#i drag her out from the grave to reminisce

[takami-takami]

Like Idiots.

includes— hawks x reader. fluff. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. pining like idiots. keigo is a pain in the ass. the reader is worse. i had fun with this. <3

There is zero need for Keigo to make a confession when it comes to his crush. It would be entirely redundant to confess. 

Your sigh at the thought is palpable. It really is quite a shame.

Part of you yearns for that passionate drama of an ending, where in some novela-inspired twist of fate, your adoring knight is forced to spill his love at your feet. In your daydreams— the ones dreadfully reminiscent of some lovelorn teenager's— a faceless villain from fuck-all-nowhere nearly ends the life of his beloved hero partner.

And the words spill from his throat like his lovesick sobs, clutching you close to his chest while you do your best to pretend you're not biting back a smile at the attention. 

"I love you! I've always loved you," he'd cry. 

Or something like that. 

And you'd kiss, and sparks would fly, or whatever. 

End scene. 

You're not getting that confession, though. 

It figures your love life would turn out to be a comedy. Par for the course of your life, you suppose. 

Instead of a scrawled letter sealed with wax or a poem whispered under the imposing moonlight, your confession is written all over Keigo's face— well, not all over, exactly. Every centimeter of his face conceals his emotions meticulously, flawlessly.

Every portion of his face is perfectly practiced and impeccably controlled; except for two measly little points. 

You prod at your food again with your fork in hand, all frowns as you sit across from your work partner in a booth at the diner he likes to drag you to on your lunch breaks. 

And you stare uncomfortably into the most cartoonishly blown pupils you've ever seen.

"Um. Hawks?" 

"Yeah? What's up, chickadee," he asks sincerely before chomping down messily on a battered chicken drum, moaning and letting his eyes fall shut as he does with every meal— typically an obstacle for your focus, this accidentally whorish display is actually a welcome reprieve from your racing thoughts.

When his eyes flutter open once more, you're faced once again with black saucers and the sound of reckless chewing. His pupils are still dilated like a cat tripping balls on the dealer's finest catnip.

"Hawks, I really think I should tell you that—"

Your intervention is rudely interrupted by a waitress in a 50's style apron and folded paper hat combo, likely rushing over notepad in hand to get first dibs on serving a celebrity. 

You would prefer to be unfair. It'd be easier to displace your frustration for your lot in life onto this poor woman, to tell her that her hat looks stupid and pink isn't her color, that she should really just stop trying. 

You decide to be an adult. 

Keigo, on the other hand, does not. Like a child given free reign to order for himself at a restaurant for the first time, he explains that she should really heap on the sugar for his coffee.

"No, no, no. More than that. Like syrup. I want it to taste like it's gonna put me in an early grave and— wait, where are you going?"

The debacle brings to attention another phenomenon that you've grown accustomed to seeing:

The second his gaze meets her's, Keigo's pupils shrink to points once more, constricting to tight dots before bouncing back to their natural size. And predictably, once again, they expand like blown glass when you catch his attention.

"Hawks!"

"Yeah, what?"

His chewing ceases obnoxiously, chicken drum in his right hand and half-chewed remains in his left cheek.

You might as well rip it off like a bandaid. You let out a puff of air.

"Your eyes," you attempt to gently point out. 

"Mm?" Keigo's head tilts to the side, pondering your observation for a moment.

"My eyes? Ohh," he drags his words as if in realization, treating himself to another chomp into the drumstick. "You gettin' lost in them, huh? Happens, dove. You can stare, I don't mind."

"No!" You squeak out your denial before smoothing down your shirt and tipping your chin high. 

You have the upper hand here. Remember that.

"I mean," you correct your course, staring down and poking at your plate while a smile creeps up your lips. "It's kinda hard not to when your pupils look like they're gonna swallow your goddamn irises."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Kei'?" You flick your gaze up toward him, worried now.

Under normal circumstances, it's an established habit for Keigo to slot one palm over his mouth when called out. 

But this time, that hand bypasses his lips, crawling upward to reach his visor and wordlessly drag it down over the source of his shame.

A stronger person than you would hold back their laughter. They would take pity on the flush rising over his cheeks and neck like sunsets. Perhaps they would coo praises to soothe him, or even take it all back to ease the shame and discomfort that makes him feel utterly naked. 

They would take pity on the man who, under the fluorescent high beams bolted to the diner's ceiling, looks just like a clown tripping on stage with the spotlight shined on his face.

You are not a strong person. 

In your hysterics, you reach over to pry the barrier off his eyes, climbing into his lap and over him like tussling teenagers. 

"Keigo, I didn't say it was a bad thing—"

"You're laughing," he laments like a kicked puppy, prying your face an arm's length from his with a single palm. 

It's over. This is it for him. His life is over, he's going to have to change his identity. 

He can start fresh with a new hero name, one not centered around red-tailed hawks— he'll need to rebrand as another bird, most likely. Preferably one with the same signature red feathers so as not to make a fuss for the merch department.

Maybe a parrot. 

Winged-Hero Parrots.

"You're laughing at me!" 

"I'm not laughing at—" another uncontrollable wheeze. His wings flap in indignance once, slamming against the cushions of the pink diner seat before drooping down like a dog's tail between its legs. You pluck the visor and raise it above your head out of arm's reach, one hand planted against his chest for stability.

"Not laughing at you! Baby, I promise—" 

"Baby?" He repeats.

The silence is worse the second time around— but luckily for you, Keigo is a stronger person than you are. No laughter erupts from his chest, no smirk settles on his face. 

If anything, your slip up seems to elevate his heart rate more than yours.

"We really should—"

"I think we need to—"

Both sentences collide in the small space between you, his lips completely still and mere inches away from yours. 

You're reminded of the feeling of your fingertips about to touch metal after being charged with static, the skin crackling with the air's tension as you contemplate whether to just get it over with and touch.

And slowly, as if suddenly cognizant of your bodies and environment, you both crawl off each other and scoot toward the furthest edges of the booth seat.

Your knees make their way toward your chest for comfort, while Keigo's wings drape over his shoulders like a cocoon. 

"We should talk."

[woso-fan13]

Whumptober 2023: 25 (Arsenal)

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

You jolt awake as thunder crashes in the distance. Your heart is racing, fear coursing through your body. Thunderstorms- the childhood fear you never outgrew. 

You’re trying to control your breathing as you hear shifting in the other bed. You freeze, holding your breath. Praying that she’ll fall back asleep. 

“You’ve gotta keep breathing, ya know?” a groggy Katie says from across the room. 

With that reminder, you release the air from your lungs. 

“There you go, you’re a natural.”

It’s dark and quiet for almost a minute before the storm makes itself known again. You gasp at the rumbling, stifling the sound in your blankets. It’s clearly not enough, as you can hear Katie sit up in her bed. She throws the covers off of herself, hurrying across the chilly room to your bed. 

“Scoot,” she insists. 

You do as she says, moving to one half of the bed. Katie climbs in the free side, crawling under the covers. 

“You don’t like storms?” she asks. 

There’s no judgment in her voice, no pity. It’s simply curiosity. 

You shake your head, the motion barely visible in the room. That is, until a flash of lightning lights up the room. You try to brace yourself for what comes next. It never comes. 

Instead, you feel soft hands covering your ears. Katie’s. 

“You know, my sister doesn’t like storms very much. She always curls up in my bed when it’s storming when I’m home. Always has, since she was really little.”

Katie smiles slightly, clearly reminiscing on the past. 

“Anyways, I taught her a trick, it helps not to be so afraid of the storm. Wanna try it?”

For the first time that night, you manage to find your voice, “‘m not scared.”

Katie wants to laugh at the fearful trembling of your voice when you say that. She manages not to. 

“Of course not. I was just thinking it might be fun.”

“If you really want to, we can,” you say timidly. 

“Alright. It’s simple really, we’re going to wait for the lightning then start counting. When we hear the thunder, we stop. However many seconds, divide that by 5, and that’s how many miles the storm is. Think you can handle that?”

You nod, the two of you waiting in the dark. When the room lights up next, Katie nudges you gently. She begins counting slowly out loud, your shaky voice joining hers. The two of you stop when the thunder’s heard. 

“What was that, 17? So the storm’s almost 3 and a half miles away. That’s way too far to hurt us.”

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly. 

“Remember what we talked about earlier, you’ve gotta keep breathing over there. C’mon, let all of the air out. Good, suck a big breath in. Easy, let it out now.”

Katie quietly coaches you through your breathing. 

“I know you’re not scared of storms, but you wanna know what else I would do with my sister?” 

You mumble a quiet agreement. 

“We’d sit in the hall or the bathroom, anywhere without windows really. Sometimes we’d bring flashlights and play board games, but we’d usually just talk.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, yeah it really was. You want to try it?”

You want to refuse. You want to tell your teammate that you’re not her little sister and that she should go back to sleep. But the thought of hiding from the storm sounds so appealing.

Katie can sense your internal debate, making the decision herself. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” she says, slipping out of bed. She grabs a pile of blankets, instructing you to grab pillows. 

The two of you take your linen stack into the hallway, making a nest. Before you can sit down, though, Katie speaks again. Even though you can’t see her face in the dark, you can hear the mischievous smile in her voice. 

“This seems like the perfect opportunity for team bonding.”

With that, she starts knocking on the doors lining the hallway. Many of your teammates were already awake, the storm making it hard to sleep. The nest spreads as more and more players drag their blankets into the hallway, plopping down. Some fall straight to sleep, others start up conversations. You stay quiet, observing. It’s not until you yawn that Katie’s reminded that it’s the middle of the night. 

“Why don’t you settle down and get some sleep?”

You shrug, not thrilled with the idea. 

“Yeah, you’ve gotta get some sleep. If you don’t at least try, I’m gonna make you go lay with mum and dad over there, and I don’t think you want that.”

As she’s talking, she gestures to where Beth and Viv have settled on the floor. The two of them are talking, keeping an eye on you. It’s obvious to them that you’ve had a rough night. 

You giggle, the sound brightening the hallway. Katie elbows you in the ribs, dramatically shushing you. This only causes your laughter to increase. 

Finally relaxed, you fall asleep not long after that. Pretty much everyone’s asleep at that point, the storm having passed. 

“You’re a good person, McCabe,” a voice whispers. 

“Thanks, pops,” Katie responds. 

“Seriously?” Viv whispers, “I’m the dad?”

“Yeah, you’re the dad and Beth’s the mum,” a small, sleepy voice chimes in. 

“I thought you were asleep, kid,” Katie says. 

You only hum softly in response, almost back to sleep already. 

[yandereunsolved]

In Death & Life

Pairing: James Patrick March x Fallen angel gn reader Summary: You preform a necromancy ritual on your fiancé to bring him back from death. The both of you reminisce and connect with each other on the mortal plane. trigger warning(s): none word count: 674 a/n: Just a short little thing. I lost determination to write it all the way so I gave it a satisfying end.

Ceremonial crimson candles cast an ominous shadow amongst the room that hides the secrets of a killer. The wicks slowly burn towards their inevitable end, the ritual already underway. Room sixty-four lies bare of any of its previous furnishings. A salt ring lies in the middle. Nothing lies within the ring; not even the light from the candles dare touch it. For it is crowded with the souls of the damned. The demonic entities praising the one that helps their master rise from his grave.

A bowl of rose water lies right outside the ring. A figure clad in cloth blacker than the hearts of men. A veil covers their face as they mutter ancient incantations only known by a chosen few. They mutter them fervently, almost obsessively. Again and again in a seemingly never ending loop.

Their knees ache from kneeling for so many hours. Their heart aches more—your heart aches more. Your heart beats for the man you are resurrecting: James Patrick March. Your James Patrick March. Your beloved fiancé. The one you saved from that wretched woman. The Countess may have felt nothing for the darkness, but you feel everything. You slit her neck and her tower of power crumbled beneath your feet. You filled the hole in his soon beating chest.

You coat your numb hands in the rosewater. One of the final steps in his resurrection. Having an affinity for death and necromancy since childhood finally came to fruition. Without his original body, you had to haggle a few souls in the Cortez for a demon to create a new one for him. In that moment, it was all worth it.

You stand as your hand reaches into the salt circle. The shadows receded as the flames of the candles cast them away. The dance between the devils and the darkness intertwined into both of your souls. He calls out to you like a spellbinding siren's song. From the depths of the shadows comes your true love.

His body was exactly that while in his ghost form. His ravenette strands still ever slicked back. The trimmed mustache of his sitting proudly above this top lip. His toned body was proudly suited to those three pieces. His neck slit is now healed, but the scar is apparent.That charming smile, goddesses, it looks even better now. 

"You are reborn as a warlock, my love. Immortal. Alive." Your words are hoarse and barely escape your cracked lips.

Your shaking hands are struggling to listen to the commands that your mind is giving them. Your left thumb barely touches his cheek before he has dragged you across the circle, separating the salt circle and making it incomplete. You couldn't even begin to care, as the ritual is complete. You are held in his deathly, loving grip once again.

"Indeed, darling. I am now the most famous serial killer both alive and dead." He whispers fervently as he places feather light kisses on each of your knuckles. "We shall wed in a few days time. Our consummation will finally be with the both of us living."

Your frayed wings and broken halo appear for a single moment. After all, you cannot risk using your abilities too often. Lest the angels hunt you, or the devils wish to make deals for your power. Once a mighty angelic being is now only the shell of one. Your wings are nothing more than bone, and your halo floats above your head in pieces. More fragments of your once-heavenly halo chip off and fall every day. Further tethering you to the mortal realm. 

You wrap the bones around his body as tears fall from your otherworldly eyes. His oddly tender hands wipe the tears away. He brings each finger up to his mouth as he tastes your sadness. A pleased smirk appears on his features as he places a teasing kiss on your delicate temple.

"You taste absolutely divine." He purrs gently as he tugs your waist closer towards him. "I cannot wait to taste you even more after our dinner tonight."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @violet1737 @marchsfreakshow

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

[haru-natsuka]

By his side (Yushiro x Female Reader)

Genre: Slight angst

It would be great if you read this after knowing what happened after the battle with Muzan. That being said, this post might contain spoilers. Happy reading.

There was no one by his side except for the demon cat. All his friends had already died and the only one left was their ancestors. Even his lady had died during the battle with Muzan. Decades had passed and yet he still remained the same. The same young boy named Yushiro everyone used to know.

The people nowadays only know him as a famous painter of a lady in kimono. It was so devastating living by himself alone to be the only one who remembers, the only who exists and the only one survived. The thought of being in joy to still be alive never crossed his mind as the entire time he could only reminisce about the past. There was just no future memory that could treat it.

'Are you sure you want to be a demon. Being a demon is a lonely being...'

He could barely remember his lady voice now when she asked his consent to turn him into a demon. The longer he spent his time alive, the more he forgot about her face. Slowly, his painting was also full with a faceless lady in a kimono. Ironically, it became one of his famous paintings.

As per usual Yushiro went to visit his friend's graves to do his duty as the only one who remembers them. They were someone who was so brave in sacrificing their life in the battle with Muzan. The grave was empty most of the time. No one wants to visit an old grave after all due to the rumors it is being hunted. In his hand, there is a banquet of anemone to put one on every grave of demon slayer corps.

His feet were dragged across the road as he always would feel deep woe whenever he visited the grave. The agony that started to fill his heart made it even hard to breathe but Yushiro is a stoic guy so his face was maintained as expressionless although her heart felt otherwise.

As Yushiro was about to enter the old graveyard, his steps came to a halt upon seeing another being already in front of a tombstone. From afar he made out it was Tanjirou's grave. As if she could also feel his presence, the person turned their body to his direction.

Yushiro breathed halt as if there was a lump in his throat upon gazing at the person, a lady. A lady in a kimono who shared the same face as the person he holds dear. The face he was about to forget. It was the lady who saved his life from death.

How come Lady Tamayo was in front of him?! This was surreal. She clearly died and even her presence felt different. No, no one could replace the lady he hold dear in his heart. He should control his unstable emotion. The lady in front of him was not Lady Tamayo but he could figure out one thing. This lady, was a demon like him based on her scent.

"Another demon?..." Yushiro heard the lady whisper at the end of her breath as her eyes trails over him. Even her voice did not sound the same as Lady Tamayo who possesses a matured voice as the person in front of him sounds more high pitched. Like the voice of a young teenage girl.

'She is not her. Even after all these years, she has never come back...'

"What are you doing here?" Yushiro's harsh voice came out before he could control the tone to make it more gentler which took the lady by surprise. His disappointment went out of control as once again his hope for the latter to finally return shattered. Instead of being hostile towards him, the lady only smiled politely before calmly answering his question.

"I'm visiting my rescuer. It takes me a lot of time to reach here but I finally did after decades" The lady changed her gaze from Yushiro to Tanjirou's grave back. On the grave laid a fresh morning glory symbolised as friendship.

"Tanjiro is your friend?" The lady only nodded her head in response as her eyes never left the grave. The reflection in her eyes held multiple emotions but Yushiro could make out one of them as it also reflects the same as his.

"How about you. Are you also friend with him?"

"I would never call him my friend" His answer only made her smile. If he was not a friend then who would tend the grave this neat.

"Thank you for taking care of the graves. Everything look so tidy and I guess your are the one taking care of it based on the flowers in your hand. I will get going now"

"Where will you go?" Yushiro did not know why he tried to even put effort in conversing with this demon in front of him. Was it due to the reason he felt relief at least he was not the only demon left?

"Somewhere without any sunlight. I don't really have a fixed place to stay but I'm not even in need of one right." It was true as for demons the only way for them to survive is to have blood or humans to eat. A proper shelter was the last thing to be considered as long as they can avoid the sunlight.

"Don't you feel lonely?" Loneliness for decades was what tortured Yushiro but he barely admits it as if he ever recognised it, he might feel worse. He could even go insane watching or waiting for anyone he knows to die.

"Being a demon is lonely right? Rather than hiding my emotion I would admit my true feelings. I will recognise it proudly as that is the only way to amend the negative feelings. Truth to be told, I live because Tanjirou saved me so I don't want to waste his sacrifice. I want to proudly live as someone who could remember how great of a person he is"

Listening to her words made Yushiro feel complicated feelings. He could reflect on her words which mirrored his. Having her as his companion by his side might cure a lot. At least someone to accompany him in this endless life would be better if that person has an eternity life like him.

"I can provide you a place to stay. Come with me" The invitation seemed to catch the lady out of her guard as he smiled flatter a bit before it returned back on her face like nothing happened.

"I'm not gonna reject that kind offer but are you sure? We are basically strangers"

"I'm Yushiro" He flatly said as he did not want no for an answer. It took the lady some time to respond back but instead of turning him down, she gazed directly into his eyes, full of gratefulness.

"I'm Y/N. Please take good care of me" That was how both demons could cure their loneliness. By living side by side with each other.

[loosingmoreletters]

Gay Rofan Dads Snippet

Nichye stared at his cousin indignantly. “You of all people are not allowed to make fun of me.”

Despite his tone, or perhaps because of it, Nanesha only kept on laughing. “You fucked— you fucked your daughter’s biological father. While sober.”

“I wasn’t going to fuck him while drunk!” Nichye hissed, realizing only belatedly that perhaps admitting he’s actually put some consideration into sleeping with Leonar previously to dragging him into his bed.

“Sure, sure, Nini. And then what? He took the carriage back to the duchy?”

“No.”

Gods, it would’ve been better if Leonar had just left. They could’ve chalked it up to some temporary madness, but no. Leonar had dragged them both to the bathroom for a washing up that took much longer than it should’ve and then they’d gone back to bed to sleepy. Nichye actually preferred sleeping on his own, easily stirred by surrounding energies, but hadn’t minded sleeping next to Leonar.

Or waking up next to him.

His sensitivity honestly had made Raeth’s toddler years a bit of a nightmare as his son, despite his cold demeanor, actually preferred physical contact. Nichye wondered whether that was sort of his succubus heritage, or the natural consequence of being carried around for a month straight as a baby because Nichye had been too afraid to put him down.

“The kids were having a sleepover,” Nichye told Nanesha instead. “It was the reason Leonar stayed over in the first place.”

“Mhm, sure. So you had breakfast?”

“Yes.”

Painfully awkward breakfast. He was sure Arlen hadn’t noticed, but Lysia had raised a brow at them at Raeth—

Well. That had been a whole other conversation.

“Didn’t you say Raeth inherited none of your lover’s abilities?”

“He’s not a demon, no,” Nanesha replied, frowning for a bit before her face turned gleeful. “Oh, don’t tell me—“

Nichye thought it was rather convenient that he was already lying on the sofa so he could just bury his face in a pillow. The conversation he had with his son had been nothing short of embarrassing. The worst part perhaps being Raeth’s disappointment that Nichye hadn’t even bothered to ‘gather the ambient energy’ and ‘turn it into something useful’.

Nanesha laughed again before patting Nichye’s back. “Poor, poor Head of the House. And now you’ve called me to console you.”

“Who else was I supposed to talk to? Mother?”

The Lady of the Deep was still under the impression that it was only a question of time until Nichye decided to kill the owner of the Vernissard. She considered it a disgrace to have a member of the Holy Knights Order anywhere within the vicinity of Nimian. Nearly fourteen years since Nichye had been sent to end a war he shouldn’t have participated in, and his mother did not forgive easily.

“No, I suppose that would go well,” Nanesha muttered.

Then, surprisingly gently, she ran her fingers through Nichye’s hair, reminiscent of their actions when they were both children still.

“You’ve lived for others for the last sixteen years,” Nanesha said quietly. “You’re allowed to make choices for yourself too.”

“And do what? Ask Duke Vernissard if he might consider marriage?”

The hand in his hair stopped. “Well. I was thinking of going on a date, but I suppose you already consummated—“

Nanesha did not get to finish her sentence as Nichye banned her from the room with a flick of his finger, sending her to the kids’ room. It wasn’t her usual date to go spend time with Raeth, but he’d enjoy having his mother treat him and his sibling. Siblings.

Hadn’t Raeth said so when he announced Arlen staying over?

Nichye say up and stared out the window, relieved his office did not oversee the training court, where Leonar was sure to be repeating sword stances under the warmth of the sun. Maybe he’d gotten worked up again to lose the shirt?

“Fuck.”

Nichye needed a solution to this problem quick.

(.)

(Leonar, meanwhile: very excitedly plans to tell his dead wife’s grave he managed to get a hot boyfriend.)

[helloescapist]

Hi! I have a question with your 'within reach' fic. If you we're going to write a sequel to it anytime soon... Will the sibling remember who they are? And I assume they got amnesia or the demon attack was so traumatic, they just sort of forgot. So does that mean if they will ever remember, they will also recall the traumatizing experience. I think Shinobu will not like that and will probably will just keep a close eye on them but not tell hem they're related. But if they do remember, how will it affect Shinobu? Will she still go with her infinity castle plan? Sorry for many questions. I'm just intrigued with the premise.

Hi anon!

The Within Reach was such a wonderful ask, wasn't it? So grateful to the original Requester! When I write, I typically write a profile so to speak, but I also like to leave as many details to interpretation as I can. I love readers being able to just escape from reality, if only for a little bit, and even carry it with them as they go through the mundane aspects of life-- like continuing the story line while they do the dishes or something. To hear I left you with so many questions makes my heart so happy, and that you want to hear more. 🥰

Within Reach, Fleeting| Shinobu Kocho

Word Count: 4337

Setting: Shinobu Kocho x gn!reader (sibling fic!/reader is a lost Kocho Sibling/Sound Hashira’s tsuguko).

Content Warning(s): spoilers pertaining to the Infinity Castle Arc and Shinobu’s background. Mentions of blood/gore, loss, death, hurt, eventual comfort.

Summary: death follows battle, shattered amongst the inner sanctum of the Infinity Castle. Corpses discarded to the death, the faint scent of lotus flowers that give way to the chill of the air, the fleeting scent of wisteria out of reach. Slipped through your fingers as your conscious begins to fade. The weight of forgotten memories brought to life, anchored to your soul, dragging you beneath the depths, and threatening to drown you in the past.

A/N: the reader of this series utilizes the breath of Hogaku (folksong). The concept is continued in the sequel, and it felt fitting to utilize the well known children's song Chouchou for this pieces. For more information on this children's song, and it's translation, visit here. Read Within Reach.

Iron seared your nostrils, rattled your bones and racked upon the curve of your spine. Suffocated your throat, choked upon sobs that threatened to spill from your soul. Marred flesh. Scoured its rage, flayed the mid-section of your neck, rattled the throat bones and threatened their structure. The knot of your free hand pressed into the fine lines, the flesh of your knuckles whitening as the sweat creased your brows. Each breath strangled and mangled sickening clots that formed in the middle section of your throat. Gagged and strained, the rattle of your shoulder bones as they met your ribs, the tremble of your blade numbly clutched between creased fingers stiff as the grave that threatened to claim you. The quiver of your knees beneath a tattered uniform. Liesons littered across the black motif, the reminiscence of the slayer motif. Shards of ice snagged upon the unraveled fabric. Luminescent in the unfamiliar light flickered in hues of crimson and mulled wine purples of bruising flesh. Shallow breathing rumbled in your torso, eliciting a sickening crunch of bones that danced amongst the inner sancta. The delicate floral scent that met the splatter of your blood across the Japanese cypress; its once proud symbolism tarnished as the blood that stained its grain. Crumbled beneath the weight of your knee as it folded despite the will that clung to your features. The tremble of your dagger clattered amongst the floor as your nails began to cling to your neck.  The sickening scent of floral carried upon the blades of ice that poisoned the air, littered the ponds and marred the petals of lotus. Discarded bones that hummed of century horrors, disciples discarded and mangled. Mere corpses left for display and satisfaction. Lavish pillows delighted of a monster danced upon false deliverance. Blood that claimed the waters and disbursed amongst the disruption of the stillness of the haunting chill that crept upon the pillars. Snuck across the desolation, trembled over ice and blood. Maneuvered across intricate pillars and mocked upon the stained holiness of a depraved deity shattered to the winds. Taunted the hire being that savored disparity and offered synthetic deliverance. Pillaged forgotten corpses in favor of tracing along the outline of your petite figure threatened to collapse. The husk of winter that quivered along your spine, settled at your shoulders, and curled its deafening fingers along the contours of your neck. The ghost of its touch landing upon the lining of your jaw. The scourge of your throat, mangled and spattering blood between clenched teeth as your eyes fought to trace upon the shattered porcelain skin, trembled at the blood that danced upon the butterfly pin. The edge of the tsuguko’s hair mangled and dripped upon sweat, and the clip of blood-stained irises that drowned amongst the wave of purple robbed of innocence, of home, and abandoned amongst the pillage of Doma’s domain. Chouchou chouchou.  The ache of your heart as her hand reached for your own, your body unwilling. Despondent, and refusing your whims. The shake of her eyes, the tears that traced along the scratches across her cheeks, the strain of her lips that threatened remorse choked upon blood as your paled form met the cypress and plunged into darkness.

Drowned amongst the depths of a void that called upon your features. Robbed of light, numb as the night. Echoed of shadows, of robbed childhood memories. The touch of your mother’s face once bright and delighted as the smile that met the smallest of achievements of your child, overlapped amongst the blood rattled upon her bones. Her plum eyes, horrified and clutched to your form, a haunting memory forced from your conscious summoned by the sickening crunch of the Insect Pillar’s spine beneath the clutch of the Second Moon’s desires. The rattle of his smile savoring the ache of your features as your subconscious had clutched upon your consciousness. Recollections of warmth, a home decorated in laughter and touched upon the love of parents. Fiercely protected by a mother and father until their bitter end.  The smug delight of Doma’s purr warmed by the familiar physical resemblances between Lady Kocho, and yourself. The horror that marked upon her face, the fear reflected in her plum eyes as the caught upon your own, the form of her sorrow touched upon her lips, “Run.” Na no ha ni tomare. The laughter of matcha tea in the early mornings, and the sputter of recent rumors amongst the grocer, your father’s chuckles delighted by the antics of your mother’s return from her shopping. The small hum of a smile that touched upon your eldest sister’s lips warm and affectionate as Shinobu’s plum eyes met the height of her brow, having been drained from assisting the matriarch upon her daily trip to the grocer. Mumbled of idle chatter, insistent disruption, and greeted all those she could, as annoyed at the small hands that met the ends of her kimono. Your fingers tugging excitedly upon the frays of her inner linings to her dismay as you chortled on and on, shaking the meticulously placed strands from her bun over the insistence if she had snagged you a dumpling from the food stall. How quickly she snapped in those days, agitated and worn out, and threatened to swing upon you. The tears that formed upon your face as the youngest, seeking refuge from your elder sister, and how easily she would offer consoling, and the gentlest of scoldings. The puff of Shinobu’s cheeks indignant to your prodding, and the ruffle of Kanae’s long graceful fingers through the depths of your brow, coiled through raven hair that met fuchsia strands. Lighthearted recollections, of childhood laughter, and familiar songs burned upon the overlap of your mother’s plum eyes void of life, the shatter of blood that met the highs of her cheeks. The clamor of her skin beneath your small pudgy fingers that touched upon the met of Shinobu’s features claimed as your mother. The depths of wisteria that stained your flesh, left your eyes heavy and burdened with tears.

              Your heart called upon the souls of the lost, alone, and lost in this hopeless land. Free of physical anguish, the flecks of iron that left your features as the chill a distant memory of life. Of battles and daggers, practically nonexistent amongst the folds of the depths, the tremble of your lips as your small hands met your large eyes. Caught upon tears, the loss of blood now replaced by choking amongst your sorrows. Ravaged by the loss, the break of your voice returned in the dark free of the vengeful would, a slash that threatened to wretch your trachea forms your being, falling just short of your larynx. Possessed upon the target of your throat, far too quick to have caught on to the methods of your breathing technique dissipated to the void. Na no ha ni aitara. Realized in the clutch of your gritted teeth and the tears that rolled from your cheeks, the dry rasp of a sob, “A-ane.”

              “Aren’t you a little old for this?” The fond exasperation painted upon her tone, tucked a hidden smile as her plum eyes traced your form, the pucker of her cheek. Her gaze jerked away feigning disinterest as your eyes widened at the sight of her. Warm, and welcoming despite the gloom that echoed amongst the environments.

The joy that threatened to touch upon your heart as delicate fingers met soothingly at your scalp. Tender in their regard, working distant familiar etchings through your hair with the faintest of a giggle that echoed upon your heart. The faint touch of sunshine that touched your soul, tender and encouragingly as the words met your ears with harmonious reminiscent. “How you’ve grown,” affectionate captivated in her eyes and threaded through her words. Sakura ni tomare. Large lavender eyes that creased through thick eyelashes, the faint scent of cherry blossoms weaved through luscious long hair, breathtaking in her gentle embrace. Kanae’s love untouched by the grave, warm and tender as the day you had lost her. Unbothered by the indignant snort offered by Shinobu as her tugging lips betrayed her ploy annoyance. “You’ve done so well.”

“Looks like a sniveling brat to me,” Shinobu teased. Her voice, snuggly and familiar. Unlike that fateful day in which you had witnessed the shatter of the Insect Pillar’s mask. The tuck of disinterest and forced softness absolved in the small giggle of her throat as she gently elbowed you. Her antics so distant and yet close as though you had stepped through time.

  To a humble home with noisy neighbors, warm bedding, and the scent of tilled garden soil. The years between nonexistent in the closeness of siblings now, and yet despite the security of the moment, it all felt fleeting.  Slipped between your fingers as Kanae wiped the tears from your eyes. Whispered kindnesses, and praises, and underlining goodbyes despite your protests. The ache of your breast as she parted her fingers from your touch, your elder sister’s smile soothing regardless of the distance or the pain its presence elicited in your bones. “Death has not come for you today, little one. There is someone who needs you.” Sakura no hana no hana kara Hanae. The steps of her zorii echoed upon the stillness of the darkness, each step threatening to suffocate you before she paused, beckoning Shinobu to her side with the faintest of pride evident.

“Right,” a mumbled fallen into silence. Your tears soothed into place though threatened to rekindle; the plat of a hand slapped into your skull. Harder than intended, the fold of nails that racked your scalp. Attempted pacifying fallen short and awkward. Her gaze caught over her shoulder, affectionate and trembled as a genuine smile touched upon her lips. Lit of her face, and revealed her years, the youth that had been robbed form her and the life she was to live. The weight of responsibilities left in her care, abandoned ached into her features and yet, she felt light. The smile caught upon her lips, curled and warm. Knowing, and secure, accepting death that awaited. Eighteen, and lost to the night and yet, hope that kindled in the heat of her gaze. “Take care of them for me…” The shake of her hand pressed from your brow, caught upon your cheek and smiled, landing upon your shoulder. A stern glimpse before a small laugh danced upon her features. Her hands danced upon a fragment of metal between your fingers. Your eyes dropped, traced upon the butterfly clip clasped between your fingers.  Echoed your heart and rang through your bones as her hand pushed you backwards. Forced your form through the dark back into the light, “see you soon.”

Tomareyo asobe.

Light filtered through the window blinds, sheer sheets echoed through the wind and caught upon the breeze that crept through the cracks in the window. Greeted the morning sky the warmth of blue, envied visons of gentle yellows that welcomed the faintest shades of forget-me-nots that touched upon the clouds that pillowed through the morning sky. The rattling of charms amongst the breeze drowned out by the agitated shaking of buzzing, the small frame of a kappa alarm vibrated through the nightstand. Ached against the wood grain breaking the silence of slumber and eliciting the ruffle of bedding. The fold of white sheets touched and rustled as your hand emerged from the sheets tapped into the alarm. Fallen half hazard, lazily and without precision. The slumber is still marked upon your features and unable to make sense of your surroundings. The crack of the bedroom door, rumbled, the doorknob shook in a tight grip at the snarl that met your ears, “Get up!” Hallowed and annoyed. The knot of her temple began to throb, visible by the neatly folded hair that had been meticulously styled into her favorite butterfly clip. Your older sister’s plum eyes tracing your unresponsive form, unbothered to hide her frustration at your lack of dress, “We’re LATE.”

              “Get ooout,” your yawned. The touch of your bed head sticking up odd ends, unable to manage a better comeback as her fist clutched your doorknob, and her teeth gritted with annoyance at the plushie that flung through the air. Split the otherwise pause of the morning, intended to shoo her nagging from your doorstep. Drawn upon the opposite. Her school uniform tucked and maneuvered indignantly over your bedding. The realization of her rage encroaching having sobered you from your sleep, the flip of your form off the bedding in a scurry to be free of the tangle of sheets as you slipped across the wood floor narrowly dodging her swings. The fling of her skirt, careless as she pursued you through the hallway. The pound of your socks against the home’s wood floors. Tracked throughout the home, landing through the stairs as you stumbled to safety, desperately slipping through to the kitchen as your sister dodged attempted interventions, thrown decor in your panic and leaped over the furniture. Her annoyance coming to a head to discover your successful emersion into the kitchen. Tucked into the skirts of your elder sister’s school uniform. Her long black hair temporarily folded over her back, the apron secures at her hips and the met of your hands upon her waste as you peeked over at your opponent. The touch of a knowing grin, and tongue peeked through lips daring her to take another step.

              The warmth of the moment, and the greeting of fried eggs that touched upon the giggles that greeted your elder sister’s laughter. The touch of a spatula caught between her long, graceful fingers as the other dotingly caught in the ends of your disheveled bedhead. Her lavender eyes delighted in the warmth of a nosy breakfast with squabbling siblings in a life full of peace, knowing all too well the threatening flick of Shinobu’s wrist. Intending you as her target, familiar to the light, and devoid of the nightmares of the past. Bathed in the laughter of siblings, and squabbles of petty natures, hers to claim, and hers to delight in as the touch of your arm around her waste leaned into your touch.

Asobeyo tomare.

Within Reach, Fleeting Headcanons

I intended for the reader of Within Reach to have been 3 or 4 years of age when the tragic experience happened as the memories for this area tend to be fuzzy, yet still obtainable for some. I went for a sort of Rapunzel like the Disney version where she realizes she is the lost princess, to reflect on the reader. Their breathing style utilizing folksong from their native region, a butterfly motif on the hilt of their dagger and even their final form, Fifth Form: Chouchou.

The memories were there, painted in small touches upon your person. The natural way your eyes followed the Insect Pillar during training. The way you could not help the way you found her in the crowd, and the way you felt an undeniable ache within your breast. Practically suffocated by an unfamiliar draw.

Little butterfly motifs that decorated the hilt of your blade, your violet eyes snagged upon the emblem as your fingers traced it. It had been selected on a whim; you had told yourself. Convinced yourself that your natural attraction to the design was coincidence.

Yet, when she had tended to your scraps following your sparing match with Muichiro, her eyes had not left your features. Practically etching every line into memory, why you could not place, nor could you comprehend the way a smile had met her lips when she had found the scar on your cheek. As though it was familiar and… safe?

You were familiar with the overall appeal of the Insect Pillar; Shinobu was nothing if not cordial amongst the ranks. Though whispers that her smile would tug with a combatant patient, a past of aggression frequented the Butterfly Mansion, but though there had been so much affection with the way that others presented her.

And yet, there was a knot in your stomach when you met face to face with her smile. As though tugged the edges on your cheeks, forced and strained. Miserable façade of kindness, of softness that portrayed the motions rather than sincerity a smile should present. You did have the basis for this opinion that had formed, but still it had formed.

As uncomfortable as a knot in your stomach as she conducted her performance. Snagged at the brow of her delicate features. As though she was conducting some inner battle that you could not comprehend, and that moment had haunted you.

As the nightmares in the night. The ache of fear, deep into your being. The depths of night struggled to combat a figment of the mind, a demon you had not met in this life combatted and determined to rob you of your security. The scream of a woman, the life faded from her features. The shatter of her voice, the crackle that left her bones and shook you from your slumber. Bathed in sweat, and nails that roamed your scalp. Always grappling with a figment of a past you had not understood.

A past that haunted you and followed you amongst the waking hours. The faint ghost of the Insect Pillar’s influence not far from reach. Always within grasp, kakushi under her care pushed to care for your wounds immediately. Mizunoto determined to follow where you lead—in fear of the oddly kind threat the medic had uttered in the shadows. Her positioning attempted to combat any potential hazards to your life.

Initially, Uzui attempted to ignore her intrusion. The unhanded tactics entertaining for the retired shinobi. Adorable really, he had found the entire ploy mere child’s play. In part, Shinobu had been aware how delicately she had dared to cross into another Hashira’s business, and for the most part, she often found herself unable to combat the intrusive impulse. Daring to stray into his borders without reason or thought--- burned herself through the late hours, her crow not having reported your return to the Sound Pilla compelled her to wandering to the region you had trailed off onto in a recent mission.

Intercepted by the Sound Pillar himself, his knowing smile cocked to his head. Oh, he had noticed long before that something had been off with the poison-wielder. Time from time, he would intentionally probe her if only to chase a minor high of lethal dosage, but it was not until it became increasingly a threat to your progress. An overtly protective sister far too willing to deny the corps code, and interject herself into your missions. From a protective stance, he had allowed it, entertained how adorable it had been that she had attempted to stray under his radar. Creative, she had conducted a number of unique approaches to dodging his presence, but experience had triumphed over novice.

Shinobu had done her best to quip a smile upon being discovered; she wasn’t a fool. The Insect pillar had accepted that it was only a matter of time before she had forced Uzui’s hand. His silence having been little more than a temporary allowance to  meddle born of entertainment for the shinobi, but upon the approach of drawing the demonic forces out, she had tread too far.

Doubted the retiree Hashira’s devotion to the corps, and questioned his intentions with his own tsuguko, threatened the code that had bound the both of them to service. He had known, for how long Kocho could not determine, but the weight had been carried in his words alone. Just as her voice had met his beneath the moonlight. The weight of her plum eyes was fierce, and yet, at peace with her decisions. Underlined secrets in her speech that the Sound Pillar could not ignore. The resignation of the older man’s decisions, and the quiet of her voice.

“I leave them in your care.”

The weight was more than he could bear, and yet, Uzui did not push. Nor did he dare. The painful smile that met her departure. Mournful of a past he did not wish to revisit, her resolve leading to far heavier implications.

Kocho had become aware that the Sound Pillar had intended for you to undertake his duties, his title, and his claim. More so, when you had offered your participation into the Infinity Castle, Uzui had praised your willingness, and felt assured that you would survive which was what had sent her into guard.

 Her intrusion into your missions had become less noted, a silent agreement that the Sound Pillar would send word should you find yourself in a dangerous situation. Their communication was more amicable, if not built on the quite understanding that Uzui would not disclose, and Kocho would not press.

Neither coming forth with the information, Uzui was content to allow Kocho to manage her private affairs as she saw fit and shield you from the past. Ushered the burden, and dutifully confined herself to burying the secret in the vials of congested wisteria poison. An oath to protect her younger sibling was carried to the grave if only to give you a normal life.

Kocho greeting death had not been the easiest for her—she was terrified upon realizing that you had entered Doma’s domain. The sight of Kanao, and you left to the Second Moon’s wrath was nothing that she had anticipated and filled her with dread. She prayed from the parrels between life and death that you could hold out as she had instructed her tsuguko.

And upon seeing you in the inbetween—hear heart ached at the joy that hearing you whisper for her brought her.

You remembered her.

You had lived.

Kanae as the older sister often takes the biggest route and role in caring for you and Shinobu. Her tendencies to care for you remain steadfast. She has taken an active role in both of your lives, and I believe carried her past life into her present.  I think she’s in touch with herself enough that she would always remember.

With Shinobu coming in at a dependent terms--- likely something that threatened your safety such as a school bully in your youth would awaken her past life. Her protective streak over you will only increase.

As will her teasing. I mean, it’s an older sister’s duty, and she will not hesitate to continue.

But following the retrieval of her past memories, her tongue and actions will be that much more lethal to those who dare tread into your safety and threaten her peace.

She has been known to make school bully cries, and chase them through the neighborhood and slam them into the ground, attempting to wail on them until Kanae intervenes.

As an older sister in the modern era, Shinobu picks up little treats from time to time, but she will never admit that they are from her. She’d rather you think your parents picked it up, or that Kanae happened upon the trinket.

She is for the most part, quite. It’s not that she is not involved in your life, or indifferent to your interests. It’s that she enjoys her own anatomy, and her space. More so, she is known to become agitated if you interfere with her day to day. She expects respect, and the space between the two of you. She feels that there is an unspoken amount of trust between the two of you, but at the same time, she has little tolerance for disruptive behavior to her schedule. If you share a room, learn to clean after yourself because you can expect a number of spats that potentially turn physical between the two of you. As siblings often do.

Most of her responses are fairly direct and to the point, as they always are.

Things like expressing you’ll take the last pudding will be met with a simple, “Mmhmm.”

Inner jokes will become common place, especially when dealing with noisy neighbors, or extended family. Giggles over these shared inside jokes will be a regular part of your interactions, and a rare moment of peace between the two of you. Because truthfully, you are siblings, and especially when you are younger you will experience back and forth more, but as you grow older there will be such a strong foundation of love and respect between the two of you, no one would ever guess you used to butt heads regularly.

As for Kanae, she is dutiful. With busy parents, she takes an active role in caring for the two of you. She’s happy to act as a peace keeper, and provide breaks as necessary. That’s not to say from time to time she’s not drained--- she definitely is, but thankfully Shinobu is capable of detecting when these moments are taking place and will take you to the park, for ice cream, or small little bonding excursions to give your elder sister time to herself.

She has the enact ability to determine the exact moment that things have taken a turn, and can often act as an intervention as necessary--- really, she’s going to have to learn to allow the two of you to have your spats. It’s necessary for all of you. She has to learn that she does not have to be “mom” and allow you two to learn to navigate your interactions.

She’s so committed though, and she has such an open affection for the both of you that she often packs your lunches. Pleased to give as much to your bentos as she can. Cute little octopus sausages, flower cut grapes, she is committed to spending the time to make sure that it is enjoyable and nutritious, and yet, somehow ohagi has still snuck its way into your lunchbox. Shinobu. She goes out of her way to track your school calendar, and makes the extra care to show up to every event even the smallest of plays.

Shinobu thinks you make the dumbest duck in a play she has ever seen. Not that she saw it.

Kanae happily waits by the school gate, eager to pick you up in your mother’s place. Your grin as you greet her only brightened by the sight of Shinobu tucked behind her. The small touch of a blush on the tip of her ear as you vibrate with joy, your hand finding the both of theirs as you stroll home.

[g-h-0-s-t-3-d]

Silhouettes & Songbirds // a Modern Warfare Story - Chapter 1

Pairings (Eventual): Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wren "Hawk" Yarrow (Original Character)

Tags: Military Themes (Call of Duty), Canon-Typical Swearing, Implied Abuse (Past, by Graves)

A/N: I am so excited to FINALLY have this OUT!! Hope y'all love it <3 Looks like Tumblr also crushed my image quality so yay

Kate Laswell folded her hands neatly on the worn-out desk as she eyes the Captain. The scruffy man held his stance, blue eyes unwavering as he only nodded in encouragement. John Price was nothing if not persistent, and the CIA agent knew better than to question him.

“Fine, but I want Sergeant Yarrow on the team. And I’m not asking.” Her tone was low, but it pierced the room nonetheless with the compromise.

Price grunted softly. “You think she’s solid after being back in Urzikstan?”

“She will be if she has to be.” Laswell’s answer was resolute, and she held his gaze as she squared her shoulders. There was no room for negotiation here. Price was silent as he took a long drag from his cigar in contemplation.

“Thought that last assignment was a one-off for her. That PMC really fucked her up.”

Laswell sighed. “We need her, John. Are your men really any better?”

“…Everyone’s got their problems, Kate.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn't ask. As much as she disliked the risk of a special operations endeavor with current international relations, she couldn’t deny that Price was right - Al Qatala needed handling. She sighed briefly and nodded in acknowledgment.

“What are you calling this task force?”

“141.”

—

A young woman sighed as she gazed out the window. It was a nice day in Rye, East Sussex… she wished she could enjoy it more than she did. For as long as she’d spent off the force, she never thought she’d get used to civilian life. Wren Yarrow was a creature of habit, of constant direction and purpose.

She was a creature of Shadow Company… of Phillip Graves.

There was no meaning in daily tasks that were surely obsolete. Sure, it was a routine, one she clung to at that, but it was nothing more. It was something she did mindlessly, day after day after fucking day.

She felt pathetic - it had been years since her discharge - she should’ve long been over this. And yet, it never seemed to settle for her.

There was always something perfectly boring about living.

More often than she’d like to admit, she found herself reminiscing about her time in Shadow Company… her time with Graves. She wondered if she’d ever stop missing it; missing him…

It was a slow day at the bakery that day. Normally, she found solace in the day to day workings of the store - she could expect the same people every day, she could expect to make the same things…

She thought she knew what she wanted - to come home and run her bakery like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t been called on a whim to ship out to Urzikstan after years of being out of the military.

Life never goes the way you plan it. And she had once again become living proof when Laswell called her that morning just a few months after she had returned home.

“John wants a Task Force. I want you on it.” Short and to the point; Laswell was never much to sugar-coat. Wren could hear the subtle undertones in her voice, though - Kate knows her history, and she knows the weight of her request. Wren knows it damn well, too.

“What’s the situation?”

“Classified. You understand.” She knew that, of course, but it wouldn’t have stopped her from asking.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Wren had accepted the request. Apparently, uprooting her life and business once more was not a concern as she hung a ‘closed indefinitely’ sign for the second time over the front door and rushed upstairs to pack her belongings. Surely, she was insane, grasping at any straw that presented her with some sort of purpose…

When she laid in bed that night, she wondered very briefly if this is what she really wanted, but the cold truth was that Wren didn’t know what she wanted. She thought a civilian life here would suit her, that she’d grow accustomed to the slow pace of lazy mornings and meaningless conversation, but it always left her feeling incomplete - there was no purpose to serve here, just existence.

So she agreed, and she shipped out the next morning.

—

She was grateful her last leave - though it was intended to be permanent - was only half a year, because owning a bakery didn’t exactly do wonders for one’s figure. She fell back into her training fairly easily and adhered to the strict regimen scarily well… she wondered if that deep-rooted need for a routine would ever change about her.

She wondered if she’d ever live normally, if she wasn’t condemned to this life of purgatory and violence. And yet, she craved it still.

She was put back in contact with Captain Price a few weeks into her training, and periodically he’d fly out to evaluate her progress. But, try as she might, no amount of prying would convince the Captain to tell her even the smallest detail of her upcoming mission…

“Need to make sure you’re solid, Sergeant,” he repeated himself for what must have been the dozenth time over the last few weeks. She huffed in moderate displeasement, but returned to her exercises. Price barked out a few more commands in that low, gruff voice she’d only just recently gotten used to once more before straightening up. She slowed from her jog, the difference in his gaze piquing her interest.

“0500 tomorrow. Nik will transport you to a covert location in Urzikstan. We’ll meet and brief there.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask. If there was one thing she’d learned from her time  with the Captain, it was to keep the questions and the bullshit to a minimum.

Kate must have had sympathy for her, because that night she emailed her a heavily encrypted file containing dossiers of each of the Task Force members.

To: Wren Y. (Sgt., Special Forces)

From: Katherine L. (Chief, CIA)

Subject: Dossiers

Don’t tell John I sent you this. [encrypted file]

CIA Station Chief Katherine Laswell

George Bush Center for Intelligence

Langley, Virginia

She read through them without much thought. They were names on a paper, just like all of her Shadow Company comrades had been. She vividly remembered sitting with Philip and sifting through application after application… back when she felt like she could take on the world. When he made her believe she could.

She sighed. Even years later, she wondered if she’d ever quite get over it. Over him. It still nagged at her - she should’ve long been past it, but Wren was always a creature of habit.

She didn’t like change, and there sure had been a lot of it over the last few years. Maybe this time would finally mean something.

She liked the team well enough. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. She knew Price and Gaz already, of course. Soap seemed like an interesting guy, but she made a note to never get on his bad side. All of Ghost’s information was redacted - even his name. It sparked her curiosity, but she knew her place well enough to leave it alone.

She slept well enough that night… It was amazing what a good cup of tequila and a sleeping pill could do.

[carma-tjol]

Miscellaneous OPM Characters as Lady Gaga Songs

please read this oh my god I spent so much time... there's some meta scattered in there I promise.

Fubuki

Telephone

Bloody Mary

Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)

Telephone - because I watched an Instagram edit that used it and now I have it permanently associated with her. Fubuki has a fun and glamourous aesthetic and I feel like the song reflects that too Bloody Mary - because of the "I wont crucify the things you do" line. it reminds me of all the people she knows that are like. highly problematic but she's irremovably tied into their lives and ultimately accepts them. Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say) - there are relationships she's had that fell tragically because of, while among other things, her own personal flaws and ego. It's tragic, but she really wasn't equipped to handle everything thrown at her at the time. there really is "nothing else [she] can say" anymore. Imagining her with this song puts a lighthearted twist on the woe of it.

Psykos

Summerboy

So Happy I Could Die

Teeth

MANiCURE

Summerboy - I like to imagine it as Psykos having the summerboy's POV. Feeling disposable and like she got played by Fubuki, she is left to sort of sourly reminisce on what could've been. So Happy I Could Die - for that INTENSE SAPPHIC ANGST. Also I like the concept of like. attempting to use sexuality to cope with severe internal turmoil. I love this song sooo much. Teeth - vibes I guess MANiCURE - "SHE WANNA BE MAN CURED!" so basically more sapphic stuff but campier and less gut wrenching this time lol.

Genos

(... god I initially struggled finding stuff for him HARD but ended up with 4 things. what.)

Replay

I Like It Rough

Shallow

Paparazzi (bonus)

Replay - Lady Gaga is talking about trauma and PTSD taking over and effecting every part of her life, which I feel like is relevant. "Every single day, yeah I dig a grave Then I sit inside it wondering if I'll behave" I Like It Rough - I've always interpreted this song as only ever experiencing harshness from people, not knowing how process kindness, and struggling to decipher sincerity. Which I feel like, removed from all the sex stuff, fits Genos pretty well thematically. Shallow - I don't really mean this in a ship way here (to be honest, one sided genos pining is my ideal! But that's not relevant here) but I can think of this song with Genos and Saitama's relationship and how at its core, One Punch Man revolves around them. They represent the central themes of companionship and how humanity is based on relationships with others. They try to "fill that void" with each other and Genos looks at Saitama worried, when will it be enough? (When will HE be enough?) Also I enjoy listening to songs where there is some form of disappearance or death and imagining the MA arc. I did that a tonnn with Sweet Talking Woman by ELO a while back, something about mixing the love song about chasing someone with the tragedy of the MA arc and how Genos became unattainable really clicked for me. (Fun fact, I had 182 listens for that song on my Spotify wrapped... pretty much all thinking of Genos) I'm supposed to be talking about Lady Gaga though oops. "Crash through the surface, where they cant hurt us We're far from the shallow now." They've experienced the same alienation, whether inflicted or self imposed and were able to drag each other out of it. Perhaps there's comfort in the similarity. Paparazzi (bonus lol) - If you enjoy leaning into Genos's weird obsession, this is the song for you! He's a little neurotic...

Flashy Flash and Sonic

I'm giving them the same song

Speechless

Speechless "In your tight jeans With your long hair and your cigarette stained lies Could we fix you if you broke? And is your punch line just a joke?" I connect it by thinking about how much weight their relationship held in their lives. Each of their dreams had the other in it. And I think that losing that was a bit worldshattering. "Would you give it all up If I promise, boy, to you?" Eyyyy we were left on a bit of a cliffhanger right? Flash was trying to ask sonic something but got cut off by the other ninjas. "We could-" we could what, Flash? we. could. what. (Team up again? Please I'm literally on my hands and knees begging, yet I know it's never that easy with OPM)

Amai Mask

Beautiful, Dirty Rich

The Fame

Beautiful, Dirty Rich - It's about fame! Living the high life! He's like a major celebrity and a diva so I think it works. Just ignore the bit where it says "but we've got no money" because he definitely has money. The Fame - similar thought process

Webigaza

Applause

Applause - She "lives for the applause!" The fame itself is empty without her fans.

Do-S (aka BONUS! other songs I like but had zero use for)

Love Game

Money Honey

Bad Romance

Poker Face

Government Hooker

Judas

not sexual enough for Do-S but I really like Americano too.

okay I'm done with these now I'm literally going insane

[noodl3s4dayz]

Au stuff yippee!!

It had been nearly 14 years since she died. 14 years to move on, to start fresh somewhere new. And move on he did. That’s what Ted kept telling himself, at least. Some people thought he had murdered her, claiming he was only after her money and never even loved her in the first place. He wasn’t anywhere near Monte Carlo when it happened, but that didn’t stop some folks from… speculating. 

Some claimed his life was easier with her “out of the way”. It was a lie. Ted had loved her, very dearly. Her death sent him into a spiral of depression, and when trying to forget she ever existed didn’t work, he tried to remember. Before he moved back to the States, Ted had rifled through her belongings, worn her dresses, looked through photos upon photos of him and her happy, beaming at whoever was taking the picture without a care in the world. That only made things worse. The more he reminisced, the more he wanted— needed to have her back. 

Death doesn’t work that way, Ted reminded himself. He’d been grieving for more than a decade and it nearly drove him mad, and he decided that drowning his troubles in alcohol was the best course of action. It worked, for a while. He forgot, he became detached. Numb. He even tried his luck with women again, unfortunately for him it was a fruitless endeavor. 

The last girl he tried to sleep with had shrieked in terror at what clothing luckily concealed. She had called him a freak. She screamed about how he had the wrong parts, that he was a stitched together monster, not a man. In his drunken, half conscious state he just cried, pleading for her to understand. 

“S’ not my— hic — my f-fault! I was bor— born with it, please don’t leave me—“ he had blubbered, clinging to the woman’s arm for dear life. But she easily overpowered him, clawing his hand off her and dashing out of his spacious bedroom half naked before he could even finish the sentence. A few minutes had passed. Ted sat quietly on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor as he idly kicked his legs, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

~~~

“I c-can’t do this anymore,” he muttered under his breath, not so much to himself as to his long dead lover. The next day he resolved to jump off that bridge he’d walked across with her a couple of times. They had marveled at how the trees on either side of the lake had perfectly framed a view of possibly the most beautiful oak forest he had ever laid his eyes on. Ted shook his head, pushing the now not-so-fond memory away. He pulled on a sweater that had been thrown into some dark corner of his room the night before, and after almost tripping down the marble staircase that led to the entryway, trudged out the front door, not bothering to close it behind him. He didn’t need to, after all. At some point he bent over and vomited during the leisurely walk to his death, mostly out of fear and anxiety for the events to come. 

When he finally reached his destination, he noticed a rather tall man with a large pair of stupid looking orange tinted glasses on his face. He was leaning on the side of the bridge, staring into the distance with a small smile. Ted ignored him and clambered over the side of the wood and metal structure, shaking with fright but determined nonetheless. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward. This was it. This is what he’d wanted to do since she died, and— 

A solid thirty seconds went by and Ted didn’t… feel like he was falling. He cracked an eye open to confirm his suspicions. He wasn’t plummeting to his watery grave. Why? Ted pondered it for a moment, more alert and almost able to think straight now that most of the booze had left his system. He realized he wasn’t falling because there was a pair of meaty hands secured around his middle, effectively stopping Ted’s suicide attempt. Ted clawed at his savior’s hands but they wouldn’t budge, only moving to cross over his chest and drag him back over the side of the bridge. Ted flailed wildly in no particular direction to try and shake off whoever dared keep him from his lover, screaming at the top of his lungs. 

“You— you bastard! Let me go right now you motherf—“ Ted was caught off guard by suddenly being hauled all the way over the railing, the hard landing on his back knocking the wind out of him. Ted hacked and coughed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He heard a groan of pain above him. 

I hope I broke something. 

“Why were you doing that?” A man’s voice asked, and as Ted craned his neck to look up at him he recognized him as the man he’d seen smiling at nothing. 

“Doing what?” Ted wheezed. 

“Trying to kill yourself,” the man answered, seemingly unbothered by the action but instead curious about Ted’s motives. 

“That’s— that’s none of y-your damn business, pal,” Ted grumbled, sitting up and brushing dirt off his jeans. 

The man looked irked but didn’t press any further, extending his hand for Ted to take. Reluctantly, Ted took it and stood up, cursing at the pop his knees made. The two stood in silence for a while, Ted just holding onto the man’s hand. 

“I’m Abner, in case you were wondering,” the man— Abner— said, breaking the awkward stretch of quiet. Ted snorted. 

“That’s a funny name,” he murmured. 

“Theodore, right?” Abner asked. 

Ted stopped responding for a minute and the taller man let his eyes drift down to where Ted’s hand was still firmly gripping his. Ted’s head twitched slightly, and he remembered he was in the middle of a conversation. 

“Wait, how do you—“ 

“Don’t be stupid, sweetheart, I don’t live under a rock,” Abner said before he could catch himself. He cleared his throat and added politely, “I mean, I just like to keep up with how the rich and famous are doing. Not much of anything else to do.” Ted’s mouth curled into a scowl and he yanked his hand away, then looked down in surprise as if he hadn’t previously noticed the contact. 

“Thanks for the help,” Ted deadpanned, crossing his arms and turning to walk back home. Maybe I’ll just hang myself or something. He considered the possibility; it would hurt but it would get the job done. 

“Wait, wait!” Abner called, running up to Ted and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Do you need something?” Ted growled.

“How do I know you won’t try it again?” Abner questioned, with just a hint of false sadness in his tone. No doubt pity. 

“Why do you care?” Ted snapped. He pushed the other man away and walked a little faster. 

“Because I know what you’re going through. You loved someone. She either left you or died.” 

Ted froze.

“You don’t know that.” 

“Enlighten me then. What happened?” 

If he turned around, Ted was sure he’d see the man smirking. 

“I— she died, yeah,” Ted mumbled. He paused for a moment before adding, “… and… and how would you know how it feels?” 

“I’ve been divorced. Twice,” Abner explained nonchalantly. 

This is stupid, Ted thought, He’s probably lying to me. 

Ted turned around slowly, having to lift his chin to look the other man in the eye. Abner was not smirking, Ted noted. He looked… somber. Almost. Maybe Ted was just reading into his expression too much. 

“I can tell you don’t believe me,” Abner whispered. 

“I mean I never s-said that but— I— you’re a stranger! I don’t know you! You could just be trying to lure me back to your place to drug me and— and strangle me!” Ted made a dramatic choking gesture to get his point across. 

“If I wanted you to die I would have let you go over that bridge,” Abner said, a little bit of bite to his voice. Ted swallowed hard. 

“D-do you want a drink?” Ted offered. 

                  ~~~

Abner gasped in awe at the interior of Ted’s “humble abode.” Ted casually lied that he just happened to be born into wealth, not bothering with the monotonous details of the farm, or his six siblings, OR the fact that he was lucky to have had a woman– a very wealthy woman— become enamored with him. Telling Abner to make himself at home (hesitantly, as part of Ted was still convinced he was a murderer), Ted descended a well worn staircase to the basement. Ted grimaced at his near barren cellar, making a mental note to get more wine if he decided not to end his own life. He soon emerged from the dark recesses of the space with a bottle of champagne in hand, popping the cork off and taking a swig from the bottle before pouring Abner a glass. 

By the time the sun set most all of the champagne was gone and Ted was crying again. Over her, over not being able to be there, over not even going to her funeral. Both Ted and his companion were seated on a large cushioned sofa. Abner was afraid of scooting closer to Ted’s shaking form but wanted to seem like someone to go to in times of need, all the while. He didn’t have much time to think about it. Ted thrust himself forward and grasped the front of Abner’s coat tightly, sobbing into his chest. 

“I, um, I can relate to that. My first wife had a miscarriage,” Abner muttered, shifting in place, “we were going to name him Nicholas. It was hard on both of us but her especially. She couldn’t…she couldn’t really stand to be around me after that.” Ted smiled slightly at the other man being able to understand the tragedy of death but still kept weeping, staining the front of Abner’s shirt with snot and tears. The taller man just bent over a bit to set his glass on a small table in front of him. He didn’t care about that shirt anyways. He pretended not to, at least. 

That’s when Ted leaned his head back to stare up at him, eyes glassy. Abner didn’t even have a second to react before Ted smashed their lips together. Ted slid his hands from Abner’s lapels to his face, cupping it tightly as if to make sure the man in front of him was real. After a few moments Ted pulled away from Abner’s mouth with a wet smack and an expression of pure dread spreading across his features. 

“I shouldn’t have done that. I— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he slurred. His head thumped against Abner’s chest; Ted was clearly out cold. The other man blinked a couple of times. He licked his bottom lip, still wet with Ted’s bitter tasting saliva. He briefly considered bashing Ted’s head in and washing his mouth out with soap before opting to place his hands on Ted’s back, tracing his fingers along Ted’s spine. 

“What a sap,” Abner giggled. 

[the-delta-42]

The Walking Dead Game What Ifs: What if Clementine Died at the end of The Final Season?

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Take Us Back

What if Clementine died at the end of TFS?

“How’d you like to be buried?” Asked Violet, looking at Clementine, Marlon and Louis looking at her expectantly.

Clementine was silent for a moment, before a humourless smile appeared on her face, “Bury me with friends, so I can reminisce on all the good times we had, and have me facing east, so I can watch the sunrise for eternity.”

Louis let out a low whistle, “Wow, that was deep.”

“Shut up.” Chuckled Clementine, giving Louis a gently shove.

TUB

“You have to leave me.”

AJ had done as she asked, leaving her in the barn. She knew she couldn’t ask him to kill her, she didn’t want him to feel the pain she felt after killing Lee. Clementine had felt a cough surge its way up her throat, bringing up blood as it left her.

“I’m sorry, Goofball.” Murmured Clementine, as she closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

TUB

AJ stood at the gate, staring up at it. He couldn’t talk. He’d forced himself to cry quietly as he blended in with the monsters. He wanted to go back. He wanted Clementine. He wanted mom.

“AJ?” Louis arrived at the gate, before swinging it open and grabbing him, “Where’s Clementine?”

AJ’s response was boarder-line incomprehensible, but Louis got the words barn, left and bit. Louis felt his insides turn to ice, he turned back and yelled for Aasim and Ruby.

TUB

After leaving AJ with Omar, the three of them took off for the barn. They dispatched the Walkers as they went, before finally reaching the barn. Louis hauled the doors open, before he froze. Clementine was dragging herself towards them, growling and snarling as she went. The Walker looked up at them and Louis felt his throat constrict, dropping Chair-les, he staggered backwards.

“No.” Louis’s voice broke, “No, no, NO, NO!”

Louis didn’t care that Aasim and Ruby saw him break down, not when Clementine, the girl he loved, was dead and now stuck in the eternal hell of being a Walker. Clementine was put out of her misery, with Ruby jamming a knife into her temple.

They were lucky that they’d already dealt with the Walkers, as Louis’s loud sobs drowned everything out.

TUB

AJ jabbed at the fish, he rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve the itching feeling beneath his eye lids. He continued to fish, something caught his eye. AJ zeroed in on Clementine’s hat, before rushing over to grab it. He missed, and just when he thought it’d be lost forever, Rosie jumped into the water and grabbed it for him.

AJ gave the dog a sad smile, taking the hat from her. The pair walked back to the school, AJ saw Tenn’s body moving around. He made a mental note of where it was, so they could bury him. They reached the school and AJ handed Omar the fish he’d caught.

“Hey, bud.” AJ looked up at Louis. The man had lost almost all traces of humour, instead opting to focus on keeping them alive. He’d even stopped playing the piano.

“Hi.” Responded AJ, before holding up Clementine’s hat, “I found this and I saw Tenn.”

Louis looked at the hat and gave AJ a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Maybe we should give it back to her.”

AJ looked over at the graves. Clementine’s was towards the end of them, with Violet placing flowers on it. He timidly approached it, gripping the hat tight in his hands.

“Hey,” Louis’s voice was soft, “don’t worry, I’m here.”

AJ gave him a nod, before walking up to Clementine’s grave.

“What’cha got there, AJ?” Asked Violet, looking at him and spotting the hat, “Oh.”

“I,” AJ swallowed, “I found your hat, Clem.” He gently put it on top of the grave marker, “I caught some fish a-and I saw Tenn,” Violet stiffened, before looking at Louis, who waved a hand at her, “a-and, I-I w-want you b-back m-mom.”

Violet crouched down and picked AJ up, letting the boy cry into her neck, while Louis swallowed and ran a hand down his face. Violet decided to try and approach James, get his help with them.

TUB

AJ was in the back of a car. He heard the cassette Clementine had playing in the radio, and her hastily fast forwarding past the swearing.

“Clem?” His caretaker looked at him in the mirror, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know yet, Goofball.” Answered Clementine, “But, hey, we have each other.”

“Are we going to find a home?”

“One day,” Promised Clementine, “one day.”

The cassette started playing a song, AJ only remembered the middle part, mainly because Clementine would sing along with it, he lost count the number of times he’s heard ‘take us back’ but at least the tune was nice.

“Clementine?” Asked AJ, “Can you promise you’ll never leave me?”

“Never?” Clementine raised an eyebrow, “Alright, I promise I’ll never leave you, ever.”

“But you did.” AJ rubbed his eyes, “You left me, a-and L-Louis a-a-and the o-others.”

“Sometimes, AJ,” Clementine gave him a sad look in the mirror, “promises can’t be kept, no matter how hard you might try. I had Lee promise to never leave me, and he got bit. There are somethings we can’t change or control, and we have to live with it, because there’s nothing else, we can do.”

AJ sniffled and rubbed his eyes, “I love you mom.”

“I love you, too, Goofball,” Smiled Clementine, “now, get some sleep, you need it.”

AJ nodded and closed his eyes, while allowing the movement of the car to rock him to sleep.

He woke up in his bed in Ericson, clutching onto a soft toy Clementine had found him, as silent tears fell onto it.

Next Story: What if all of the Ericson’s survivors were captured by The Delta? (TW: This story will contain implications of Torture and Rape/NonCon)

[ravencromwell]

To all my mutuals who have no fucking idea what Shades of Magic by V. E. Schwab is, and are watching large chunks of their dash descend into Nick never shuts up about it: I'm so sorry ;) Now, I mean, if we're mutuals, I think this entire series would be your jam, for one reason or another. In no particular order:

--there is a genderfluid pirate who comes off the streets of 1819 London and bullies her way into a magic adventure and just! keeps! going out and kicking ass and taking names and winning everything and honestly, it's the best nonbinary/trans power fantasy swear to God even as I'm like: for the sake of being a fully rounded character, my beloved pirate thief really should have some! consequences.

--there's an insanely through-the-roof powerful magician who's been deeply broken by privation and torture and poverty but still wants desperately to save his world that is so! reminiscent of Thorin fucking Oakenshield it hurts in the best way!

--and speaking of Thorin Oakenshield and the first ship that sucked me viciously into fandom: Dworin people this same magician had this wonderful doomed attempt to rule beside a king and it has all the best Dworin vibes with this amazing personality inversion because there's all the loyalty and affection and the king/general/knight stuff but it's the king! who's outgoing and social and magnetic and our insanely broken magician who's quiet and reflective and it captures the very best of the dynamic without feeling like it's repeating the ship and I need all of y'all to ship Holland Vosijk/Ros Vortalis stat—dear God we don’t get these two until book 3, but oh! Oh it’s so worth it. (oh god sometimes I just sit and drool over the fic @bodysnatch3r and @mainecoon76 would write.

--and let me not forget, the Percival Graves vibes. @maggieandthedragon is another one I just make grabby hands thinking of contributions she’d make to this fandom. Holland is a man who tries desperately to respect life, made party to utterly inhuman actions via torture—the Percy and Gellert parallels, they are strong. And Holland/Vor has some Percy/Thes vibes dear God the golden youth Holland can never recapture.

--for all of you for whom we bonded over geopolitics, power is at the heart of this series. So much of why White London becomes! the way it is is because Red took it upon itself to trap them between demons and a lack of magic for fear of Red's own downfall and then weep endlessly because you all hate us/want revenge. No shit! they do. Schwab handles this well, greying the morality throughout the series, though she hasn't yet done what my socialist egalitarian heart craves and had someone smash open all the doors Red London slammed shut--but don't worry. the fic writers are there to handle that shit. Even if the source doesn't delve as much into colonialism/imperialism as I would like, oh! the themes are there.

--there is sibling affection powerful enough to drag people back from the brink of death. There is a gay pirate who is the homage to every spy novel ever. There’re swordfights and couples over forty and a million other things I love. It's not a perfect series, but I wouldn't love it this much without its flaws.

[bigbanghell]

“There’s my favorite stupid rat. Aah, I missed him.”

“Great memories of bashing his skull in.”

[lazywriters-blog]

PLAY-PARTNERS

YANDERE KAMISATO AYATO

Summary: You are in an affair with the head of the kamisato clan, unwillingly.

Warning: May contain triggering content, implied sexual relationship, non-consensual touching, ayato being manipulative- the poor reader is stressed.

The headquarters of the Yashiro commission wasn't by far the most unlikeable place on teyvat.

It held some horrible recollections for the young lady sipping her warm tea at a table, apprehensive, and nervously pressing her lips into a thin line, glancing towards the male present with her, on the other side, eyeing her with what she presumes could be inquisitiveness. She anxiously swallows the bitter beverage, comprehending her next choice of speech.

However, every time she catches a glimpse of him, it's like she doesn't recognize what she was to say. It's the way he looks at her as if he's aware of whatever is fiddling inside that small head of hers, crushing down her meek defences and examining her core nature, then shaming her with his eyes alone.

Ultimately, she decides to remain quiet for fear of saying something she shouldn't and then silently lament it in the future. Instead, pondering when they met. She's a married woman, with no child, a husband who is very much overprotective of her, for good purposes.

The man abruptly leaned forward, and she snips off her reminiscence, stiffly perceiving his upper body, momentarily peeking at his equitable expression, and then dragging it onto the floating liquid in a cup.

"Thanks for joining me for tea on such short notice, I've been thinking about you a lot lately." He confessed, she feebly drew in a soft breath, making herself appear like she was in deep thoughts, but she wouldn't know how believable she seemed.

He resumed.

"I've missed you much. How have you been? Last I saw, you appeared quite happy."

Was he mocking her? When they met, she went all out needing to avoid him, what they did, was nothing more than a grave mistake. Something she'd appreciate being left behind and forgotten, to save her skin and sanity, yes, but, what more can she do to ease the burden of guilt.

She averts her gaze, preparing to answer.

"I'm fine. Just feeling a little under the weather I suppose..." She muttered, shyly deterring her eyes when the look he formulated made her stomach churn. She felt like she was being peeled by the skin.

"I see." He responded.

Subconsciously, her hand reached out to her belly, sensitively grasping it. He noticed.

"Is something the matter? You are very incommunicative today." He said, narrowing his eyes and slightly lifting his chin, she chokes on her word, startling herself and recoiling from the chagrin. Hesitantly connecting eyes, the urge to rend it away was consistent, nervously fidgeting unbeknownst to her worked up brain.

"Yes- I'm good, um... Just thinking about my husband." She untruthfully replied he heeded, said nought in return.

"Is it related to us?" He implored after an uneasy moment of lull and cognition, her shoulders mildly tough up. He noticed that as well.

"Not quite, but yes." She lied.

"Are you worried he will find out about us?" He asked once again, intrigued and somewhat, blissful.

"I wouldn't want him to, but if he does, and he doesn't want to be associated with me anymore, then it is alright. I've been an unfaithful wife." She muttered. His eyes dimmed a little, and he loosened his rigid posture, indulging in grim thoughts.

"And say, if you had the chance to re-marry, would you?" That tricked her mind, she visibly made a nonplused presentation on her face, puzzled but knowing his true intentions behind an indifferent, humane facade.

"I'm not sure about that." She mumbled.

Immediately, she added with an urgency in her voice, "I... need to go now, thank you for having me." He nodded, looking at her then, he stifled a smile.

"You needn't." He retorted.

Stopping the woman in her tracks, wordlessly questioning his intentions, her back turned and face away from his prying vision, he confirmed, "you mustn't leave. Please rest for a while longer." He finished, oddly his face did not compliment his tone. Instantly, buzzing all red alarms in her head.

She stared, wishing to ask, decided to keep quiet.

"You forgot to tell me one crucial thing." He said as he rose to his full height, approaching and closing the distance, the gap between their bodies small and insignificant. She slowly advanced backwards, her gaze trained on him.

"You are with my child, inside of you." He whispered with a grin, she stopped, her fingers loosely clenched and shallow breaths unable to reach her lungs. "How could you keep such a thing from me?" Gently he snaked his hand around her waist, his other, resting and steadily caressing her abdomen.

"If you try anything. It won't end well." He suddenly threatened upon nearing in on her body, leaning towards her ear. She didn't say anything.

He took the time to swiftly arrange her imprisonment.

"Maids! Take her inside and see she rests well, she isn't to leave without me." He sternly instructed, his dominant hand gripping her tight. Voicelessly, demanding her to move along soundly.

"I'll be back shortly. You rest up till then." He smiled, softly stroking her cheek, and then letting his hold unfasten. She looked down, obediently allowing the maidens to drag her inside.

Ayato watched.

Slowly turning on his heels to flee, to make sure someone in her life doesn't reap the likelihood to encounter her again.

Then, her name wouldn't need to be dirted and dishonoured.

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

A Hunting Trip (Part 3)

pairing: dean winchester x reader x damon salvatore

synopsis: a spiked punch - damon finds *yn* after the incident at the boarding house and dots finally start to connect. *yn* and damon share a moment & reminisce on their first memories. dean makes amends.

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, violence, just vampires being vampires man

notes: the series is gonna start ramping up now... strap in ;)

Series Masterlist

Leaves crunched under *yn*'s sneakers as she trailed through the woods. Her phone pressed to her ear as it rung, silently begging for Sam to answer.

"*yn* I-"

"-listen Sam, Dean's safe." She cut him off before he barely got a word out. She could hear the sigh of relief echo through the speakers.

"Where is he? I need to come get him-"

"-I don't think that's a good idea." She said quickly.

There was a pause before, "I thought you said he was safe?"

"He is. Sort of. I've got it under control, I promise. Just get back to the motel and I'll ring you when I've got Dean out and I'll explain everything."

"Got Dean out? *yn* what the hell is going on?" Sam demanded. *yn* silently cursed, glancing over her shoulder at the sound of a twig cracking. She paused, surveying her surroundings before turning her attention back to the younger Winchester.

"I can't explain right now, just trust me. Please. If you come back here it's just going to make things a thousand times worse."

Another pause as Sam contemplated. *yn* held her breath as he let out a defeated sigh, "fine. But if I don't hear from either of you in an hour I'm coming back, got it?"

"Got it. Thanks Sam, be careful."

With that *yn* hung up, sliding her phone back into her pocket as she continued her march through the woods. After what felt like an eternity she finally slowed her determined pace as she reached a large oak tree.

Her mind was racing at what felt like a million miles per hour as she pressed her back to the trunk of the tree and slid down until she was seated on the bed of leaves.

"The man's probably rolling in his grave right now. It's like he died for goddamn nothing." Dean's words echoed in her head as she hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the woods blankly.

She tried to slow her mind, to focus on the little bird that was pecking absentmindedly at the ground in front of her instead. But it was impossible, her brain was jumping from one thought to the next, trying to process everything that happened over the past 12 hours so quickly she could barely keep up.

"Haven't you heard it's dangerous to be out in these woods by yourself?"

The voice snapped her out of her trance like state and the bird that had edged closer took off in a flurry of feathers.

"What with all those animal attacks lately." She could hear the leaves crunching under Damon's boots as he approached. She didn't answer him, instead resting her chin on the top of her knees as she hugged herself tighter.

"Good start." Damon mumbled under his breath as he studied her rigid form.

She looked out of her peripheral to see him taking a seat beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"I know you said you wanted to be alone." Their arms brushed as he leant back against the tree.

"So you do listen to me." Her dry response made a half smile twitch up onto Damon's lips.

"Don't get used to it."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Her quip made him turn to face her, studying her features as he tried to get a read on her. When he couldn't, he cast his gaze down to his lap.

"I always wondered why you weren't that afraid of me. But now I know you were a baby hunter it all makes sense."

"Don't underestimate how much the leather jacket drags down your scary score." A huff of laughter escaped Damon's lips at her words as he turned back to her.

"The extra points it adds to my sexy score makes up for it." He jerked his brows up and shot her a flirty grin as she finally looked over at him. Despite her mood, *yn* couldn't fight the small smile that twitched up onto her lips.

She couldn't disagree with him on that point.

He didn't need to know that.

"When dad would tell me what sort of monsters were out there, you were so not what I had in mind."

"Much more charming? alluring? witty?" This time she let out a breathy laugh.

"I was going to say more annoying, but sure."

"I'm touched." He placed his hand over his heart. He let his eyes glide over her for a few moments before speaking once more.

"So.. when you said you put safety measures in place... what are we talking?" His question illicited a shrug.

"Holy water in the town water supply, party punches, in anything I can to be honest." She answered him after a few moments.

"To prevent demon possession." She added when she saw Damon's confused expression.

He nodded slowly as he digested her words, "naturally."

"So that night we first met you were actually...?"

"Yep."

"Right..." He trailed off, raising his brows in amusement. Who'd have thought holy water actually did anything. He'd always just thought it was ironic. A good source of amusement.

"So the town's drinking water is spiked with vervain and holy water."

"And I've carved devil's traps all around town too. In all our friend's houses, the school, Mystic Grill. They trap demons once they step into it."

A "Huh" left Damon's mouth after a few moments of silence.

"So demons are your ultimate concern?"

Memories flashed before *yn*. The screams, the blood, the maniacal laughter.

"They're insidious little bastards. One of the easiest to flush out though. Luckily we haven't had to deal with one."

She flinched as the memories of all of the hunting trips her dad had dragged her on resurfaced.

"Or something worse."

Damon had a million questions he wanted to ask her. One look at the pained expression on her features told him that it would have to wait.

"Stefan took off the second he woke up." He began after the pair stewed in silence for a few moments.

"Bon Bon and Elena have gone to talk to mother witchy. Caroline's gone to go help Tyler out with his little siring issue and Donavan... well I've got no clue where Donovan is... probably somewhere annoying someone."

"and Dean?"

Damon knew she would ask but it didn't stop the jealousy that sparked through him at the sound of the name. Part of him wished he had just told her so he didn't have to hear her say it. So he didn't have to hear the level of concern in her tone that she was so clearly trying to conceal.

"Don't worry, your other bloodsucker friends made sure he got down to the cells safely." Damon didn't bother hiding the venom in his words. His face was taught, the jealousy making his muscles strain. It was enough to make *yn* stiffen up beside him.

"We can keep him down there for a while but- hey!" *yn* was up and onto her feet before Damon could finish his sentence. He cursed under his breath, his shouts going ignored as *yn* started off in the direction of the boarding house.

"And where do you think you're going?"

*yn* rolled her eyes as Damon was in front of her in a split second, stopping her in her tracks.

"We can't leave him in those cells. He's not a prisoner, Damon."

"Well he did kind of threaten to kill us all... I think that justifies detainment, don't you?"

Damon let out a defeated sigh when his attempt to lighten the mood was met with a sour expression.

"Look I'm sorry about what happened before, but we can't have hunters running around Mystic Falls. We've got enough problems as it is."

"I know." *yn* conceded. "That's why I want to talk to him. To both of them. To convince them to leave town."

Her words made Damon raise a brow, "you really think that's gonna work?"

*yn* sighed and shrugged, "maybe?"

"I don't know." She confessed as Damon shot her a skeptical look. "Maybe if I explain to them what's going on they'll realise they're in over their heads. They're looking for their dad anyway, they might move on and focus on that."

"*yn*, I know I don't know the guy, but your pretty boy friend doesn't really seem like the type to just walk away."

Damon was right. Of course he was right. *yn* knew that there was no way in hell Dean Winchester was just going to throw in the towel and let a bunch of vampires run around a town unchecked. But she had to at least give it a try.

"Just let me try Damon. Please." He was wavering just from one imploring look from her. He really needed to work on getting back his spine. Back to who he was when he first arrived back in Mystic Falls. But who was he kidding, he'd had a soft spot for her the second he'd laid eyes on her.

He let out a defeated sigh, "and if it doesn't work?"

"You can compel them to forget everything they saw here and make them leave town for good." She responded without even skipping a beat.

Damon's eyes narrowed at her answer as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Her doe eyes were even wider than usual as she looked up at him imploringly. He swore that she was even blinking slower on purpose. She was getting a little too good at bargaining for his liking. She was also getting a little too good at manipulating him.

"You've been hanging around me for too long." A small smile appeared on her lips at the sound of his relenting. "But fine, you get until the end of the day to get them out of here willingly and not a moment more."

"Thank you."

"Ah ah ah-" She had only taken a few steps and he was in front of her once more.

"This conversation is so not over missy."

"What else is there to say?" Her question came out more harsh than she intended. But she knew that Sam would be counting down the minutes until an hour had passed and would be on her if she wasn't on her way with Dean. That he'd get in his car and kick down the door to find Dean. Then things would really go to shit.

Something changed in Damon's eyes at her words. The mood shifting as his jaw set and his gaze hardened.

"What else is there to say?" He repeated. *yn* knew instantly that she'd said the wrong thing.

"Damon-"

"I don't know, maybe talking about the fact that your last name isn't even really your last name, that I don't really know anything about you, that you lied to me about everything?"

"I wanted a fresh start when I got here, I wanted to forget about what my life was like when I was a hunter." She defended herself, standing her ground as he glowered down at her.

"And then when I realised what was going on here, do you really think I was going to run around telling everyone I was a hunter?"

"I'm not talking about everyone *yn*, I'm talking about me. You lied to me." His eyes were like blue flames, burning wild with anguish as he took a few steps towards her.

She scoffed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Do you remember what you were like when you first arrived here? All you cared about was getting Katherine out of that damn tomb. You would have killed me the second you found out."

Her words were designed to hurt, and they found their mark perfectly. She could see the pain dance on his features as her weapon embedded into him, twisting in right where it hurt.

"That was then. This is now. That was before I-" He cut himself off as he stared down at her. His tongue darted over his lips as his jaw clenched.

*yn* felt her heart hammer in her chest as she studied him. She could have sworn his eyes darted down to her lips for a split second before they locked with hers once more.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" His tone was soft this time. Less angry, more hurt. More desperate.

Her lips parted but no words came out as she looked up at him. His eyes were searching hers, desperately trying to find an answer to his own question.

"I don't know." She finally admitted quietly.

She could see him shutting down immediately. That stone cold look that crossed his face was one she was all too familiar with. The one when he was hurt and wanted to lash out.

"Damon wait-" Her hand encircled his wrist before he could storm off.

"I was scared to tell you because I was worried you would react like this." She explained as he swung around to glare at her. "Please." She lowered her tone -

"don't."

He knew what she was really asking. What she was begging. But she didn't want to say it out loud. Don't go and hurt someone because you're upset at me. Which was exactly what his first instinct was.

To lash out and go find some poor innocent schmuck and sink his fangs into their artery. To drink until he was drunk and delirious off their blood. Until he could barely even remember why he was upset.

To forget that the girl he was in love with had just admitted that she might have lied to him for the rest of her life.

"Don't ask me to do something you know I can't do *yn*." He spat back. She took a step towards him.

"I'm the bad guy remember?" He sneered, the veins under his eyes rippling under the surface to prove his point.

"You and I both know that's not true Damon." Her tone was soft, soothing. Another step closer. She still hadn't let go of his wrist.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Her words were eroding away his murderous anger. His breathing slowing as he watched her bring a hand up to gently trace the veins under his eyes.

"I would never hurt you."

"I know." She nodded.

She could feel her heart beating against her ribcage as she finally released his wrist and dropped her hands to her side.

"After this is all over I'll tell you everything."

"Is that a promise?" His tone was teasing as one side of his lips twitched up into a smirk.

She knew that he was lightening the mood for her benefit, to show that he wasn't going to go and take out his anger on something - or someone.

"Yeah."

This time she knew it wasn't her mind playing tricks on her, because Damon's eyes lingered on her lips for what felt like an eternity. She swallowed as his eyes dragged up to meet hers. Had he been standing this close the whole time?

"It's a promise." She whispered back, nodding her head. This time it was her turn to glance down at his lips as she spoke.

*yn* could have sworn Damon started leaning in when the tinny voice of Taylor Swift erupted from her jean pocket.

"Uh-" *yn* took a step back from Damon as she hurriedly fished her phone out.

She cursed under her breath when she saw the contact name flashing on the screen. She shot him an apologetic before pressing the phone to her ear.

can't you see that I'm the one who understands you- Taylor was cut short as she accepted the call.

"Sam, hey listen-" Damon rolled his eyes.

"Where the hell are you guys? It's been over an hour *yn*."

"I know I'm sorry I- we got caught up." She avoided Damon's unimpressed gaze as she ran a hand through her hair.

"Look we're on our way. I can meet you at mine in twenty minutes, I'll text you the address. Ok?"

There was a pause on the other line as Sam deliberated her words. "Fine, yeah ok. I'll be there."

She let out a relieved sigh as she hung up.

"Your house in twenty minutes huh?" Damon queried as he watched her type in her address.

"You said you'd give me till the end of the day. You didn't say he had to stay locked up." She countered as she shut her phone and slid it into her back pocket.

"Hm." Damon hummed as he studied her, "have you always been this slippery?"

"I learnt from the best." She shot him a sarcastic grin before heading off back towards the house.

"Like I said, you've been hanging around me too long."

It was as if that moment that had just transpired between them had been a figment of her imagination as the pair walked alongside each other. They were right back to how they usually were around each other. Sarcastic, mean, slightly flirty.

Platonic.

Maybe she really had imagined it, maybe he hadn't been leaning in like he was about to kiss her.

"The keys are just outside the cell door." Damon told her once they were standing in the entrance of the boarding house.

"You're not staying?" *yn* watched as Damon shrugged on one of his leather jackets.

"Negative, gotta check out Ric's lady doctor friend." His answer made her raise a brow.

"Does Ric know?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, I'm doing him favour, what if he's got a good old bunny boiler on his hands?" He shrugged innocently, his eyes shining with amusement.

"Mmhmm, I'm sure he'll definitely see it that way."

"Your confidence in me is touching, truly." He placed a hand over his heart which made her roll his eyes.

"Just try not to do anything too stupid." Was all she answered with as she began to head down towards the basement.

"Did you really carve those devil trap thingies in everyone's houses?" Damon called out just as she reached the cellar door.

Her fingers floated just above the handle as he spoke. A smirk was painted on her face as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Look under your rug." Her eyes flickering down to the rug placed at the front door.

His brow furrowed in confusion as she disappeared down the stairs. He glanced down at the rug beneath his feet. There was no way. Surely he would have noticed.

He stepped off the rug and crouched down, yanking it back in one sweep of his arm.

"Huh." He blinked a few times and pursed his lips as he stared down at the timber.

A huge circle with a pentagram sort of shape inside it was indeed carved into the wood. Intricate symbols and words he didn't recognise littered throughout.

"Well that's new."

The Woods - Mystic Falls, 1 Year Ago

*yn* weaved her way through the throng of teenagers that were gathered around the bonfire. She watched as two girls in her class made their way towards the main gathering, red cups filled with punch in hand. Away from the source. She stepped over a couple making out on the ground as her hands found the flask.

*yn* cursed under her breath as she heard her name being called over the raucous laughter and chatter. She slid the flask back inside the pocket of her jacket before turning around to face Caroline.

"Where the hell have you been? "

"Sorry I uh- someone was really wasted so I was just making sure they were ok." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

"Well come on, we're going to play truth or dare."

"I'll be there in a second."

Caroline rolled her eyes, "whatever I'm going to see if I can find Matt."

*yn*'s brow furrowed, "I thought you were with that Damon guy?"

"Ew *yn* no he's a jerk." Caroline's face screwed up in disgust. "Ugh god does anyone ever listen to me?" She threw her arms up dramatically as she stormed off, disappearing into the crowd.

"Sorry Care!" *yn* called out, but her apology was swallowed up by the pulsing music and shouts.

She sighed and turned around to find the beverage table but was stopped by a firm chest.

"Was hoping I'd see you tonight, Young." *yn* resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she looked up at Tyler Lockwood.

"Wish I could express the same sentiment, Lockwood."

"C'mon Young." His hand gripped her wrist stopping her in her tracks before she could move past him. "Let loose with me."

"Hm, hard pass." She yanked her arm out of his grasp. "But thanks." She shot him an emotionless smile before turning on her heel.

"Bitch." Tyler mumbled under his breath.

"Nice one Ty."

Tyler rolled his eyes as Matt appeared beside him, drinking deeply from his cup.

"Whatever man, I'm going to find Vicky."

*yn* glanced over her shoulder as she slipped out of the clearing and into the woods. The music and voices faded quickly, masked by the dense trees that now enveloped her.

She wasn't very far from the party, but the darkness and silence that surrounded her made her feel strangely isolated. She quickly approached the table that was home to the punch bowl and the beer keg, glancing over her shoulder one last time before leaning over it and pulling out the flask.

"I don't think we've met before."

The unfamiliar voice made her stiffen. She rose up, swallowing down her nerves as she stuffed the flask back into her jacket pocket and turned around.

Piercing green eyes shaped by jet black hair and a stomach-churning smirk stared back at her. She knew who he was instantly. A chill ran up her spine as he took a step closer to her.

He cocked his head as he studied her intently. *yn* straightened up, determined to mask any fear she had as she stared back at him.

"Wow how have I managed to survive until this moment." His smirk widened at her sarcastic tone.

He liked a challenge.

"I'm Damon." He mirrored her steps, blocking her path back to the safety of the group.

"I know."

"Ah so you've heard of me." He wriggled his brows as he grinned down at her.

"I've heard about how much of jerk you've been to Caroline, to Elena, to your brother. Actually, to pretty much everyone in town. So yeah, I'd say your reputation proceeds you."

"Well Caroline's always been a little bit-" His finger twirled in circles next to his ear.

"And I mean my baby brother come on, with that hero hair of his? He was born a drama queen."

She let out a huff as he once again stopped her from getting around him.

"Hold on a minute.." Damon held up his hands, "Caroline has told me about all of her little friends..." He trailed off as he studied her for a few moments. His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers as he pointed at her.

"You must be *yn* Young." He grinned, "am I right?"

"Ding ding ding we have a winner folks, head to the exit to collect your prize." She drawled, a roll of her eyes as she tried one more time to get around him.

"Caroline did tell me you were quite the sarcastic one."

"How sweet of her."

He let out a hum of acknowledgment at her words as his eyes raked up and down her body.

"What are you doing with that flask?"

His question caught her off guard, she thought she'd hidden it before he could catch a glimpse of it.

"You know I'm all for a good time but spiking the punch bowl?" He let out a low whistle. "That's pretty twisted, even for me."

*yn* gritted her teeth, not saying anything as she glared at him.

"Hand it over."

A roll of his eyes and a huff as she stayed still. "I can hear the liquid swishing against your rib, come on." He extended his palm out.

She remained composed as she slowly reached into her hidden inner jacket pocket and pulled out the small flask. She watched as he snatched it from her and twisted open the cap.

"This isn't alcohol." He stated as he sniffed it hesitantly.

"What the hell is this?"

"Water." She answered him.

"Don't lie to me." He gripped her shoulder as his eyes bore into hers. "What is in the flask?"

This is what Elena had told her about. The compulsion. At least she knew that the vervain worked because she could feel her lips beginning to form the words 'fuck off'. She clamped her mouth shut before she could say them.

There was no point in antagonising him further. He was still a vampire who could rip her head from her shoulders before she even had a chance to blink. She could just tell him a sanitised version of the truth.

"Holy water." She answered him.

A chuckle escaped his lips at her words. "Holy water? I'm sorry sweetheart but I don't think even holy water could purify these teenagers."

His laughter faded as he studied her, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the flask and then back at her.

"Why?"

"To protect against monsters, like demons."

Her answer seemed to actually take him by surprise, a brow jerking up at her words. His shock was quick to vanish, replaced by an amused expression.

"I hate to break it to you but-"

She tensed up as she watched him tilt the flask upside down, letting the liquid poor all over the ground.

"-holy water won't do you much good." He tossed the empty flask to the ground.

"- especially around here, I mean with all these animal attacks lately, who knows what's prowling out around here."

*yn* swallowed as the atmosphere changed. The way his eyes darkened didn't go unnoticed by her either. She felt a chill run up her spin as his tongue darted out, running along his top lip. The whites of his teeth flashed back at her.

He took a step towards her. Like he was stalking his prey.

"Lucky I'm not alone then, right?"

He snickered, "Not so lucky I'm afraid."

Her heart pounded as she watched his face morph into that of a monsters right before her eyes.

"I wouldn't." Her calm tone even took herself by surprise. "I've been drinking vervain, wouldn't taste very nice I'm afraid."

He took a step back in surprise, his jaw falling open slightly revealing the two fangs that were now protruding from his gums. He hadn't considered that she might know what he was.

"Well, that is a shame." An animalistic grin twisted up onto his lips.

"I'm sure you would taste divine."

"Shame you'll never find out." She felt queasy at his words, watching as he licked his lips as he studied her.

"Drinking vervain doesn't stop me from ripping your heart out of your chest."

"Your right, it doesn't." She nodded, taking a step towards him as she squared her shoulders.

"But you see, I've collected all of this evidence about you and your brother that's sitting in an email scheduled to be sent to the Founder's Council."

Damon faltered at her words, emboldening her further.

"And if I'm dead, well." She paused as she cocked her head slightly. "There'll be no one to stop that email from being sent by the end of the evening."

Her words made his eyes narrow, watching as a taunting smirk twisted up onto her lips. "And you can kiss the dream of getting Katherine out of that tomb goodbye."

"How do you-"

"*yn*!" Damon turned around to see Elena and Stefan hurrying towards them.

"Are you ok?" Elena asked as she glanced between the pair.

"Yeah Elena, I'm fine." *yn* nodded as she turned her attention back to Damon who was staring at her with an unreadable expression on his features.

"Was just getting to know Damon a little bit better, right Damon?"

A tight lipped smile appeared on Damon's face as he stared back at her.

"Right."

Mystic Falls, Present Day

"Come on you stupid thing."

Dean paced around the cell, his cellphone held up to the ceiling. He cursed as the 'No Signal' continued to flashed back at him. Only once his arm started aching in protest did he finally admit defeat.

He froze at the sound of footsteps descending the steps. He shoved his phone into his pocket and approached the door, peering through the bars of the cell door. He pursed his lips, his face void of emotion as *yn* appeared.

"Sam's ok." She said it before Dean even had the chance to open his mouth.

The sigh of relief that Dean tried to compress bounced off the basement walls. She could feel those green eyes on her as she crossed the length of the basement to one of the storage chests.

"I thought you'd have at least tried to pick the lock." Dean watched as she opened it. He swallowed. She was wearing denim shorts that slid up her thighs as she bent down over it.

"Don't worry your friends made sure to 'compel' me to not try and escape." He answered, his eyes darting up to her face as she turned to face him.

"That is what you guys call it isn't it? The thing they do when they take away people's free will."

*yn* refused to let his jab illicit a physical response from her as she approached him, a water bottle now in hand.

Dean raised a skeptical brow as she slid the water bottle through the bars. His forehead furrowed when he saw that there was a sort of herb that he didn't recognise floating in the liquid.

"It's a herb called vervain. Vampires won't be able to compel you while it's in your system."

He hesitantly took it from her outstretched hand upon her explanation and examined the herb close up. For a split second a small voice piped up inside his head, "what if this is some sort of trick?"

He glanced up at her to see that she was observing him intently. With the exact same look that her dad used to have on his face when he was on a job. One look at her and those doubts were pushed to the side. He knew deep down he could trust her. He unscrewed the lid and pressed the bottle to his lips.

"So this is really gonna stop those vamps from screwing with my head?"

"Consider it a peace offering." She shot him a tight lipped smile as he wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand.

He screwed the lid back on and studied her for a few moments. Their last conversation was playing on an audio loop in his mind, acting as the soundtrack for the image of her anguished features.

"Listen, about what I said before-"

"- you don't need to say anything." She cut him off, waving her hand dismissively.

"I probably would have said the same thing if the roles were reversed. If two years ago you would have told me this was my life I-" She shook her head and chuckled humourlessly. "You're probably right."

"Maybe." He nodded as he leant against the bars. "Doesn't make me any less of a jerk for saying it."

He felt a smile threaten to tug on her lips as a soft laugh escaped her lips. That was the closest thing to an apology she'd probably ever get from Dean Winchester.

"I won't argue with you on that one."

"Your boyfriend know you're here?"

Her eyes rotated in their sockets at his question. "Firstly, not my boyfriend." She leant over and grabbed the key from its hook.

"You might want to tell him that." Dean muttered, earning a pointed look from *yn*.

"Secondly." She chose to ignore his comment as she slid the key into the lock. "He does."

"He must really trust you then, if he's willing to let you be alone with the enemy." His words made her hand still mid twist.

"Has it ever occurred to you that we might be on the same side?" All humour had vanished from her features.

Her question made a dry chuckle escape Dean's lips. "We hunt supernatural beings. Unless I've missed the part where vampires are suddenly considered natural-" He shook his head.

"Sweetheart we are definitely not on the same side."

She nodded slowly at his words, "you know I used to think the same thing."

She pulled the key out of the lock and examined it.

"That everything was black and white. Good and evil. Hunted or hunter. Like our dads taught us. If a thing was supernatural you just killed that son of a bitch, no questions asked." Her words were slow. Thoughtful. Calm.

"Until I moved here. Until I saw some of my closest friends turn into vampires. Into werewolves. And afterwards they still cried, still laughed, still loved." Her voice was wavering slightly now as all the events from the past year washed over her like a tidal wave.

Dean was staring at her intensely, clinging onto every word like it was a cliff's edge.

"They're still human, at the core of their being. In their soul. And it made me realise that maybe there is a grey area in all of this. That not all supernatural creatures are monsters. In fact from my experience, some of the most terrifying monsters I've met-"

The key was sliding back into the lock now.

"Are human."

The door swung open, the barrier between them vanishing. A few moments passed as they stared at each other. *yn* stepped to the side to indicate he could leave the cell.

"Jesus." Dean finally spoke, clearing his throat as he stepped over the threshold. "You sound exactly like Sammy."

His words were light, sarcastic. Deflective. Like it always was when he was faced with an uncomfortable conversation. He'd been the same at 18.

But she could tell by the way his eyes lingered on her that her words had had an effect on him.

"I knew there was a reason he's always been my favourite." Her tone teasing as she hung the key back onto the hook.

The tension and angst that had hung over them only moments ago had cleared now much to both their relief.

It was strange to *yn*, how she could jump so easily, so comfortably, from something so angsty to so light. It was the same with Damon.

"C'mon sweetheart it isn't nice to lie."

He was smirking now as she brushed past him. She paused as she reached the bottom of the stairs "I never said I was nice."

Dean's brows raised as she shot him a wink before starting the ascension.

He let out a breath as he watched her.

"Come on!" Her words jolted Dean into action as he hurried after her.

"Where are we going exactly?" He asked as he followed her up the stairs and towards the foyer.

"My house, Sam's waiting for us." *yn* answered as she neared the door. Dean's eyes fell on the rug in the entrance way.

"To have that catch up, you know the one that we were supposed to have today before you guys took it upon yourselves to ignore me and get caught."

Dean was only half listening as his attention slid to the wooden slats that were no longer obscured.

"Did you do this?"

*yn*'s eyes followed his, "that one and about thirty others around town."

At her answer, his eyes traced the engraving, soaking in the intricate symbols that were carved to near perfection.

A grin spread across her lips as he lifted his head to look up at her. Words weren't needed to convey his awe. He was impressed. Almost jealous even. He'd been carving these things a lot longer than she had.

"C'mon Winchester, don't act so surprised." She pulled open the front door before glancing over her shoulder.

"You can never really leave the job. Even if you try and convince yourself you can. You and I both know that."

Dean watched as she disappeared out the door. His eyes fell to the carving once more as he shook his head.

Yeah, he was in trouble.

Part 4

I have the next few parts planned out and I am so excited heheheh, hope everyone is still enjoying it <333 As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

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[bowandcurtsey]

Hey! Can I ask for a scenario where Yami is on a mission with Fuego, Nozel and Willian in Hino country to retrieve a powerfull magical artifact and in the middle of the mission they save F!reader, a geisha with an incomparable beauty who was being pursued by some vassals of a cruel feudal lord who claims to love her, but it's a yandere obsession because of a one-sided love. Plot Twist: This beautiful geisha is Yami's younger sister and results in an emotional family reunion between them.

Hello lovely bby! Thank you for this creative request! AHHH our first geisha related request! I'll do my best ♡( ◡‿◡ )

Fuegoleon, Nozel, William, Yami & f! geisha! reader

Yami was beyond excited to be back in his hometown. It has been over 20 years since he last stepped foot here and everything is different now.

The place he used to call home seems like a foreign place to him. The port, the boats, the shops... They were no longer how he remembered them to be. The only thing that told him that he was back in his hometown was the Hino flag waving high above the beach tower.

He traced his way back home, the routes all unfamiliar after 20 years that it took them 2 days to get to his hometown which was also just by the seashores they came from.

His house... was empty. The neighbours said it had been empty since the old couple died. Yes, Yami parents had passed on and his siblings have moved out one by one. He had no idea where their graves were.

He took comfort in being able to even step foot back to this land again; never in his wildest dream did he think that he would be able to come back here, so he told himself to be grateful for this.

"They would be happy to know that you're back," William put a reassuring hand on his friend's humongous back.

"They would have welcomed all of you with open arms," Yami chuckled a little while reminiscing his parents, "the folks loved a good company."

The four of them stayed for the night and carried on their mission the next day.

----

It was a difficult mission especially since they were in a foreign land, but thanks to Yami who could still speak his native language, they managed to get clues and directions here and there.

The 4 men found themselves in the famous red light district of Hino.

"You're sure they said the artefact we're looking for is here?" Nozel threw a judging look at Yami.

"Yeah, that's what the old lady said, braidy." Yami taunted at the fellow captain.

"Well, let's just have a look around, shall we?" Fuegoleon politely rejected a hostess that was making her advances on him.

After walking down a few streets and turning down countless of ladies, (well it was a rare sight to see 4 handsome and charismatic men walking down the red light district) the captains were about to call it quits when they heard a scream and the sound of smashing glasses.

"Let me go!" a lady was being grabbed by the wrist by a huge man who was tall and muscular, his face was full of malice towards the beautiful young lady. He even had a few underlings with him.

"It's an order by Lord Kaho." the pursuer was relentless and wouldn't budge despite hurting the poor girl.

"I believe that's not the way for a man to treat a girl," Fuegoleon had a hand on the man shoulder.

"Do you not feel shame for hurting someone that's weaker than you?" Nozel was on his other shoulder.

The two royals had no idea what the lady and the man were talking about, but it was clear the lady did not want to go with the man.

"They said to let her go." Yami spoke to the man in Hino language.

"Who are you, this is an order by Lord Kaho, to make her his bride!" the man shrugged their hands away and dragged the girl so hard that she fell.

In the blink of an eye, the man and his underlings were beaten up by the captains and they scurried away, spewing a thread of incoherent words.

"oi, you ok?" Yami extended his hand to the lady.

"Yes, I am, thank you.." You spoke with simple english, surprising the four men. You were suddenly thankful that you learnt a little from some of those foreign customers that came by your workplace, as you took the big guy's hand to get up from the ground.

-------

The captains decided to walk you safely home, despite you telling them that you were fine. You explained to them that you were a Geisha that some feudal lord took a liking to and forced you to marry him, causing a ruckus at your work place.

You ran away to hiding but he sent his men to find you. You had no idea what to do since you could no longer work because of all the problems he's caused but you didn't like this Lord Kaho and didn't want to marry him.

"Actually we're here because of the rumours that there is a magical artefact hidden here. While you could help us find it, we could protect you from this evil lord and we promise to help you find a way to leave this place." William suggested after listening to your pitiful plight.

"I did think of leaving as a last resort, but this is where I grew up, and I lost my brother at a young age, if I leave, my brother would not be able to find me if he comes back.. He's the only family I have left."

"We promise to help you, so you could stay in your rightful homeland." Fuegoleon smiled at the lady before him, her beauty was dazzling, but she resembled someone he couldn't quite put a finger on..

"We haven't got your name, by the way." Nozel nodded at the alluring lady before him, "I'm Nozel and they are William, Fuegoleon and Yami."

"Ah, Yami, you have the same name as my brother." you smiled at Yami elegantly.

The four man paused in silence as the 3 of them stared at Yami, who stopped in his tracks, eyes widened at the lady before him.

"And your name is...?" he spoke softly, his tone was eager yet afraid.

It couldn't be. He thought to himself. What are the odds? Why didn't he think of it? Her familiar ki, her face, she resembled..

"Y/n,"

Yami's lips parted but no words came out. It was impossible. He was never lucky in his life. His life was just full of a series of unfortunate events and-

"Y/n Sukehiro."

Fuego, Nozel and William knew immediately that she was actually Yami's sister. Their minds were blown; Yami had been searching for his family only for her to be right in front of them all along!

They turned to Yami, whose face was wearing such a wide smile, but his eyes were clouded with tears. He was so stupefied that his brain malfunctioned for a moment, unable to process the happiness that he was feeling; the happiness of finding your loved one after 20 years of being apart, not knowing how they were, whether they were dead or alive, just holding on to that thin thread of hope, hoping that you would meet again someday.

Yami felt like his legs were not going to take his weight, his tongue was already unable to speak but his arms acted on their own, reaching out and pulling the girl in front of him into an embrace.

"A-are you okay, Yami?" you squeaked at you felt like the air was being squeezed out of your chest from his huge biceps.

"Miss Sukehiro," William smiled with such a warm and joyful smile, "His name is Yami Sukehiro, he's from Hino too."

Your reaction was the exact same as your brother. Silent with widened eyes, mouth agape as you felt your nose sour and your vision clouded with tears.

You started sobbing as the landslide of emotions crashed upon you. The dam of 20 years was broken; your tears couldn't stop flowing and your chest felt so tight. You grabbed onto the back of his shirt pulling his as close to you as ever possible.

------

After what seemed like an eternity, you both finally pulled back and had a good look at each other.

"how have you been, Y/n?" your brother's eyes were red, "I heard about mom and dad from the neighbours.. what happened?"

Yami felt the grieve that he had been burying deep in his chest rising to the surface again.

You took a deep breath and exhaled, knowing that you both had so much to talk about, "Why not we head to my place and we can talk over dinner?"

You both looked towards the other 3 gentlemen, waiting for their response.

"We're actually here to find an artefact..." Nozel spoke up.

"Yeah he's the party pooper," Yami shrugged, "But he's not wrong, I am here for work.."

"But I'm sure the king would understand.." William nodded, "let us call him and report on this and maybe Yami would take an off from the mission to catch up with his family. Afterall he's lost her for 20 over years.."

"I have to agree on this one," Fuegoleon said, "anyway it's getting dark and we need a place to stay. Let the siblings catch up and we will continue our search tomorrow. We could use an extra help anyway and y/n is local so she would be helpful."

----

Over dinner, the other 3 captains helped themselves to the food while you and Yami caught up with each other. He told you how he was swept away to Clover Kingdom and was part of their army called Magic Knights, his team was called the Black Bulls....

You told him about how mom and dad passed and how your siblings moved out in pursue of their jobs and careers or family and lost contact after the great war of Hino.

You didn't want to leave because you thought there should be someone left behind to clean your parents grave and also if there was a chance that Yami would return.

You really thanked the heavens that you did; you were eternally grateful that you could be reunited and at least know that your brother was well and alive. You couldn't wait to bring him to see your parents and tell them of the good news. They would be smiling from up in the heavens.

As you both stared at the night sky above your heads, you told your brother: "the number of times I stared into the dark night sky, hoping you were somewhere out there and looking at the same sky as me... tell me this isn't all just a dream.."

His huge arm wrapped around your shoulders, "it's not. And now that I'm here, I'll be sure to protect you from anyone that tries to bully you. I can't wait to punch that Kaho dude in the face..."

You both laughed. Those lonely and quiet nights would now be lively and filled with warmth forever.

-end-

[professorthaddeus]

Mother, Father. This will be my final letter.

You know, I used to find the two of you everywhere. I would see the love I betrayed in the faces of families who are whole. I would hear your terrified screams in laughter. I would see your bodies twisted in agony in the flickering of a campfire. I would feel your blood on my hands every time I cast a spell.

I would find you everywhere, and so I held fast to the possibility that I would bring you back.

Today, I relinquished the chance of it ever becoming a reality.

I could have gone back and saved you. It would have worked. There were puzzle pieces in that chamber that I would have clicked into place; there was magic buried in those relics that I would have unlocked and unleashed.

I would have joined the ranks of mages of myth. I could have unraveled everything.

The chamber is nothing but ashes now.

I still find the two of you everywhere. Your dreams for my potential are in the spells I learned from Essek. Your hope for the Empire is in Beauregard’s pen as she fights for our people, stroke by stroke. Your love is in the grin that Veth shines on her son when he fires a toy crossbow at the ass of a local shopkeeper.

I miss you. I love you. I am sorry.

I hope I can still make you proud.

~

Caleb closes that worn, leather-bound book for the last time. Tucks it back beneath his arm, stands, walks to the entryway of his tower. His hand shakes as he reaches for the handle.

Well, you and the Nein got me to the door. Now I have to walk through it.

He takes a deep breath, then takes his first step outside.

He arrives in Blumenthal alone, visits their graves, leaves his letters in the ground.

And he gets to work. But in this, he is not alone.

Beauregard is there, matching every armload of books he carries with two of her own. They spend their days compiling records and narratives, wielding the truth both in court and behind the scenes—children of the Empire leaving their home better than they found it for the children who will come after them, just as they always vowed.

What wasn’t planned is this: a couple times every week, Beauregard drags Caleb out of the library. They teleport to a remote cottage in a location that few are privy to, where Yasha will have started preparing the ingredients for a new recipe from Caduceus. The instructions are often passed through a jumbled chain of Jester’s messages, and there always seem to be a suspicious number of bugs included for supposedly vegetarian dishes, but they make it work all the same. On more than a few occasions, Caleb plays referee while Beauregard and Yasha spar, safe in the knowledge that their attacks are of their own free will and they will never truly harm each other again.

Jester and Fjord spend much of their time on the open sea, but Jester’s voice is never far from Caleb’s ear. She tells him of everything from her newest tattoo victim to an encounter with a dragon turtle with a grudge, from a shanty about dicks she came up with on the fly to an update on a young half-orc girl Fjord has taken under his wing. Every once in a while, Jester will demand a reunion, too. Some of them are out of necessity—such as when Uk’otoa finally comes knocking and Fjord can no longer sail the other away—but many are not. They meet in Nicodranas when the Nein Heroez docks for a pastry run, they meet in Hupperdook for a night packed with drinking contests and celebone sticks and hugs for Kiri, they meet on Rumblecusp when life becomes too much and the nine of them sorely need to fuck off to a vacation. Soon, even Darktow is open to them, once Kingsley has unseated the Plank King and lifted their ban from the island. His reign is long, and it is magnificent. Until he grows bored.

Caduceus joins them for every mandated reunion, but for the most part, he tends to his garden or explores the world on his own. But he is never out of reach, and when he does not come to the rest of them, they go to him. It is not uncommon for Caleb to arrive in the Blooming Grove to see Beauregard already meditating by the pond. Other times, Fjord will be there drinking tea with Caduceus, and the three of them will share a quiet conversation, each far more secure in their words than they’d been over fish and chips all those years ago. Often it is just Caduceus and his parents and siblings, and Caleb will be invited to a family dinner in a home that Ikithon could not burn down.

Veth remains a constant in Caleb’s life. Of course she does. Sometimes, when the two of them are teaching the neighborhood kids how to point a copper wire, or reminiscing over a glass of sherry, or simply talking while she weaves flowers into his hair on the beaches of Nicodranas, he’ll think back to his old fears of losing her to her family and laugh. After all, how could such a thing be possible when he is a part of her family himself?

There are others, too.

Countless students who pass under his tutelage and grow into young mages who know that power should be used to protect, not to manipulate. A cat—well, there are many cats, but there is one in particular that Caleb does not own, a snowy white fey cat who slinks in and out of his classroom as he pleases, whose eyes seem to flash when the Martinet arrives to have a word, who settles into place around Caleb’s shoulders with a purr when the rare nightmare returns.

An unexpected kinship with Yeza, forged at first through mutual respect and an understanding in their love for Veth, but eventually growing into a friendship in its own right. It is one that unfolds in quiet nights by stacks of books, in gleeful debates when comparing notes on magic and alchemy, in exhausted evenings watching over Luc together while Veth takes a girls’ night out to cause some chaos with Jester, Beauregard, and Yasha.

His old friends, who, try as they might, never seem able to sever the threads that have always tangled their fates together. It is Eadwulf who comes around first, with the silent offering of a bottle and a grim smile as he and Caleb crumble the bricks of Vergesson to dust. Astrid takes time. It makes sense—she has always been a fantastic dancer, and for a while, it appears they will be trapped in a precarious political tango forever, stepping around each other in their roles as the Archmage of Civil Influence and a simple teacher who may or may not be practicing treason in his classroom. But in the shadows, Astrid pulls a few strings to keep Caleb out of prison. Caleb hears a rumor and sends the might of the Cobalt Soul after a colleague who wants Astrid dead. And eventually, she begins joining him and Wulf on their evening walks through the streets of Rexxentrum. They return to the dance hall. They get lunch. They share memories, relearn each other’s old scars, and discover that solace can still be found in each other the way it was when they were children. It will always be complicated. It starts to become beautiful.

And of course, floating by Caleb’s side every step of the way is Essek, a drow who has learned to curb his ambition and care for others, who has decided to make his own amends. The former Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, who now spends his days picking up cupcakes for Jester in Uthodurn, planting seeds in the Blooming Grove. Sitting in on Caleb’s lessons with a different face each week, sketching runes into the floor of Caleb’s home amongst scattered papers and spell components, curling up on a couch beside Caleb and begrudgingly getting through Tusk Love because he promised. A traitor, a hero, a lifelong friend. A steadfast love.

So when Caleb Widogast arrives at the final page of his story, he is no longer shrouded in guilt, or grief, or regret. No, he is surrounded by the warmth of his chosen family when he takes his last breath, when time has run its course and he is finally ready to meet his parents again.

(And even before he sees their faces, he knows. He knows he made them proud.)

—————

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