think much of it. Now it’s inextricably linked to the face of a little kid in a wheelchair who laughed at the model demon liver he keeps in his office. He’s maybe starting to see why Tony hasn’t been as thrilled as he’d expected him to be.

“This better goes exactly as you think it will,” Tony said. Amadeus can’t get his expression out of his mind; like this was his worst nightmare coming to a head, rather than the long-awaited breakthrough they’ve been working towards.

The countdown display ticks down from forty four to forty three hours. Even if everything goes exactly right, even if Reyes’s ghost drift with the jaeger is everything Amadeus hopes it to be, it’s still a crapshoot whether they’ll be able to use it in a fight. Simulators are one thing; they don’t have the firepower to keep someone on rookie-watch on his first run. Coyote Tango already agreed to take point, with Eden Assassin and Romeo Blue on support. Other Shatterdomes have been steadily reporting their own preparations – there’s no reason to assume anything will go wrong, but there was no indication the demon would target L.A. rather than Lima, either. Each base isn’t so keen on sending their jaegers to a single location when it’s no longer a given they can reliably predict the target. Best to wait and hope.

“Relax, kid,” Tony hands him a can of soda. “It’s out of your hands now.”

Amadeus inspects the can. It’s orange, because Tony Stark is a deeply deranged individual. He drinks it anyway – he desperately needs the sugar after the night of checking and re-checking everything.

“I could still call it in.”

“Ha.” There is no humour in Tony’s voice. “Director-general signed off on the motion. It’s too late to call anything but go.”

“He could say no.”

The cameras in the meeting room are angled just awkwardly enough to show the way Reyes digs his nails into the skin around his wristband. He’s got a good poker face, but it’s painfully obvious how nervous he is. He seemed genuinely surprised when Amadeus told him they’re ready to trial him on The Charger. He couldn’t not have seen it coming... Right?

Brooks, up until that point silent and still as a statue in the corner of the obs room, makes a ‘meh’ gesture. “He acts all reluctant, but he’s been putting the time in. Besides, if he says no and the base falls, he’s as dead as the rest of us.”

It’s exactly the kind of logic Amadeus has been employing all along. It doesn’t carry the same convincing power, coming from someone else. On the camera feed, the rep reacts with displeasure at something Ivanov has said, but Reyes starts nodding and reaching for a pen.

It’s happening. Amadeus holds his breath as Reyes flips the pages of the liability agreement and signs in the indicates fields.

Tony makes a strangled noise. “I’ll get the techs to start prepping the Conn-Pod. Amadeus?”

He can’t look away from the screen. “Yeah?”

“For your sake, I hope this is worth it.”

[quicktimeeventfull]

Animal Games: A Lawlight Gone Girl AU (Part One) 1.8k words Read here or on AO3 L has moved his lovely, vile, and entirely batshit husband out of their beautiful Brooklyn brownstone into a Missouri suburb, then left him to his own devices. He is under the impression that this is going to end well. Thank you so much to @lightyaoigami for doing so much research and providing so much fascinating insight into New York and also America more broadly. Also thank you for being so encouraging about this!!

There was something deeply wrong with my husband.

I wasn’t sure precisely what it was. Or, rather, I knew exactly what it was, but it was difficult to explain to anyone else why it was a problem.

The issue was this: Light had become nice.

I know this sounds cruel. I know it sounds uncharitable. But Light is not a nice person. I didn’t marry him because I wanted someone nice — I married him because he was brilliant, scintillating, and occasionally vile. I liked the sealed locket quality of him. To the rest of the world, he was a pleasant and pretty thing, always smiling, always kind, practically kissing babies as he walked down the street.

But I knew what was inside. Something rotting. Something sharp and violent, something foul and real. I loved that. I could open him up any time and look.

He was like any animal, I suppose. Pleasant on the outside, bone and guts within. Meat you wouldn’t want to sink your hands into.

But I did. I was the only one allowed.

Figuratively. Of course. Let me be clear.

---

But anyway, returning to the point. I’d dragged him out of our lovely Brooklyn home for — and, oh, he hated this — a job I’d gotten in Missouri. This was the only logical course of action. He wrote quizzes, you see. It was a job you could do anywhere. This had all been cleared by his editors.

He didn’t even like the job. He complained about it all the time. He said it was beneath him, and he was right. I thought, stupidly, selfishly, that this might even be a good opportunity for him. He’d get away from our little shoebox apartment where he spent all day tucked up against the window, simmering as he scribbled down his little quizzes about what sorts of fruit best suited your personality and how your sex life was going. (Just fine, thanks.) I thought he might reconsider, and find something more suited to his person.

Mine was as a journalist. It was a proper job. Again, not polite to say, but true. It would pay the bills, and his would not. The circumstances left us with no other options. I thought he understood this.

Stupid. Absolutely idiotic. To treat him like a houseplant which could simply be picked up and moved to an equivalently sunny window, irrespective of the view; to believe him when he said it was just fine of course, don’t worry about me. The day we arrived at our brand-new home, I’d gestured him inside, moronically happy with this two-story building with its attached garage and its little dirt plot meant for flowers, unfilled.

I’d grown up in a series of foster homes, shifted around according to the unknowable whims of the state adoption system, and a clever little New York apartment simply didn’t have any appeal for me. I’d wanted something rooted. Ugly, if it needed to be; gauche was fine. Gauche was better, in fact. I just wanted it to be stuck very firmly in the ground, immobile, permanent. This was, I knew, contradictory to the person he liked me to be, but so it had to be — I couldn’t spend all my time darting around, catering to the concept of me he’d built up in my head. That clever and ethereal figure, a series of intricate moving parts instead of someone fundamentally boring and prone to both fits of childish, sulking collapse and long periods of mind-numbing depression. Where I’d failed was I thought he felt the same way. I thought he was also exhausted by all the movement and all the performance.

I’d looked over at him, very pleased with myself for fetching us this lovely place, and I’d seen his lip curled, his face twisted with what was unmistakably revulsion.

“You saw the pictures,” I’d said, irritated. “We looked at them together.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice sharp and high. It was the voice he used with strangers he particularly hated, sweet and bubble-gum bright. They never saw through it. He’d never used it with me. “Did we? Was that together? When I was peeking over your shoulder while you flicked through pictures on your tiny laptop?”

“Yes.” I was getting mad, now. It really had been. He was making it sound like he was just waltzing around in the back of the room while I looked at whatever I wanted to look at. In reality, he’d sat down right next to me with his head on my shoulder and his arm curled around my waist. He’d sat in my lap, at one point. He’d said all of his opinions. I thought we were having a nice time. And yes, this was more of a compromise for him than it was for me, but he’d still picked.

He was ruining the moment, I thought. This was what I’d always wanted, all of my life, and he was ruining it.

“Well, that’s just fine, then,” he said. “If I saw the pictures.” Then he walked away from me, his step quick, right into our brand new home. Without me. He didn’t look back. ---

So there is was. I had broken something — something in him, and something between us. I knew this, but I hadn’t yet grasped the extent of it.

I thought that whatever it was would be manageable. No, it was worse than that — I’d thought that I wouldn’t have to manage it. We could unpack the van and wash the dishes together and everything would be just as it was. Maybe we wouldn’t have to mention it at all. He would come to understand that this was what we were meant for. Our house in Missouri. Our flower plot. Children, someday, maybe, if the circumstances were right.

Our New York life had been nothing but a series of ephemeral things. The brownstone back in Cobble Hill, which we could afford only through the grace of my grandfather’s generosity; the friends we’d make then inevitably lose when they moved to less expensive cities; our paychecks spilt into the fleeting treasures you cherish when the future costs too much to buy, coffees with macadamia milk and shirts bought outside of the clearance rack; and his hand, pulling me half-drunk and half-starved and laughing from the pretty little wine bars he was so fond of, pulling me into the streetlights, the snow drifting around us, lit golden, melting on his eyelashes, which were now golden too, a Midas touch of a boy, his lips scarcely a breath from mine and hovering in the space between a desire and a kiss; those lips twisting upwards, carrying a smile cruel and adoring in turns, the barest hint of teeth behind them, my lovely violent animal — all those things were childish playthings to be cast away.

This was it. This was what we’d been working towards. I thought we were on the same page. The circumstances of our lives, I believed, were secondary to the union of us.

I had assumed that I was enough. ---

The night before our anniversary, which is to say the night before my he went missing, my husband slipped into our bed.

For months now he’d been sleeping on the far edge of our mattress, our covers shared but his pillows pulled so far away from mine that it would have been strange for me to draw close. This was the bargain that had been made for me — my cruel little husband had become kind, but he did not touch me. He spoke to me, but only barely. There was sweetness in it, but no warmth.

But tonight he curled beside me, the heat of his body so familiar and so long absent. He pulled my arms apart and crawled inside.

My husband smiled up at me. Gentle, harmless. He smelt like mint toothpaste and the fig soap I’d purchased for him at a fancy little boutique on my way home from work. It hadn’t been a New York fancy boutique, but it had been nice enough. There had been knitting and posters on the wall advertising hot yoga. He’d told me he’d liked it, his voice like sugar, but it had disappeared from the bathroom after that. I’d assumed he’d thrown it out, but apparently he’d stashed it somewhere in the house. This did not seem significant to me.

I reached to touch his hair, then pulled away. It had been so long since he’d let me. It felt like a dream. I was afraid of disturbing it by moving too quick towards what I wanted.

He took my hand. “Don’t be silly,” he said. Strange words, from this new and sweeter version of himself, but there was enough of that old grit in it that my breath caught. He cupped my hand around his jaw, the way he’d once liked me to touch him, then arched upwards and kissed me.

It was not chaste, but it was quick. I’d hardly slipped my hands around his waist before he pulled away. I thought he might leave altogether, but instead he pressed his body closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’ve been strange. Look. I understand, now, why we had to leave. I miss our old life, but this isn’t so awful.” He put his hand on mine, very lightly. The two of us lay there with our fingers hovering above the bone of his hip. I was having quite a bit of trouble keeping my breath even. “You know what’s important? It’s you. It’s that I have you.”

“Oh —“ I had wanted to hear that for a long time. A beat too late, I remembered what I was supposed to say in return. “And I have you. Of course.”

His eyes scanned across my face. He was looking for something, I thought, but I wasn’t sure what. After a moment he smiled again and kissed me one more time. “Things will be different now,” he said. “You’ll want to watch what happens next.”

It was a strange way to phrase what I assumed to be a promise of better things to come, but I wanted it so badly that I pretended it wasn’t. It was unlike me to push the truth of things aside, but I did it anyway; Light had always made me stupid in the moments I most needed to be otherwise.

He burrowed into my chest, and so I supposed the conversation was over. It was so nice to hold him. I kissed the top of his head and he laid his cheek against my collarbone. I cradled him like that until his breathing slowed and shallowed with sleep and then, idiotic with the thought of him, I simply looked, feeling the heat of his body against mine, allowing it to soothe the creeping horror I could not name, the way livestock curls against the farmer’s hand. [Continue to part two]

[snowdice]

Folds in Paper: Book 2 (Chapter 3: Peel It Up and See What's Underneath) [Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sander Sides

Relationships: Janus/Patton, Remus & Roman, Logan/Virgil, Roman & Patton & Logan

Characters: Janus, Patton, Emile, Remus, Roman, Logan, Virgil, Remy

Summary: Janus is trying. After spending months trapped in time with his enemy turned... something else, Janus is trying to find meaning in a world where he or anyone else could rewrite history with one simple mistake.

During his leave from the Time Preservation Initiative, the time distortions that have been causing disastrous ripples in time have not gone anywhere. His partner's past is more mysterious than ever and old and new alliances are shifting. Can Janus figure out what is going wrong with time before that time is up?

The problem with time travel… you never how long you have before the clock strikes 12.

Chapter Summary:

Things are harder, better, but harder.

Notes: Time travel AU, mystery, enemies to lovers, alcohol, sexual innuendo, character with depression, character with ptsd

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted).

Previous Book(s)

Book 2: Part 1 Part 2

They sat down in the living room. Janus let Emile have the entire couch and sat on one of the matching armchairs himself. There was a squeaky sound when he sat. The plastic covering the chair had been delivered in was still on it.

Emile had a pleasant, open but curious expression on his face and Janus suddenly had an idea what it felt like to be his patient.

“I,” Janus began after a moment, shifting uncomfortably on the squeaky chair. “I don’t know how to start this conversation. I talked about what I wanted to say and possible ways to say it with Dr. Figueroa, but I… I still don’t know. I guess I should start by saying that I did something horrible that I need to apologize for, and I’m not sure if apologizing will even be enough. The problem is you don’t even know what that horrible thing is.” Janus stared at his feet. “So, first, I should probably explain what I did. I just don’t know where to start.”

“Maybe start with what happened before it,” Emile suggested. “Just lead up to it. It might help explain why whatever it was happened too.”

Janus took a breath. “Okay,” he said. “That day was just like most. We both woke up early. I was going to the TPI and you were going to where you worked your residency. We ate leftover pizza for breakfast because both of us were exhausted. You because it sucks to be a resident and me because I’d been working on a big case. I was getting…frustrated with the case. That was my first mistake: being impatient and angry. It was just a thief, but a slippery one. She’d stolen a half-broken time piece and was using it to rob banks within about a 50-year time frame. I had an idea of where she might go, but no one would listen to me. Or at least,” Janus quirked a half smile, “that’s how I interpreted it. They said they’d look into my idea, but they were being extra cautious because of how close in the timestream her actions were to most of the agents’ lives. I was so tired of the case and so egotistical. I decided to check it out on my own without being cleared by the TPI. I went back in time without thinking of the consequences.”

Janus took a breath. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he continued. “I’m not sure how, but somewhere in the course of my self-appointed mission…” He trailed off. He didn’t know how to say it. He really didn’t

“What happened?” Emile asked when he didn’t continue.

“I…” and his next words probably sounded like crackly nonsense to Emile’s ears because he couldn’t get his thoughts straight. His tongue tangled around the shape of the words. “I don’t even remember living in that town or the fact that Mom used to work at that bank,” he choked out. “I didn’t think, and I didn’t check and…” There was a long silence. “I erased you,” he finally managed to say in a whisper, but in the quiet of his barely lived in house, the words were loud.

There was more silence. “But I…” Emile said after a moment.

“I went back and fixed it,” Janus said, “but I… didn’t do a perfect job. I don’t even know how much I messed things up. It would have been one thing if it’d just been me. If it had just impacted my life, but I did it to you and I don’t even know how to start to apologize.”

Nothing was said for a long moment. Janus didn’t look at him.

“…Huh,” Emile finally said.

Janus risked a glance at him. He didn’t look irate, but he did still look confused which was probably the reason for that.

“I’m sorry,” Janus said. It was really the only thing he could say at this point.

Emile tilted his head to the side. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his shirt with slow circles. Since he was 15, Emile only cleaned his glasses with specially designed wipes, but he’d held onto the habit of cleaning his glasses with his shirt anytime he needed a moment to think. Janus wasn’t sure if Emile even realized he was doing it, but he knew it was a signal for Janus to be quiet for a few seconds.

The glasses were perched back on Emile’s nose after a few seconds. “I think I remember that,” he said contemplatively.

“…What?” Janus asked, and he was no longer avoiding looking at Emile. He was now blatantly staring at him.

“Well, I didn’t know what it was,” Emile said, “but I did have a very odd dream on the day you mentioned and suspiciously I had said dream in the middle of the day and woke standing up.”

“A dream?” Janus asked.

“A very vivid dream,” Emile said. “I don’t believe you actually erased me completely from existence. My life was simply shifted slightly. I was someone else working as a social worker someplace else for about 5 hours and then I was suddenly back in my appropriate place.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Janus asked, but then immediately winced at his own hypocrisy. “Er… never mind.”

“I didn’t know it was possibly real,” Emile said. “Honestly, I thought I was just really tired. I’d been overworking myself a lot. I took the rest of the day off after that.”

“You shifted reality for a few hours, and you didn’t realize it?” Janus asked.

“Like I said, I was really tired and nothing seemed to be wrong…”

“Wait, but things were different,” Janus said. “Didn’t you notice things were different.”

“Not… really,” Emile said. “Like what?”

“Like…” Janus said. “Like a whole bunch of things!”

“Like…?”

“Like you had a different job title and you worked different hours.”

“I thought I’d fallen asleep standing up or had a vivid audio-visual hallucination at work from stress. I asked for a switch a couple of weeks later.”

“You used to hate time travel, but then you took a job at the TPI.”

Emile gave him a droll look. “I still hate time travel,” he said. “I literally just said that not 5 minutes ago.”

“Well then why would you work for the TPI?”

“Because time travel is so confusing and distressing that people doing it on a regular basis as a career need psychological support. Plus, Lia asked for my consultation when developing the mental health part of the Agent Management Office,” Emile continued. “Considering I already knew quite a bit about time travel from being around you, she knew me personally, and I’d finished my residency, she decided to give me a job offer when my advice panned out.”

“W-well,” Janus said. “You were allergic to pineapples.”

“You mean my childhood allergy?” Emile asked. “That has since resolved itself in my adult life?”

“It has?” Janus asked.

“Janus have you considered,” Emile asked, “that some if not all of the inconsistencies you were seeing in my life had to do with the fact that you hadn’t spoken to me in 3 years?”

“I… uh… hadn’t considered that,” Janus admitted honestly.

“You were unconsciously looking for information to support your incorrect world view,” Emile said sounding very much like a head doctor and not like a brother, “and you found some.” He sighed. “It makes sense that after having faced a traumatic event where you essentially thought you’d killed a loved one that you weren’t thinking clearly.” The head doctor analysis voice slipped just a bit. “I just wish you’d talked about it with someone.”

“Sorry,” Janus said, because no matter which way this conversation had gone and no matter the revelations, the point was an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Emile sighed. “I would have forgiven you even if you had erased me,” Emile said. “You didn’t mean to, and you did your best to fix it. You did fix it even if you were an idiot about it.”

“What about for being an idiot and not talking to you for three years?” Janus asked.

“I already did forgive you for that Janus,” Emile said pointedly. “What did you think the last 6 months were?”

“Pity?”

Emile gave him his disappointed and exasperated headshake. “Promise to never do anything like that to me again,” he said, “and I’ll forgive you.”

“I promise,” Janus said immediately.

“And in the future, you’ll talk to me if you have any issue even if you think it’s horrible.”

“I think I’ve learned by lesson on that one.”

“And that goes for other people too,” Emile said. “If anything goes wrong with someone, you talk to them or if that’s too hard you talk to someone so they can convince you to talk to that person.”

Janus nodded.

“Great!” Emile said. “Then you’re officially forgiven for everything. Though I expect you to go to therapy and keep working on making yourself feel better, so these things don’t happen again.”

And Janus… didn’t know how to feel about that. He should probably feel happy and thankful or at least relieved, but if he was being honest, he just felt kind of empty in that moment like an old well that had finally run dry.

Fuck his head doctor and fuck Patton. Wasn’t this supposed to make him feel better? Everything was fine. He hadn’t actually erased Emile permanently from the timeline, in fact, he’d apparently still existed in some form in the alternate timeline Janus had temporarily made. Emile had forgiven him both for erasing him and ignoring him even though that was far more than Janus deserved. This was something he’d never even dared dream would happen, but it had been exactly what he’d wanted.

Yet, he still didn’t feel good, not really, not like how he remembered feeling before all of this happened.

Though was that really a surprise? Things were not like how they were before. He and Emile were no longer close. There was love and affection there, but they didn’t really know each other. The last six months had been nice. He’d been able to pretend for a bit that everything was back to normal, but in the moments he hadn’t been able to pretend that, it’d been a bit stilted and awkward speaking to his brother.

Beyond that, Janus was just used to misery at this point. It was his default state. Not being miserable took effort and energy he didn’t always have. He felt himself slipping into sadness or numbness even during times he should be feeling good. He’d noticed himself experiencing a sense of desolation when Emile cooked his favorite meal or in the middle of watching a ballet performance Emile had suggested they go to and which he’d been looking forward to in the days before. Even now when he should be so happy, so ecstatic, the emotions did not come. Everything should be okay, but it wasn’t.

“You doing alright over there?” Emile asked, and Janus didn’t know how long he’d been silent.

Instinct said to say yes and force himself to move on, but he wasn’t going to break his promise that fast. “Not really, no,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” Emile said. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Why don’t we go taste the soup your arch nemesis,” there was a light teasing tone to his voice, “made for you. Some of the vegetables won’t be completely cooked yet, but I’m sure it’s already good.”

“Yeah,” Janus agreed. “Yeah, okay,” he got to his feet, the chair making that plastic squeaking sound again. “Maybe we could unwrap the furniture in here before you go home.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Emile said with a smile.

[beigetiger]

Actually talking about the AU (wow, I know) by rambling about how Anton Shudder ended up on a team with the necroking and a godlike Valkyrie, because he really isn’t on their level of gleefully deranged. I am so biased towards him it’s not even funny.

Anton came back when the rib-bone wand exploded and sent out a burst of magic power, hitting various people differently. Anton, given as to how he’d been dead for so long, was extremely disoriented and saw a lot of chaos going on around him. He instinctively latched on to Valkyrie because he trusted her to not lead him into any stupid situations and she actually still seemed normal at this point.

Valkyrie was really happy to have Anton back and tried loosely explaining the situation to him as they went along fighting people (specifically Winter’s terrorist group). After the fight was over, Valkyrie argued with Ghastly over what should happen to Skulduggery (the compromise being that Skulduggery can be in Ireland for the time being but cannot go in or near Roarhaven) and the three of them decided that staying around Valkyrie’s house for the time being would probably be a good idea, and so they do that so Skulduggery has somewhere to hide and Anton can catch up with what happened since his death.

Now at this point, Valkyrie seemed normal to everyone, including to herself (think of when she turned into a Faceless One god). It took a few days for her to realize anything was wrong with her, and then she had to figure out how to trigger her transformation and what to do afterwards. She and Skulduggery (who’s now using parts of the shadow armour) also started acting more and more violent and unhinged over the next few days, but neither of them really noticed it.

Anton noticed it though, and he had conflicting feelings about it. Because on one hand, he disapproved of the meaningless violence. But on another hand, he loved them both a lot (he and Valkyrie eventually view each other as siblings) and he was also going through an interesting transformation at the time: losing his ability to summon his gist and instead basically being able to turn into a shadowy demon creature for short bursts at a time.

And then the Faceless Ones got out thanks to Malice. And while they were weaker than before, it meant that the mortals now knew about magic and things started going downhill fast. And Valkyrie jumped to the opportunity and went out to go pick fights with the Faceless Ones, while Skulduggery grabbed the other necromancers in order to do the same thing. And since Anton had nowhere else to go, he just…kept on following Valkyrie. Throughout everything. When other people started following her, when they settled down in Dublin, when he killed Mia, the list goes on.

And now it’s been years, and he can’t imagine anywhere he would ever be able to go away from Valkyrie. He’s unhappy, yes, but he doesn’t hate her. Really, he’s learned to shut out a lot of his emotions so that they don’t keep on bothering him. We’ll see how long it takes for him to finally lose it, I suppose.

[wrongcaitlyn]

I know in your hunger games au, Will and Nico don’t directly parallel to Katniss and Peeta’s characters, but like I rlly feel like they could yk?

Like Katniss didn’t want to be anywhere near the spotlight, but she was thrust towards it. An independent person know for their dry humor and sarcasm, who’s particularly agile and swift, who grew up very quickly from their bright happy childness after the death of a family member, who has to learn how to provide for themselves. People who after going through something feel like they can’t find a home in either places that they know, only in a people that they go through unspeakable odds with.

Then Peeta and Will, the guys who thrive under pressures and expectations from the world. The people with unending patience and optimism. The people who’s trauma they think is lesser than everyone else’s, the one who want to protect all the people they love, the ones filled with anxiety after every move, and the ones who are bright, who smile and love, who are stubborn, and are strong (mentally and physically)

And their love. It’s not all-defying like Percabeth. They go through shit, Katniss and Nico doesn’t wanna do anything abt it, Peeta and Will are trying to do everything to fix it. It’s not perfect. They argue, but they also know everything about each other. They’re young and have lot to learn about living and life, about learning to have peace with what they’ve been handed, about surviving, but everyone knows they’ll be fine.

Anyways, I know there was probably a point in making them the way they were written. I just thought the parallels between them were cool😁

OMG A HUNGER GAMES AU ASKSDJFL

that was my first solangelo fic and the first multichap i had written in a while and i'm still super attached to it so it makes me so happy when seeing smth about it!!!! it's one of my fav fics i've ever writtensfjd

and i think you're definitely right!! when i first started toying with the idea of making a hunger games au, it was because of the similarities between katniss/peeta and solangelo - will is 100% a peeta variant. this was honestly so beautifully written, i don't even know what else to add😭

the true reason i made nico and will parallel... a different couple (*cough* finnick and annie) was a) the "one boy and one girl" thing, and yes i could've solved this by just switching up the universe or making them come from different districts, but then i thought b) angst.

yeah, this fic was written for the angst. i can't really explain it, because it doesn't have this huge great meaning and symbolism like suzanne's hunger games, and that's largely because i made solangelo the side characters. i made hazel and frank peeta and katniss, and solangelo *had* their own story, but they weren't the main characters in this! (well, they were, but like, in the grand scheme of things). and yet they still face trauma and agony, and their lives end in tragedy, like so many other characters do - and yet they still have a great love story despite all that.

idk tbh i wasn't looking for anything all that special, i just wanted to write an mcd angsty fic. and i also thought the parallels between finnick and nico could be really cool - i know most people connect him to percy because of the whole trident and water thing, but they were both just so young. i still made them very different, because i always think that in au's it's worth it to change a lot and keep the character rather than to warp the character to fit the universe, and i actually ended up really happy with how it ended. i know that there are a lot of other hunger games au's out there, and so i didn't just want to go the katniss and peeta route!

i did something different because it was angsty, and that was just what i wanted when i was writing it - i think i was a bit fed up with a lot of authors just being... scared to kill off characters. like, i know that suzanne says she regrets killing off finnick, but that was just such a bold choice, and i have to applaud her for it. and so i put my favorite characters in that situation!

so yeah, i do love the parallels between solangelo and everlark/peeniss (sorry i just couldn't help it) but!! this fic was written to be angsty, and i think it fulfilled its purposeksljdf

thank you so much for the ask!!

[gunilslaugh]

Best Of The Worst Pt.2

Han Hyeongjun Summary: You spilled the queen's secret. Now what will Hyeongjun do with that information? (non-idol au) WC:~1k Warning:none

part 1 part 3 epilogue!

photo not mine credits to owner.

“Good enough?” You checked. Hyeongjun runs his tongue across the inside of his cheek.

“How did you get this information?” he asked. 

“Very unfortunate timing,” you answered. Hyeongjun looks at the dejected look on your face and chuckles. 

“Keep talking,” he tells you.

“I was doing my daily chores. I was heading out to take in the laundry, but instead I walked right into the blacksmith talking to the queen about how he has the right to see his son,” you explained. 

“You call that unfortunate timing? Knowing that secret gives you so much power,” he says. 

“No, it got me locked in a wooden crate and thrown off a waterfall. The queen ordered to have me killed!” you ranted angrily. 

“Oh honey, you should have threatened her with the secret before she could even think about disposing you,” he mocked you. 

“Sorry I’m not an evil person like you, so I don’t know much about doing stuff like that,” you sassed him back. 

“Should I teach you then?” he offered. Your brows knitted together in confusion. 

“Teach me?” you questioned. 

“Yes, teach you. You must want some type of revenge right? She did try to kill you,” he notes. 

“As upset as I am about that. I really just want to live my life peacefully. I’m free from the castle, so I should take the chance to start a new life,” you state.

“You’re so boring!” Hyeongjun leaned back dramatically. “The queen tried to take your life! Scare her a bit!” He said manically. You could literally see the crazy in his eyes. 

“You can scare her if you want. I should get going now,” you say. 

“Go where exactly? You lived in the castle as a maid didn’t you? You have nowhere to go.”

“Why do you care? I’ll figure it out,” you tell him. You started to walk in your way. 

“Let’s go see the blacksmith.” Hyeongjun swung his arm around your shoulder . To which you smack his hand. 

“Let go of me.” You walk out of his grasp. “Why would I go with you anyway?” You continued to walk. Once more Hyeongjun came up to you, but this time he linked his arm with yours instead of putting it around your shoulders. 

“You don’t have anywhere else to go anyway. Come with me.” He pulled you along by your linked arm. 

“We had a deal,” you reminded, pausing your footsteps. 

“Yes we did and you said if I didn’t think the secret was good enough I could kill you or whatever I fancy,” he pointed. 

“So? You were clearly interested in it. That means I can go on my way.” You tried to pull your arm from his, but he held it in place. 

“I never said it was good enough.” He tauntingly turned his head to the side. “But I don’t feel like killing you, which leaves whatever I fancy,” he smirked. 

“And you fancy me seeing the blacksmith with you?” you say. 

“Quick catch.” He winked at you. “Now come on.” He pulled you along again. 

The journey to the blacksmith was weird to say the least. It was mostly quiet, with little words exchanged between the two of you. However it was still very unnerving. You felt as if at any second Hyeongjun could turn around and kill you. Not to mention the fact that his arm never left yours. The whole way your arms were linked at the elbows. Everytime you tried to slip yours out of the hold, Hyeongjun would hold your arm tighter. 

When you arrived at the village Hyeongjun finally let your arm be free of his grasp. Only to then be covered in his long coat. 

“What are you doing?” you questioned. 

“You’re dressed like a maid. You stick out too much,” he justified. You would never admit it, but he did have a point. You being spotted when you're supposed to be dead certainly wouldn’t be a good thing. 

“Let’s just hurry and find the blacksmith,” you grumbled, pulling Hyeongjun’s jacket closed to hide your apparel. You can’t help but smell the waft of Hyeongjun’s scent from his jacket. It was woody with a bit of ash and something you're not quite sure of.

Soon enough you arrived at the blacksmith’s shop. Once you entered the shop Hyeongjun pulled the big double doors closed behind the two of you with a loud bang. 

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing!” The blacksmith yelled.

“Do you want to see your son or not?” Hyeongjun got straight to the point. The backsmith looked at Hyeongjun perplexedly before his eyes fell onto you. 

“You’re the maid from this morning right?” he asked you. 

“Yes.” You let go of the fabric of Hyeongjun’s jacket, revealing your maid outfit. 

“What are you doing here?” he questioned. 

“The queen tried to kill them for knowing about the prince’s real bloodline, so I’m gonna show them how to get revenge,” Hyeongjun answered. 

“I never agreed to-”

“Whatever I fancy.” Hyeongjun cut you off. 

“Wait. You can’t keep-” 

“I’ll just kill you then,” he cut you off again. 

“But our deal is over-”

“It’s over when I say it’s over. You should have made the conditions on ‘whatever you fancy’ more clear.” Hyeongjun smirks at you. You sigh. For a second you momentarily forgot that Hyeongjun wasn’t a good guy either. You should have expected that he would find a way to screw you too. Although you guess it’s better than someone actively trying to kill you, but it still sucked. 

“Oh come on honey, don’t glare at me like that,” he said with a pout.

“Hate to step in on your little moment, but you asked me if I wanted to see my son,” the blacksmith interrupted. 

“Ah yes that. Well the whole village will know that he’s not the king’s blood soon, so he’ll probably want to know who his real dad is,” Hyeongjun discloses. 

“Hyeongjun no. The queen will really have me dead if word gets out,” you refused.

“She already thinks you’re dead. All you have to do is watch her go insane over the news and enjoy it.” You can see the crazy light up in his eyes.

part 1 part 3 epilogue!

Taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

🌤☔️?

Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP

“Wilbur, it is four fifty-eight! I checked the wall clock!” Ghostbur stops for a moment. “Wall clock. That sounds a little bit dramatic. How do-“

“Ghostbur, you need to hide.”

Ghostbur’s eyes widen (thank goodness, he’s finally looked away from the bloody mirror). “You called me Ghostbur!”

“What?”

“You haven’t called me Ghostbur since we met! Even though I’ve called you Wilbur a lot!”

Wilbur stares, dumbstruck, for a few seconds. Then he shakes his head. “Okay, I don’t care! You need to hide!”

“Hide? But I just got here.”

“Listen: Technoblade is coming.”

“Technoblade?”

“Yes, Technoblade. My flatmate.”

“You have flatmates?!” Ghostbur squeaks, holding his hands to his chest and shaking them excitedly. “I didn’t know you had flatmates!”

“Just one, and he doesn’t know about you. So come on, just hide!”

“So we’re surprising him?” 

“Hide!” Wilbur explodes, racing forwards and pushing Ghostbur away from the mirror himself, paying no attention to Ghostbur’s surprised yelp. 

Where to go, where to go, where to put him, where to go, where to-

“Bedroom,” Wilbur announces, steering Ghostbur in that direction. “To the bedroom.”

“The bedroom,” Ghostbur repeats, sounding awestruck. 

Wilbur stops abruptly, grip tightening on Ghostbur’s shoulders in order to stop him as well. Ghostbur doesn’t complain. “No. Crap, we can’t go in there. Techno’s gonna go in there. We can’t… crap.”

“Why would Techno be going into your bedroom, Wilbur?” Ghostbur asks, turning his head around to make eye contact. 

“Because we share.”

“Ohhh.” 

“Crap crap crap crap crap, turn around.” Wilbur, still gripping Ghostbur’s shoulders, spins around, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. “Kitchen. We’re going to the kitchen.”

“The kitchen,” Ghostbur repeats, sounding just as amazed as before. 

“You can get behind the island and stay there untilllll nope, not doing that.” 

“Why aren’t we doing that, Wilbur?” Ghostbur questions, voice hitching just a little bit when Wilbur tugs him to a halt. 

“Because Techno’s gonna go into the kitchen.”

“Why will Techno go into the kitchen?”

“Because he’ll want a glass of water.”

“Ohhh.”

Wilbur stands still, face tightening. “Crap. Umm…” 

Is there anywhere else Ghostbur can go? Wilbur doesn't really think so, because he’s scanning as much of the flat as he can and he can’t see a single good place to-

Wilbur’s eyes widen. “I got it.”

“A place to hide?” Ghostbur prods, sounding freaking excited. 

“This way.” 

Ghostbur lets out a surprised sound as he’s pulled away from the kitchen and down the short hallway, pushed mercilessly along by Wilbur. “Where are we going?”

“Bathroom,” Wilbur replies shortly.

“Oh!” A pause. “Why the bathroom?”

“Because it has a door.” Wilbur walks just a little faster, not bothering to slow down when Ghostbur trips over his own feet. “And you can lock it.”

“Oh!”

~~~

Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

I don’t know, most of my fic ideas I’ve written :0 At least partially.

That being said, I did come up with one AU during church that I like but haven’t really written yet XD

The premise is…

Modern AU (I have too many of these it is a Problem)

Sally and Wilbur are young—like twenty—and newly married

Sally is also pregnant aksvsksgjs

They have sucky families so as soon as they married they took off in a van and never looked back

They’re basically just traversing the country, no end goal in mind. They are wanderers *nods nods*

At some point they come across three little kids who ran away from home/a foster home/etc etc I’m still figuring things out

They’re all Teeny, like seven or something

Smol bench trio :)

So now Sally and Wilbur have to figure out what to do with these random kids

Sally is all “oh my gosh babies I am their mother now I have adopted them oh my gosh Wilbur we’re parents”

And Wilbur is all “kids ew”

Something something Wilbur starts to grow attached to the little guys something something found family something something

That’s kinda it lol!