#i mean if you sweep the way he treated anyone who was a threat to his government under the rug sure

[trans-ralsei]

so true twitter user bloomfilters

[sailoryooons]

Shadow | myg x pjm (m)

❀ Pairing: Faerie!Guard Yoongi x Faerie!Prince Jimin

❀ Summary: Yoongi’s life has been sworn to Jimin’s since the moment he was born. He was bred, crafted and trained to be Jimin’s shadow, his greatest protector. Jimin loves just how much Yoongi can never refuse him.  

❀ Word Count: 6,539

❀ Genre: Dark fantasy

❀ Rating: 18+ anyone discovered to be interacting with this content under 18 will be immediately blocked from this blog.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, toxic relationship, allusions to abuse, references to Jimin hurting Yoongi multiple times in the past, references to Yoongi only existing for Jimin, references to Jimin’s masochism, power dynamics, predator/prey, chasing, sadism/masochism relationship, rough sex in the literal dirt, Yoongi being referred to/treated like an object, blood play, biting/licking, spit play, humiliation, pain play, orgasm control, unprotected anal sex, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, bottom Yoongi/top Jimin, Jimin threatens various types of bodily harm to Yoongi, Yoongi Has Zero Self Preservation sometimes, there is reference to Jimin cutting a chunk out of Yoongi previously Ed Gein style, allusions to subspace and subdrop if you really really squint, zero aftercare. This content is marked as Dead Dove.

❀ Published: August 20, 2023 (originally)

❀ A/N: This is a repost from Hali After Dark that was done as a filled request and is a part of merging the few selected items I had there, over here. I will not make a habit of moving any other mem x mem works over to this blog, but because this was a requested item from a mutual, I didn't want it to vanish when I deleted HAD. I DO NOT DO TAG LISTS FOR DD CONTENT.

❀ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Yoongi doesn’t want to be here. The breeze has an icy bite to it, filling the boughs of the trees with wind as it sweeps through the forest. He pulls his cloak tighter, dragging his gaze around the shadowed wood. This late in the evening, everything is cast in an eerie black-green light. There’s no sign of anything worth hunting, which Yoongi told Jimin several times. 

There’s no telling Jimin no. The prince is as stubborn as he is vindictive, a lethal combination for Yoongi who has grown up at his side. The more Yoongi says no, the more Jimin says yes. The more Yoongi tries to use reverse psychology, the worse Jimin makes it. 

Jimin is a prince with gluttonous tastes. He likes to take but never give, to force but never ask. As a child, Yoongi often wondered what had to have been wrong with Jimin to make him this way. As an adult, Yoongi knows that Jimin is far more complex and haunted than the prince would ever reveal.

Still, nights like tonight remind Yoongi that he is often the subject of Jimin’s attention. Being sworn to him has always meant that Yoongi’s life was Jimin’s to own and command. He just didn’t expect the prince to enjoy it so much. 

“You’re mad at me,” Jimin sighs, looking over at Yoongi. “Why are you mad at me, Shadow?”

Yoongi grinds his teeth. Jimin is the only person who manages to get under Yoongi’s skin. As Jimin’s personal guard, it’s his duty to protect the prince at every moment, against every enemy, and at any cost, including his life. What he had not anticipated was most of the threats made to his well-being came from Jimin himself. 

He looks Jimin up and down. He’s in all black this evening, his clothes tight-fitted for hunting. There’s a spiked, silver necklace around Jimin’s neck, the only sign that he’s of renown in the Court of Thorns. His dark hair is damp from riding through heavy mists when leaving the castle, hanging limp in his beautiful face.

Jimin has always been the most beautiful faerie Yoongi has ever seen. He has high cheekbones and an angular jaw, his siren eyes dark and gaze heady. With lips like pillows and rounded cheeks, Jimin shifts between looking sweet and lethal on command, wielding his unearthly face to his advantage. 

Countless fae have fallen to that face. There’s no one who can say no to Jimin, especially when he purrs in their ear in his velvet soft voice, the smell of his honey and mint irresistible. Even Yoongi has a hard time saying no at that point, which delights Jimin more than anything else. 

“I’m not mad,” Yoongi finally says. He chooses each word carefully, each conversation with Jimin a well-choreographed dance. “We’ve been out here a long time and I did not rest well last night.”

“Hmm, I should report back to Namjoon to let him know the palace’s most prized guard is tired.” Yoongi’s face remains impassive. Jimin isn’t going to report Yoongi to the head soldier and he knows that Jimin knows Yoongi isn’t tired. “Perhaps they’ll whip you for your inability to perform your best.” 

“As they should.”

“Would you like that, Shadow?” Yoongi’s hands squeeze the reins of his horse at the nickname. Jimin has called him that since they were boys in school together, rubbing it in Yoongi’s face that his sole purpose in life was to be Jimin’s shadow and protector, nothing more. “Want to be whipped in front of your peers?” 

“If it’s what I deserve.”

Jimin stops his horse. Yoongi sighs and pulls on the reins, stopping so that he’s in front of Jimin and facing him. The prince’s bottom lip juts out and he bats his lashes as he crosses his arms. Yoongi’s eye twitches in annoyance. Jimin does look cute when he makes that face, but Yoongi knows better. 

“You’re being annoying.” 

Yoongi bows his head. “I apologize, my prince.” 

A scowl contorts Jimin’s face. In a flash he’s gone from pleading prince to twisted faerie, his eyes darkening and jaw ticking as he regards Yoongi. Jimin remains silent and Yoongi can almost see the wheels turning in Jimin’s mind. This is when Jimin is most dangerous. Yoongi knows he’s coming up with his next move, wavering between violence and jesting. 

For his entire life, Jimin has been unpredictable. He has killed in the middle of telling a joke, he has kissed Yoongi square on the mouth in the middle of punishing him, and he has laughed in the middle of crying. He is made up of conflicting emotions, two sides trying to gain the upper hand. It’s often a tossup of which side will win, but after a hundred years together, Yoongi can usually predict which Jimin he is going to get.

Today, Jimin has driven Yoongi out into the cold evening, demanding a hunt. He wasn’t playful about it, commanding the guard with the steel that the prince so rarely uses. The ride from the castle, through the briars, and into the wood was silent, Jimin’s mood dark and hard to read. 

Yoongi thinks about the day before, when Jimin returned from a meeting with the king and queen, a laceration still healing near his eye. Today, it’s pink and nearly gone, a shallow wound for what is sure to be a shallow reason. The queen's desire for pain is not like Jimin’s. There are no rules to her indulgence in pain and violence, no laws by which she operates. 

Now, as Yoongi watches Jimin, he sees a twitch in the prince's mouth. Yoongi’s stomach flips, knowing that his neutrality to Jimin’s mood has pushed the prince from sour to angry, and angry to sadistic. 

“You didn’t want to come hunting today, Yoongi?” Yoongi grimaces. The use of his formal name sets off alarms. Yoongi licks his lips, trying to think on his feet, trying to work out the right answer. He doesn’t know where Jimin is going with this, but he can see the cunning in the prince’s face. “Speak, guard.” 

“There is nothing to hunt, my prince. Anything worth hunting is in hibernation.”

“Get off your horse.”

Yoongi pauses. “What?”

“Get off your horse.” 

Heavy with trepidation, Yoongi slowly dismounts. The leather of the saddle squeaks under the shifting of his weight and his horse chews on the metal bit, the sound of grinding loud in Yoongi’s ears. He lets go of the mare and then steps away from it, looking up at Jimin. 

“There.” Jimin points at Yoongi with a slash of a grin. Yoongi doesn’t understand, furrowing his brows and shrugging as if to ask what Jimin means. The prince’s grin spreads and the hairs on Yoongi’s arm rise, a tingle spreading down them. “Something worth hunting.”

Fuck. Yoongi realizes his mistake, clenching and unclenching his fists as Jimin drops the hand pointing at him, pulling the heavy crossbow from the saddle. Jimin sets the weapon across his lap and pats the top of it happily, looking up at Yoongi with his brows raised.

“Well,” Jimin urges. “I’ll give you ten minutes. Go on.” 

Swearing under his breath, Yoongi pulls his cloak off and tosses it on the horse. Jimin laughs as Yoongi tucks his silver necklaces into the collar of his shirt to dampen the noise as he throws Jimin a scathing look before taking off. Jimin gives a shout of glee as he watches Yoongi tear off to the west, moving toward the castle at a diagonal angle. 

Yoongi’s mind jumps into action as he runs. He’s fast. It’s colder now as evening turns into night. The air he breathes in is winter-sharp and the mist has made the ground damp and slippery beneath his feet. Yoongi can easily run over a mile in ten minutes. They’re at least seven miles from the briar wall, which Yoongi would reach faster if he ran straight back the way they came. 

Jimin will surely catch him if he goes straight back, though. Yoongi’s goal is to put as much distance between him and Jimin as possible. Jimin, of course, has horses. Distance doesn’t mean much when Yoongi is at such a disadvantage, but the west of the woods is filled with gullies and dells, much harder to navigate on horseback. 

As he runs, Yoongi is careful not to leave tracks. He is light-footed, even for a faerie. Most of his life was spent learning weapons skills, behavioral analysis, and court politics. He’s not much for espionage or assassin business, but Yoongi was trained by Hoseok for enough years to develop skills in the art of not being found, and for being hard to trace. 

Every one of those skills comes back to him now. He’s careful not to let the fabric of his clothes snag on trees. When he approaches dips in the land, he pauses to walk down them instead of sliding. He knows this eats away at his time to escape, but the evidence of his direction is worse than precious seconds lost to carefully picking his way downward. 

There is also the possibility it’s all for nothing. Jimin is one of the finest hunters in the court. His lack of interest in scanning their surroundings as they rode and not following hunting trails should have been the first sign that Jimin was off today. Yoongi had been so focused on trying to ignore Jimin’s prickly mood that he hadn’t gleaned Jimin’s purpose. 

Ten minutes pass. Yoongi is well into his run, lungs full of cold air, mind focused only on getting to the briar wall. Jimin, of course, has not said when this chase ends. There is no guarantee that Yoongi will be safe once he reaches the briars, but Jimin’s games always have rules. 

The most important rule is that he doesn’t do this to Yoongi in public. Above all else, the prince is smart. It does him a disservice to embarrass his personal guard in front of anyone, lest they think Yoongi is weak and by association, Jimin. 

Power is what makes the world go round in the Court of Thorns. Everyone Jimin comes in contact with is a reflection of the prince, who should be like a thorn: beautiful, but deadly. Yoongi must be fatal and strong. It serves Jimin no purpose to subject Yoongi to his madness where eyes can see, so the prince keeps these deviances in the shadows.

It’s this most important rule that Yoongi clings to as he runs for the briars, which are visible from the castle towers. By now, Jimin has begun his chase. Yoongi feels Jimin’s aura like iron pressing down on his senses, burning and eating away at his magic the more he thinks about the prince.

Minutes tick by. Yoongi is not yet tired, driven by adrenaline and a little bit of a thrill. Hot energy courses through him. He wonders if he can outrun Jimin and get out of the woods before the prince finds him. He smiles thinking about Jimin’s face if he beats him. 

What bothers Jimin most in the world is losing to Yoongi. In the rare instances that Yoongi outsmarts Jimin or slips from his snare, the prince is venomous for days. It’s worse when Jimin fails to get a rise from the guard, no matter how much the prince goads him. Yoongi’s apathy has earned him more pain and rage-laced pleasure from Jimin than anything else he does. 

“Run faster, Shadow!” Jimin’s shrill voice echoes in the wind. 

Yoongi pulls up short, turning to look over his shoulder. He has perfect vision, even at night, but Jimin is nowhere to be found. He slows his breathing and closes his eyes, focusing on the sounds of the forest. He can make out normal sounds of crickets chirping and rabbits scampering back to their nests, but there’s no sound of hoofbeats. 

A metallic click followed by whistling catches his ears. Yoongi inhales sharply and manages to step back just in time as a bolt fired from the dark of the forest whistles by him and hits the tree behind him. The arrow doesn’t go in far, which means Jimin took the shot from a distance. It also means Jimin is on his feet, and difficult terrain means nothing now. 

Cursing, Yoongi takes off again. Jimin’s laughter seems to echo around him, chilling him to the bone. He loses his grip on fear as he moves north instead of northwest at an angle. He no longer cares about tripping Jimin up. Yoongi needs the path of least resistance, jumping over fallen trees as a frantic energy thrums through him.

He doesn’t know what the rules of this game are. He doesn’t know what limitations are on the table, if Jimin is willing to maim him or kill him. Yoongi never knows, and it makes it all the more terrifying when he can’t come up with a sure answer. All he knows is that Jimin hasn’t killed him yet.

Yet. 

As if sensing his thoughts, he hears Jimin fire the crossbow again. Yoongi ducks as the arrow shoots wide and over his head, vanishing in the misty night. He swallows, sensing that the arrow had been aimed to kill. Anger flares through him and he tamps it down. No matter how angry he gets, Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Not earnestly anyway. And at least he knows a new rule: killing and maiming are possible. 

Yoongi’s life shouldn’t be this. The thought slips in between his focus on running and sliding under fallen trees. He’s one of the best fighters in the Court of Thorns and he is unnaturally intelligent. He should have a higher position at court than being the shield to a bloodthirsty brat, but Yoongi has bent and broken to the whims of Jimin for years now.

What’s another hunt through the woods in the face of hundreds of other games? 

Part of him loves it. If Yoongi wanted to turn around and let Jimin pick him off, he could. He flirts with the idea of pausing his run. Of stopping in his tracks and waiting to see if it’ll happen, if Jimin will put the arrow through an eye socket. 

Yet he keeps running because he knows that Jimin will keep chasing. Jimin has always chased Yoongi, a cat who can’t leave and let its dinner die yet. Jimin gives Yoongi special attention, and it makes Yoongi preen. No one else gets this. No one else is the sole object of Jimin’s ruthless attention. 

When they were younger, the queen thought that it was unseemly for the prince to be so obsessed with his guard. Jimin couldn’t leave Yoongi alone, pinching him on the soft of his thighs, cornering him and demanding to teach Jimin how to kiss, ordering Yoongi to stand outside of Jimin’s chambers while he fucked other courtiers, learning the arts of the bedroom, murdering anyone who so much as brushed an arm against Yoongi. 

It keeps Yoongi guessing. He never knows what the day will bring, the Jimin who covets him or the Jimin who tortures him. Sometimes, it’s a mix of both, which is Yoongi’s personal preference.

An arrow whistles. Yoongi steps to the side, but just barely. He feels the sting of the arrowhead grace his cheek, opening up a shallow cut. It doesn’t hurt much, but it does startle him. His foot catches a root and Yoongi shouts as he trips, sliding downhill into a dell as he goes.

Leaves and damp earth make his descent fast. As soon as he falls, he’s at the bottom, buried in leaves and surrounded by the scene of earth and pine. The ground is cold, leaching him of his warmth as he gets up to his knees. He could use magic to warm himself, but it makes him easier to find, his energy light a beacon to the magic-sensitive prince hunting him.

The crank of the crossbow makes Yoongi freeze mid-recovery. He looks up the hill to where Jimin stands at the top, weapon aimed at him. Yoongi’s heart pounds in his chest. Jimin is small and built like a panther, all sleek angles and muscles. He doesn’t blink, staring down at Yoongi, a small finger on the trigger.

This is what the god of death looks like, Yoongi thinks. Jimin is in all black, a terrible cruelty on his face. Suddenly Yoongi feels like the ant underneath Jimin’s boot. He only knows fear in moments like this, where Jimin’s eyes are so black that Yoongi thinks he will fall into Jimin’s gaze and let it swallow him whole.

Yoongi thinks he’s going to do it. It was always going to end like this anyway. Yoongi knew it would always be Jimin who killed him when Yoongi lost one of Jimin’s games or finally failed to entertain the prince. This tortuous cycle has a shelf life, and every road leads to Jimin finally doing it, finally pushing Yoongi over the edge.

Instead of firing the crossbow, Jimin grins wickedly and lowers it, tossing it to the side. The weapon clatters heavily. No sooner than Jimin disarms himself is Yoongi running away. The prince snarls and takes off after him, swearing.

“You little bitch!” Jimin seethes, sliding down into the dell behind Yoongi. “I’ll put you down like a fucking dog!” 

Jimin is not heavy or large like Namjoon, but he’s fast and strong. When he tackles Yoongi at the waist, Yoongi feels a bone crack. He doesn’t know where in his body the break is, but pain makes his vision flash as they slam to the ground, Jimin moving to pin him immediately. As delicate as Jimin looks, he’s still a warrior with years of training with Namjoon, a beautiful weapon but lethal all the same. 

Yoongi goes down face first. The shock of the pain makes his ears ring, the air leaving his lungs. He gasps and gets all leaves and dirt into his mouth as he maneuvers his arms from under him, intending to push upward to throw Jimin off. Jimin growls and digs his knee into Yoongi’s back, pressing down right on the spine as he reaches forward to pin both of Yoongi’s hands to the ground. 

Rearing his head back, Yoongi connects with Jimin’s face. The prince lets out a loud noise and Yoongi grins, wriggling under Jimin in hopes that the pain blinds him long enough for Yoongi to work a hand free. 

Jimin’s nails dig into the top of Yoongi’s hands, biting sharply into his skin. “Cease, Shadow. You’ve lost.”

The fight leaves Yoongi immediately. He’s entirely boneless, a puppet waiting for its master to pull his string. Jimin puts all of his weight on the knee pressing on Yoongi’s back, making the guard wince. Jimin’s kneecap is agony against Yoongi’s spine, pressing the air out of him slowly as Jimin lets Yoongi suffer against the ground. 

Finally, his weight shifts. Jimin straddles Yoongi’s waist, still holding Yoongi’s wrists to the ground as he lowers his face, panting against the side of Yoongi’s face. The guard feels a shiver go through him, Jimin’s breath is hot as his tongue snakes out to brush against the shell of Yoongi’s ear. 

“Much better than a stag,” Jimin whispers, voice like velvet and smoke. He nips at Yoongi’s lobe, teeth sharp against the soft skin. “What should I do with my prize, hmm?” 

One of Jimin’s hands lets go of Yoongi’s wrist. Jimin’s touch is delicate and slow, dragging his fingers up Yoongi’s sleeved arm. Even through the fabric, Yoongi can feel Jimin’s hot touch, chasing away the cold of the ground. He squirms and Jimin bites Yoongi’s cheek hard. He goes still and Jimin licks the fresh teeth marks, the ache in Yoongi’s cheek immediate. 

“Should I take your body and mount you on the wall?” Jimin’s hand reaches Yoongi’s shoulder and dips down to grab his face, turning him to the side. Yoongi looks at Jimin from the corner of his eye, but he can only see dark hair as Jimin presses his lips to the corner of Yoongi’s mouth and asks, “Or should I just… mount you?” 

Yoongi trembles as the prince’s tongue snakes out to lick messily from the corner of Yoongi’s mouth towards the bleeding, burning cut on his cheek. Jimin tsks, running his tongue over the cut. Yoongi wines, the rough drag of Jimin’s done making it burn more. Jimin ignores him, tongue laving back and forth over the wound, the tip of his tongue prodding.

“Did I hurt you?” Jimin coos. He speaks with his mouth pressed to Yoongi’s skin, smearing spit and blood. The switch from threatening to endearing makes Yoongi’s head spin. He is no longer a lethal guard of the Court of Thorns. He’s Jimin’s plaything. “I’m sorry, Shadow. Your face is so pretty, I shouldn’t do anything to harm it.”

“It’s not deep.” 

“Hmmm.” Jimin presses sloppy, spit-slick kisses down Yoongi’s jaw. Yoongi closes his eyes, letting the prince do what he wants. All instinct to fight has left, leaving only a blank canvas for Jimin to paint. “You’re right, Shadow. It’s a very shallow wound. You can take so much more pain than that, can’t you?”

Yoongi nods. “Speak, Shadow,” Jimin commands.

“Yes, my prince. I can take more than that.”

“Of course you can. You’re made for me. Designed for me. You can take what I give you, can’t you?”

“Yes.” 

Jimin bites Yoongi’s jaw, his sharp canines pinching soft skin. Yoongi’s fingers dig into the soft ground. “You bleed when I want you to, you take it when I want you to.” 

Jimin’s scent makes Yoongi too dizzy to reply. His body blazes as Jimin pulls at Yoongi’s clothes, his hands greedy. Jimin mouths at Yoongi’s neck, his jaw. Yoongi’s breathing is unsteady, unable to string together enough thought to help Jimin take Yoongi’s shirt off. 

The craving to be pinned down and marked over and over until his skin can’t take it and until there is nothing left swells. The shame of Yoongi letting himself be used like this is white-hot, but the pride of being Jimin’s prized possession soothes the burn.

“Mine,” Jimin growls as he reaches into Yoongi’s pants, gripping Yoongi’s already hard and throbbing cock. He bites Yoongi’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Yoongi succumbs to the pleasure, his hips canting in the dirt, the pain shooting him into deliria as Jimin continues to tongue at him. “My Shadow.” 

Jimin’s hands aren’t gentle. He squeezes the base of Yoongi’s shaft firmly, slowly stroking upward. The friction between Yoongi’s stomach and the ground isn’t pleasant but isn’t terrible as Jimin sucks at Yoongi’s neck, mouth taking whatever the prince wants. 

“Get up on your knees,” Jimin whispers, removing his hand from Yoongi’s cock. He gets off of Yoongi, giving the guard space to move. 

Every limb feels like lead as he does. It feels like the world has flipped upside down, making Yoongi unsteady as he gets on his hands and knees. Cool air kisses his skin, making the laceration on his cheek and bite on his shoulder burn. The pain only spurs the pleasure further. 

“Take your pants off,” Jimin says. He doesn’t touch Yoongi, happy to watch the guard fumble on unbalanced limbs. “Do it right or I’ll skin you like a fucking bear and bring you back to the seamstress to fashion myself a new coat.”

Yoongi can’t tell if the threat is empty or not. He thinks about the time that Jimin cut a small rectangle out of Yoongi’s thigh to give to the tanners to turn it into a small coin pouch. The coin pouch is probably still tied to Jimin’s belt now as Yoongi sits up high on his knees and unbuckles his breeches, taking them down with trembling hands. 

Free of his pants, he dares a look over his shoulder at Jimin. The prince is shirtless, his perfect skin gleaming in the haunting moonlight filtering through the trees. Jimin is a testament to his father’s heritage from the Court of Moons, an ethereal creature stitched with moonbeam threads and filled with shadow watercolors. 

Beautiful. Cruel. Hateful. Affectionate. 

Yoongi can’t ever recall where it felt like Jimin loved him. Cherished him and admired him like a beautiful piece of porcelain, perhaps. Mistified and awed, even, when he could break Yoongi down and mold him into any shape he wanted, like clay.

Now, his gaze is thunderous. His pupils are blown wide, and when a cloud reveals the moon in full, Jimin looks like a demon from the worst of Yoongi’s nightmares. Still, Yoongi doesn’t run. He turns to face forward, slowly bending over until his elbows are on the cool earth, his ass up in the air. 

Yoongi’s cock is heavy between his legs. The first time Jimin worked him up like this, Yoongi had been a shell of himself for days. Didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that being broken and split open into something that felt less than sentient made his arousal swell. 

Jimin’s nails scrape against the curves of Yoongi’s ass. He sucks in a sharp breath. Goosebumps spread on his skin, his entire spine tingling as Jimin’s nails turn to claws, prying him open and digging into the softness of him. 

Cool wind makes Yoongi clench. Jimin tuts and shuffles closer to Yoongi. The heat of his body is against the back of Yoongi’s thighs, the contrast of hot and cold making Yoongi spin. When cool spit hits the edge of Yoongi’s rim, he moans audibly. He feels the slide of Jimin’s saliva drip further down his ass. Yoongi’s breath comes out in pants and Jimin’s nails dig in.

“This is mine,” Jimin mutters. Yoongi can barely hear him over the beating of his own heart and the roaring of blood in his ears. He scarcely notices the way his cock aches, beads of precum oozing from the tip as Jimin blows air onto the thigh ring of muscles. “Hmm. You’re all tight, Shadow. You gonna let me in, huh?” 

Yoongi nods. His head drops and presses against the earth. He smells damp leaves, sweat and Jimin’s honeysuckle scent, too sweet for the demon it belongs to. “Yes, my prince.”

Jimin spits in Yoongi’s hole again. Yoongi bites his bottom lip, trying to control himself. All he wants to do is press his hips back. If he does that, he won’t get fucked at all. He has to be the perfect little puppet, only doing what Jimin asks, speaking only when told. 

One of Jimin’s hands dips between Yoongi’s cheeks. He tries not to sigh when Jimin presses a finger against his rim, the pressure so good. Jimin plays with Yoongi’s asshole, tracing the edge before pressing his finger in just a little. It’s both heaven and hell, the intrusion such a relief that Yoongi doesn’t hear what Jimin asks him.

He immediately regrets letting himself drift too far. Jimin bites Yoongi’s ass cheek so hard that Yoongi screams, rearing back his head. In Yoongi’s experience, there are two levels of pain he receives at the hands of Jimin: good pain and scary pain. Jimin’s bite verges on the edge of scary pain, punishment for not answering and a warning that next time, he’ll take flesh. 

“I said,” Jimin growls. “To lay all the way down with your hands out in front of you.”

Yoongi complies immediately. Gone is the guard who commands Jimin’s entire personal security team. The sword-wielding warrior who has killed in wars, in protection for Jimin, and for petty squabbles is nowhere to be found. 

In his place is a pliable medium. Pressed entirely flat on the ground, knees high, face in the dirt. He lays his hands out in front of him, clasping them there. It’s comforting to hold onto something, even if it’s just his own hands. 

Pleasure expands in Yoongi’s stomach as Jimin begins to work his fingers in properly. The stretch makes the eyes roll back in Yoongi’s head. He tries not to get too lost in the feeling, remembering to be on edge for Jimin asking a question or telling him to do something. It keeps Yoongi right on the cusp of insanity, a difficult and rewarding task as he fights succumbing to the way blood rushes through him. 

Fuck he wants to cum. Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek, drawing blood as Jimin works his fingers in Yoongi's ass, the press so good. Jimin firmly brushes up against Yoongi’s prostate, making him go dumb. Yoongi’s mouth is slack as he pants, knees and thighs trembling, keeping his ass in the same exact spot for Jimin. 

“Look at you,” Jimin coos. “What would everyone think if they knew my personal guard was such a little fuck toy? If they knew he was incapable of doing anything but submitting?”

The question is rhetorical. Yoongi always plays a  guessing game of when Jimin wants a response, but this one, he knows.

Jimin fucks Yoongi with his fingers harder, stretching him open. Yoongi whines, feels pleasure cresting to an unbearable amount as Jimin hammers Yoongi’s prostate. The prince laughs, not giving Yoongi the command to come, but rather watching the guard fight it instead. Yoongi’s muscles lock up as he resists the urge to squirm. He stops breathing, squeezing his eyes shut, jaw clenched as he fights it, trying to think of anything but the fact that he’s so close to his orgasm he could die. 

If Jimin keeps going, Yoongi’s going to come. If Yoongi comes without Jimin explicitly telling him to, Yoongi is going to experience the scary pain. 

Every nerve in Yoongi’s body feels on fire. It feels like he’s burning, burning, burning, like he’s never going to stop. He tastes the iron and salt of blood in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, feels the way his heart hammers in his ribcage, and starts to shake so much that Yoongi thinks he’s going to come out of his skin. 

Yoongi realizes Jimin isn’t going to give him permission. The weight of reality crushes him. Yoongi begins to sob into the dirt, trying to hang on to any shred of control he has. Jimin wants him to come without permission, wants to unleash hell on him. Yoongi claws at the dirt, desperately trying not to cave, to let Jimin milk it out of him. 

Jimin’s warm mouth presses to the back of Yoongi’s neck. He puts his weight on Yoongi, smothering him, keeping him still. Yoongi thinks this is it, this is when he lets go. He prepares for the oncoming violence like a storm in the distance. 

And then Jimin tells him to come. Yoongi’s brows scrunch together. He opens his eyes, trying to look at Jimin. He can’t see the prince’s face, but Jimin must sense Yoongi’s confusion. “Don’t make me tell you again,” Jimin murmurs against Yoongi’s neck. 

It’s like a damn breaking. Yoongi shatters, coming hard. His entire body seizes up, the sound coming out of his throat guttural and loud. His vision pulses black on the edges and he closes his eyes, squeezing them hard as an explosion of colors flashes behind his eyelids.

He can’t think. He can’t breathe. He succumbs to the sensation, pins and needles taking over as he shakes through the last of his orgasm. He is somewhat aware of Jimin behind him, pulling his fingers out and running his cockhead against Yoongi’s hole. He mewls, not ready for another orgasm. Jimin doesn’t care, pushing past the clenching muscles and pressing into Yoongi.

The stretch and pressure pull Yoongi from his drooling daze. If he was sensitive before, it’s nothing compared to now. He’s flayed open and raw to every stroke of Jimin’s cock pulling him apart. Oversensitive. Exposed, sparking wires. 

Yoongi hurts. The bite in his shoulder throbs, his cock hurts where it’s squeezed between his stomach and the ground, his cheek stings, bones ache, wet hole throbs as Jimin bottoms out, spearing Yoongi all the way through. 

It makes him vibrate, eyes fluttering as Jimin begins to snap his hips, hands gripping Yoongi’s waist and slamming him back. Every thrust threatens to break him in half, his face and body dragging against the ground. 

Jimin rakes his nails up Yoongi’s back, breaking the skin. Yoongi keens, toes curling at the biting feeling, sinking further into the heady mix in his head and gut. Jimin’s fingers wrap in the sweaty hair at the back of Yoongi’s neck. He knows what’s coming next but he still yelps when Jimin yanks, lifting Yoongi from the forest floor to his knees. 

Everything feels off-kilter. Yoongi gasps for air. Jimin claws Yoongi’s scalp, making his eyes water as Jimin fucks up into him. Jimin pulls Yoongi’s neck back painfully, holding him by the hair, and presses his lips to Yoongi’s cheek. It’s more teeth and tongue as Jimin continues to abuse Yoongi’s hole. 

He bites Yoongi’s cheek and laughs. “Such soft cheeks,” Jimin hisses, punctuating his words with the snap of his hips. “Such a soft fucking boy, huh? So delicate, so breakable.”

“Yes,” Yoongi agrees because it’s true. Yoongi feels made to shatter. Feels better when broken under the small hands of the prince. Feels whole when he’s splintered. “Yes.”

“Can’t even speak right.” Jimin slides a hand around the front of Yoongi’s throat and squeezes. Yoongi’s air supply is cut short. He feels the slow drip of the bleeding welts on his back, stinging as Jimin’s sweaty front rubs against the wounds. “What are you good for?” 

“Only you,” Yoongi chokes out.

Jimin’s grip tightens. “Don’t be smart, Shadow. I won’t go any easier on you for flattery.” 

Yoongi knows this. He wasn’t saying it for Jimin’s benefit. Because that’s the thing about whatever this violence between them is. It makes Yoongi feel whole, makes it feel like as long as he and Jimin have this between them, he’s made for something. 

Without it, Yoongi doesn’t know what he is. A faerie bred by two warriors to give the king and queen’s child a protector to grow with. Whose only reason for existing is to serve. Who has no goals of his own, who has no life outside of the prince. Without it, he’s not Yoongi. He isn’t Jimin’s. 

So Yoongi doesn’t say it for his benefit. He knows Jimin won’t go easier. Won’t fuck him softer or let go of his throat. He says it because he means it and he doesn’t want Jimin to let up anyway. He could die like this, no air in his lungs, mind detaching from his body. 

Between the pain and the feeling of Jimin’s cockhead pressing up against his prostate, Yoongi loses himself. He becomes a thing made only for Jimin’s pleasure. He becomes no one and nothing, suspended somewhere between life and death, only alive for Jimin to use. 

This is where Yoongi loves being most. Here, he doesn’t have to worry about protecting Jimin’s life every hour of the day. He doesn’t have to worry about navigating Jimin’s moods. He doesn’t have to calculate every word out of his mouth at court, doesn’t have to wonder what waits for him if - if Jimin ever tires of him, if he ever loses his position, if he ever becomes anything other than Jimin’s, if he dies.

If haunts Yoongi so often that he wants nothing to do with it. Nothing to do with anything outside of this, as Jimin lets Yoongi’s throat go, Yoongi’s lungs filling with air so quickly that it’s too much, snapping him right out of subspace to the present, where Jimin grabs Yoongi’s head and slams him forward again.

Yoongi’s hips collapse this time. He’s prone under Jimin as the prince chases his own orgasm, feral and rough. It hurts, but Yoongi comes dry anyway when Jimin tells him to, feels the helpless snap of pleasure inside of him. He loses the reality of it for a moment, feels the world run between his fingers like blood. 

When Yoongi comes back from wherever it is his mind goes in moments like these, he sees stars. The night is a watercolor of blue-black and lights above him. He hurts everywhere he can imagine. It burns his throat to breathe and his skin is chafed and irritated, covered in dirt and cum and blood. He feels bruised like aged fruit, and the puffy rim of his asshole feels ruined and swollen. 

A shadow blots out the sky. Yoongi blinks a few times, realizing it’s Jimin leaning over him. Demon. God. Prince of the Court of Thorns. His dark hair is damp with sweat, pushed back out of his face to reveal dark, alien eyes. There is clarity in them Yoongi only sees after Jimin’s fucked or killed, the calm after a storm. 

Tilting his head to the side, Jimin studies Yoongi like a gardener would inspect an insect. Suddenly, Yoongi feels too exposed and soft all over, breaking eye contact as he chooses to stare at the boughs of the shadow trees instead. He feels the water leaking from his eyes, the tears that come sometimes during. After. 

Jimin brushes a thumb across Yoongi’s cheek. The guard flinches on instinct, but Jimin ignores it. “Get up.” The command is soft, but Yoongi will find no comfort here as he struggles to keep up with the turmoil inside of him. “I want to go to bed.” 

Nodding, Yoongi tries to sit up. His limbs are still shaking and he feels disoriented. Jimin doesn’t help him, already fully dressed in black as he looks up at the night sky. Brushing himself off, Yoongi slowly pulls himself together. Slides back into The Guard, hides away just Yoongi. 

Jimin doesn’t rush him. Doesn’t jeer or lash out at him. He allows Yoongi this time of quiet to glue together what Jimin has shattered. 

When Yoongi is standing, albeit unevenly on his feet, Jimin turns to look at him. His face is impassive and beautiful. “You broke easy today,” Jimin notes. No reprimand. Just a sheer fact. Yoongi hesitates before nodding. “We’ll fix that, Shadow.” 

Yoongi’s mouth twitches at the corner a bit as he nods and follows Jimin as the prince heads back to the horses. Yoongi keeps close, his footsteps mimicking the prince’s, forever his shadow. 

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 5

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4

PART 5.

“I really hate this building,” he grouses as you push through the security door without challenge. He sounds grumpy, and it’s almost…cute. You’re not used to having anyone worrying after you like this.

“I’ve never had a problem here,” you try to assure him.

He gives one last hostile look over the street like he expects a horde of marauders to come charging after you. But there’s just streetlights, and the few harmless hipsters who are still out and about on a Friday night. This city never really sleeps.

“Do you at least have protection in your apartment?”

You reckon he doesn’t mean condoms.

“What, like a gun?”

“Yes.”

“No,” you laugh. “I have a bat under my bed?”

He makes a sound through his teeth that indicates that is not the answer he wanted to hear. Again, you stumble on that stupid odd riser, and again he grabs for you, holding your waist with an arm that feels like steel, practically carrying you up the next three steps. He is tense, on edge after the fight, his eyes sweeping the shadows of your stairwell.

You hope that once you get him inside your apartment, he might calm down. For once the tumblers yield without a fight, and you pull him inside, locking the deadbolt again behind you. “Come sit down. Let me look at you.”

Instead he strides to the window, looking out over the street with a suspicious glare. He is manic, going to every window that faces the street and closing blinds and curtains. Then he stands vigil again, looking out through a crack in the blinds, his jaw clenched. He stands like that for a good minute before you insist, “John.”

He reminds you of a hawk, the way he turns his head to look at you without moving the rest of his body.

“It’s ok, honey. Do you want a drink?”

He lets out a deep breath, maybe relaxing a tad, though he’s still grinding his bottom teeth. “Sure.”

You know his poison of choice now. It’s possible you picked up a nicer bottle of bourbon than what you had on offer last time, a small batch vintage.

“Sit,” you insist, pointing at one of your chairs in the living room. You know it sounds like a command, but it seems like the only way to get through to him in this hyper-fixated state. After a long moment he finally obeys, lowering himself down into the cushioned seat with the weariness of a man ten years his elder. He seems as though he has done this all before—and he doesn’t like it anymore.

“You’re taking all this rather well,” he remarks, gratefully accepting the cut crystal glass from you, slugging back half of it.

“Well...that guy was an asshole.” You shudder as your think about what Sasha intended to do to you, and how he’d undoubtedly treated other women before you who didn’t have someone like John on their side. “A knife in the leg was the least he deserved. You taught him a lesson he won't forget.”

“Yeah. Too bad these guys aren't big on self-reflection. They prefer revenge.”

“You think they’ll come after you?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

You digest this, chewing on your bottom lip. “I can’t imagine how they could even find me,” you try to assure him. “It’s a huge city.”

The look he pays you isn’t exactly condescending, but it definitely makes you feel like he finds you naïve.

“Did you pay for your first round of drinks with cash?”

“No, credit card.”

He nods, like that’s all they would need.

“Seriously?”

“They have their ways.”

“Who are they, exactly?”

“I feel like it would be better if you didn’t know.”

“Oh no, we’re not doing that,” you say with your hands on your hips. “If someone’s coming after me, you’re going to tell me who.”

The wistful smile that twists his lips unexpected. “What?” you ask, unable to mask your annoyance.

“It’s just…I feel like I’ve had this conversation before.”

You realize you must remind him of Helen, with your no-male-bullshit attitude. It makes your heart ache at the same time it fills with pride. “Well, I learned from the best.”

You stare at each other for a long moment, and you feel your annoyance melt away as you study this man, so forbidding and yet beneath it all, a little fragile. You see it in his eyes, and there’s still blood on his brow, and you decide you want to patch him up more than you want to argue with him.

For now.

Maybe he feels some obligation to take care of you because of Helen, but it goes both ways. You know Helen would want you to make sure he’s taken care of too. You feel a little guilty that it’s taken this long.

“I’m going to go get my first aid kit. We’ll clean you up, then you can decide what you want to tell me. FYI, the less you know the better is not acceptable tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You cannot tell if he is amused, exasperated, or maybe both.

You return from the bathroom with your medicine chest, thunking it down on the coffee table. “Want another?” you ask, gesturing at his empty glass.

“Yes, but I shouldn’t. Good stuff.” You smile to yourself, wondering if your previous offering had been closer on the scale to paint thinner, remembering how he’d drank it anyway because he was a sweetheart. He was a conundrum, was what he was. This man was dangerous, and after what you’d seen earlier, you suspected he was possibly a killer. And yet, he was sweet. So sweet, at least to you, and those he considered friends. The warmth that bloomed in your chest for him was alarmingly not exactly—or not exclusively—lust related.

“Ouch,” you sigh, inspecting his brow. It’s a deep cut, and might actually require a butterfly. You won’t know until you clean it up.

You actually possess a passable first aid kit. Sometimes, art projects involving blades go awry, and you are in the habit of taking care of your ailments yourself. The cost of healthcare is utterly obscene, and until recently, out of your budget.

John lets you fuss over him, sitting still as a statue as you cleanse his wounds with saline solution then slather him with some antibacterial goop. Though you still feel a bit sick, and a bit giddy from the adrenaline, luckily your hands have stopped shaking. You do affix one butterfly closure to his noble brow, just in case. His eyes are closed, almost as though he is enjoying your ministrations, even though you know it can’t actually feel good.

“I’m not sure what else to do for this,” you say, touching his split lip lightly with a gauze pad, dabbing away the blood.

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” you say.

This could be an excellent window for him to really tell you what’s going on. You suspect he’s purposely distracting you when he reaches for you, tracing the line of your waist before his large hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer between his manspread legs.  

“I’m feeling better now.” He looks up at you with those soulful dark eyes, and goddammit they should be considered an illegal weapon.

You know you should insist on answers before giving in, but your resolve utterly dissolves under his touch and that longing look, replaced with heady desire. This thing between you is a force to be reckoned with; it obliterates your good sense, your sense of propriety, your loyalty to your late sister. Anything that might have stopped you with anyone else ceased to matter with this beautiful man.

You are not sure if he pulls you, or if you just melt down into his lap, straddling him. His long fingers splay on your legs, pushing your skirts up your thighs, sliding higher and higher until he cups your ass with only your panties between you.

“My knight in shining black armor,” you sigh, touching his cheek lightly, wary of causing him pain. You think you see a bruise forming beneath the scruff of his beard.

“Hmm. It’s nice to be the hero, for once.” 

“Are you usually the bad guy, John?”

His touch is feather light down your legs again, then up your spine and the backs of your arms, causing you to shudder uncontrollably. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m forming an idea,” you admit breathily.

“My clever girl. What ever shall I do with you?” You’re not sure why his praise makes heat and slick pool between your legs, as though you are melting from the inside for this man. His hands are in your hair now, his touch still so gentle, but oh so maddening. Your skin feels like its on fire.

You kiss him gently, because of the split lip. He is the one who deepens it, with a growing desperation and a disregard for his own pain that you find insanely titillating. His mouth travels down your neck, trailing kisses and grazing with teeth as though he means to eat you alive.

You would let him, gladly, and you writhe against him, grinding on the length of his hard cock beneath you. You didn’t even get to see it last time. Tonight, you determine you will remedy that.

Fingers hooked in the straps of your dress pull down, down and down until you are bared before him. His hand in your hair pulls, gentle but exacting, guiding you to arch your back, offering up your breasts for his delectation. His mouth on your nipples is pure magic, sucking and biting and flicks of tongue that drive you to the absolute brink. He could make you cum just like this, you think, with his mouth on your tits and riding his rock-hard cock through his pants.

It hardly seems fair, considering last time, you somehow manage to think through the fog of desire that has you so tied up in knots. You push against him, sliding down his body until you are on your knees before him. He watches you with such blatantly raw hunger it makes your legs weak; he knows exactly what you’re doing, and doesn’t have the will to tell you no. He watches you intensely as you reach for his belt, flipping it open. There is a weight on the belt that confuses you for a moment, until his hand goes behind his back, catching something.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, and you can’t think straight enough to even entertain it. He pulls out a small black blocky object—it takes you a moment to realize it’s a gun. You've never really seen one in real life until tonight, just in the movies. You are more curious than fearful as he sets it gingerly on the table. The possibility does not even register that he could be a threat to you. After everything you’ve seen tonight, this is just par for the course, and you return to your task with gusto, whipping his belt from their loops with a satisfying snap.

You cannot hide the fact that you are utterly pleased with yourself, and the corners of his mouth twitch, his hand caressing your cheek. You finish undoing his pants with your eyes half closed, so entranced by his light touch, until his manhood springs free into your hand, hot and velvety and oh my he is large. You roll your eyes up to meet his before descending upon him, slowly taking his swollen glans between your lips, swirling him with your tongue.

“Fuck, baby…”

The hand in your hair is not so gentle now; you don’t think he realizes he’s pulling, as you slowly take his length into the back of your throat, toying with the vein with your tongue. You slide more of him into your mouth, knowing you'll never be able to fit it all, but so willing to try. You bob up and down slowly, grazing him very carefully with your teeth, winning the most delicious moan from this man who is usually such a bastion of self-control. 

His fingers comb through your hair, sending chills all down your body as you work him up and down. The tips of your bare breasts brushing his tautly muscled thighs sends spears of longing to your loins, and you press your legs for some relief.

It doesn’t work, but you are enjoying this, and you want to treat him, the way he treated you so generously before. He’s taken a beating for you, fought and bled for you, protected you, and you want to thank him in the most primal way you know how. You take him deeper into the back of your throat, as deep as you can go, savoring every thick inch of this magnificent cock. What a thing of beauty. He groans, and you would have smiled if not for the mouthful.

“Baby...so good to me.” His hips rock against you of their own volition, his grip tightening in your hair. “Touch yourself for me. I want to feel you cum with your mouth sucking my cock.”

He doesn't have to invite you twice. Your fingers find your weeping slit, toying with your clit while you go down on him. You find a rhythm like this, sucking him in time to touching yourself. Maybe it’s a little self serving, but then again...there is something cosmic in this. Something timeless and primal and he seems to be enjoying it all the more with your participation, the vibration of your moans teasing his hard shaft.

You feel that scintillating pleasure gathering in your loins, know you are close. Your pleasure almost takes you by surprise, it is so swift and violent, your body spasming with the mindnumbing explosion inside you. After last time, it’s almost the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. You take him into your throat fully and he cums with you, no warning, just the hot spill of his seed down your throat, filling your mouth. You swallow it greedily, only withdrawing when he stills beneath you.

You nearly collapse against his lean legs, your cheek resting on his lean thigh. This man is made of muscle and sinew. Through hooded eyes he caresses your face, toying with your hair. You shudder with aftershocks that are almost as pleasurable as the orgasm itself. You feel triumph as those burning dark eyes slide closed, overcome by afterglow, and maybe something else you don't care to name now.

“My sweet girl. You...are a marvel."

Something inside you blooms at hearing those soft words from him.

Slowly you sit up, stretching against him, using his hard body to help push you to your feet. Without a word you step out of your lacy pink panties and stick them in his jacket like a pocket square. He glances down with a lifted eyebrow, a small smirk pulling the corner of his mouth.

He’s so beautiful you could scream. 

“Something to add to your collection,” you quip, alluding to the fact that even though he practically fled last time, you know he took your undies with him.

“I will treasure them as much as the last pair,” he admits with a woebegone smile that crushes your heart.

Your legs are trembling beneath you, and you hold out a hand to him, inviting him to follow you. “Snuggle with me?”

A few long moments pass, until you think he might reject the idea, but then he takes your smaller mitt in his and tugs you down into his lap. It is silly, how secure you feel curled up in this man’s arms, your head finding the warm crook of his neck. His masculine smell is utterly divine, and you could fall asleep there, with his long fingers stroking your hair. You snuggle in the quiet aftermath, spent and ever so content.

This might be what heaven feels like.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, when he brushes his lips against the top of your head and asks, “What would you say to packing a bag and coming to my place for the weekend?”

The suggestion takes you aback. Heat floods you as you think about just what you would get up to on a long weekend away at Casa Wick.

It certainly wouldn't be innocent.

Your little bubble of carnal pleasure bursts when you think of everything that happened outside your apartment, before you pleasured each other into a mind-numbed stupor.

“I would say I feel like you have an ulterior motive besides enjoying my company.”

“I do enjoy your company.”

“And I think you think I'm in danger. Are you ready to talk about that?”

“Am I allowed to say no?”

“No.”

He huffs with laughter, clearly amused with you. But behind it all, you see the shadow of worry in his eyes, a tension at the corners of his mouth. “Come home with me, and we can talk about there.”

You tilt your head, wondering if he would be so diabolical as to fuck you into a blissfully complacent stupor so he didn’t have to answer your questions the whole weekend. You’ve never been good at taking orders—or hell, even advice—at face value. You like to make decisions—read mistakes—for yourself. But maybe, just this once, you could have faith that someone has your best interests at heart. He’s older than you, maybe wiser, and seems to know a little something you don’t about the workings of the underworld of New York City. As surreal as it seems...you could actually be in serious danger.

Seeing that you are still thinking, he sweetens the pot, nuzzling the shell of your ear with his nose. “I will cook for you and spoil you rotten.”

You can only imagine what carnal delights spoiling implies with this man.  

Well…fuck.

“Fine. I’ll pack a bag. But we are just postponing this Q & A.”

“Fair enough.” You extricate yourself from his lap with a stretch, and he gives you a light smack on your rear as you make your way for your bedroom. When you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow he pays you a panty-melting (if you’d been wearing any) smirk that turns your brain to mush.

This man.

It occurs to you that this man is, in fact, dangerous to you. Not in terms of violence, but…you sense in yourself that if he asked nicely, you just might give him anything. You understand more than ever how and why Helen fell so quickly for John Wick, as you find yourself surrendering to your addiction to him with a secret smile.

<<PART 4 PART 6>>

[lauravanarendonkbaugh]

The Poet's Eye is coming!

Okay, writeblr friends, it's real: This is a promo and also a request.

BackerKit's first ever Booktopia starts Sept 5, 2024. My new epic fantasy series will be featured! And for Booktopia, there will be additional rewards for backers, bonus rewards for readers who back more than one book project, and more.

If you like epic fantasy that is

intensely character-driven

full of found family and relationships that aren't just romantic

mature and tackling Big Themes

...but without spice or steamy scenes

ace representation

a bit different from the general market, something a little less mainstream or formulaic, something made for a more niche market

then please check out this new series! You can click here to follow it, or I'll tell you about it below. :)

Meet The Characters!

Galen is a farm boy who sacrificed everything to save his family from a threat that turned out to be fake. Now he's trying to stop a magic-wielding queen from saving the world. (Yes, I said save.)

Lisveth was an infamous sorceress highwaywoman, terrorizing the roads with fire and theft. Now she's an itinerant mercenary with her emotional support village idiot.

Kayvin wasn't a good prince, but he was one, and he's lost that. He knows the throne is gone, but the only way to redeem his hostage mother's life is to retrieve a legendary artifact for the usurper. And you're telling him that some random ginger farm boy has it?!

Dielo is professionally gorgeous and a real people-pleaser. But his master isn't interested, and his true master doesn't need his reports, and what's a courtesan-spy to do when no one wants him?

Yovela has finally found a safe place. It's a terrible job description, but her boss treats her better than anyone else has, and that's enough for now. If anyone threatens that, she'll do all in her power, and if she doesn't have enough, she'll recruit help.

I write intensely character-driven fantasy, and this series has more of the same!

The Pitch

Galen was unhappy in his overcrowded farmhouse even before learning his uncles murdered his father for the spoils of a robbery. Now the only way to keep his family from killing each other—again—is to steal the magical amulet they’re fighting over.

By the time he realizes it’s a fake, it’s too late.

Meanwhile, a royal assassination forces two nations together after generations of enmity. With his mother now hostage in an icy prison, Prince Kayvin must collect legendary artifacts to save the lives of thousands. The entrapped prince can trust no one but a beautiful dancer and a young man trained to be the perfect luxurious companion—and perhaps not both of them.

Unlikely allies must work together to defeat an inhuman sorceress bent on saving thousands of lives.

Surely you mean "ending thousands of lives?"

I said what I said.

If you like deeply realized characters, sweeping adventure, and multilayered storytelling, then you’ll love Laura VanArendonk Baugh’s new epic fantasy.

Booktopia

Books which don't match the mainstream book market (like this one!) can do better in crowdfunding than on a more traditional publishing path. BackerKit's new Booktopia is a cross-promotional event that rewards backers with even more swag when they back more than one project, starting with just one additional book.

Read Now: A Midwinter Theft

Want to get to know some of the characters in advance? Pick up the free short story "A Midwinter Theft" (or on retailers here) to meet Lisveth and Galen on one of their hired jobs, going slightly sideways as usual.

(Or, if you picked up a copy of A Trove of Legacies at Origins 2024, you can find another story "A Signet to Save" in that.)

Sound intriguing? Want to help?

Click here to follow the Booktopia project (no commitment). And share this with friends who might like this kind of story.

Thank you!

[aquafaith]

My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

.

.

.

I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

[thedragonnerd]

Rayaari headcanon - let us be sad with some angst and hurt/comfort

(inspired by a lovely anon)

With the rebirth of Kumandra and the return of their lost loved ones, everyone tries to sweep away the last six years, in a desperate attempt to move on with their lives and not waste any more time dwelling on the past.

But the scars, both physical and mental, still remain, and trauma endured cannot simply be washed away. There is a disconnect between people now - especially between those who had to endure the threat of Druuns hanging over their heads for years, and those who have awoken to a new world and changed people.

The most heart-wrenching discovery for Raya is that she doesn't always know what to say to her own Ba. It's been so long since they spent a lot of time together, and she is a very different person now compared to the 12-year-old little girl he threw into the water. Sometimes, she's worried he won't like the person she has become.

She also has more arguments with him than before, especially whenever he treats her more like a small child than the young woman she is today, who has survived hardship he never wanted her to experience. They don't always see eye-to-eye with each other regarding trade, politics and what is best for Heart, with his optimism and her realism clashing. If they don't resolve their disagreement quickly, Namaari will find Raya crying softly in their bedroom; she hates fighting with her Ba.

Raya sometimes sees children from her past, who were turned to stone in the original Druun attack and been frozen in time until now. It feels a lifetime ago that she was the right age to play with them, and when she sees them laughing and playing games, she wonders was I ever really that young?

She carries a weapon on her at all times, unable to shake off the feeling that something might go wrong. She learnt this the hard way when she was thirteen: a market deal in Talon had gone wrong, and she was attacked by two large men when she was only a child and without a weapon or knowledge how to fight back. Her ability to run fast had saved her that day. Since then, she has vowed never to be caught weaponless again.

One morning when Namaari tries to wake her, she accidentally pulls a knife, holding it up to Namaari's neck. Raya is almost sick with the idea that she could have seriously injured Namaari just through instinct, but Namaari just holds her hands until she calms down, rubbing her thumb back and forth. 'I trust you with my life,' she tells Raya.

Raya also still has moments where waves of anger wash over her, striking her unawares and in an uncontrollable manner. One time, Namaari makes an innocuous comment about Benja that sets Raya off, words of anger and blame falling from her lips with malicious intent. She feels awful after having done it - she never meant for Namaari to become the target of her bad emotions that day, and she can see how far it sets back their fledgling relationship. Namaari spirals into several days of guilt before they reconcile again.

For Namaari sees the trauma Raya carries, and can't help but feel responsible. She adds this to the weight of the guilt she has already carried for the past six years, and then bottles it up inside, with the opinion that she doesn't deserve Raya's sympathy, or indeed sympathy from anyone.

She has been raised to place the safety of her people before herself, growing to accept and embrace the risk to her own life every time she had to go out on a mission beyond the Fang borders and into Druun territory. It is something she has always been willing to do if it means keeping the rest of Fang safe, and in this new, safer world it is difficult to shake off these feelings of self-sacrifice being a worthy endeavour.

Indeed, she sometimes thinks that it would have been nobler to have turned to stone herself at some point over the years, but she is also too pragmatic to believe that would absolve her of her sins.

Her way of trying to atone therefore is to help as many people as possible now. Her self-sacrificing thoughts are channeled into working herself to exhaustion, as she tries to juggle fixing Fang's city and palace, expanding her citizen's homes back out into their previously Druun-infested lands, and offering up her services to any of the other lands who need extra support in rebuilding.

All of this responsibility and guilt weighs her down enough that she sometimes gets hit with extreme panic attacks. She manages to get herself to a private location the first few times it happens, but then it strikes in the middle of a sparring session with Raya, and she just sinks to the floor and covers her face with her hands.

She can faintly hear Raya asking 'what's wrong?' and feels a hand being placed on her trembling shoulder. She opens her mouth to tell Raya to go away, but instead chokes out 'Please stay?' It is the first time she has managed to ask for help.

Both of them have scars scattered across their bodies, each with a different story to tell, and some even caused by the other person. Raya is concerned at first that Namaari will find hers ugly, but Namaari soon puts those fears to rest by peppering them with tiny kisses. A couple of Namaari's old injuries give her trouble still, so Raya returns the favour by giving her massages when the pain behind those scars grows too much.

Trauma and loss is not a new concept to either of them, even before the arrival of the Druuns. At night, sometimes Raya sings a song that she can remember her mother using as a lullaby. Namaari doesn't like to discuss her father, but occasionally, safe in the dark, she will mention a story about an adventure they had together.

Over a long period of time, they are both able to release themselves of some of their fears and traumas; others, they learn to live with, or learn how to help the other cope. The most important thing, they find, is being together through it all.

[ceruleanmusings]

formidable: rip her to shreds

This idea kept floating around my head ever since you made a comment about Mickey fighting anyone that would come between her and Squid if CGL went co-ed so I had to get it out before it drove me insane. This is all your fault @theblerdbox​.

For someone bestowed with the nickname Mouse, Mickey sure had a knack for talking herself into trouble. Her jaw snapped shut, a swift blow to her hope and dream that she actually hadn’t said anything. She shrunk back beneath the hard, piercing glare coming from across the tent which was quickly accompanied by the baring of teeth. Viper certainly lived up to her name.

“What’d you say?” Viper asked.

Mickey’s fingers stilled in Giggles’ mane of corkscrew hair. Giggles sat stock still, hands clasped over her mouth lest her nervous habit get her within Viper’s crosshair too. “I, um, I didn’t— ”

“No, please, by all means, speak up.” Viper crossed her arms, her fingers nestling in the perfect indents between her rounded delts and triceps. “Share with the class.” One sweep of her palm around the small tent brought the other girls into the storm clouds gathering between them.

It wasn’t the suppressing heat of the camp that made it difficult for Mickey to breathe but the heavy silence following Viper’s words. The thrum of a threat lingering behind made MIckey’s mind race for an escape plan. But with a name as apt as her bite, Viper would make sure she wouldn’t get out of this alive either way. “I don’t think you should treat them like that.” Mickey’s quiet words bounced off the mattress they were directed towards and, beneath her lashes, she saw they had little effect on Viper’s stance.

One thin eyebrow popped above Viper’s steely gaze. “So you’re an authority on the boys now, huh?”

“No, I didn’t say— ”

Viper held up her palm. “Exactly. Just ‘cause you were here first doesn’t mean you own them.”

Mickey sighed. This again? She never said to have any sort of claim on the guys of D-Tent but...she did like to think she knew them better than anyone else. And, yeah, they could do what they wanted, but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about them. “I know I don’t. It’s just...they’re people too. It’s not really fair to them.”

“Who cares?”

“I do.”

Viper’s sneer slowly switched over to a patronizing smirk. No matter whose face it sat on, Mickey had seen enough of them to recognize it right away. Sighing quietly, she steeled herself for whatever poison she prepared to throw her way. “Oh, that’s sweet.” Viper’s eyes widened and her lips puckered and she took on a tone so saccharine it made Mickey’s head hurt. “The itty bitty mouse wants to protect the boys and their fragile feelings.”

“Look, it’s just not cool to treat people like that. They’re not toys.”

“You only care because it’s Squid. So, tell me, which part about it bugs you? That he keeps coming back to me? That he practically begs for it? That I have him at my beck and call. ...Or that it’s not you?”

Mickey’s eyes darkened, like the shadow of a cloud stalling over bright waters. “We’re just friends.”

Viper snorted. “So you say.”

Mickey threw her arms in the air and rubbed at her temple. “I’ve known him since I was five! Don’t you think if i wanted to be with him I’d be with him by now?”

“I think you’re upset because you know you can’t give him what I can.”

“No, I’m upset because Squid deserves someone who actually cares about him!” The shout came out of her like a gunshot, shattering the still air around them. Giggles gasped, Lolly’s jaw hung slack allowing them a look at the massive wad of gum molded to her lower set of teeth, and Domino’s eyes widened so much they could’ve popped out her head and rolled along the floor. Mickey cleared her throat and let out a slow breath and when she spoke again, her voice returned to its usual soft tone. “Look, he can do what he wants with whomever, it doesn’t matter to me. But his feelings should be taken into consideration.”

Viper rolled her eyes. “Oh please. He has no feelings.”

“You have him thinking that you’re going to be together after all this!” Mickey scrambled off the bed and got to her shaky feet, keeping her eyes pinned on Viper. “That you’ll...you’ll be with him and everything will be wrapped up in a little bow with a picket fence with, like, promise rings!”

“How’s that my problem?” Viper’s question was as dull and distracted as the look in her eye.

“For giving him false hope. Y’should at least be on the same page so y’know what you’re both getting out of it. It’s common decency.” She heard her accent slowly slipping back in, ratcheting up the more she spoke.

“It’s stupid. He knows what this is about. He’s not fragile and he’s not yours.”

God! This wasn’t about her! This was about him! Why did they always make it about her? “I never said he was.”

“And I’ll make extra sure you know that.” Viper stepped forward, tilting her head downwards to ensure the tip of her nose came close to Mickey’s. “He loves all the things I can do with my tongue, you know,” she continued, her voice dropping to a slow crawl. “He’s a little eager but he knows what he wants. Always trying to please me. It’s a little pathetic sometimes, really, but I always get my fill.” She turned away, her hair nearly whipping Mickey in the face. The heavy clomps of her boots on the wood beneath their feet matched the heavy thuds in Mickey’s heart. “It’s a fun ride, Mouse. At some point we all need to get off.” She chuckled, pleased with her own joke. Little pinpricks of pain throbbed in Mickey’s palms where her nails pressed crescent moons into the fleshy heel. “And that’s all this is.” Viper sat on the metal frame at the foot of Domino’s bed, crossing one ankle over the other. “In fact, I was thinking of taking Zig for a spin next. He seems like a wild time.”

“That’s not right,” Mickey said, slow, words dropping to a wavering whisper.

“So what?” Viper’s eyes rolled and her shoulders dropped as if the weariness of the conversation had an affect on her. “Squid’s nothing but a lowlife, pathetic, urchin. All men are. He won’t even notice when I put him back where he started. Trash knows where it belongs.”

The tears swimming in Mickey’s eyes turned everything hazy; it took the throbbing pain in her hand and the frenzied shrieking and rapid movement for her to realize why. Viper doubled over, holding her eye, Domino looked as if she didn’t know whether to leave or help, head swinging from the girls to the tent flaps, Lolly’s hands were pressed against her ears, eyes squeezed shut as she hummed, and Giggles fluttered by Mickey’s side, trying to take her rapidly reddening hand.

“What the fuck!?” Viper snapped upright, murder flashing like a neon sign in her eyes. Or eye. Because the other one was as red as Mickey’s hand and beginning to swell.

“Oh god, they make this look so easy in the movies!” Mickey groaned, cradling her hand. Was it supposed to hurt this much?

“So, the mouse has some bite, huh?” Viper got to her feet, shaking off Domino’s attempts at holding her back, A large grin slowly split her lips. “Well then, eat this!”

Mickey’s head snapped backwards, taking the blow where Viper’s fist connected with her face. More tears sprang to her eyes, pouring down her cheeks, mimicking the trail of blood seeping out her nose. The sharp metallic splashed on her tongue and mixed with the saliva pooling in her cupped hands.

“You can have him when I’m done, you know,” Viper said between haggard breaths. She drew up some air and spit. The saliva and mucous mixture landed with a wet splat on the ground. “I hear that’s where you’re comfortable, on your back with your legs spread with an open invitation. Just don’t cry rape afterwards if he doesn’t satisfy you, okay?”

Mickey lowered her trembling, pale, blood dotted hands. Her chin went with it, big puffs of air ejected with forceful blows between her lips. Her hand and nose throbbed, her chest ached under the onslaught of her heart ramming against her ribs, and she wanted to experience the satisfying elation of having pulled Viper’s head off.

So she tucked her chin, charged into Viper, and tackled her out of the tent.

[drabbles-mc]

Hands Off

Bishop Losa x Reader

Request by @jmvalhalla1998​: Hi there! I guess this would be a request but is it possible to do a Bishop x Reader where her ex comes to town with them nothing talking to each other at all he doesn’t know she is with Bish so he tries to win her back causing Bish to get protective/territorial? You can make them engaged or have the reader pregnant if it makes it more interesting.

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This was oodles of fun to write. Who doesn’t love to see Bishop getting a little worked up and protective??

Bish Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @queenbeered​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​

You were looking at all the fresh produce in front of you, trying to figure out what exactly you wanted to pick up for dinner. Once Bishop got back from his run, he was going to be home all weekend and for you, that was worth celebrating. You toyed with the ring dangling at the end of your necklace chain, telling yourself that you had to get around to going to the jewelers to get it re-sized so you would actually wear it on your left hand. You tucked it back underneath the collar of your shirt as you started plucking a few things to put into your cart.

You were off to pick up the last of your dinner items when you heard an all-too-familiar voice, “Y/N?”

You spun around, your heart dropping into your stomach as you came face-to-face with your ex. You hadn’t seen or heard from him in three years, and that worked out incredibly well for you. He wasn’t missed by you. “What’re you doing here?” your tone had no sweetness to it.

He laughed, “That’s a funny way to say ‘I miss you’.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he forged onward despite the fact that you were letting him know that you wanted nothing to do with him, “I’m gonna be back in town for a few weeks because of work. Offer still stands, if you wanna get out of this town you’re more than welcome to come with me.”

You scoffed, “Absolutely not.”

You started to push your cart away when he spoke up again, “What’re you up to these days, anyway? You seeing anyone?”

You sighed, “As a matter of fact, yes, I am.”

He scanned the store, “Oh?”

You rolled your eyes, “Some people trust their partners to go places without them.”

He gave you a once-over, eyes lingering far too long, “I wouldn’t let you outta my sight.”

“Yea, you made that abundantly clear a few years ago. If you had any long-term memory at all you’d remember that that was half the reason I let you leave without me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish my grocery shopping,” you huffed and walked away, desperate to get out of the store and as far away from him as possible.

You tried your hardest to push the interaction from your mind as you worked on putting dinner together when you got home. You had gotten a text from Bishop that he was less than an hour out and it made you get your butt in gear and start cooking. If you timed it right, it would be done just after he got home. He always told you that you didn’t need to make a fuss when he came back from runs, but you couldn’t help it. And truthfully, you knew that he enjoyed it.

You were setting out plates and silverware when you heard the door open. You looked up, a smile on your face when you saw Bishop standing in the doorway. He dropped his bag to the floor and held his arms out. You couldn’t help but to laugh as you ran over and jumped into his arms, letting him sweep you off the floor and spin you around in a hug.

You hooked your legs around his waist and kissed him, “I missed you.”

He chuckled as he hooked his hands together underneath your legs, “I missed you too.”

You let him go unpack and change into a more comfortable set of clothes while you finished bringing everything to the table. You smiled as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so that your back was pressed up against his chest. He pressed kisses along your shoulder and neck.

“I told you, you don’t have to do all this.”

You smiled, resting your hands on top of his, “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. It gives me a reason to actually do something with myself besides miss you while you’re gone.”

He chuckled, “You’re breaking my heart, querida.”

The two of you had dinner together, and all you could think about was how nice it was to have him home again. You knew that his life was never going to allow him to be home all the time, and you accepted that, but that acceptance never made you miss him any less. You couldn’t stop staring at him as he gave you all the highlights of the run.

After dinner, the two of you were curled up in bed watching a movie. You idly toyed with the ring on the end of your necklace chain as you soaked up all of Bishop’s body heat underneath your mountain of blankets. As your fingers slid across the smooth metal band, the events that happened at the grocery store all came racing back and you instantly felt a knot forming in your stomach all over again.

Bishop felt you tense up and he looked over at you, “Everything alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yea. I just, um, there was something I forgot to mention.”

He paused the movie, “What’s going on?”

You had no idea how to start this conversation with him. Nothing really happened, but you still felt like you should tell him, “When I was at the store today, I, uh, I ran into my ex.”

His brows furrowed. He wasn’t the type to get jealous, but he also knew that your ex hadn’t treated you well and that was his real issue. “What happened? I thought that he was gone?”

You shrugged, “He’s back in town for a while for work I guess. I don’t think that he’s a real threat or anything I just, I don’t know,” you shook your head, “I felt so skeeved out after talking to him, that’s all. I’m not telling you because I want you to do anything about it, I just figured I should let you know.”

He’d never met your ex—he was long gone by the time that you and Bishop had gotten together. But the stories that you told him were enough. The protective part of him was kicking into gear as he processed what you were telling him. Even though you said that you didn’t want him to do anything about it, that was exactly what he was planning to do.

“Hey,” you gently squeezed his arm, “Obispo, I mean it. Don’t do anything stupid—he’s not worth it.”

He kissed your forehead, “I love you.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “I love you too, but that’s not a response to what I just said.”

He pulled you closer, your face resting against his chest, “It’s my response to everything you say.”

You didn’t push it, knowing that whatever Bishop was thinking about doing wasn’t anything that you were going to be able to talk him out of. The more you thought about it, the more you hoped that the odds would be on your side and that the two of them just wouldn’t cross paths for however long your ex was in town. They didn’t run in the same circles, so maybe, just maybe, you’d luck out.

Those thoughts got pushed from your mind, though, as Bishop started peppering kisses along your neck and jaw. You laughed and melted into him, happy to forget about whatever the future was going to hold that was out of your control.

The next morning, Bishop was up bright and early. He nudged you awake, telling you he wanted to take you out to coffee and breakfast at the café in town. As much as you wanted to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing all day, it had been a while since the two of you had a breakfast date, so you agreed.

He took you on the bike, which you loved. There was something exhilarating about not just riding through town on the back of his bike, but also just walking around with your hand entwined with his. Even when he was off the clock, he was almost always in his kutte. It made him stand out a little more but you didn’t mind it, especially because some of that confidence seeped over into you. There was something special about the president of the MC doting on you, keeping you pressed up against his side as you made your way through town.

His phone rang right before you walked into the café. He looked down at the screen and then back to you, “Want to grab us a table? I’ll be right in. Less than five, I promise.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “Anything for you,” you gave him a quick peck on the lips before walking in and asking for a table for two.

You were scanning over the menu when you heard footsteps approaching your table. You assumed it was going to be Bishop, or a waiter, but instead you looked up and into the face of the man you hoped you would go the next few weeks without seeing again.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You sighed, muttering somewhat under your breath, “You gotta be kidding me.”

Without bothering to ask, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, “Some might say that this is a sign.”

“A warning sign, maybe,” you said with a shake of your head, “I’m engaged. Let it go.”

“Engaged and going out to breakfast by yourself?”

“I’m not by my—”

He held his hand up to stop you, “C’mon, just grab one drink with me tonight. One drink, and if you still want nothing to do with me, I’ll leave you alone forever.”

You looked up and you saw Bishop standing behind his chair, looking larger than life. You pressed your lips together, waiting for your fiancé to say something. He cleared his throat, “Sounds like something you should be doing anyway.”

He instinctively went to push the chair back, but Bishop was blocking him in. his hand came to rest on your ex’s shoulder, and from the look of pain on the man’s face, Bishop was exercising his grip strength a little bit.

“Y/N mentioned that you were back in town.”

“Oh? She did?”

“Yea,” Bishop’s other hand gripped his free shoulder, “she also mentioned that you have a bad habit of not minding your fucking business.”

Your ex was all but trembling in his seat, and it would’ve been a lie to say that you weren’t enjoying every second of the scene unfolding in front of you. You didn’t need Bishop to look out for you, but you enjoyed that he did anyway. And, judging by the satisfied smirk that was creeping onto his face, Bishop enjoyed it too.

“Look, I’m just saying,” you could tell that your ex was scrambling to string the words together, “she seems to be on her own an awful lot. Must get lonely.”

“And you’re just here to remedy that loneliness, is that it?” Bishop’s tone was begging him to say something stupid.

“Well, someone should.”

“Hmm,” you could see his grip tightening on your ex’s shoulders, “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about,” he leaned down so that he could speak a little quieter, “But god help me if I ever see you anywhere near my wife ever again I will break every one of your fingers, one at a time, and then make you drive yourself home. We clear?”

He nodded, fear written all over his face, “C-clear.”

“Good,” Bishop finally released his grip, “Now get the fuck out so we can have breakfast.”

He stood up, giving you one last look to see if you had anything to say. You gave him a sickly sweet smile and waved goodbye without a word, and he scampered out the door. You turned your attention back to Bishop, who was sitting down in his seat.

You smiled at him as he sat down, reaching your hands across the table so you could hold them in your own, “How good did that feel?” there was a hint of laughter in your voice.

He smiled at you, his voice quiet, “Really fucking good.”

You gave his hands a light squeeze, “Also, getting a preview of what it’s going to be like hearing you refer to me as your wife? What a rush,” you giggled.

He lifted your hands up and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “You’ve got a whole lifetime of that ahead of you, sweetheart.”

[youarejesting]

Wash Out.21 (Sope Special)

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin,  Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

[Prev] [Next]

Yoongi stood still, his legs shaking. It was not normal for him to be standing for this length of time. They were mermaids used to having tails their strength in the water. Swimming was like breathing. Of course their legs only appeared on their sacred land under the ocean.

They couldn’t walk on human land, could never compare to their leg strength. Most Mermaids spent their days in the water only entering the sacred land for celebrations. Yoongi being one of many guards would protect the royal family, albeit there was no longer a royal family. Jungkook was all that was left, a prince forced to be a king before he was ready. 

Guards were the most common of the merfolk to adorn legs. Jungkook was confined to the sacred land, his time in the water limited. Anything to keep him safe from the threat of other merclans. Each guard embellished in the silk of the clams. Byssus was woven finely like silk, the light material was surprisingly warm enough to protect the guards and King whilst in their more vulnerable form.

Yoongi looked across the crystal throne room, the love of his life standing just as tall, his stature stronger than Yoongi’s. A feat as Jungkook tore the room apart, bioluminescent vines and lanterns ripped from the walls. Food and wine splattered on the floor of their ancestors.

Hoseok’s mouth turned down, the sight unnatural for his usually cheerful disposition. The hardest part of their job was raising Jungkook, it seemed no matter how hard they tried to teach him right and wrong, politics and history they still came up short. He didn’t have a family, not anymore, he didn’t know how to share and never had to work for relationships. 

Everyone adored him, feared him, doted on his every whim. He was given the finest foods and all the newest technology Merfolk could offer. Anything to keep him content in his prison. It surprised Yoongi that Jungkook hadn’t questioned his confines, that he was complacent with their level of control over his freedom.

Jungkook no longer understanding, why his new found friend was so reluctant to stay. He extended all his riches and gifts to the human, something other merfolk would cherish. 

“Why does he still want to leave, with me he could be treated as a king,” Jungkook seethed, throwing a leg over the arm of his throne massaging his temples. “Leave me.”

Hoseok marched dutifully to Yoongi, supporting the older merman as they made their exit. Walking him to the entrance of the underwater cove, the air though damp enough to keep their lungs from feeling dry, they much preferred sinking into the cool water. Doing so allowed the power of the sacred land to slip away leaving only their natural form. 

The two transformed their black and blue tails wrapping around each other, a romantic gesture Yoongi enjoyed more than he wished to admit. They relaxed in eachothers arms peacefully, sinking further until they landed on the floor of the large network of caves. This is where most of the merfolk lived as they were still protected from the open ocean.

Under the cove was wide and besides a few stalagmite and stalactite the surface was predominantly flat. However the local life was anything but, everyone bustling around the settlement enjoying tending to the seaweed, crafting and protecting the sealife. 

“Jungkook, is struggling. He doesn’t understand how to handle rejection. He doesn’t understand that people value the same things,” Hoseok mumbled, massaging Yoongi’s lower back to help relieve tension from standing for such a long time.

“That human cannot survive long under the ocean, he grows weaker by the day, barely eating.” Yoongi huffed, “If Jungkook doesn’t let him go, the poor thing will die, Jungkook isn’t ready to experience something like that so close to him.”

“I think he has gotten too attached, losing this human might break him,” Hoseok bit his lip, “Dare I say he is in love with him, he could be his promised.”

Yoongi scoffed, the idea that Jungkook happened to find his promised one and he was a human, the first human he had ever met. Yoongi and Hoseok were unaware they were each other's promised until Yoongi had a week off from guard duty and started to get really sick. The two had met in the infirmary wasting away and only in one another's company did their condition improve. “Hoseok, that’s a bit much.”

A figure swam down the path quickly, heading straight to the sacred cove entrance, carrying something large. Was someone trying to attack their home? The two fell apart taking up offensive stances, each lurching forward when they spotted Jimin holding an unconscious human.

“Not another one,” Yoongi chastised, eyes sweeping over Jimin trying to be inconspicuous. Though he cared he showed it silently, not fond of open praise. The kind to listen and assist others out of sight.

“I have to make sure he is alright,” Jimin gave no further explanation, swimming up into the cove entrance dragging the human onto the sacred land. Jimin’s gold tail disappearing, leaving behind two bare legs. 

Wrapping himself in a cloth, the two followed. Yoongi strained to lift himself into an upright position. Hoseok brought out their usual transport, especially for Jungkook’s deliveries. In this case they threw the unconscious human across the shell of the crustacean and they headed to their king.

“Are all humans this big?” Yoongi asked, eyeing the figure draped beside Jimin. The two crab-pooling wasn’t the issue, the way Jimin looked genuinely concerned for the human was. It was no good for humans and Merfolk to fall in love, the dynamic wouldn’t end well. 

“No, they aren’t all this big, some of them are small, delicate and beautiful. They are magnificent, fascinating beings. Some are scary and mean and others are innocent and protective, just trying to do the right thing.” Jimin whispered, checking the humans breathing once more. 

“Is he your promised?” Hoseok asked softly, not knowing how to approach the topic sensitively. Jimin smiled, shaking his head. The thought appeared to have amused him.

“He is someone else’s promised,” Jimin said, “But I think I met her, she was beautiful and strong, never letting anyone stop her, never letting bad things keep her down. She would swim head first into enemy waters to save someone she barely knows.

The human groaned, “Where am I?” Jimin let out a sigh of relief, this human was waking up and didn’t seem to be physically hurt, at least there were no wounds they could see upon his flesh. “Am I dead?”

“No, you are not dead, you are in our settlement.” Jimin grinned at the disorientation present in Seokjin’s words. He was struggling to enunciate his words, each more like a whine drawn out.

Upon entering the crystal throne room the group tried their best to support the sluggish human inside. Gaining the attention of Jungkook, ceasing his brooding long enough to assist the three struggling mermen. As if hearing the commotion or perhaps Seokjin’s terrible jokes Namjoon emerged from where he had been staying.

“Jin! Are you okay?” Namjoon grabbed his friend, checking him over for injury, “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you and avoiding the police, I ran my car off the cliff and also may have destroyed the letter box outside your beach house.” He laughed, “Never really liked it anyway.”

“You did what?” Namjoon said, concerned, “Are you crazy?”

“Listen, we were being chased. It was all for you, and Jimin of course, returning Jimin and rescuing you.” Seokjin smiled at his friend. Yoongi thought these humans were weird, they were reckless and too odd for his liking. “I even teamed up with Taehyung and Y/n in order to save you. Do you know how hard that was?”

“Didn’t seem hard at all, you and Taehyung seemed to get along really well.” Jimin pushed the human with a smile, it was weird to see Jimin acting so comfortable with the humans. “We will return you so that the issue can be resolved, I am starting to grow worried about how we left.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked confused

“Humans tackled Y/n and Taehyung dragged me into the water. Right before you and your car contraption fell into the water I killed the man who scared you all.” Jimin said proudly, this didn’t seem to go over well with the human’s. Yoongi hoped Jimin didn’t do something stupid turf war wasn’t on his to do list.

Yoongi didn’t understand the words coming from Seokjin’s face, if he had to liken it to anything, it sounded like vulgar slang, curse words. The human looked panicked.

“We have to go back, they are probably being sent to prison,” Seokjin said, trying to leave unsure which direction to go, “They are in big trouble.”

“Can’t you just talk to your king and explain and they will be removed from prison?” Jimin said

“Prison doesn’t work the same as it does here,” Namjoon explained, “Very Very bad people go to prison, Murderer’s, thieves and other despicable humans put in one place.”

“Yeah and if they go to prison, they may be beaten or worse,” Seokjin huffed. Jimin looked up at Jungkook who nodded, bringing out a small mirror and handing it to Jimin.

Looking over Jimin’s shoulder, Yoongi noticed a human different to the two infront of him, she was feminine delicate and leaking. “What is happening to her?”

“She is crying,” Jimin explained, “Humans do that when they are hurt or in despair, from what I have been told they do the same when they are happy too.”

“Confusing and a little stupid.” Hoseok laughed, “How do you know the difference?”

The charges have been dropped, Namjoon breathed listening to the interrogator, explaining that they couldn’t record the phenomenon that occurred on the beach. “They are being let go,” He smiled, a sight Yoongi hadn’t seen since he first laid eyes on their large domestic crustaceans.

“There is Taehyung,” Seokjin called out looking down, the two humans looked void of any emotion, they collected their things and climbed into the police car getting an escort to their homes. “They are safe and that’s all that matters.” 

Seokjin smiled, his eyes leaking much to Yoongi’s disgust. Namjoon smiled, he seemed a little amused by the older human. “I remember distinctly you saying you hated Taehyung with a passion and wanted him to choke on a sardine.” They two laughed for a moment, “When did things change?” 

“I guess when you are working as a team to save someone you develop an understanding.” Seokjin shrugged his large shoulders, “It also didn’t help that he was living in my house for almost a week.”

“You like him,” Namjoon poked him, “Admit it you have feelings for him.”

“We can head back when you are ready, we have returned Jimin home safely.” Seokjin smiled, looking around at the group and smiling, “I am Seokjin by the way, you can call me Jin.”

The man was goofy, reminding Yoongi of Jungkook himself, the two so alike in their childlike nature, letting themself play without hesitation. It was almost admirable that people could act so carefree, unaffected by how they could be perceived.

“I don’t know if I am allowed to leave?” Namjoon said, his smile falling, eyes fixed on the ground before him. 

Yoongi looked at his king, the spoiled young man reflecting on his actions, it had been many days since they saw the young man smile. Almost expecting him to refuse, Yoongi schools his expression when he doesn’t. 

“You should go, You don’t belong down here?” Jungkook took the mirror before walking away from the group to sit on the throne. He lowered his head looking at his reflection trying to distract himself from the pain. Letting your promised go was the hardest thing a merperson could do. Under normal circumstances, promises are only parted by death.

Namjoon walked over, placing a hand on the king's head and smiling at him, “If ever you want to visit, I would be happy to show you some great places, places you would love.” Jungkook’s broken heart warmed at the human’s dimples appearing softly in the flesh of his cheeks.

That was the last thing they needed, their king running off for a romance on the coast line. Seokjin swung his arm around Jimin playfully, the merman giggling whilst his legs almost buckled. “Yeah Jimin knows the private beach by Namjoon’s house, he can show you the way if you ever want to visit.”

Tags: @backinblack1967 @miriamxsworld @moccahobi @simplymemyself @a-gayish-unicorn @ella-mella @vjinfan23​

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[mochegato]

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 1     Chapter 2

Chapter 3 – Betrayed

“I don’t understand American pies.” Chimera mused as she pulled an apple pie out of the oven. “It’s like a tart but not as good. Just make a tart.”

Conner looked up at her in annoyance. “If you don’t want to make it, don’t make it.  Why are you complaining?  And why are you even wasting time making it instead of sleeping? Today was the first day in two weeks you could have slept past 6 and you’re doing this instead.”

“I’m in America, I want to try making an apple pie.  I just don’t understand it.  And I’m making it because I like baking and I promised Wally I’d make him one a few weeks ago and he keeps asking.”  She hummed examining the highly decorated crust.  “Maybe I’ll understand once I eat it.  And I’m fine.”  He looked at her disbelievingly.  “I am.  I’m fine.” He raised an eyebrow at her.  “A little tired… and stressed… and anxious… and tense… and thinking is hard… and… yeah.” She looked down and let out a quiet sigh before snapping her eyes back up to Conner with a strained smile.  “But that’s normal for me.  I’ll be fine.”  She downed the rest of her double espresso with a wince.  “Blaah.  That tastes horrible.  I wish I could taste the pie now to get that taste out of my mouth.”

He huffed at her annoyed by her refusal to take a nap.  “If you want to know what it tastes like, take a bite.  And if you’re tired, go to bed.”

“No!  It has to cool down first.  I’ll try it after I get back, along with sleeping.” She looked over at the clock and sighed.  “Speaking of which, I need to get going or I’ll be late.”  She took off her apron and turned to Conner with a stern expression. “And don’t let Wally eat it before I get back.  I mean, don’t let anyone, but Wally’s probably the only one you have to worry about.”

“Fine.  But you’re sleeping when you get home.” Conner stated firmly.  She rolled her eyes at him and started moving toward the exit.  Conner moved to intercept her, looking at her with softer eyes. “I’m serious, Chi.  You need to sleep.  You’re not thinking straight anymore.  You almost forgot oven mitts when you got the pie out just now.  You’ve been getting home really late and leaving really early for two weeks now.”

“Who knew you were a mother hen?”  She smiled wanly at him.  “You better watch it, I’ll tell the rest of the team.  You’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Then I’ll tell them why, then you’ll never hear the end of it.” He threatened with a smirk.

She looked up at him scoffed. “Pfft.  Artemis won’t care.  Kaldur will speak to me about the importance of sleep, but will trust me to know my own body.  Robin will warn me about how dangerous it is to go into a fight without the proper amount of sleep and will keep an eye on me during our missions from now on, but other than that will not mention it.  Wally is the only one that will be a problem, but I can buy him off with baked goods.  You however, you they’ll make fun of constantly.”  She grinned smugly at him but her smile faltered when she saw the deeply concerned look in his eyes.

She sighed lightly and looked at him earnestly. “It will all be better next week, I promise.  I just have to make it a few more days. Everyone I’m working with is in the same state.  This is just a really rough time of year.  We knew this was coming, that’s why I’ve been off missions the last week and a half and I’ll be off missions for another week.  But once this week is over…  It’ll be better.  I’ll be better.  I’ll sleep. I promise.  But right now, I need to go.”  She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and left to change.  

Conner scowled at her but moved out of her way.  “I’m going to hold you to that.” He yelled over his shoulder to her retreating back.

She closed the door to her room quickly and locked it behind her.  It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her teammates, but accidents happen.  If one of them got too excited or concerned and forgot to knock, her identity could be outed and she would have to leave.  She looked longingly at her bed.  She wished it was as simple as Conner made it seem. She would love to take a nap, there just wasn’t enough time right now.  It was Fashion Week starting in two days and they showed in three.  There was no sleep for anyone in the fashion industry right now, and that included her.  She sighed and looked away from the bed calling her like a siren with the possibility of beautiful, peaceful dreams.  “Trixx, divide.”

Trixx did a few summersaults in the air and started searching around the room.  Again, not that Marinette didn’t trust her teammates, but mind control was a thing and maybe, just maybe playing Among Us with the rest of the team had made her paranoid, so it had become common practice for Trixx to do a sweep of the room for any bugs before Marinette completed her detransformation.  It was a ridiculous precaution and she felt stupid doing it and annoyed because it cost her time when she needed it, like now.  But the overwhelming guilt she would feel for not doing her due diligence was far more threatening to her.  But in moments like this, it played in her favor.

“Something is not right. Someone’s here.” Trixx whispered in her ear.

Marinette wasn’t sure if he was referring to her room or the cave, but either way, she needed to get out now.  More importantly, almost the whole team was here.  She needed to warn them now.  “Eat now, as quickly as possible.” She mumbled under her breath, scanning the room, ready to fight if the infiltrator was hiding in her room.  Trixx made her proud by eating his cookie in one bite. “Trixx, Kaalki, Unify.” She called out quietly.  As soon as the light washed over her she grabbed a handful of treats for the kwamis, throwing them into her flute as she bolted from the room to find Conner.

She finally found him after only a few minutes.  Conveniently, he was with Aqualad and Kid Flash as well.  She ran at him and jumped into his arms.  He stood stock still, unable to move due to the shock of the unexpected closeness.  They touched… occasionally, but not like this.  He was utterly unsure how to respond to this.   Not that it was unwanted, he would love for them to do this more often, but this had come out of nowhere.

Kid Flash stood up and watched uncertain.  He definitely wasn’t a fan of this, but knew enough to know something was going on. He scanned the room searching for an indication of the impetus for it.

Conner opened his mouth to ask Chimera what was wrong but she spoke before he could.  She whispered quietly enough for just him to hear her. “Something is wrong.  Someone is in the Cave.  Someone who shouldn’t be.  We need to get everyone out.  Now. Without raising any suspicion in case they are watching.”

Conner’s eyes darkened to a dangerous glint and he wrapped his arms around her protectively.  He whispered “Got it” quietly into her ear. He pulled away from her just slightly and looked to the others, “Chimera’s been stressed lately.  I think a walk would help.  You guys coming?”  If anyone had been watching them that cover story would match with their earlier conversation and not set off any alarms.  Hopefully, Chimera wouldn’t kick his ass too hard for outing that she had been stressed.

Kid Flash jumped forward, “That sounds fun.  I’ll go. What are you stressed about?  What can I do for you to help you?  I mean… is there anything I can do to help?”

Chimera gave him a strained smile. “Sounds good.  Aqualad?” She turned to him and gave him a pointed look, trying to communicate the secret to him with her eyes.

Aqualad gave her a questioning look and slowly nodded at her.  “An outing sounds calming.”

She smiled anxiously at him. “Great, let’s go… now.”  She immediately started speed walking backwards toward the exit, refusing to wait another second for all of them to get out of there and silently urging them to hurry as well.  The rest of the Team only got a few steps before an explosion rocked the cave.  

Conner’s world went into slow motion as he watched the fire ball burst behind Chimera. Her hair fanned out around her head in what would have been a beautiful effect if it wasn’t due to the pressure of the explosion reaching her first.  He watched in horror as she was lifted off her feet and thrown across the cave.

Conner raced over to her, kneeling down next to her.  He pushed her hair out of her face to see how badly she was hit.  He felt the back of her head to see if there was any identifiable damage there.  She had no outward injuries but she wasn’t opening her eyes.  “Chimera!  Chimera come on.  We’re not done yet.  Chi!” He yelled at her.  His heartrate rocketed even higher when she didn’t respond.  

They were under attack and Chimera was injured, unable to protect herself.  He cursed under his breath and picked her up, holding her close to his chest to protect her if another attack came.  He looked over to Aqualad and Kid Flash.  They were in defensive positions already scanning the cave for threats.

“She knew someone was here. Did she say who?” Aqualad asked, darting his eyes around the cave.

“She felt something was off, but didn’t know what.  She wanted us safe while we figured it out.” Conner answered, still focusing on Chimera, looking for any signs of her status and pulling her even closer to his chest when she didn’t give one.

“How is she doing?” Kid Flash asked looking around the cave for anything that might be a threat.

Conner looked back down at Chimera, willing her to wake up.  As if in response to his desire, she groaned slightly and reached her free hand up to her head.  “Chimera, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay.  I’ve got you.” He reassured her in a strained voice.  She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile, closing her eyes and falling limp again.  Conner opened his mouth to urge her to wake up again but never got the chance.  A wall of water hit the team.  The force of the water ripped Chimera out of his arms and pushed him in the opposite direction.  

<><><><><> 

The room was hot.  Not just hot, burning.  It felt wrong… and blurry.  How were things blurry when her eyes weren’t even open?  Why was everything hot and fuzzy?  Why did her lungs burn?  Chimera groaned and tried to open her eyes.  It was harder than she expected.  It was like her body knew she didn’t really want to see the situation she was in, which just meant that she really needed to open her eyes so she could deal with the situation, whatever it was.

Her eyes finally jumped open when she felt something move under her.  She jumped only slightly, not nearly as much as she would normally, her body was still fighting her.  She wanted to prepare to fight whatever was moving under her but her body wanted to continue resting.  She cried out in pain and scrunched her eyes closed again as the effects of her movement hit her.  She heard a scream that sounded vaguely like her name from somewhere far away but couldn’t manage to turn towards it.  

She fought to process what she had seen in the short time her eyes were open.  Kaldur, she had seen Kaldur, and… orange?  Fire?  Why would there be fire?  Maybe she was by a fireplace.  She should move away from it, her mind hazily advised.  She tried to move away from the heat, but it seemed like it was coming from all around her.  She moaned in pain again at the effort’s effect on her body.

“…mera, can you …e?” She could hear someone talking, but they sounded… no wait, they sounded close?  She tried opening her eyes again.  But her body was still slow to respond.  Maybe if she just opened one eye?  That might work.  She concentrated on opening one eye at a time.  The images seemed to come to her on delay, or maybe it was her mind that was on some kind of 5 second delay.  Kaldur filled up her vision.

He was touching her head gently.  It felt wrong.  Why was he doing that?  She tried to scrunch her face in confusion but she wasn’t sure if her face was responding correctly.  “Chimera? Can you hear me?”

Oh, that’s why he was touching her head.  She had… something had happened.  She was hurt. He was checking her.  “Chimera!  Can you create a portal?”  

She stared at him blankly. Why would she create a portal? That was what Pegasus did.  She was…  Chimera.  She was Chimera, her mind hazily supplied for her.  She wasn’t Ladybug anymore.  She wasn’t sure if she could use her voice yet so she attempted to nod instead. Surely she could, right?

“You need to create a portal under us to somewhere safe.  Can you send us somewhere safe?”  He looked at her urgently.  They must be in trouble.

She looked around, or at least tried to.  “Superboy and Kid Flash are captured too, but safe for now.  We need to get out so we can help them.  Robin and Artemis are running around trying to fight the Reds, but if we can get away, we take some of their leverage.”

She looked blankly at him again.  That probably made sense but thinking hurt right now.  Her ability to process things logically was severely impaired, but Aqualad was their leader.  She trusted him to think for her.  “Somewhere safe, Chimera.” He repeated.

She thought about the words. Safe.  Somewhere safe.  Not home though.  Not with friends.  She couldn’t compromise her identity.  Somewhere safe Aqualad could see…  “Chimera! I know it’s hard, but we need to move!” He urged her.

Safe…

Safe…

Safe…

“Voyage,” she whispered in a broken rasp.

She whimpered in pain again as she landed hard on Aqualad from their 6 foot drop onto a hard metallic floor.  She wasn’t even sure where she had sent them and it was too bright to look around.

“Lower the lights!” Aqualad yelled to whoever was around.  “Good job, Chimera.  You brought us to the Watchtower.” He reassured her gently before turning away to yell again.  “We need help in here!”

“Chimera, do you have enough strength to create an illusion of us so they won’t know we’re gone?” Aqualad asked gently.  “I know you want to sleep and you can as soon as our teammates are safe.  Chimera, I need you to try.  Can you do it?”

She kept her eyes closed as she processed what he was asking.  Could she create the illusion?  What if she needed to create another portal?  Would she have the strength?  Could she take the time to transform?  “Need to see where,” she croaked.  She would detransform and retransform while they were getting the video set up.  “Need to detransform.  Secure. No cameras.”

Aqualad nodded at her, not that she could see it.  “I need a secure room, now!” he yelled at whoever he was talking to.  “And water or an IV.”

He picked her up and headed to a room she could use.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m going to get see if we can communicate with Artemis and Robin.”

Chimera reached out for him and grunted to get his attention, talking seemed like so much effort. She grabbed her flute, took an earpiece and some of the treats out of it.  She tossed the earpiece to him and set the treats on a nearby desk.  He looked at her surprised.  “Magic” she responded simply.  She didn’t have the time or inclination to explain further.

Aqualad nodded to her and left the room.  She gave Aqualad a few seconds to communicate with Robin before she detransformed, taking the earpiece with it.  Kaalki popped out as soon as she detransformed and looked around the room unimpressed.  “This facility is not befitting one as glorious as me.”

Without the second suit to help prop her up, Marinette’s legs gave out under her.  She fought to stay conscious.  The explosion she could handle, normally.  She’d experienced far worse fighting akumas.  However, wearing two miraculous was draining already, add to that all the stress she had been under in her civilian life, the little sleep she’d been getting the past two weeks, the explosion, the fire she had been sitting too close to, whatever had caused her lungs to burn, and using her powers before she was ready, and she was struggling to keep the push to oblivion, a long dreamless sleep, at bay.

But, her teammates needed her.  Conner and Wally were still at the mercy of whoever had invaded their cave. “Hurry” she rasped out.  Kaalki looked at her bored before seeing her state and snapping to attention, rapidly eating her sugar cube.

“Ready, Guardian.” She stated firmly.

Chimera didn’t even bother wasting energy nodding in response.  She quietly whispered “Unify”.  As soon as the transformation took effect, she felt a fresh wave of energy rush through her.  Not a lot, but enough, she hoped.  Enough to get through this.  Enough to save her teammates.  She pulled out her flute and played a melody.  “Mirage” she mouthed.  

God, she hoped this would work.  She had never tried a mirage from this distance and without any visual reference, but she was trusting her familiarity with the cave and the fact that she had just voyaged from that spot to ground the magic.  It made sense right?  Actually, nothing made sense right now.  She was going to go on blind faith for this one.

She stumbled out of the room she was in and wandered toward where she thought Aqualad might be.  She was sure he wouldn’t be too far.  Once he spotted her, Aqualad rushed over to her side, assisting her to where he was talking with Superman.  “Are you sure it is a good idea?” Aqualad asked in a tone that suggested he had asked this before and still hadn’t received a response he liked.

“Yes.  We’re coordinating with Black Canary.  We will both come in through the zeta tubes at the same time.  Once there we will be able to fight the Reds.  They will be entirely focused on us, giving Robin and Artemis the opportunity to free your friends.”

Chimera frowned at him. Her brain might not be working full speed yet, but she knew that was a bad idea.  She wasn’t sure why, but she knew it was wrong, she just needed to figure out why.  Superman turned when Black Canary appeared on a screen behind him.  Chimera couldn’t follow their conversation.  She was too focused on the screen next to it, showing Conner and Wally chin deep in water and two figures that looked similar to Red Tornado attacking Robin and Artemis and almost hitting Wally and Conner in their attacks.

Chimera gasped and grabbed Aqualad at the sight.  He followed her line of sight and muttered under his breath, “They know we’re here. Robin set up a video for us.”

“We need to leave now.” Superman stated, moving toward the tubes.

“NO!” Chimera yelled with as much force as she could.  As soon as the word came out of her mouth she faltered and fell back into Aqualad. “Robin patched in?” She asked Aqualad.

“Yes.”

She turned back to Superman. “Retribution.  Punish them.” She said raspingly.

Superman glared at her. “We know our jobs, Chimera.  We can handle them.”

“She’s right.  We should trust Robin and Artemis to handle this.” Aqualad responded supporting his teammates.  “We can coordinate with them and they can execute it.”

“We don’t have time to play games.” Superman chided them.  “We need to act now.”

“Act wrong.” Chimera said quietly.

“With all due respect…” Superman started bringing himself to his full height before getting cut off by Batman.

“I agree with them. The Reds have shown they are willing to kill the Team.  They have tried several times already.  The only reason Superboy and Kid Flash are still alive is because they need them to draw out Artemis and Robin.  Once it becomes clear they have lost that leverage, they will have no reason not to kill them and no reason to hold back.  They could raze that entire cave and everything in it if they feel threatened. Robin and Artemis might be able to escape but Conner and Wally won’t be able to escape it.”  Batman stated firmly.

“You don’t know that.” Superman retorted.

“You don’t know they won’t. You hope they won’t, but they have shown every indication that they will.  We should work with Artemis and Robin to come up with a plan.” Batman argued.

“I think we have a way to do that,” Robin added.  “If we can create an EMP emitter, we can short circuit them.”

Batman nodded at the suggestion, “That should work.  Good thinking, Robin.”

“And you have one of those on hand?” Superman asked doubtfully.  “We don’t.”

“No, but we can make one, right KF?” Robin answered with a smirk.

“Totally doable… ya know, if we had more time.” Kid Flash responded with a wince.

“How is Chimera?” Superboy called loudly enough for them to pick it up but quiet enough not to attract the Reds.

“She is weak but awake.” Aqualad reassured him.

The voices around her kept talking, but Chimera was having trouble keeping up with them.  She slumped into Aqualad and let her teammates do what they needed to do.  She focused on maintaining the mirage.  After a minute she heard someone say ‘distraction’ and she perked up.  She knocked her hand into Aqualad.  “Illusion will disappear in a minute.  Need to go back to the room.”

Aqualad nodded at her. “Chimera says she will make our illusion disappear in a minute, or on your mark if it’s sooner.”

There were more words but Chimera wasn’t listening, it took too much effort.  She wasn’t sure if she could make it through detransforming without passing out, but her teammates weren’t safe yet.  Conner wasn’t safe.  She could and would stay awake.  She set her jaw and looked up at Aqualad.  He picked her up and carried her to the room.  “I’ll let you know when to drop the illusion.” He said quietly.

She didn’t respond as he closed the door.  She just needed to make it through the next few minutes.  Just a few more minutes.  She could do that.  “Now, Chimera.” Aqualad called to her.  

Instead of calling off the illusion, she called off her transformation, serving both purposes and saving a tiny bit of energy.  “Hurry,” she begged Trixx before he could complain.  Trixx didn’t bother responding, he just ate the cookie Chimera had pointed out as quickly as he could.  “Ready,” he announced in record time.  She quickly called on her unification again and felt the energy surge through her.  A few more minutes then she could sleep.  

She opened the door to find Aqualad waiting on her.  He gave her a tight smile before picking her up again and carrying her to the screens. “Every little bit helps,” he affirmed.

She grabbed his arm again when she saw Robin laid out by the Reds.  Superman said something to her but she couldn’t waste the energy to listen to what he had said.  She was too focused on Conner and Wally.

“Artemis is still out there,” Aqualad reassured her.  “Robin got close but got caught before he could complete…”

He was cut off by Chimera screaming “Voyage”.  He turned back to the screens to see Artemis surrendering and the water rising over Superboy and Kid Flash’s mouths.  He couldn’t see where the portal she had created was at first, but then noticed the water draining slightly.  He looked to the corner of the screen and saw a hole appear in the water.  He looked over to Chimera to see her concentrating hard on the screen.

It wasn’t enough and Chimera knew it.  The portal she had created wasn’t enough.  The water was draining, but not fast enough.  At this rate they were going to die.  Conner was going to die.  She clenched her hands into fists and touched them together in front of her then slowly pulled them apart, muscles straining like she was pulling elevator doors open.  She groaned and her body started shaking under the strain of pushing the magic in ways it wasn’t intended.

Aqualad looked back to the screen and watched the portal expand slowly, mirroring her movements. The water started ebbing quickly and within a few seconds, Superboy and Kid Flash’s mouths were above water again. The Reds snapped their heads to the portal, trying to figure out what had caused it.  It was all the distraction Artemis needed to fire her arrow and complete the EMP emitter that Robin had started.

As soon as the arrow connected, completing the circuit, the video cut out and Chimera fell to the floor, breathing hard.  Aqualad kneeled down next to her to check on her while Batman and Superman tried to raise the Cave.  “You need to go to the infirmary.”

Chimera shook her head at him.  “Imposter.” She rasped out.

“She thinks there’s an imposter here?”  Batman asked.

Aqualad looked at her for a few moments before responding slowly as he figured out what she meant. “No, it’s a game.  She means she doesn’t feel safe here.”

“This is the Watchtower. If there is anywhere safe to be, it is here.” Superman commented coolly.

“We thought that of the Cave.” Aqualad responded in the same tone.

“I’ll take you to the infirmary and stay with you.” Batman offered.  “Superman and Aqualad, meet up with Black Canary and go to the Cave, free Superboy and Kid Flash.  Check on them and see if we can figure out what happened.  Aqualad, I will keep you updated on Chimera.”

Aqualad waited for Chimera to give him a nod indicating her agreement before he acquiesced as well. Batman stepped forward and pulled Chimera into a princess hold to carry her to the infirmary.  

“You’ll have to detransform so I can give you an IV, unless your suit can somehow become penetrable. But even so, I need to see how you are doing without the magic supporting you.”  She looked around the room analytically.  “I’ve turned off the cameras.” He reassured her.  She nodded slowly at him and called off her fox transformation, allowing Trixx to make a pass around the room, confirming Batman’s statement.  Once Trixx confirmed the room was safe and surveillance free, she dropped the last transformation, collapsing sideways on the bed as soon as she did.

He rolled her on her back and gave her a quick check over.  “I’m going to give you some pain meds too, Marinette.  I’m pretty sure it is mostly exhaustion and over exertion, but I want to be safe, you took a bad hit and a lot of strain on your body rescuing your team.”  She nodded at him.  “You should feel it pretty quickly.”  She nodded absentmindedly again.

He waited a few minutes for the drugs to take effect.  “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I can see colors.” She slurred drunkenly.

“Between the exhaustion and drugs, you might be able to.” He smirked at her.  He looked at her appraisingly morphing his face into a stern look.  “If you’re going to stay on the Team, you need to figure out a balance.”

“Not my strong suit. I was supposed to be on vacation this week.”  She tried to give him a pointed look but the effect was lessened by the slight blur in her words.  “You promised a week off.  This was not a week off.”

He smiled wanly at her. “No, it was not.  But I meant you’ll have to find your limits.  You saved your teammates, but you could have gotten yourself killed with that last stunt.  You can’t do any good in the future if you kill yourself today.”

She stared at him as though she were trying to make sense of the words he was saying.  “But I was fine.  I did stay within my limits.”

“Barely.  The mission is greater than one incident.  If you’re going to last in this business, you’re going to have to sustain yourself.”

She glared at him, or at least she was trying to, she wasn’t sure if she actually was.  She took a deep breath and gathered the rest of her strength and focus to respond to his chastising.  “But still within them.  How do I learn limits without pushing them?  You say I can’t do any good if I don’t survive today, but neither can they if they don’t survive.  And my teammates will always be my priority over the mission.  I won’t let the mission become my priority.  Ever.  I trust my teammates.  I will treat them as important and their input valuable, because it is.  I will treat them as the family they are and make sure they know they deserve love and respect and have mine, that they are more important to me than a mission.  I won’t ever become you.  I won’t ever lose my heart.  I won’t ever become the darkness to defeat the darkness.”  She gave him a lightly repelled look before blinking a few times. “Oh,” she said softly as her eyes closed.

Batman watched her as she slept and patted her head with a bittersweet smile.  “Good.”

 Tags:

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[thenamesblurrito]

ladies and gentlemen this is ask dump no. 5

aw scrap here we go again!

answered asks include body modification as the opposite of empurata, Mutacons making bandages out of kibble, kibble used as furniture, numbers of Sweeps, a DILF alligator, RID15 Tidal Wave, a BIG infodump on dealing with the circus that is Iacon’s media, Cybertronian muppets, a WIP of Elita Infin1te (or rather her sword), and the many secret sufferings of Alpha Trion.

yea, sorta! body modification in SNAP is more limited than in canon. you can’t simply switch out your body like the total frame reformats of IDW or TFP, and losing a limb can be permanent if not healed in time. for the most part, the frame you have is the frame you’re stuck with, and those frames fall within specific parameters.

HOWEVER-

some modification and upgrades do exist! the most prominent here would be a prosthetic helm like Lugnut. if the processor is left intact and attached after a helm injury, a new helm can be sculpted, with extra optics to make up for the lower quality of artificial optics, and as visibly different as possible to differentiate from empurata. other replacements and prosthetics are common after debilitating injury where the original body part cannot be saved. whether or not the prosthetic is as good as the original depends on the individual and the specific injury. there are also functional medical upgrades, like thicker armor attachments, alt mode additions, etc. almost every upgrade is for the express purpose of improving one’s frame for their function, and there’s definitely a limit to them. you can’t give yourself new limbs if you only had four to begin with. a grounder cannot become a flier. the spark can only power so much mass in the frame, and some people have adverse reactions that mean the upgrades don’t take and must be removed.

this sort of relates to the next point here-

yes, with some caveats.

Cybertronians are a segmentary species, so they can detach some body parts for a bit without negative consequences, as long as that body part is reattached for revitalization and repair. many folks can do this without any medical assistance for the less integral kibble. for instance, Kup uses his tow arm as a walking stick, but he has to reattach it whenever he wants to go into alt mode, and if he doesn’t transform he still needs to reattach it for a couple hours every day at minimum. so if a Mutacon were to create a makeshift splint out of kibble and detach it, it would likely be fine, as long as they got that kibble back. otherwise, they’ve lost a whole chunk of their body that they can’t just regenerate.

for shifting armor to cover a wound without detaching it, that depends on the nature of the wound. if it’s ragged, large, or in areas with a lot of joints or movement, it might be difficult to shuffle around plating to cover it. a more superficial injury in a less delicate area would be easier

sort of! it’ll depend on the individual’s kibble, of course! double checking SNAP Bulkhead, i don’t think he could, because his kibble isn’t large enough. but Scylla could probably use her alt mode arms as a chair, Wreck-Gar has a built in backpack and belly bag, and of course the Necrobot uses his wingcloak as hands. different kibble with different bonus uses

the ideal number of Sweeps is seven, since less than that means they don’t have enough collective processing power to function optimally. more than seven, however, puts a strain on that collective processing power to smoothly operate so many at once. so there’s usually packs of as close to seven as they can get.

as to how many can just exist at the same time, it’s limited only by how many Scourge is willing to forge. he first invents them in s1e06 A Use for Army-building! An Upgrade to Sweeps. by the next episode they figure out that having dozens of them running around is... well it’s about as chaotic as having dozens of flying puppies with hands and weapons would be. in large numbers they’re very difficult to control. good thing Galvatron is excellent at commanding his new army!

(the post this is referring to) @oldboyjensenhinglemeier​ thanks Dilf Waitress, i can always rely on you

(the post this is referring to) i think that’s fantastic, i’d love to see a Cybertronian whale. imagine the size of the holding cell you’d have to have for him!

oooohohoho what a sticky subject. here’s a quick rundown on faction ideology to give you some context for how they operate and thus deal with the media. the heroes aren’t referred to as heroes, but rather as vigilantes at best and violent gangs in a turf war at worst. Froid has remotely diagnosed them with pathological dissent. at the same time, some folks have jumped on the market to make hero merch, and it becomes a very lucrative business for some. public opinion is constantly torn between fear and anger at how they do whatever they’d like and gratitude and admiration for how they throw themselves in harms way to prevent disaster and save people. it’s really a giant mess all the time that changes by the day.

there is of course the whole snafu surrounding the media’s portrayal of the Elite Guard as a backup team for the Autobots, and Elita 1 as Optimus’ sidekick. and Elita 1 is Not Happy about that. Elita 2 is startlingly good at winding the reporters around her little finger and always seems to know just what to say, whereas Elita 3 just grumbles at the cameras, even sometimes demanding they respect boundaries or be locked in the nearest building with the use of her powers. Elita 4 barely notices them unless she’s in the mood to prank someone, and Elita 5 just avoids them, as they tend to dramatize her size and thus her danger. given their excellent teamwork and how they’re (mostly) in favor of reform instead of anarchy, the Elite Guard would actually have a good shot at getting along with the news, except they bow to precisely no one, including the people wanting to interview them, so instead they come across as a standoffish and self-serving clique with dangerous habits

the Decepticons are in the bad-boy limelight and they love it. well, at least Galvatron, Hellscream, and Thunderblast do. Galvatron takes advantage of every opportunity to pontificate on the evils of society and the right to rise up for freedom. broadcasters have learned to cut the cameras as soon as he starts speaking so his ideas don’t get the chance to spread too far. Hellscream cares less about principles and more about scaring the living daylights out of every reporter he sees, often leaving them with cracked equipment and ringing audials from the sheer destructive power of his voice. Thunderblast just wants to preen in all the attention and boy does she get it. Cyclonus actively avoids most gawkers, Scourge talks too long and complicated to make good news, Drift either ignores them or sends them away with some lofty spiritual advice, and Triptych is dangerously unpredictable so most reporters have learned to stay away from him.

the Predacons came into existence in a negative light, and they were grimly prepared for it. after all, Sixshot used to be a Decepticon, and their falling-out and defection caused quite a stir. when Abominus first appeared, the fearful reaction of the public to such an ‘abomination’ is actually how he chose his name in the first place. Airachnid loves tormenting reporters with nuclear-grade sarcasm and subtle threats, but if anyone makes her truly mad she’ll string them up in her web cabling and leave them hanging. she also flaunts that cabling by using her darts to knit nets, shawls, and other decorations, despite the fact that getting cabling tangled up in seams and joints can lead to something called entrapment protocols, mentioned in the seventh ask here. Enforcers use capture equipment designed to trigger entrapment protocols, so her mimicry of that as nothing more than a casual accessory is a big ‘frag you’.

Soundwave.... is a category of his own. he only comes into being in the fourth season, but the media soon learns to quake at the thought of encountering Soundwave, and his minicons are little better. there’s at least one instance where he Rosanna-rolls the entirety of Iacon.

the Autobots keep wavering between ‘the only true good ones of all these vigilantes’ and ‘the worst possible people in the world, hide the children, lock the doors’ in the eyes of the media. Optimus does his best to treat everyone fairly, and the Mistress usually has something encouraging to share. much like Galvatron but for completely opposite reasons, broadcasters have learned to cut cameras when Ultra Magnus starts talking, because his encyclopedic knowledge of law means he regularly lists every instance of malpractice, abuse, illegality, and disrespect that he sees in the average reporter, Enforcer, or politician, which is not the kind of upbraiding that would serve the propaganda machine. however, it does get him the attention of Tyrest, who leverages legality and public opinion to try and draw Ultra Magnus into an agreement during s3e03- A Councilmember’s Boon! An Upgrade to Legality. Rodimus is a chaos beast who has been known to snatch cameras for selfies. it’s kind of a tossup as to whether Cheetor will be going slow enough to show up in the footage or not.

now, i can’t talk about the media without mentioning the feral force of nature that is Rewind. the best of the best, he’s the only one willing to brave the battlefields for an up-close look, constantly endangering himself in order to get the freshest scoop. he might not always hold opinions in line with the mandated propaganda about these vigilantes, but the media lets him get away with it, since he’s the most successful at getting them more news. this has caused him to be targeted at least once, unfortunately.

love this question. love it. you know those lil remote controlled robot dogs, or things to that effect? i’m imagining that’s what Cybertronian muppets are like, since they can create robotics and animatronics with a lot more finesse and ease than we can. in fact, making fabric is probably harder for them than robotics, since they don’t have the same materials as we do to work with. but anyway, these muppets wouldn’t be limited by what a hand can do to puppet them around, being instead remote controlled from off stage, so i don’t know if they’d have that kind of visual gag. maybe instead there would be fourth-wall breaking where one muppet snatches the remote of another?

the painful thing about this answer is that i have a design i’m happy with EXCEPT FOR THE HELM i have sketched and resketched a dozen different ideas ugh. the body looks fine, all five of them combined in a way that makes sense to me, but i just CANNOT get the helm right i’m so angry. anyway here’s the Cyber Caliber, all of their swords combined into one massive weapon

the more accurate question is, what hasn’t happened to him. he’s been through a lot, the poor mech. but i’ll list some things for you:

that one time he had a sibling be erased from reality

that one time he had to murder another sibling because they decided evil was fun

that one time a fragging beachball stole his work

the fact he doesn’t know if his twin is alive or not

that one time he was a junker running for his life

that one time he was too late to save the Terminus Blade, and it was stolen

that one time his pride and joy, the Athenaum Sanctorum, was destroyed, and everything archived there was lost

that other time the same fragging beachball stole his work

that other time he was a junker hiding for his life

the fact that the theft of his diary started a whole new branch of religion and he has to read his own words as if they’re sacred

the fact that the title of Trion was in fact derived from his diary, and the sheer painful irony of being given the title of Trion.

that one time he had to rip off some fingers to fit in

that one time Trypticon showed up, awhile before the JAAT was founded, and he had to take it on alone

that other time Trypticon showed up when the JAAT opened and he had to hand out some precious relics to children to protect the school

aaaaand his current reason for drinking! the fact that of all twenty-something heroes running around, he only knows who THREE of them are because he only gave out THREE RELICS! and relics just keep disappearing from the collection he’s guarding

someone help him he is not having a good time. and it’s only going to get worse...

[extasiswings]

"sigurista" for Eddie

Edit: On ao3 here.

sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained. [Okay, this is probably cheating because it only very technically fits if you squint, but this is all the result of your enabling so.  If anyone wanted more White House AU Buddie, this is a follow up to this prompt fill.]  

It’s a quiet day.

Now, Buck’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he can count on one hand the number of times his schedule has been so light throughout the first year of his presidency, so he can’t help checking it again and then a third time just to make sure. But it doesn’t change the longer he looks at it.

Okay. So, it’s a quiet, light day. That’s a good thing—it’s not like he can’t use the rest.

He’s just not sure why he can’t quite work the tension out of his shoulders, why he feels poised on the edge of a tightrope made of razor wire about to either fall or get sliced.

By noon, all of his scheduled meetings are finished and he’s even managed to catch up on some of the reports he’d been meaning to dig deeper into. He’s antsy and full of untethered energy and, finally, he closes the file he’s looking through and crosses the room to knock on the door connecting the Oval with the Chief of Staff’s office.

(After the last time he walked in without thinking and got an eyeful of his sister and Chim that made him want to bleach his brain, he always knocks.)

“Hey, Chim—I’m going to head back to the residence for the rest of the day—”

The main office door opens.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. President,” Athena says, and it’s been enough time that Buck knows when the head of the secret service shows up personally and without warning it means nothing good. Right behind her, the aide to his National Security Advisor comes skidding to a halt, out of breath.

“You’re needed in the situation room, sir.”

Buck looks back at Athena.

“Michael—?”

(It may well be a conflict of interest that the Vice President’s ex-wife is responsible for making sure Buck stays alive, but then, Buck’s pretty sure there’s no less of one than the fact that his sister is dating his Chief of Staff so...)

“He’s being moved to a secure location,” she replies. “But yes, Bobby’s waiting in the sit room. I can fill you in on the way.”

Buck swears internally and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay. What do we have?”

“Bomb threat and possible shooter at the Pentagon,” Athena says, and Buck’s heart stops, ice freezing his insides. Because that’s—

“You know, some of us have actual work to do,” Eddie said the night before, the look in his eyes exasperated but fond in the dim light from the lamp on his desk.

“You mean entertaining the leader of the free world isn’t in your job description, Lieutenant Diaz?” Buck had teased right back, reveling in the quirk of Eddie’s lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to find someone else to entertain you tomorrow—I’ll be in meetings with the joint chiefs at the Pentagon all day. Should be thrilling stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll invent a national security emergency—get you out of it.”

Eddie laughed. “Please don’t, they’ll just reschedule. And then there will be paperwork.”

—that’s where Eddie is.

“How the fuck does that happen?” Buck croaks out, feeling like he’s swallowed glass.

“We’re working out the exact details,” Athena replies. “But it’s fairly clear it was an inside job. Whoever it is killed one of the marines on duty and called in the bomb himself, we’re looking at the security feeds and card access records to narrow down a name.”

She finishes just as they step through the door of the situation room and Bobby looks up.

“Dennis Pierce,” he fills in. “He’s been there eight years, looks like he was identified as part of the investigation to see which employees might have ties to white supremacist groups. He hasn’t been fired yet because the investigation isn’t  finished, but I guess he saw the writing on the wall.”

“And thought he would tender his resignation by, what? Blowing up the joint chiefs?” Buck can hear the edge in his voice, which means Bobby definitely can as well.

(They met on the campaign trail, when Buck started getting intelligence briefings that made him feel like he was drowning, in over his head. But Bobby never treated him like an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about national security, was always patient, willing to sit with him and explain. And by now, Buck’s pretty sure he would be lost without him. Without him and—)

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Bobby replies, his own voice carefully even. Steady. “We have a bomb squad on site and every armed guard in the building looking for this guy, not to mention that most of the people he’s likely to run into are combat-trained military.”

The phone on the desk rings and Bobby picks it up as the door opens and the heads of the FBI and CIA file in.

“Copy that,” Bobby says and hangs up, tapping a few keys on his keyboard to bring up blueprints on the main screen and highlighting a room on the fifth floor.

“Someone pressed one of the hidden panic buttons in conference room J,” he explains. “Bomb squad is on its way and we should be getting camera feeds—now.”

The feed flickers into the screen and steals Buck’s breath all over again, because there, on the screen, with his hands raised and facing down an older, grizzled white man with a gun in one hand and a trigger to the bomb vest strapped to his chest in the other—is Eddie.

“There’s no audio,” Buck points out as Eddie’s lips move too quickly for him to read anything clearly.

“There aren’t any speakers or mics in the room.”

Maybe not, but—over Pierce’s shoulder, Buck notices a phone on the wall.

“I want to talk to him,” he says. “Call the room.”

Bobby’s look is sharp when he turns to look at him.

“Sir, I really wouldn’t advise—”

“Call,” Buck repeats, his tone booking no argument.

Bobby’s lips press thin, but he picks up the phone, speaking quietly into the receiver while Buck doesn’t look away from the camera feed, his stomach twisting itself into knots as Pierce shakes his head violently in response to whatever Eddie is saying. Time seems to slow the longer he watches, even as Bobby passes him the phone.

“Extension 3596,” Bobby says quietly. And Buck dials.

He can’t see the phone ring on the feed, but he sees the effect—Pierce twitches, his head whipping around in surprise, and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to move—

The feed cuts out.

The phone keeps ringing.

“What happened?” Buck demands. “What—we have to get it back, we have to—”

The line picks up.

“This is General O’Halloran, who am I speaking with?”

Buck swallows hard.

“General, this is the President. What’s your status?”

“Lieutenant Diaz neutralized the threat, sir. Passed him off to the bomb squad waiting outside. We’re all safe and sound.”

There’s something rising up in his throat, and Buck isn’t sure if it’s just a wave of overwhelming emotion or if it’s actually bile.

“Glad to hear it, General,” he chokes out.

He passes the phone back to Bobby and shoves back his chair then, not caring whether they need him for anything, just needing—needing—

Buck rips at the knot of his tie as he steps into the hallway, and only barely makes it through the door of the bathroom at the end of it before he throws up in the sink.

The door opens again a moment later, as he’s gripping the edge of the sink trying to get his adrenaline under control.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Athena says quietly. “Everyone’s fine. Especially him.”

Buck could almost laugh at that if he was in any sort of mood. Because he hasn’t even told Eddie—not technically—hasn’t ever done anything to truly cross a line, but apparently everyone knows anyway.

“I could have lost him...and I would have had to watch,” he says.

“But you didn’t.”

Buck rinses his mouth out and spits.

“Is Bobby pissed at me for walking out?”

Athena shrugs. “I doubt it. I can take you back to the residence now if you want—tell Bobby to finish up and debrief you later.”

Buck swallows again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He pauses as half an idea comes into his head, then adds—

“Hey, Athena?  Do you think—”

Which is how he finds himself waiting in a car outside a condo in Virginia with an extra protective detail at nine that night as his regular agents knock on the door. A woman with dark hair opens the door, and Buck can see the way her eyebrows shoot up as she exchanges quick words with the agents before they step inside to conduct their sweep. A minute passes, then the agent at his side taps her earpiece.

“Clear. Got it,” she says, and that’s all Buck needs to get out of the car.

The same dark-haired woman is standing in the entryway, arms crossed, when he walks through the door. He stops in his tracks, suddenly nervous as her calculating gaze trails over him.

“Adriana?” He guesses, and she hums.

“A little warning would have been nice,” she says, but Buck thinks he catches a hint of a smile as she turns on her heel to go down the hallway off the kitchen to what he assumes is a bedroom. “Good night, Mr. President.”

Buck opens his mouth to say something, when Eddie himself appears at the top of the stairs, hair wet and clothes sticking to his skin like he’s just jumped out of the shower.

“Adriana, what the hell—” Eddie cuts off the moment his eyes land on Buck and she just laughs before she disappears down the hall.

“Hi,” Buck says quietly.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. There’s a bruise blossoming over his cheek and Buck’s fingers itch to touch it, or really, to touch Eddie everywhere he can to remind him that he’s here, he’s alive, Buck didn’t lose—

Eddie clears his throat and makes his way the rest of the way down the stairs.

“You’re...in my house.”

Buck shifts his weight. “You almost died today.”

Eddie blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his wet hair.

“Guess you didn’t have to fake that national security emergency after all.”

“Guess not.”

Eddie’s gaze turns considering, his brow furrowing as an odd look crosses his face.

“So...I almost die...and that warrants you showing up in the middle of the night?  Why?”

Buck wets his lips, feeling like he can barely hold Eddie’s eyes. His pulse is racing, blood rushing in his ears, and his voice is a mere rasp when he says—

“You know why.”

You have to know.

Eddie glances down at the floor, then over to the windows where the curtains are closed. Then he nods once.

“Maybe. But...I think I need you to say it.”

Buck nearly throws his hands up. “Fuck, Eddie, because I love—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because Eddie closes the distance and kisses the rest away, backing Buck against the closed front door. Buck nearly chokes on relief as his hand scramble to twist into Eddie’s damp t-shirt and pull him even closer.

“I thought—” he gasps out when Eddie breaks the kiss in favor of pressing a trail of them down his neck— “I thought you were going to die and I wasn’t going to get to tell you.”

Eddie pauses his exploration, hands spasming on Buck’s hips.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes against his skin. “Yeah, me too.”  

Buck threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair and tugs him back up to kiss him again.

“Athena says she’ll kill me if I’m not back by midnight,” he admits.

Eddie’s lips quirk as he curls a finger through one of Buck’s belt loops and tugs him towards the stairs.

“Then we’re swimming in time.”

[alicanta77]

Chapter 4: Better Together

Pairing: princess!y/n x prince!Chenle

Themes: royalty au, fluff, angst

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, war, injury, illness, descriptions of injury and blood

Words: 8.2k

Inspiration: BTS - Blood, Sweat and Tears - orchestral cover

tag list: @hiqhkeybby @jaeshatshop @lebrookestore @honei-n​

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Finale

——————————————————————————

Chenle gasped as he felt the sword pulled from his shoulder. The pain was overbearing and he vaguely heard Jisung scream out his name as he fell to his knees. The battle surrounding him faded into a blur of hazy noise, his slowing heart beat echoing in his ear being the only thing he could hear, and he tried with everything he could to keep himself upright, pushing his sword into the ground and using it to lean on.

He heard the sword that injured him being scraped along the ground and his attacker made their way around to face him. There was a trail of blood left int he ground when the blade touched it, the sight of the dark red liquid dripping down the sharp steel making him feel sick. Chenle lifted his head up and found himself looking into the sadistic smile of the previous head of the royal guard.

‘I should have guessed.’ Chenle spat, staring distastefully at the man above him.

The head of the royal guard shook his head, the smile never leaving his features. 

‘Now this is my kind of ending.’ He laughed, watching as Chenle groaned out in pain. ‘How did you think this day was going to go? You would win the battle, go back to my kingdom victorious, become king?’ His voice turned hard and his eyes narrowed as he lifted his sword again. ‘Think again.’

He swung, his sword angled precisely for Chenle’s neck. Chenle tried to stand, tried to move away from the blow that he knew would be deadly. He couldn’t die like this, not without seeing you one more time, not without telling you the truth about how he felt. Not without telling you he loved you.

Chenle’s strength was leaving him, almost as fast as the blood was pouring out of his shoulder. He knew that if he somehow managed to survive this blow to the head, he was going to bleed out on the field if he didn’t get help fast.

The sword was coming towards him, and Chenle couldn’t move. It would take a miracle for him to get out of this alive.

Suddenly, Chenle heard the familiar clang of metal on metal, and the blow to his head never came. He focused his burring vision on the sight in front of him and, when it came back into focus, he was greeted with the sight of his friend in front of him.

Jisung had deflected the blow that was sure to take his head off, and was now challenging the head of the royal guard in a one on one.

‘You really think you can take me on boy?’ The traitor taunted, trying to throw Jisung off balance by getting into his head. ‘I taught you everything you know, meaning, that I know exactly what you’re going to do. I can see it coming.’

Jisung didn’t reply, instead narrowing his eyes and keeping all his focus on the fight in front of him. His old mentor continued to taunt him, but if it affected the younger boy, he didn’t let it show. Jisung’s eyes remained hard as he regarded the man he once saw as a father figure.

The head of the royal guard swung, sweeping his blade downwards in a curve towards Jisung’s abdomen. The movement had too much momentum to block it so Jisung used that, pushing his blade on the other from behind and trying to continue the movement further round, attempt to sway the head of the royal guard’s balance.

But, as he warned, he saw it coming, and instead turned himself in a graceful circle, ending up facing Jisung again, the smug smile never leaving his face. It continued like this for a while, Chenle couldn’t tell how long, the passing of time was hard enough to keep track of in a battle and the pain in his shoulder was making it even harder. The head of the royal guard would attack, Jisung would deflect and counter attack and every move of his would be expected by his opponent. The head of the royal guard wasn’t lying when he said he knew what Jisung would do.

Chenle could see Jisung was getting tired, and so was he. Chenle could feel his eyes drooping, unable to see the battle around him gradually drawing to a close, unable to see that he had done it, he had led his army to victory. He forced his eyes open one last time, watching as the head of the royal guard managed to get his blade under Jisung’s feet, knocking his balance.

Jisung stumble backwards, away from Chenle as the head of the royal guard circled him. Chenle watched as the man stood in front of Jisung as he scrambled on the ground. The head of the royal guard had his back to Chenle assuming that he was too woozy from the blood loss to pose any threat, and he was mostly right. But Chenle’s adrenaline kicked in, the refusal to leave behind and abandon the men who fought with him overpowered his being and, in his last moments of strength, he swung his own sword out, catching the head of the royal guard by surprise and knocking his off his feet.

Chenle’s pillar of support disappeared and he collapsed face first into the ground, breathing out shallow breaths as he tried not to fade into the darkness. Jisung used this opportunity, swinging himself up to his feet and grabbing his sword quickly. The head of the royal guard barely had enough time to stand before Jisung was on the attack. He knew that every move of his would be expected so he didn’t think about what he was going to do. He plan each next move precisely as he’d been taught to do, he just let his emotions take over and fought for his life, for his friend’s life, for his kingdom.

He knew that he couldn’t match the head of the royal guard in skill, and he was right. It only took a few seconds before the match had evened out again and Jisung felt himself being overpowered again. He blocked and dodged as much as he could, before taking a final spin, ducking under a blow aimed for his head, pulling a small dagger out of a concealed gap in his armour and aiming upwards.

The head of the royal guard gasped as the dagger pierced his heart. He collapsed to his knees his eyes falling to look at the blade protruding from him chest. Chenle’s eyes focused on the familiar dagger, trying to figure out where he knew it from. Then it hit him. Jisung had shown the dagger to him at the beginning of the battle, claiming it was the first blade he had ever been given. And it had been given to him by his trainer, the head of the royal guard.

Jisung blew a small bit of hair out of his face, having lost his helmet a while ago, and stared down at the dying man.

‘See that coming?’ He asked quietly, watching as the man who raised him stared up with blank eyes, his body finally hitting the ground, his chest stilling as he passed.

Jisung hurried towards Chenle and knelt down, rolling him onto his back. He breathed a sigh of relief as the previously unresponsive boy let out a groan.

‘You’re okay...’ He grinned as Chenle opened one eye.

‘You’re pushing down on my stab wound.’ Chenle grunted, huffing as Jisung moved back in panic. Jisung wrapped Chenle’s uninjured arm around his shoulder and helped him stand.

Chenle smiled at his friend.

‘Thank you.’ He said as Jisung nodded back, a smile of his own on his face.

It was only then that Chenle got a look at the battlefield. Bodies lay everywhere, most of them Odin’s men, and he could see that the fighting had finally slowed down. Those of Odin’s men that had survived were kneeling on the ground, dropping their weapons and accepting their fate as war prisoners as Taeyong, Jaemin, Jeno and Jaehyun came up to the two youngest boys.

‘They attempted a retreat, but Jeno and Jaemin were waiting for them.’ Jaehyun informed Chenle.

‘Yeah, they changed their minds pretty quickly.’ Jaemin grinned, nudging his friend who grinned back.

Taeyong stepped forward, taking a quick look at Chenle’s shoulder.

‘It’s just a flesh wound. A deep one, but after some rest and some stitches you should be okay. They’ll be able to treat you once we get home.’

‘Home?’ Jisung asked, looking up at the older by with hope in his eyes.

‘Yes Jisung, home. They’ve surrendered.’ Taeyong broke the news, relief and happiness flooding through Chenle’s system at the realisation.

‘We won.’

---

Four days later and Chenle could see the castle. They had left the battlefield the same day, everyone wanting to get back to the kingdom as soon as they possibly could. They had taken an extra day on the journey back home, as many of the men were injured and the horses were exhausted. Chenle could feel his horse, Aspen, getting tired. He leant down to gently stoke her neck.

‘Almost there girl, we’re almost there.’ He whispered, watching as the gates appeared through the trees.

‘You okay?’ Jisung’s voice came from Chenle’s left, causing him to turn his head towards his friend.

‘Yeah, just nervous.’ He admitted, redirecting his towards the gates to the citadel that were appearing through the trees in front of him.

‘We’ve just been fighting for our lives, literally, for the past week, and this you’re nervous for?’ Jisung question, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yeah. What if things have changed in the time we’ve been away? What does the king’s injury mean for our coronation? I don’t want things to be rushed and it puts strain on our relationship? But then is it selfish for me to want an injured man to run the kingdom just so I can gather the courage to confess? And what-’

‘Ok, breathe.’ Jisung cut off Chenle’s nervous rambling. He heard Chenle sigh, trying to calm himself. ‘Look, I’ve known y/n for a really long time, we grew up together.’ Chenle nodded at Jisung, knowing that the two of had been close, both growing up in the castle at the same time. ‘And I can honestly say that I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you. Whatever she feels for you, it isn’t friendship.’

Jisung shrugged after he finished talking, letting his words sink in.

‘Not friendship.’ Chenle muttered to himself, now staring at the gates with a mixed look of disbelief, shock, and most of all, hope.

The gates were now right in front of them, open wide and inviting the knights back home. As Chenle led the knights through them, he noticed people running out their homes as shops to congratulate them on their victory. Chenle couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face as the joyous cried echoed up from his people. He turned back in his seat to look at Jisung and the other knights, and saw similar smiles on all of their faces.

He eventually reached the entrance of the castle, where Chenle had last seen you. He kept his eyes on the doors to the castle, that remained shut tight, and he was praying that they would soon open and he would be able to see you again. He brought Aspen to a stop, siding off her and stretching out his legs slightly, begin careful not to move his shoulder. Jaemin had forged a makeshift bandage out of a couple of shirts and was using it to stop the bleeding and keep his arms in place. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was the best they had for the moment.

Chenle swayed on his feet, Jisung suddenly appearing at his side.

‘Whoa, what’s wrong?’ He asked, holding onto Chenle’s arm to make sure he wasn’t falling over.

‘Light headed.’ Chenle explained. ‘I have been ever since the stabbing. I can’t make any sudden movements without getting head rush.’

‘It’s the blood loss. You need rest. We’ll get you to the court physician and then back to your chambers.’ Jisung instructed, making Chenle nod in agreement before quickly shaking his head.

‘I’ve got to see y/n first.’ He argued, refusing to go anywhere without seeing you and making sure you were okay.

At that moment, the doors to the castle opened, the sound grabbing the attention of every knight present. Out walked the Queen first, and finally, you appeared from behind her. The king was no where to be seen, but that wasn’t a surprise. His injury was severe, especially for a man of his age, and there was no way he would have been able to stand up and greet them when they arrived back. But Chenle couldn’t focus on that.

He could only focus on you.

You looked even more beautiful than you had when he’d left. Chenle just stood there, taking in all your features, from your skin to the bridge of your nose and the shape of your lips. His eyes trailed upwards as he looked at your hair gently blowing in the wind, even taking in the delicate gold hair accessory your wore, almost like a crown.

He watched as your eyes scanned the knights before finally coming to focus on him. He forgot how enchanting your eyes were.

Chenle was bewitched. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from you, even when your mother began talking, he continued to hold your gaze.

‘Our honourable knights! The princess and I welcome you home. To congratulate you on your victory, a feast will be held in your honour tomorrow night, but for today, how about you get some rest?’ The queen ended her short speech with a smile on her face as a cheer erupted from both the knights and the people and a group of stable hands came to take some of the horses. Chenle handed Aspen over to the stable boy holding out his hand and turned back to the queen as she spoke again. ‘Not only that, but we will also celebrate the crowning of Chenle, our soon to be Prince!’

Another cheer came from the people, one that made Chenle go bright red in the face. He looked up at you again, only to find you already smiling at him. He took a step forwards, hoping to go towards you but your mother placed a hand on your shoulder and walked you back into the castle. He made to follow but Jisung wrapped his hand around his arm, pulling him back gently.

‘Hey, I know you want to see her, but I really think you should go see the doctor first.’ He admitted and Chenle nodded in defeat, knowing that Jisung was right. He felt as though he was going to pass out any second and he had to see the court physician to make sure that his wound was not infected.

So, with Jisung walking closely behind him, Chenle made his way up the steps and into the castle.

---

You walked through the stone halls of the castle, only focused on the goal you had in mind. 

To find Chenle.

From the second you saw him standing at the bottom of those stairs, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Even though there was dirt on his face and his hair was messy, his clothes were stained red with blood, which made your heart clench in fear, it was still him. His eyes still looked up at you with that childlike innocence and hopefulness that you had come to love. His smile was just as infectious and teasing as it had always been, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning every time you thought of it.

You knew that if you didn’t find him soon, you would explode.

You made your way quickly to the court physician’s chambers, knowing from the blood that had stained Chenle’s shoulder that he was injured. You turned the corner, stumbling when you landed straight on someone’s chest.

‘Oh, sorry.’ You gasped out of habit, a similar response coming from the person in front of you.

Your head shot up, immediately recognising the familiar voice that issued you an apology. Your gaze came to settle on the face that you had missed so much over the past two weeks.

Chenle.

You acted without thinking, immediately throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight. He caught you instantly, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close to him. He let his head fall into your neck, breathing in your scent and for the first time since he left two weeks ago, Chenle could feel himself relax.

‘You came back.’ You whispered, not moving from your position.

‘Have I ever broken my promises?’ He replied as you felt the smile on his face grow. You smiled yourself, relieved to have the boy you loved back with you. You pulled away slightly, still keeping your hands on his shoulders as you studied his face. Your eyes drifted downwards, his shirt was hanging slightly open off one shoulder, exposing the white bandage that covered the wounded flesh.

‘What happened?’ You asked, one hand drifting downwards to rest on it gently.

Chenle’s eyes followed yours for a second before they moved back to your face.

‘Oh, I um... I got stabbed.’ He admitted sheepishly, grinning at you.

‘Stabbed!’ You repeated in shock, your gaze quickly shooting back up to his eyes but you instantly relaxed when you saw the smile on his face.

‘Yeah but I’m alright. Jisung had my back and we made it out okay. I was just told to rest it for a short while, but I’m expected to make a full recovery.’ He reassured you, gently squeezing your waist.

‘Thank god, I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.’ You mumbled under your breath, not meaning for Chenle to hear it but he still did.

‘Anyone else? Who-’ Chenle cut himself off, the confusion melting off his face and being replaced with a sad realisation. ‘Y/n, how’s your father?’

You eyes began to water slightly at Chenle’s question as you choked out a quiet response.

‘Not good.’

---

You pushed open the doors to your father’s chambers, Chenle close behind you. You heard a sharp intake of breath as he surveyed the state your father was in. He was confined to his bed, unable to stand for long periods of time. His face was pale and the dark bags under his eyes were prominent. It was clear as day to anyone that saw him, that he wasn’t in a good way.

He lifted his head as you and Chenle entered, smiling at you both.

‘Ahhhh, my legacy has arrived.’ He croaked as he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position.

The servants around him noticed his movements and quickly moved to pull up the cushions he was lying on to support him. Your father propped himself up, as your mother placed a gentle hand on his arm.

‘Come on in you two.’ He gestured towards you both.

You both took a seat next to the bed, waiting for him to speak again.

‘Chenle, tell me, how did the final day go?’ The king asked, his eyes focused on the boy next to you and he gestures to his shoulder. ‘I see you took a hit.’

Chenle let out a small laugh. 

‘Yeah, I couldn’t let everyone get all the glory for their battle wounds without coming back with one myself now could I?’ He joked, prompting a weak laugh out of your father. ‘But overall, I would say that the day was very successful. We lost some good men, which is of course incredibly sad, but we buried them as best we could and brought back trinkets for their families, such pieces of jewellery they wore or a small piece of fabric they kept close to them. I would like to spend the next day or so personally delivering some of these to the families if that would be okay? These men fought bravely alongside me and I’d like to show my respect for them.’ Chenle paused for a minute, waiting for your father’s response.

‘Of course you can Chenle. I’m sure the families would be honoured that you deliver them personally. You will be a great king.’ He nodded, his words sincere.

Chenle smiled at him, before continuing.

‘You were right that we were approaching the final day. Everyone could start to feel it, we were all exhausted and sore, but we knew that Odin’s army were too. Myself and a group of knights devised a plan to catch our opponent off guard...’

You listened as Chenle recounted the incredible tale of his final day in battle. You weren’t sure when your jaw dropped, but you only realised it was hanging open when he had finished. You let out a breath of disbelief, impressed by his quick thinking. You had known that the head of the royal guard had been the one to betray them, considering when your father came home with a stab wound claiming that was where he got it, you would be stupid to not believe him.

But hearing how Jisung stood up to him, how Chenle outwitted him, you gained so much more admiration for the people you were lucky enough to surround yourself with.

By the time Chenle had finished recounting the story of the final day, you, your father and your mother were all staring at him with impressed looks on your faces, none of you saying anything.

Finally, your father spoke.

‘Congratulations Chenle, you have once again proved yourself to be the shining definition of a true knight.’

He paused to call in a servant and the guards outside. As he was doing this you turned to Chenle, pride shining in your eyes and you both smiled at each other. You reached out, gently grabbing his hand and he wasted no time in intertwining your fingers. Neither of you took your eyes off the other, too absorbed in each other’s presence to focus on anything else.

‘Ensure that everything is prepared for tonight. It’s the prince’s coronation!’ Your father instructed as the servant and guards bowed before leaving.

You squeezed Chenle’s hand at the mention of his coronation and watched as the smile on his face grew once again, unable to stop yours from doing the same.

‘Now you kids should head off, relax for a short bit before the feast.’ Your mother told you, watching the two of you fondly. You both nodded, thanking her and wishing your father well before leaving his chambers.

Neither of you noticed the knowing look your parents shared as they took in the two of you leaving, still hand in hand.

---

You made your way towards the royal gardens, Chenle occasionally swinging you hands between you playfully as you laughed at his antics. He looked over at you, unable to stop himself from smiling every time you let out a laugh.

God he’d missed you.

He’d been smiling so much since he’d been back that his face ached but he couldn’t stop himself. And if he was being honest, he didn’t want to stop. Chenle was happier than he had been in a long time, and that was just because he had you next to him.

‘So... the feast will begin in a few hours.’ Chenle began, looking towards you once again.

‘I guess it will. And you will finally be crowned Prince.’ You grinned at him, watching as he nodded in response, his smile faltering slightly. ‘What’s wrong?’

Chenle looked up at the sky at your question, before taking a deep breath and guiding you to sit on a nearby stone bench, removing his hand from yours to do so.

‘I don’t know... I guess I’m nervous? I knew what it was like to be Prince back in Shanghai but here it’s different, and the Head of the Royal Guard kept saying I didn’t belong and I just... I’m just nervous that I’m not going to be good enough for this kingdom. I’m worried I’m going to let people down... let you down.’ He explained, looking down at his hands.

You watched him in silence, your jaw dropping slightly at his blatant honesty. You reached out and gently pulled both his hands back into yours, forcing him to look you in the eye.

‘You could never let me down. Don’t ever think that, it’s not possible.’ You reassured him, your voice steady. ‘The ex Head of the Royal Guard was an insane man who betrayed his kingdom and stabbed the king! I honestly don’t think anybody here is going to be treating his opinions like they’re law! Plus, if my father didn’t trust you, do you think he would have put you in charge when he left? Or, if the knights didn’t trust you do you think they would have followed you on the final day? No. And the people love you, they admire you for bringing so many knights home safely, and saving our kingdom.’

Chenle reached out, untangling his hands from yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you into him as your arms made their way around his neck. He buried his head into the crook of your shoulder whispering a small:

‘Thank you.’

You stayed there for a couple of breaths before beginning to pull away slowly. You lifted your head out of his shoulder, pausing your movements when you realised just how close your faces were. Chenle stopped where he was as well, so close to each other that your noses were almost touching. You could feel his breath gently fanning your faces. You were so close you were worried he would be able to hear how hard your heart was beating.

You noticed Chenle’s eyes drift down to your lips before coming back up to meet yours again. You subconsciously did the same, watching as his eyes never left yours once. You noticed him begin to lean in, his gaze drifting down to your lips again. You followed his lead, tilting your head to avoid your noses bumping. You could almost feel his lips on yours, your eyes closed completely and-

‘Your highness!’

The two of you jumped apart as if you had been burnt, your head moved immediately to where the voice came from, just in time for you to see your servant and Jisung appear from around the corner. Your servant sped up when she saw you, calling out as she did so.

‘Your highness, we need to prepare for the feast!’ She told you, her voice slightly urgent making you feel guilty about how long she must have been looking for you.

‘Now?’ You asked confused and she nodded in response.

‘I’m afraid so, your highness. The king and queen would like to see you before you begin, and you need to be ready in the great hall before anyone else as the coronation will be first.’

You nodded at her answer, standing up to leave. You walked off with her, only stopping to quickly turn back to Chenle and send him a smile and a nod in goodbye. Chenle nodded back, watching as you disappeared around the corner your servant had just come from and back into the castle. He faced Jisung before letting out a groan.

‘You really have the worst timing.’ He whined, Jisung’s face morphing into a picture of confusion until the realisation dawned on him.

‘Is that why you looked so awkward when we arrived? Wait- Was something about to happen? Why didn’t you kiss her?’ He asked, frustration now present on his features.

‘I don’t know why I didn’t kiss her, maybe I was about to before I got interrupted.’ Chenle shot back sarcastically as guilt flashed across Jisung’s expression.

‘Oh... sorry...’ Suddenly his head lifted again as he came up with an idea. ‘Do it tonight! It would be the perfect time, a beautiful ballroom, everyone wearing their best clothes, there will be good food and entertainment, plus you’ll have just been crowned and named the official heir to the throne. It’s the perfect setting.’

Chenle nodded at Jisung’s words.

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ He muttered as he felt himself becoming nervous again at the thought of kissing you. Jisung noticed this and leant forward to place a hand on his friend’s shoulder, making sure to grab the uninjured one.

‘Hey... you can do this.’

‘I can do this.’ Chenle repeated. Jisung sent him a wide smile, before squeezing his shoulder gently and turning away. Chenle’s eyes drifted to his shoulder before his head snapped back towards Jisung as he called out for him. ‘Jisung?’

‘Yeah?’ Jisung replied, turning back towards him. Chenle stepped forwards as he spoke.

‘Thank you.’ He paused for a minute in a feeble attempt to plan what he wanted to say but quickly continued when he saw Jisung’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and his mouth open. ‘Thank you, for everything. Not just putting up with me when I’m being annoying, or a bit dramatic or incapable of telling y/n the truth. But thank you for always being by my side, ever since I arrived. And, I guess most importantly, thank you for what you did out on that battlefield, saving my life. I know it can’t have been easy to face him, with your history and the things he said, but you didn’t hesitate or falter once and, it’s only because of you that I made it back. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for that.’

Chenle finished, letting out a long breath, feeling his shoulders drop as they lost a weight he didn’t even know he was holding. Jisung didn’t say anything to begin with, only a small smile on his face. Their friendship didn’t consist of these kinds of moments a lot, in fact this would be the first time since they met that they had spoken to each other in this way.

‘Chenle, you don’t need to thank me for that. I mean, I should probably be the one thanking you for coming up with the plan that won us the battle. Look, without each other, neither of us would be here, so let’s not dwell on it. It feels weird being emotional like this with you.’ Jisung said, nudging Chenle slightly.

‘Yeah I agree.’ Chenle shook his head, as if shaking off the conversation, laughing when he heard Jisung chuckling from beside him.

They two boys began to walk back towards the castle, and Chenle couldn’t help but nudge Jisung back, this time with slightly more force. Jisung narrowed his eyes towards Chenle, pushing him a bit harder, and Chenle decided to retaliate. He shoved Jisung so that he stumbled slightly, almost losing his balance and began to run up the steps towards the castle, ignoring Jisung’s indignant yells and imagining how beautiful he knew you were going to look later tonight.

---

You stood at the top of the great hall, on the raised platforms that held the thrones of your parents. You were on your mother’s right side, watching as the room finished filling with people. Your parents were standing in front of their thrones, just a step further forwards than you, all three of you having your eyes glued to the door.

The musicians in the back left corner picked up their tune, the trumpets sounding the trademark notes of your kingdom’s ballad, and the doors opened.

Chenle walked through, taking each step slowly as all the eyes in the hall turned to him, every person bowing as he passed. He had his royal robes on, complete with a large red cape that was embroidered with gold. He lifted his eyes from the floor in front of him and looked towards the king. He face was calm, a steady confidence rippling through his expression and you watched as his eyes never faltered.

He reached the front of the hall, just before the steps that led to the platform that you were standing on and knelt. He lowered his head, bowing to his king, queen and princess. He stayed in this position as your father began the ceremony.

‘Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of this land according to their respective laws and customs?’ Your father spoke, his voice carrying across the entire hall. 

‘I solemnly swear so to do.’ Chenle replied, repeating the responses he had learnt earlier. Even though he was looking towards the floor, his voice was just as clear and just as powerful as your father’s.

‘Will you to your power, cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?’ The king spoke again as everyone listened to the Prince promise to protect them as a fair and just ruler.

‘I will.’ Chenle answered.

The questions continued for a short while more and you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing just how calm Chenle was. This wasn’t something he was just prepared to do, this was what he was born to do. He swore and promised to take care of this kingdom with every ounce of his heart and you couldn’t help the happiness that was bursting out of yours. Eventually, the promises came to a close.

Your father turned to his left, where a servant was holding a red, velvet pillow with Chenle’s crown sitting on it. He picked it up before turning back to the boy kneeling in front of him. He raised the crown above his head and spoke one final time.

‘By the power vested in me, I crown you, Prince Chenle.’

He lowered his arms, resting the crown on Chenle’s head. It was a perfect fit. Chenle lifted his head and looked up at your father’s smiling face. He smiled back before standing and stepping up the stairs. He turned around, facing the people as applause burst through the hall.

You watched as Chenle turned around towards you, a massive grin on his face when he found you watching him with a smile, clapping for him as well. You stepped forward so that you were stood next to him, now on the inside of your mother as Chenle stood on the inside of your father. Your own crown was placed on your head, the four royals standing in front of their people, promising to do whatever they could to rule them as best they could.

---

You all sat around the tables, chatting and laughing over good food and entertainment. As when Chenle arrived, there would be a feast then dancing, and would end with a victory procession through the town tomorrow morning.

You and Chenle were sat next to each other, with your parents on your right and the knights and trusted members of the court fanning out around the square formation that the tables were laid out in.

Your father slowly stood in his seat, your mother and Taeyong, who was sat on his right, reaching out a hand to support the injured man. He was shaking on his feet but still stood proud. The entire hall quietened at the sight of their leader preparing to say something.

‘Today marks a great victory. Not only did we defeat Odin’s kingdom again, but we found a traitor in out midst. Although it was a difficult reality for us to accept, we must move forwards an into a brighter future. Moving forwards begins with one actions, choosing the new Head of the Royal Guard. I have been speaking to Taeyong about the days on the battlefield, and we both believe that it could only be one person.’

Taeyong nodded along to the king’s words, standing himself at the mention of his name.

‘The king approached me with a question about who I thought deserved to be the Head of the Royal Guard. And the answer was clear to me. It takes a greater amount of courage than anyone can ever know to stand up to and fight someone close to you. And it’s even harder if that person is like family. But that is exactly what this person did on the battlefield a five days ago.’

Taeyong turned back towards the king, prompting him to finish speaking.

‘We would like to offer the position of Head of the Royal Guard to... Park Jisung.’ He announced, as the whole room burst into applause.

Jisung’s eyes went wide from where he was sitting next to Chenle. Chenle whacked him on the knee, forcing him to stand. You couldn’t help the massive grin that decorated your face at the sight of your friend’s nervous form. You knew how difficult it must have been for him to throw that dagger, having known the ex Head of the Royal Guard for just as long as he had, and if that had been you, you weren’t sure if you would have been able to make that move.

Taeyong grinned at the younger boy as the king continued his announcement.

‘Even though Jisung is young, he has trained his entire life and has proven himself to be a valiant knight time and time again. And he will not be doing this alone, Taeyong will be your second in command.’ Taeyong nodded at Jisung as the king continued. ‘Along with Taeyong, three other knights will fill out the chain of command. Jaehyun, Jeno and Jaemin will be the others to stand by your side when you need them.’ The three named knights also stood when called, pride evident on their features. ‘Will you accept this position?’

‘I will.’ Jaehyun spoke first as the king’s eyes landed on him. Your father nodded before turning his gaze on Jeno and Jaemin, who were sat next to each other.

‘I will.’ Jeno spoke first, Jaemin following.

‘As will I.’

The king’s head then faced towards Taeyong, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Jisung until this moment. his gaze focused on the king, pure sincerity in his eyes.

‘I would be honoured to fight under Jisung’s command.’

The king nodded a smile on his face as he finally turned his eyes towards Jisung. The boy still looked completely shocked and rather scared at all the attention, and he didn’t seem to appreciate you and Chenle laughing at his state in the corner of his vision.

‘It is an honour, your majesty, I will gladly accept this position, and promise to do my very best to protect the people.’ He spoke formally, bowing towards his king as he did.

Your father grinned massively, reaching down for his wine and raising his goblet towards the ceiling.

‘Let the celebrations continue!’

Jisung all but collapsed back into his chair, mortified at the attention and still in a state of complete and utter shock at the promotion he had just received. He ignored your’s and Chenle’s teasing, instead standing up and moving into the ballroom that the dancing was taking place in, leaving the two of you behind, still laughing at his reaction.

---

You had been enjoying dancing around with Chenle, Jisung and a couple of the other knights that you were friends with, but you were starting to catching your eyes frequently wandering towards the door. As beautiful as the scenery was, the music was rather slow and repetitive, and the dances were the pre-rehearsed danced that the entire court knew, the ones that you had been learning ever since you could walk.

You drifted around the hall, looking for the boy that you had lost sight of a little while back. It seemed as though he was looking for you because, when you made eyes contact, he grinned and jogged towards you.

You ignored the butterflies in your stomach that appeared when he reached you, instead channelling your desperation to get out of the hall taking over you.

‘Y/n...’ Chenle began, speaking before you got a chance to. ‘There’s something I want to talk to you about-’ He stopped in his tracks when you put up your hand.

‘Hold that thought.’ You spoke as he paused for a second but nodded anyway. ‘Do you want to get out of here? We could go down to the town! They always have the most amazing lively music and dancing, plus sometimes they put lights along the river and trees and it’s so beautiful.’

You finished your proposal and Chenle nodded eagerly in reply. You knew he had never seen the town during a celebration, and it was something that really couldn’t be missed. Plus, you thought that if you had to listen to one more slow song as people trudged around this great hall, you would pull your hair out.

You grabbed Chenle by the hand, the two of you making your way to the open doors, You prepared to slip out, thinking that nobody would notice you, until you made direct eye contact with your parents. One look at the two of you and there was no way that they didn’t know what you were doing.

You froze for a second, not knowing what to say or do, until your father gave you a slow nod, a smile gracing his ageing features. Your mother did the same, both of your parent’s surprising you with their agreement to allow you to leave the castle. You sent them a thankful nod, relieved when they turned their attention back to the ballroom.

You slipped out fo the door of the ballroom, and the two of you began to run down the halls of the castle.

---

You and Chenle strolled through the streets, catching your breath after enjoying dancing with the people. Chenle realised that you had’t been lying when you told him how much fun it was. He turned his head towards you as you began to speak.

‘Isn’t this beautiful?’ You asked breathlessly, your eyes fixated on the colourful banners that hung from the houses, the paper confetti that littered the streets and the candle light that atmospherically illuminated the streets.

‘Stunning.’ Chenle replied honestly, his eyes never leaving your face. You turned towards him, smiling softly when you found him already looking at you.

He opened his mouth to say something, to tell you the truth about how he felt, to finally admit the feelings that were taking over his entire being, but before he could, he was interrupted by some young voices yelling.

‘Your highnesses!’ Three young children ran up to the two fo you, their voices full of excitement at the sight of their future rulers.

They circled you both, some of their friends coming to join them as they all told you stories and asked you questions. You listened and answered them all as best you could with a massive smile on your face, Chenle doing the same.

Just as their parents called them back, to children stepped forwards. They were both holding a beautiful flower crown in their hands. They seemed to be more nervous than they were before as they shyly asks if you would wear the crowns they had made for you.

You were so glad that you only wore your official gold crown for the ceremony, not anytime after, as you agreed to the children’s request. Both of you knelt down, allowing the children to place the flowers on top of your head. As you stood up, the young children squeal with excitement at the sight of you, before running back to their families. The short but wholesome encounter put you in the best mood possible, and you weren’t sure that there was anything else this night could offer you that would make it any better.

You and Chenle grinned at each other as you continued to walk through the streets. Eventually you found yourselves strolling along the riverbank, admiring the reflection of the candlelight in the waves. You both slowed to a pause, just standing in front of the calm water, enjoying the serenity it provided.

‘I just remembered, you’ve been trying to tell me something all day and you keep getting cut off! Sorry, do you want to talk now?’ You asked him, suddenly remembering just how many times he had attempted to speak to you.

Chenle’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widening slightly at your words as he cleared his throat before turning to face you entirely, his gaze leaving your entwined hands and coming up to your eyes. You could see the fire from the candles reflecting in his brown irises and it was hypnotising. You found yourself unable to take your gaze away from Chenle, instead admiring just how breathtaking he was.

‘Yeah... I have.’ Chenle admitted, his voice softer than you were expecting, and he was looking at you in a way that you didn’t quite recognise. ‘But every time I try and talk about it, something seems to get in the way. So, I’m thinking that maybe I shouldn’t tell you, maybe I should just show you.’

‘Show me what?’ You asked curiously, completely at a loss as to what you should be expecting. He took a step forwards and you became incredibly aware of just how close you were standing to him. The last time you were this close, you had almost kissed him.

God, how you wished there wasn’t an almost in that sentence.

Chenle lifted his hands to cup your cheeks, his eyes never leaving yours as he did so.

‘If I don’t do this now, I’ll never forgive myself.’ His voice was only a whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the gentle noise of the running water from the river to your right.

‘Then do it.’ You whispered back, giving him permission to do the one thing you were praying he was about to do.

So he did it.

Chenle leant in, finally closing the short distance between the two of you and gently pressed his lips to yours. You leant into him slightly, your hands coming up to rest on his waist as he pulled away all too soon.

‘Was that okay?’ He asked, biting his lip nervously.

‘And here I was thinking this night couldn’t get any better.’ You breathed., diverting your eyes in slight embarrassment as you heard him laugh at your response.

‘So I can do that again?’ He asked, looking at you with hope in his eyes.

‘Any time you like.’ You grinned, watching as a huge smile of his own spread across his face before he leant in again.

This time his hands drifted down to your waist, your coming up to wrap around his neck as your lips met again. You pressed yourself into him, him pulling you as close as he possibly could. There was no space in between the two of you, as the emotions and love that had been building up exploded through the kiss.

You eventually pulled away, resting your foreheads together as you caught your breath. 

‘I love you.’ Chenle confessed, his whispered words as loud as screams to you as your face split into the largest smile on the planet.

‘I love you too.’ You breathed, feeling so much lighter having finally been able to admit how you were feeling.

Chenle’s smile mirrored yours, the two of you staying as close to each other as possible. He began to sway you from side to side and, before you knew it, you were slow dancing on the riverbank, relishing in the peaceful time you got to spend with the boy you loved.

---

The castle was quiet by the time you arrived back. Chenle had insisted on walking you to your chambers, and you were currently stood outside of your doors, preparing to say goodnight. 

The scene reminded you of when he had first arrived, and you were stood in his very position at the end of his second day here, outside your chambers and asking him to drop the formalities. Who knew that, only a short time later, you would be confessing your love for him?

‘Goodnight Chenle.’ You said, your voice quiet as you were aware that many others around you were sleeping. Plus you didn’t really want the guards down the corridor to hear your conversation.

‘Goodnight y/n.’ Chenle replied, neither of you making an effort to move away.

Chenle moved first, taking a step towards you before gently holding your face in his hands and placing another soft kiss on your lips. He pulled away, leaning in once more to place another kiss on your forehead.

‘Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He whispered, you nodding in response.

He stepped back as you turned around, opened your chamber doors and disappeared inside. Chenle made his way back to his own room, the smile never leaving his face, not even as he walked back to his chambers, not even as he got prepared for bed, not even as he lay down to go to sleep. You were his, and he was yours. You loved him, and he loved you. And there was nothing more amazing than knowing that.

You both fell asleep, lying in separate rooms, but your hearts irreversibly intertwined forever.

[kashi-prompts]

Flowers For A Shinobi

Chapter 5: Dawn

Word Count: 3,383

Pairing: Kakashi x OFC

Previous Chapter  ❀  Archive of Our Own Link  ❀  Wattpad Link

The early morning sunrise cast over the treetops of Konoha, painting the foliage in brilliant hues of orange and red. As Ayame walked towards the village's front gate, she felt optimistic about her journey with Kakashi and the likelihood of healing these shinobi. No one should have to go through such a painful and debilitating illness as she had. It was all up to her to find those scrolls and perform that jutsu. She was sure it would be executed smoothly. Hopefully.

On her back, she carried her rucksack, stuffed with tubes of all the medicinal herbs she may need, along with a handful of tools to craft medicine if required. These items, of course, were brought as a precautionary measure. She had no reason to believe that she would use any of them. Nevertheless, she brought them just in case.

Maybe she was too optimistic.

Her strappy sandals shuffled down the dirt street as she thought about the final time she had left Rōtasuagekure. She had no family left there or anywhere, for that matter. Nothing had prepared her for the devastation that originated within that village or the unsuspecting role her brother had played in it. How naive she had been.

She thought of her brother for a moment, the innocent little boy who she always perceived to be a child in her mind. He had grown up so quickly that she had hardly noticed his changing behavior until it was too late. His new ideologies had been molded by someone else. She blamed herself when she laid in bed at night, wondering if her life would have had a different outcome had she intervened earlier.

As she rounded the last corner before the main gate, she spotted Mrs. Genchi, a widowed old woman who still owned and ran the only tailor shop in the village. Ayame nodded her head in greeting as she passed by, watching as she swept the storefronts path with her withered broom.

"Good morning, Genchi-sama," Ayame hitched her rucksack further up her back.

"Good morning, Ayame-chan," The old woman continued to sweep, not looking up. Ayame wondered if the tailor shop owner questioned why she headed towards the gate with a backpack rather than towards the flower shop. She bit the inside of her cheek.

At the gate, the orange glow of the sunrise was at its brightest. It was almost blinding as it came over the horizon. The large wooden doors cast two dark shadows heading out of the Leaf. Against the brick column leaned the man everyone called Kakashi, his backpack at his feet and a book in one hand. Ayame assessed him as she drew closer, observing his profile that was concealed behind a mask. She absently wondered again why he covered his face.

"Morning," he greeted as she approached. She wondered if he had seen her coming, only for it to dawn on her moments later that he is taught to listen for footsteps.

"Good morning," Ayame nodded solemnly, unsure of how he treated the seriousness of the mission. He closed his book in one hand and turned to face her.

"It seems there are more shinobi that have returned ill this morning," Kakashi informed her grievously. His voice was quiet, not wanting anyone around to hear. She leaned closer. "So this mission is growing more urgent by the day. We still have time, but the situation is becoming more serious. This totals 14 shinobi that are hospitalized right now."

"Understood," Ayame stood up straight, ready.

"Lady Hokage has her assistant, Shizune working with the Medic Corps to formulate a backup drug in case our mission falls through," He explained, his thumb stroking the spine of his book absently.

"Right. We should get going then," she nodded, turning to the gate. "Anything else?"

"Yes, actually," he reached into his backpack, revealing a pair of shin-high boots. She looked down and noticed he, too, was wearing the same kind.

"The tactical propper dispatched these to us. Hopefully, they will keep us protected from any underground threats."

Kakashi handed the boots to Ayame, who assessed them skeptically. Carefully, she took off her old sandals and replaced her feet with the boots.

"I mean, the rest of our body is exposed, though."

"I know. I already discussed it with them. But on such short notice, we just have to remain diligent in monitoring our surroundings. I know you do not have shinobi training, so don't worry about it. Just remain cognizant."

Ayame nodded, wiggling her feet in the boots. She could only imagine the sores that were to come after walking in these all day.

"Alright then. Ready?" He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yes," Ayame responded, smiling slightly with excitement.  

"Lead the way," he said to her, his single eye squinting in a smile. She looked over at him, stunned that he was trusting her to guide them. But really, why wouldn't he? She smiled back, hitching her backpack up again as she began to walk in the direction of her old village.

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The two moved quickly, or at least as quickly as Ayame's feet allowed them to. She was not a shinobi by Konoha's standards, but she did happen to be in good shape. Kakashi, of course, could move much faster than she ever could. Regardless of his pace, he didn't let her fall behind.

The journey from Rōtasuagekure to Konoha had taken Ayame three days on foot by herself. Their pace today was much quicker, but she still anticipated they would need to stop at some point. Their conversations were light, mostly commentary on the scenery and the journey at hand. Often, he would pull out his book and read as they traveled. Ayame led the way, directing them to the best of her ability to her old village through thick foliage and dry dirt paths.

He asked her once if she wanted to stop to rest for a bit, but she declined, reminding him of their tight schedule. He had shrugged in response, allowing her to continue despite her evergrowing slumped shoulders.

"I think we should stop here for the night," Kakashi finally remarked hours later, assessing an opened space through what little light the day had left. Above them, an opening was naturally formed around a canopy of trees, displaying twilight's constellation of stars.

It was only when she stopped did she realize how exhausted her body was. She had been walking for 13 hours straight, eating little pellet-looking food Kakashi had offered her as they traveled. If it weren't for her sheer determination to save the men and women of Konoha, she would have surely collapsed hours ago.

She sat down on a rock nearby, feeling her feet scream in gratitude. Underneath her boots, she was sure her feet were littered with blisters. The darkness brought cooler temperatures. Ayame wasn't sure if it was her exhaustion or the cold that brought a slight chill to her spine.

"You look exhausted," he pointed out casually, collecting a few twigs nearby for a fire.

"I'm fine," she waved a dismissive hand, taking her backpack off. Her eyelids begged for sleep, and every inch of her body told her it was time to rest. She watched him perch the twigs up in a tent, preparing for a small fire. He put his hand down near the bottom of the pit, and a moment later, a spark of flame came up.

"Should we have a fire right now?" Ayame asked, looking around. "Won't it draw attention?"

"Yes," Kakashi agreed, standing up. "But I have no reason to believe we're in danger here. It's probably going to be cold tonight. Plus, I'll be awake. Someone has to keep watch."

"You're not going to sleep?" she asked him, unrolling and setting her blanket down for the evening near a small boulder. He sat on a rock close by, stoking the fire with a long stick.

"I'm fine," he responded assuredly, shrugging off his jonin jacket and carefully gathering it up to place on the ground next to him. Ayame stretched her legs out on her blanket and yawned as she rolled her shoulders. She looked over at him, feeling guilty for wanting to sleep while he kept guard.

"Shouldn't you rest, though? I'm sure you're just as tired as I am," Ayame asked. She watched as he pulled off his Konoha headband, his silver hair falling flatly over his forehead.

She couldn't quite place it, but there was something unusually stunning about his presence. The way his disheveled hair rested over his brow after a long day. The look of his body without his bulky green jacket, his shoulders hunched but broader than she initially perceived. She watched as he shifted one leg forward, his limb looking longer and more muscular at this distance. Ayame pushed her hair behind her ear, her eyes peering over his tightly wrapped ankles. She couldn't understand why she studied him so closely, but she felt warmth spread like wildfire throughout her body when she did. The flickering light of the fire and the late hour of the day blended together in her mind to create an exhilarating new feeling.

"I'll be alright," he said, looking up at her from across the fire. The flickering light of the flames danced across his shadowy face. He gave her a small, reassuring smile. She noticed his other eye, the long scar that ran across his lid and cheek, cutting right through his thin gray eyebrow and disappearing under his mask. When he smiled, his eyes creased at the corners. He looked like a different person without his headband and jacket.

"I'm sure I'll doze off for a little bit at some point," he assured her, looking up at the sky above. The light flickered off his Adam's apple.

"Thank you for your patience today," she said, leaning back on her elbows, "I'm sure it was painful for you to walk so slowly. But we should get there early tomorrow."

"It was a nice change of pace," Kakashi slid down his bottom down into the dirt, using the rock he had just used to rest his back. Bending his knee, he flickered his eye back over to her.

"I was thinking," she heard him say, "You said this Tsukamu root had lasting effects on your chakra reserves. Have you trained to attempt to gain some of that lost chakra back?"

Ayame looked over at him, surprised. "I - I have not, really. Or rather, I'm not really sure how. I mean, I know how to exercise and train. But my chakra was always just something that was there and then one day, it wasn't. I had no guidance on how to get it back."

"What happened when you were low on chakra in your old village?"

"We would be sent to do other work, and someone else would come in to take our place of growing the flowers. My cousins and I were cycled through. One day it would be me growing, and the next day it was someone else."

Kakashi nodded, looking at the fire, and a rueful leer appeared beneath his mask, "Sounds like they just used you."

"Yeah," Ayame agreed dismally.

"I'm sorry about your clan, by the way," Kakashi looked over at her somberly. "What you said yesterday, it must have been difficult."

Ayame frowned, looking down at her lap and picking at fingertips. "I just wish I could have saved them."

"I'm sure you couldn't have saved them all and yourself."

"I could have tried."

Kakashi looked over at her, observing her as she nervously fiddled with her fingers. In the orange light of the fire, he could see a layer of coiled frizz haloed around her braid. He found this comforting, although he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because of how hard she had worked to get here today, with no formal training as a shinobi to go long distances in short periods. Yet her determination had surprised him.

An owl hooted in the distance, reminding him of the one he heard last night in Tsunade's office.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said finally, his eyes locked on her.

"But I could have prevented it if I had paid more attention to what my brother was up to. Why he wasn't around when he should have been. I just figured he had other duties, and we covered for him. I didn't expect him to be ..."

Kakashi nodded his head, understanding. "Regardless, you can't change what happened. You just have to deal with the reality and move on."

Ayame looked up at the fire, the glowing flames licking at the sticks he had placed in a pile. Frowning, she thought of her brother, her own blood, the reason she had no family left. Did she miss them? Of course. But did she yearn for the never-ending labor and mistreatment? No. Certainly not.

"But I don't think your charka situation is a lost cause," Kakashi said, shifting his tone. She watched him kick a small rock with his sandal. "You said you haven't trained, but have you tried other methods?"

Ayame looked over at him,  "I think my case is a bit different, wouldn't you say?"

"But have you tried?" Kakashi countered. His tone was tenacious but lighthearted in nature. She considered just ignoring him, not wanting to rehash her inability to conduct chakra. But when she looked over at him, he raised his eyebrows in anticipation of her response.

"I haven't," she tried to push back a smile that crept up on her quickly. "As I said, I would imagine my circumstance is different."

"I'm assuming no one ever taught you what is actually going on inside your body," Kakashi returned. This felt like banter between two friends, not between two people who had just met less than 24 hours ago and were shipped out together on a time-crunched mission. Or perhaps he was flirting with her. Ayame pursed her lips, not taking the bait.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Ayame yawned, stretching her arms. Didn't want to seem too interested, she thought.

"I mean, I don't have to tell you," He quipped, reflecting back her disinterested tone. He stood up, stretching his arms as well. "I just thought maybe you'd want to know what's really going on."

Ayame's ears perked up, and she looked up at him, his back turned to her as he gathered a few more branches in the brush behind them.

"What do you mean, what's really going on? I would think I know more of what's happening in my body than you do."

"That may be true," he said as he stood with a twig in his hand. "But you were never taught the basics of your chakra network. It's not some central point in your body. It's a system of vessels that channel through you. I saw you earlier when we were walking with my eye, and your chakra network isn't as damaged as you believe it is."

"I'm sorry?" Ayame felt her face flush as she quickly looked over at him. She was grateful for the darkness around them.

As she spoke, he turned to her, his left eye opened. Her brain couldn't quite comprehend what she was looking at—the red glow of it, the spinning iris. His complete gaze assessed her, looking through her like a window.

"With my Sharingan, I can see some of your chakra network. When you were walking in front of me today, I used it to see if your network had been severed where you were previously injured. My assumption was correct, and it wasn't, but it is severely damaged."

"Severely damaged," Ayame repeated, looking down at the fire.

"Yes," he turned back around and shut his left eye as he gathered more sticks for the fire.

"If your network was severed, you wouldn't be able to use any of your chakra," he said, sitting back down. "But as you showed us last night, you can. You are able to maneuver some chakra through your body with some health repercussions. But that doesn't mean it can't be mended and used. It just may take extra energy to push your chakra through the channel."

"And how do I do that?" Ayame asked skeptically.

Kakashi casually threw a few twigs into the fire. "Today, you used a good amount of energy to get here. More so, I would say, than you do on a regular basis. Although you may feel drained, your body should have generated chakra through your physical movements."

"Is this what you were thinking about all day?" Ayame laughed. "I understand. But how do I push it through? It's not like you can widen an injured vessel."

"That will come from healing and spiritual energy," Kakashi explained, "healing can be done back in Konoha. I'm sure you've never seen someone for this injury, right?"

"No," Ayame replied. "I never thought to."

"I doubt it can be healed completely at this point, but it's worth a try."

"And this spiritual energy?"

"Spiritual energy and physical energy is what chakra is made of. Physical energy manifests from training or exertion. Spiritual energy, however, comes from within," the silver-haired shinobi explained, holding a twig between his hands. She watched as he twirled it around his fingers. "Think of it as mental stamina. You can increase it by experience or meditation. Have you ever meditated?"

Ayame shook her head, feeling inferior for never having learned any of this. There was a whole world out there she had never been exposed to. Even within the confines of her new home, she had never learned any of this.

"I don't do it often, but it is a good method to use when you are just learning to hone your chakra or learning a different chakra nature," Kakashi explained. "I can teach you - if you want. Or maybe you could try it in the morning before we leave. I think it would help."

He looked over at her, waiting for a response. The pensive ambiance of the sparking fire and the evening's cool breeze enveloped their little huddle. Looking over at him, Ayame gently smiled, nodding. His gaze was penetrating; the twinkling of his dark eye in the fire stirred something in her stomach.

"I will," she said finally.

He smiled softly at her. His eyes locked with hers, and she could see the smile under his mask with the unsteady light of the burning fire. Despite the crisp air of the night, heat washed over her body like a wave against rocks. Time seemed to slow, even for a few seconds. At that moment, it was just the two of them in that forest: no illness, no mission, no timeline. Just his dark eye staring softly into hers. The wrinkle of his eyes when he smiled felt like an electrical shock to her body.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I appreciate your help."

He watched her lips curl with each word. Something twisted in his lower stomach, and he swallowed. He looked away and chuckling softly, immediately regretting severing their connection. He scolded himself for letting his nerves got the best of him. The feeling that had just washed over him was unlike anything he was familiar with. As a man who was rarely ever shaken, he felt jarred by the experience. He was a calm man, dedicated to his role as a shinobi of the Leaf. Something as potent as that feeling would only distract him, he reminded himself.

"No problem," he responded, scratching the back of his neck uneasily. Ayame looked down, smiling softly to herself. This felt quite childlike, but nevertheless, she found herself savoring it.

"Get some sleep," Kakashi said finally, pulling out a battered orange book from his back pocket. He was clearly flustered, she thought. "We have to leave before dawn, so we don't have long. So get some rest. I'll be right here."

Ayame nodded and laid down on her blanket, her heart still pounding in her chest from such a small interaction.

"Thank you," Ayame said again, turning to face away from him. She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. "Goodnight, Kakashi."

A pause.

"Goodnight, Ayame."  

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A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry no screenshots this week, it seems my Sims is acting up. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I rewrote it about 4 times, as I wasn’t sure where I wanted it to go. But I’m very excited to keep going :) Thank you for reading! <3 

[meat-husband]

How would Brahms, Michael, Jason, and Bubba react to witnessing an abusive relationship between two victims (potential s/o and her current mans) You don’t have to write if you don’t want to, I was just curious.

Added Vincent because I can’t resist my lil art goblin. 

Brahms

Implying that any partner you have is going to get more than a few steps through the door in the first place. No matter the situation, step number one is to get you single as soon as possible. 

He has little to no idea what an actual relationship is supposed to look like, so he might not pick up on any warning signs at first. Unless someone is being physically violent, more subtle things might not register. 

It might take a while, but he will manipulate things to set you against each other. Ideally, this would lead to a break up and he’d get you all to himself, but if things turned violent he would step in to put a permanent end to things. 

Michael

You have no idea that you’ve gained his attention, and it stays that way for a long time. Any relationship you might already be in isn’t even a factor for him - if they’re still present when he decides to make a move, he can easily get them out of the picture. 

Whether or not the person you’re with is abusive or not doesn’t make much of a difference for him. He’s getting them out of the way eventually, but might be encouraged to do it sooner if he feels like they’re a threat to you. 

Once he does get rid of them, you’re definitely going to start noticing that someone is hanging around. He doesn’t start with the best introduction, because realizing that you’re being stalked soon after the murder of your partner is more than a little off putting. 

Bubba

He doesn’t get the opportunity to watch people very often, since he’s usually only meeting them once it’s time to break out the sledge. Even then, he can recognize when someone is being treated poorly and he’ll show what sympathy he can while his brothers aren’t looking. 

It makes him feel a little guilty about having to restrain you, because he doesn’t want you to think that he’s being mean. He would normally get you straight on a hook, but instead he’s frantically patting your head and trying to calm you down. 

He wants to show you that he’s nice, but he also knows that he can’t keep you like this forever. It’s probably the similarities between your situations that has him get up the courage to suggest that you shouldn’t become dinner. 

Jason

Normally, he wouldn’t take notice of it and if you were close enough to be on his radar at all, you’d get the same treatment as everyone else. He doesn’t have enough sympathy for anyone else to think of sparing them. 

But something catches his eye, and he quickly goes from protecting his territory to protecting you. He isn’t going to hesitate to step in the next time someone even looks at you funny. 

Depending on the situation, having someone bust down the door to slaughter your partner isn’t the best start, and it will take some time to realize that he isn’t going to do the same to you. He’s pretty determined, though, to be the one keeping you safe from now on. 

Vincent

He hasn’t had any experience with relationships himself, but he’s very familiar with being mistreated by others. It won’t take him long to recognize that you’re in the same situation. 

He wouldn’t normally interfere, and he’s certainly seen similar couples come into town before. But a combination of jealousy and loneliness convinces him that, if he plans it right, he could take the place of the partner that doesn’t deserve you. 

He’s a little bit of a hopeless romantic, so he’s almost instantly got thoughts of sweeping in to save the day. He doesn’t have the looks, but surely he could make up for that by getting rid of someone who’s hurting you?

[clareguilty]

Bewitched by a Deadman's Heart

I had an anon request Pirate AU Gabe and then I took a month to write it im so sorry anon i hope youre still here

Read it here on the AO3 Gabriel Reyes/Reader | Pirate AU Rating: Mature/Explicit | No Warnings Word count: ~2600

You never took your eyes off the captain as he stalked back and forth through the hold. Sweeping black and crimson coat, broad hat. He had worn a white bone mask when he entered; now you could see his face. 

He wasn’t human. Not fully. Monstrous, a beast made more of smoke than bone. You had seen men like him before, cursed by Neptune. They were all the same, unrepentant bastards. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Chains chafed and scratched at your wrists and ankles, and the gag was making your jaw ache terribly. Being held prisoner was unsurprisingly dreadful. A lantern swayed violently, casting strange living shadows through your cell.

Just get on with it. You rolled your eyes. Mortals were always so predictable. This whole fiasco was more of an annoyance than anything.

The captain disappeared, vanished between one step and the next. You jumped as you felt a presence behind you. He had rematerialized within the bars of your cell.

A large rough hand grabbed your jaw, forcing your head back until you met dark eyes. 

“I hate for things to be this way,” he said, voice cold. You didn’t have it in you to believe him. How many cruel men had sailed the seas, capturing and hunting your brothers and sisters? You scoffed behind the gag.

The captain’s grip tightened and then released all at once. You slumped to the floor at his feet, glaring up at him with as much contempt as you could manage. His expression softened minutely. “You’re innocent. It was not you who cursed me with this form.”

Then let me go, you thought.

“I need you to summon Neptune. I need him to reverse what he has done.”

You did not lessen the force of your glare. The captain held your gaze: a stalemate.

But mortals lack patience, and he quickly caved. A heavy boot collided with your side, and you cried out behind the gag. Scrambling as far as your chains would allow, you never looked away.

The captain growled and disappeared once more. He emerged from the shadows, storming out of the hold and slamming the door behind him.

You slumped in your binds. Captain Gabriel Reyes, the Reaper of the Seas. The ship you were currently imprisoned on could be none other than the Blackwatch.

If anyone were to capture you, then at least it was the most fearsome pirate alive. Your pride couldn’t have handled if you had been stolen by some nobody with hardly a feat to his name.

For all the rumors that surrounded Captain Reyes and the Blackwatch, you had not known about Neptune’s curse. What had he done to earn such a fate? You wondered if he had been cursed before he turned to piracy, or if he had committed a crime worse than any other during his reign of terror.

He wanted the curse lifted. He wanted Neptune himself to undo his punishment. How precocious. How would your situation change if Captain Reyes knew you were capable of granting him his wish? It wasn’t difficult magic. You had taken on far greater feats back in the time of heroes. It had been centuries since you had really been able to test yourself.

Not that you were very inclined to help out the bastard that captured you, trussed you up, tossed you in a cell, and kicked you. Being a Nereid didn’t mean that you were incapable of bruising.

You sulked a few hours in the dim cell. The Reaper would be back. You would be able to survive torture if it came to that, but you certainly hoped this beast knew better. You looked forward to being released from your chains, then you could exact vengeance for your mistreatment.

The door to the hold creaked open and the captain stepped inside. He was still in his crimson coat, cutlass at his hip, yet he carried a bowl of food and a bottle.

Something emerged from the shadows behind you, pulling the gag from your lips. It was a neat trick.

Reyes stopped outside the door to your cell. “I-” He genuinely looked unsure. “I wasn’t sure if you needed to eat. I’ve brought you food.”

You scoffed, eyeing the bowl with disdain. “I enjoy divine offerings and sweet wine.” Divine offerings were a thing lost to time, but stale bread and boiled vegetables held no appeal for you.

The captain set the plate down and vanished. He rematerialized within the cell, leaned back against the bars, arms crossed.

You stared up at him, expectantly.

He was quiet for a long while. You waited. At last, he sighed and spoke. “I’m sorry for stealing you away.”

“Then let me go.” If he truly was sorry, he would have freed you.

“I can’t do that.” His voice was sharp. “You’re my only hope of lifting this damned curse.”

You slumped in your bonds, but your curiosity had gotten the better of you. “What did you even do to deserve the wrath of Neptune?” 

The captain’s frown deepened. “What haven’t I done? I staged a mutiny against my commander in the navy, turned against crown and company, attacked and pillaged any ship that crossed my path. I’ve slain. I’ve slaughtered. This curse has made me the perfect killer.”

You didn’t have it in you to be impressed. “Many men have done worse than you and never ended up cursed by the god of the sea.” 

The captain sighed. "It was after a victory against Commander Morrison-"

"The one you mutinied?" You asked.

“Yes, the one I mutinied. He's my greatest rival, always armed with the best of the king's dogs. We had won a battle, and gained quite a bit from it. I was boastful -- drunk -- and talking to my crew.

"'Just you wait,' I said. 'We'll take down every ship on these seas and sail right to old Neptune himself. He doesn’t stand a chance against us.' That was enough, apparently. A storm swept in, and suddenly… I was this."

You laughed. “He’s done far worse for far less offense.” Such a curse for such a trivial mistake -- the god must have been rather cranky that day. “You insult the god of the sea and decide the best way to make amends is to capture a member of his court? To tie her up and beat her? You sure have a strange method of going about things.”

The captain looked sheepish, almost repentant. 

“I have a request.” 

Captain Reyes glanced up in surprise. He probably wasn’t used to his prisoners being so bold.

“I’d like to see the moon,” you continued. 

“The moon?”

“I can still feel her call. The tides have risen. Could I just see her, please?”

You could see his mind working, trying to determine if this was a trick. That’s not to say that you wouldn’t take any chance you could get to escape, but you were patient. You would wait for the right opportunity.

The captain made his choice, kneeling beside you to release the chains on your ankles. Your arms remained bound, and he lifted you to your feet with remarkable strength. He helped you out of the cell and up to the main deck, gently lifting you through the hatch. The members of his crew watched you, but didn’t say anything. You kept your gaze straight ahead.

The water was inky black save for the silver crests of waves. You longed to dive in, to return to the safety of Neptune’s court and escape the troubles of mortals. But the captain held fast to your chains.

The clouds parted, and the brilliant light of the moon washed over the ship deck. You basked in the glow. It was safety and comfort after the hours you had spent locked away.

captain Reyes was surprisingly patient, letting you gaze into the sky until the clouds rolled through once more. The darkness ached, but you resigned yourself to another sentence in your cell.

“Would you-” The captain struggled to find his words. “I do not have to take you back down below deck.” He said.

“And I suppose you’ll be setting me free then?” you smiled dryly.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. But you could remain in my quarters for the time being. Until you call to Neptune, until my curse is lifted, I cannot let you leave this ship. But I can make your time here as comfortable as possible.”

You considered his offer. “How do you know I will not simply steal away after you have fallen asleep?” It was a good way to get you locked back in the cell, but you couldn’t keep yourself from testing him.

“I don’t sleep. The curse… I am unable to rest, to dream.” He looked anguished.

“And you wish to torture yourself further by inviting me to fill your waking hours?” 

He pulled sharply on your chains. “I can lock you up again if that is what you truly wish.” His voice was an inhuman growl.

You yanked back, defiant. The bruises would look horrid, but you weren’t about to cower before this beast. “You forget who has the true power here. Locking me away will only worsen your punishment. If you thought Neptune was angry before, then you should imagine how he punishes those who have harmed the members of his court.”

The wind whipped around you, waves rising taller and taller. A crewmate shouted from below deck as the entire ship rocked on the raging sea. The captain’s eyes widened in fear. Since your capture, you had hidden the true power of your magic.

“I won’t free you,” he snarled. “Not until my curse is lifted.”

“You will treat me with the respect I deserve as a spirit of the sea,” you demanded. The ocean roared. Your threats were not empty. The captain acquiesced.

“I will protect and care for you within my power. You must call to Neptune. Have him free me.”

The waves began to calm, wind dying down between one breath and the next. You never took your eyes off Captain Reyes. “Take me to your quarters.”

-

He locked the door behind him as soon as you were inside. You took a seat on the fanciest, most plush looking chair you could find, eyes scanning the walls and shelves. Captain Reyes’s quarters were luxurious, filled with treasures and trophies from his conquests.

He dropped a bottle into your lap. You inspected it carefully.

“Sweet wine,” he said, removing his coat and cutlass to hang. “I’m all out of ‘offerings’.”

You pried the cork from the bottle with your teeth and took a sip of the wine. It certainly was sweet, nicer than you expected a pirate to have. You helped yourself to a long pull.

Captain Reyes was slouched in a chair across the room, looking decidedly mortal as he rubbed his forehead and let out a long sigh.

“Why do you refuse to do as I ask?”

You cradled your bottle, rattling the chains around your wrists as you raised your eyebrow. “I consider myself very generous when I’m not being snatched away by pirates. To be honest, I’m waiting for the first chance I get to destroy your ship and crew and escape.”

“I may just hunt you down again, you know. I could even find a way to kill you.” His words were empty, though. There was no heart behind them.

“Why do you want your curse lifted so badly?” you asked. “Does it not make you the most powerful man on the seas? Strong? Tireless? Unkillable?”

He disappeared from the chair, rematerializing right above you. Monstrous and formless, black smoke and long teeth and glowing eyes. “Is there not more than just power and glory? I am not the monster I was cursed to be. This form… I’m a beast! My own crew fears me. I’m alone. Unable to sleep or dream or feel. All of my victories mean nothing.”

You dropped the bottle in shock, wincing as it clattered and rolled across the fine rug. 

Captain Reyes was gone. Back across the room, shoulders hunched. He leaned against the wall, heaving with breaths he didn’t need.

You stood, chains rattling as you slowly made your way towards him. Reaching slowly, you placed a hand on his arm. He didn’t react to your touch. “What will you do? When you are mortal again?”

Slowly, he turned to look at you. Defeated. Captain Gabriel Reyes, the Reaper of the Blackwatch. He looked defeated.

“I’ll carry on. I’ll take my crew and my ships, and I’ll keep on as I always have.”

“Without your curse, you would be in danger.” You led him over to the bed. He sat beside you, staring at his hands. They were clawed, monstrous.

“I’m not afraid of danger.”

“What are you afraid of?” You clasped one of his hands between your own.

“I’m afraid of being alone. Of being unwanted. I’ll spend eternity as a monster, and one day I may lose myself and become nothing but beast.”

It wasn’t what you expected. The ruthless Reaper, afraid of being alone. Your heart broke for him. This wasn’t what he deserved.

“Can you unbind me?” you asked. “I promise no harm will come to your crew.”

The chains fell to the floor. You knelt before the captain. He refused to meet your eyes. Placing a hand on either side of his face, you lifted his head. His eyes were pleading.

Your lips brushed his. He recoiled at first, not expecting the touch. “Please,” you whispered, “can you trust me?”

He held still. And you kissed him once more. He responded this time yet was still hesitant to touch you. Deeper and deeper, you ran your fingers through his disheveled curls. He moaned into your mouth, and your lips curled against his.

He finally pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours as he panted and gasped for air.

You let out an undignified yelp as he scooped you into his arms and laid you on the bed. “I feel… What did you do?” He looked at his hands, dark scarred skin in the place of monstrous claws. 

“I lifted the curse.”

He stared at you in disbelief, grinning widely. “You could have done it all along? You did do it! I’m… How can I thank you?”

It warmed you to see him so overjoyed. You remembered the satisfaction of helping out heroes a millennium before. 

He was handsome, no longer a shadowy monster. Dark, scarred skin. Full lips. Curly black hair that fell across his forehead. He was still broad, huge even for a man, but now it was flesh and muscle under the thin fabric of his shirt.

The captain was kissing you again, so deeply and with so much passion. “Is this okay?” he asked.

“It’s wonderful.”

He pushed aside the fabric of your dress, kissing every inch of exposed skin. You trailed your hands over his arms and shoulders, feeling the strength and muscle from years of living aboard a ship. 

Clothes fell to the floor and soon the both of you were bare. You admired the captain’s newfound mortal body. Every scar, every mark, every dip and curve. He shuddered and gasped at each touch, not used to the sensation after so many years under the curse. You let him pin you down and ravish you. He couldn’t get enough.

You finally pushed him away, pulling him by the hair from between your thighs. “You’re mortal now,” you reminded him. “You need to rest.”

“Will you still be here when I wake?” he asked.

“I’ll stay here with you.” You opened your arms. He pulled you in close. You listened as his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened. The ship rocked and creaked on the waves, moonlight streaming in through the glass windows.