#i’d like to believe there’s an explanation hidden somewhere

[xbomboi]

i know there’s a case to be made for daring suffering some character flanderization in his later appearances, but i like to think the break up with lizzie was just THAT bad.

[helenofsimblr]

Elita: Before Jimmy could process anything, my father appeared and greeted him.

Jimmy: Mr Robinson.

Bob: Bob will do Jimmy. So you’re the reason my daughter looks like that huh? I’d have thought a southern gentleman like you wouldn’t entertain the idea of children out of wedlock?

Jimmy: Ah.. well… I… y’see, t-the t-the thing is… 

Bob: Relax kid, I’m just playing with you. 

Lysa: Honestly dad, think of his blood pressure! 

Bob: Ok ok, it's a pleasure to meet you Jimmy, you’re ex ground force aren't you?

Jimmy: Yessir, that’s correct. Lysa tells me you were workin’ for The Agency?

***

Lysa: I told him other stuff too… you know… OTHER stuff.

Bob: Yeah, that’s correct, I was in the Space Corps part of the Agency, I’m retired now thankfully. And I don’t miss it at all. Not a believer in aliens or vampires and so on are you Jimmy?

Jimmy: Well now sir, its not that I don’t believe per se… Its just I’m a man that trusts his senses and I ain’t ever seen one of these creatures before. 

Bob: A fact for which you should be immeasurably thankful. In any case if you and Lysa have a future together, there’s a lot of things you need to know. And I think no amount of explanation will work quite as good as some old fashioned experience. 

Jimmy: You got an alien hidden away somewhere sir? Aww man you guys are funny.

Bob: We do, he lives in Henford.

***

Elita: I walked out and saw and heard my dad greeting Jimmy and Lysa, Lyra was over making coffee. It was decaf by the way, I mean she may have been smoking still but she knew booze and caffeine would have to go. As I emerged from the punchbag Lyra looked at me from the coffee machine and gestured with her head to come in. I did not have to wait long.

[prunelier]

people who simply need to point out there’s a “scientific” explanation to everything always rubbed me the wrong way, especially when it comes to complicated human things like mental illness or love or attraction or faith. i find it so tasteless, crass & strangely pretentious to pretend like everything, even the most complex feelings or occurrences are just due to chemicals neurons biases whatever shit. sorry no, this so called logic makes me want to die i’d rather believe there are some things that one cannot rationalize about the world & human existence, i’d rather believe there’s a part of magic, fate or divine influence in life, hidden somewhere we can’t see.

[turquoisea]

Family reunion

Pairing: Dabi/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dub-con, Degradation, Brother/Sister Incest, Manipulation, Guilt-tripping, OOC, Smut

Contains manga spoilers. Minors DNI.

Words: 4130

Synopsis: You was kidnapped while on your way home from work. Turned out your kidnapper was someone you knew.

A/N: I don't own any of the characters. Please read the warnings before continuing and we're gonna jump straight to the scene after (y/n) had been kidnapped (because i was too lazy to write the former part OTL)

==============

Unable to escape from the kidnapper’s tight rope around your wrists, you helplessly let him carry you to somewhere that looked like an abandoned building. Not like you could exactly tell where it was, given the fact that your eyes had been covered ever since he captured you until you two “arrived” at the destination. Either had you been able to scream or to call for help, “If you decide to be a naughty little girl and make a fuss, or to even let a single person know about this and hinder my work, I can and I will burn your whole workplace while letting your watch every single second of it.” – the kidnapper had threatened, making panic surged within your body; the only thing you could blurt out to answer his “Is that clear?” was a simple “Yes.” Not wanting to involve any of your aquaintances, you decided to keep your mouth shut the entire time. You thought that it was a better idea to wait until you could learn about what he wanted, his motives behind this before trying to escape.

He placed you down on the floor after carrying you into a small room with the action being a little too gentle for a kidnapper, you thought and opened your eyes only to be met with a pair of turquoise gazes, slightly hidden behind his spiky black hair. Those reminded you of Shouto’s left eye color but they had a rather.. captivating effect, making you unable to tear your eyes off them. More like Touya’s eyes – the recollection passing your mind was quickly brushed off, given the harsh reality that Touya has been dead for more than 10 years. You cautiously opened your mouth to ask, still keeping eye contact.

"What do you want?"

“…What do I want?” He repeated the question before slowly taking off his black face mask. The way he did it was deliberate, elegant even, as if he was putting on a show to reveal what’s hidden behind the mask. In front of you was an abnormal façade: Purple skin lied under his eye bags, his lower cheeks and lower lip, all the way down to his collarbone; connected together with the normal parts of the skin by surgical staples. An audible gasp escaped your throat the moment you realized that the man who abducted you was the wanted criminal you saw on TV.

“League of Villains.. You’re.. You’re Dabi…”

“Dabi? Ah yes, people call me that now. But I thought you would recognize me now, you’re my family after all..” He trailed off at the end, as though he was rather hurt by your comment.

“Family? Stop joking now, we don’t even know each other!”

“You sure? Even when you used to call me Touya-nii with that sweet voice of yours?”

“I said stop!! Listen, I have no idea why you know about Touya but he’s not alive anymore, don’t bring him into this!” Your shaking voice resounded with rage. In the past few years you’d partly moved on from your brother’s death, even learned how to stop tearing up whenever someone mentions him. To say you was mad was an understatement, since the kidnapper crossed the line, pulled out those emotions that you’d tried so hard to hide them away. You couldn’t stay calm anymore. This villain and the audacity to even mention Touya, let alone making such an unbearable joke about him.

“(y/n)-chan,” The way he called your name was too familiar “you still have the habit of defending me after all this time.”

“Wh..What.. do you mean?”

“Don’t you remember? You were always there to patch me up every time I went out training on my own. Those nights that distress and hatred consumed me, you were the only one who was willing to give me a shoulder to cry on, to hear me rant about that stupid family. You were the only one who didn’t refuse to look at a “failure” like me while our father focused all his attention on that “masterpiece”. You made me feel like I’m not useless, (y/n)-chan. Sure you haven’t forgotten, right?”

“You’re.. lying.. Touya-nii is..”

“Yes, yes. Everybody thought so.” He interrupted. “But I escaped from the fire and as you can see,” He raised his hand to touch the staples. “I’m still here. If I’d died in that fire, I would have become a ghost, an evil spirit to haunt the hell out of Todoroki Enji.” The explanation ended with a snort.

But not for you, you couldn’t possibly laugh about it the way he did. You were nothing but speechless. The big brother you once thought wasn’t here, could never be here with you anymore was still alive and kicking. Thoughts of how Touya had managed to live since that day started to emerge your mind and probably because of the invisible connection, the blood connection between you two, you could feel his pain, his suffering, the dull ache that never go away in every single staple on his body… It must’ve been hard for a thirteen-year-old child to manage by himself after crawling out of a literal hell, you thought, mouth still agaped with astonishment. Tears neither stopped welling up, nor did they escape your shiny orbs when you looked at him through your blurry vision. You had so many questions to ask, but none of them could be voiced.

“But that’s the story for another day. Now, we have to celebrate the happy reunion of brother and sister, right?” He interrupted your thoughts before slowly approaching you. His tall body hovered over yours, enhancing the feeling of being small and helpless as your hands still being tied behind your back. He gripped your jaw with one hand, the other started to work on the buttons of your shirt while Touya’s slightly chapped lips met your own in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly turned passionate, sloppy with his tongue chasing every corner of your mouth.

“Touya..nii..” You panted between his kisses, trying your best to stop him from doing what you think he was trying to do. “We shouldn’t.. You shouldn’t do this.. We’re siblings..”

“Ah yes, you’re my favorite sibling after all, one more reason why we should do this, right?” His stapled mouth stretched into a huge grin, then he leaned back to take in the view of your body.

“My little sister has grown up.. To be honest, I didn’t have any of these dirty thoughts when we were children but now, I just want to fucking ravish you until all you can think of is me and my cock.”

His dirty talk sent a shiver thorough your body and you started to feel heat coiling up in your core. As if amused, turned on by your reaction, Touya grabbed one of your breasts and gave it a squeeze, causing a soft moan to escape your pump lips.

“What was that? Don’t tell me (y/n)-chan is aroused by her very own brother, hm? I’ve been stalking you for a while, my little sister. ‘Twas hard to find you since you don’t live at that house anymore. Can’t believe behind all those innocent act is a little whore who gets aroused easily by her Touya-nii.” He spat out, specifically emphasized the phrase you used to call him. Blue eyes looking down at you as if you were indeed what he said – a slut waiting to be bred.

“Touya-nii.. Please stop it.. I don’t want this..” Looking up at him through your wet lashes, you said with a whimper, begging him to stop.

Little did you know it had no such effect for Touya. Seeing your vulnerable face in a helpless state only boosted his ego; he felt as if he was the only one you could rely on, the only one who was able to decide your fate and damn, he could never get bored of this.

“What a pity, (y/n)-chan, because I, in fact, DO want this.” Touya murmured between kisses, leaving red spots blossoming all over your breasts, your shoulders, your collarbone. “Don’t you want to make your Touya-nii happy (y/n)-chan? You see, there hadn’t been a single day in which these staples stopped hurting me whenever I move. My tear glands were burned ever since the fire. I couldn’t cry because when I do, it hurts and blood flows out of my eye bags.” His fingers indicated the purple skin underneath his eyes as he continued. “I've lived with emotional numbness ever since. Your big brother doesn't feel anything anymore, (y/n)-chan..” Touya trailed off.

“But you, the only one who didn’t refuse to look at me... Having you here with me really makes me happy, and the kind little sister I know wouldn’t want to take that happiness away from me right?..” Turquoise orbs looked up at you through black strands of hair. As if wavering, as if pleading, as if he was asking you for your consent.

All to hide the fact that he guilt-tripped you into this.

And with him being a quick-witted, perceptive man, Touya’s tactics were never fruitless. He could tell your conscience would be troubled if you’d turned him down, especially when he phrased the words like that. He took advantage of the shocking state you were in, making you feel pity for him and overlook his immoral behaviours.

Touya waited with bated breath, eye contact still maintained.

“I..I want Touya-nii to be happy..” – your reply after a moment of thinking only caused a chuckle to escape his mouth and it’s almost like this was all he had been waiting for, all in his anticipation. This was the exact reaction that Touya wanted and as your best big brother ever, he couldn’t possibly put off anymore without his hands as your bra, nor could he wait any longer to secure this “happiness”.

“Knew my favorite sister would say that.” Touya couldn’t hide his triumphant expression when he quickly made his way down to your skirt, lifting it up so he could see what’s underneath. Gently, he palmed your groin before dragging his middle finger between your clothed slit only to find that your panties was already soaked.

“Oh? I already knew you were a whore behind your innocent façade but didn’t think you would be this shameless.. Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “Getting all nice and wet for your own brother. You said you wanted to make me happy but in truth, you just need to feel nii-san’s cock inside your hole right? Shameless slut.”

You groaned in exasperation and opened your mouth to protest but before you could even say anything, he ripped your white panties apart, making you squirm in awe. The rough pad of his thumb dragged over your clit while his knees spread your legs wide and held them in places. Touya’s finger slowly rubbed your clit in a circular motion and you couldn’t help but wanting more of those frictions, your hips involuntarily bucked forward.

“I was going to eat my favorite little sister out, but it seems like you can’t wait any longer huh? Look at this little pussy..” He said while using his index and middle finger to swipe at your entrance, gathering your juices on them, his eyes didn’t miss the way it clenched around nothing. “You must be so, so desperate to feel anything inside your pathetic hole, right? Will my fingers be enough to satisfy it?”

“Touya-nii..”

“Don’t be vague, (y/n)-chan. Sure you don’t want to hump a pillow like a dumb slut with her hands still tied while watching me masturbate to the sight of you right? Because if you don’t use your words now, I might let us do that for real.”

“Please, Touya-nii, I don’t want to! I want.. to be filled up by you instead..”

Upon hearing your words, Touya started palming the large bulge of his pants before unzipping the fermeture, gently pulled his boxer down to show you what’s underneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of Touya’s veiny cock. It was not as big as what you usually see on movies (not that you don’t know the porn industry isn’t anywhere near realistic), but rather thin and long as it was hard, practically throbbing in his palm whenever he stroked the shaft. However, what made you surprise was the shiny Prince Albert piercing located on the glans, signaling a hard time in the near future for your cervix.

Seeing your face expression only made Touya’s smirk grew wider and he looked like the cat that got the cream when he continued making you use more of your words, making you beg for his cock.

“And you want to be filled by what?”

As hesitant as you were after seeing his cock piercing, the way his fingers ignited sparkles of fire inside your core had your pride, your uncertainty wavering. You’d rather be fucked until your mouth can’t even form a coherent sentence than be left naked and needy while watching him masturbates until he cums anywhere that’s not inside your pussy. So you used your words, like a good girl should.

“By your cock, Touya-nii! I want you to fuck me hard!”

“Sure thing, my cute little slut.” He cooed. “Who am I to refuse to give my sister what she needs? I’m a good brother after all.”

And as a “good” brother he was, Touya even slide his fingers inside your wet pussy to prepare you for his cock. Despite having a fire quirk like your father, his fingers were cold and were only warmed up by the heat inside your core. They smoothly pumped into you, scissored you open, sometimes even curled up on purpose only to slightly brush against your soft spot, leaving you wanting more. His other hand found its way again on your clit, rubbing and circling along with his continuous fingering until you were nothing but a moaning mess, begging for your release.

He decided that he’d prepared you enough and retreat his fingers just before you could reach your climax. You whimpered loudly when he took the orgasm away from you, legs instantly wrapped around his hips to pull him closer. You had never felt this touch-starved before and all you could think of was only your Touya-nii, his captivating blue gazes, his touch, his voice and his pierced cock that somehow fits perfectly on his slim but toned body. You needed to feel him and you clumsily rubbed your pussy against Touya while trying to break free from the ropes tying your wrists together. But all that you could do wasn’t near enough so you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Touya-nii.. Please.. Please give me your cock.. I can’t take it anymore, I need your cock inside me..”

“Fine, since you asked so nicely.” Touya sneered as if he wasn’t the one who purposefully denied your orgasm before holding his cock, rubbing the swollen red tip at your entrance, feeling your juices mixing with beads of his precum then thrusted it all the way in. You both winced the moment you and your brother became one: you from the depth that his cock could go and him from the way your walls clenched around it.

“(y/n)-chan.. Your little pussy feels so tight.. Not that I mind how many people you slept with but damn.. This pussy's a keeper for sure..” Sighing with a shaky voice, he pulled out slowly only to slam back in ruthlessly. His hands used the dagger from before to release your aching wrists then started to rub small circles on them as if to soothe the pain. With your hands now free from bound, you wrapped them around Touya’s neck to pull him even closer, your lips moved under his to meet them in a kiss.

"Touya-nii.. Please move.." After a moment long enough for your pussy to stretch to his size, you broke from the passionate kiss to whisper to him; your tongue softly licked his lower lip, feeling the rough texture while your pussy clenched around his cock. You lifted your hips, inviting your big brother to bury his hot member deeper into you.

"Eager, aren't we?" To your plea, he only chuckled before moving his hand to grab a handful of your tits, squeezing the soft mound, toying with your swollen nipple. "Your wish is my command, my baby sister. Nii-san's going to make you feel really good now." His voice sounded so sensual when he moved his mouth close to your ear, whispered honeyed-words then nibbled at your earlobe, causing you to clench your pussy even more.

Touya's hands traveled down to grab both of your asscheeks, held them tightly in their places before he started thrusting his pulsing cock. "So good.. Touya-nii.." You moaned in rhythm with his hips whenever he bottomed out inside you; his cock piercing rubbed your walls every time he moved. The friction felt heavenly that you could feel your legs started to shake as if you couldn't control them anymore. He was different. His cock was different from anything you'd ever experienced. Touya filled you up so well, both physically and emotionally, making you feel good, feel loved, making tears well up in your eyes.

He let your legs rest on his shoulders as he continued claiming your pussy to himself, each thrust was hard and deep 'til the point that Touya's tip touched your cervix whenever he sheathed his full length in you. It hurt, but it hurt so good that not only did you not want it to stop, you wanted more and more of him, you wanted to indulge longer in this sinful pleasure.

"Fuck.. You're so tight around me.." He groaned as his pace became faster. A hand retreated from under you to hover above your neglected clit before he started stroking it softly, rubbing back and forth, drawing repeated circles onto your bundle of nerves.

Touya didn't leave anywhere on your body untouched: your tits, your belly, your inner thighs, your asscheeks, your clit, your core. His name fell out of your lips between heated moans like prayers and the pleasure kept building up that you felt like you're about to burst into bliss. Everything was so intense and you started to you wonder, is it because he denied your orgasm before or because his cock could actually bring you heaven? Those thoughts crossed your mind but you didn't know the answer. He'd fucked you dumb and now you couldn't think of anything else other than him and the tension deepening in your lower belly.

"Touya-nii.. 'M wanna cum.. Please.. Please let me cum.." You whined when you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, afraid that he would deny it again if you don't beg.

"Cum on my cock baby, let me feel you. And you should be.. Fuck.. grateful that I let you do it.." He didn't stop his assault on your clit as he railed you hard and fast, his thrust grew sloppier when your pussy clamped down on him. Wet noises echoed in the abandoned building along with your whines and the moans that Touya tried to hold back.

"Thank you.. Thank you Touya-nii.. for letting me cum.." was all you managed to choke out before you threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut causing tears of pleasure to fall out and your pussy clenched around him as you released your pent-up pressure.

"Attagirl, nii-san loves you.. Gonna officially mark you now, 'mkay? Gonna breed this little sister's pussy, gonna fill you up with my cum and put a baby in you.." Touya leaned over to whisper into your open mouth, planting chaste kisses all over your face while sloppily humping your body like an animal. You could feel him burry himself deep inside you when his brows furrowed and he muttered "Fuck" before Touya came inside your pussy. His thick ropes were hot as they spilled into your womb, painting your walls with his colour.

A moment passed with nothing but pants as you both tried to regain your breaths. You closed your eyes, basking in the afterglow with his cock still plugged in when you heard the clicking sound of a camera. Your eyes immediately shot open only to find Touya holding his phone in hand.

"Touya-nii.. Did you just.." You warily asked.

"Oh? Did I forget to tell you?" Touya casually looked up from his phone, a smirk tugged at the corner of his stapled mouth and he suddenly looked so strange, as if the person in front of you and the one who just came inside you was two different people.

"You see, there are two possible ways to completely break Todoroki Enji." He began explaining, his voice distant. "One, is to kill his masterpiece Shouto right in front of him by the own hands of his 'failure'."

"And two," His eyes locked with you as his smirk grew wider. "is to let him see his pure little angel being corrupted by the abandoned son." Touya finished his short speech, his hips pulled back so his now limp cock fell out of you with a wet pop. White cum slowly dripped out of your used pussy, all captured by the camera again.

You could see the flame of anger burning in his eyes when he mentioned your father's name and the tone of disgust in his voice when he spoke lowly of himself. There were so many problems that you didn't know where to begin with. All you could do was hang your mouth open, speechlessly watched him typing something on the phone.

"There, all done." Touya cheerfully informed. "Don't worry a thing, my baby sister, no one will get to keep those pictures except for me. I sent them to the old man using Vanish Mode, he'll see them for a few seconds before they disappear forever, just like how his little angel vanish from his life. Oh how I wish I could see his expression when he opens my messages."

You were absolutely stunned. You never thought your dead brother was able to come out alive, let alone to even have a detailed plan to destroy your father's mentality. There were so many things that your mind couldn't process in an instant.

"So you.. So you fucked me just for this?.." Your voice came out shakier than you expected. Your hands unconsciously moved to cover yourself as you hugged your own body, the world starting to crumble in your eyes.

"Partly, yes. But I wasn't lying when I said I love you." Touya planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

"E-Enough with all of this. I'm going home!" You raised your voice and wriggled out of his touch.

"Can't let you do that (y/n)-chan. The world doesn't know me as Touya, you're the first, the honorable one. Can't risk you leaking my secret right? And I plan to torture old man's mind repeatedly with more images of you, just like how he projected everything onto me when I was young." He tilted his head and laughed, and suddenly you couldn't tell whether his laughter was genuine or was an act of mockery. Probably both.

"Besides, I'm a little.. disappointed that my favorite sister actually wants to part so, so soon, especially when we just had a rather.. emotional family reunion, no?" His mood seemed to light up as he continued speaking.

"What.. do you mean by that? Just let me go already! I promise I won't tell anyone!" Tears started to form in your eyes as you slowly realized what the man meant. You were uncomfortable with the room's atmosphere; it's overwhelming you and you didn't want to stay any longer. You looked behind him, trying to figure out an escape path.

"Now, if you wanted to go so badly," - your actions couldn't escape his perceptive eyes - "I'm gonna escort you to a better place, 'mkay? They're gonna track down this place soon enough since I texted him with my phone. But don't you worry, nii-san won't let anyone hurt you, my (y/n)."

Touya had an almost-innocent smile when he approached you with his arms open, as if waiting for you to give him a hug. You backed away, but as stubborn as this Capricorn man was, he still wrapped his arms around you.

Ever since your childhood, Touya's body was warm, Touya's embrace was always comforting. But now, everything he did chilled you to the bone, making you start to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly you felt a sharp prick on your skin; followed by your consciousness slowly slipping away. Your vision started to grow blurry and all you heard before you drifted off was his voice, whispering to your ear.

"Now we won't be alone anymore."

The End.

A/N 2: I hope you enjoyed it! English isn't my first language so please be gentle with me QwQ. Thanks for reading!

[tenthgrove]

Yandere Prompt Event- Melone with 40

40: “I told you I would never break a promise.”

Cw for pregnancy (unplanned, but consensual)

The moment you look down at the test everything starts to spin. It drops to the floor, then your body drops with it.

Two lines. You knew exactly what to look for of course, but now your desperate mind is pleading with itself to deny what you’re seeing. You reach for the test, lying under your shaking, keeled-over body, pointed at your abdomen. You hold it up. Still two lines, still positive.

You’re bearing your kidnapper’s child.

You grip the tile walls as you force yourself to your feet, still looking again and again at the test to confirm you really didn’t imagine it. When you sneaked the order for a box of pregnancy tests into Melone’s weekly grocery deliveries (buying it in person wasn’t an option as you still aren’t allowed out unsupervised) it was a mere precaution. Surely, there was some other explanation behind your missed period, he did let you take birth control after all. Then again, you were quite irregular with taking it. Maybe you should have seen this coming.

Wiping away a few stray tears, you take a deep breath. You clutch the test tightly as you go downstairs to find Melone. You aren’t looking forward to telling him, but it will have to be done eventually so you may as well start now.

A panic catches in your chest as you reach the door of the kitchen. He’s in there. You can here him moving from counter to counter- probably getting lunch. You stall. Maybe you should leave this for tomorrow.

“Is that you my Miele? Perfect timing, I was just wondering what to get you for lunch.”

You freeze, nerves clamming up your body. Perhaps you can still get out of this. Run, and have him think he was just imagining things. If you could bring yourself to move.

The door opens.

“Is everything okay? You look tense, love. Is something getting to you? If so, you’re welcome to try my incense. Or maybe you’d like a massage?”

“C-can we talk?” you blurt out. “It’s important.”

“Of course,” Melone answers. You don’t miss the trace of worry that crosses his face. “Shall we go somewhere more comfortable?”

“Yes. Yes please.”

You barely breathe as Melone leads you into the comfort of the sitting room. He throws an arm over you as you sit with your arms and legs crossed, the test still hidden up your sleeve.

“Melone… I,” you’re already starting to cry. You have to just get this over with, else you’ll never get around to showing him the test. You let it slip from your sleeve. “I was getting worried, so I took this, and…” as the two red lines come into view, you break down entirely. Melone’s hold around you tightens as he absorbs the news. He pulls you closer to him.

“Oh Miele, this is incredible news! I’m not sure how but I just had- a premonition of sorts, that something like this would happen soon.”

“I was stupid!” you sobbed. “I forgot to take my pills and didn’t tell you before we slept together- I- oh god I fucked up so bad!”

“Sweetheart you have nothing to apologise for. I’m not the least bit upset about it. What a happy accident!”

“I see,” you struggle to collect yourself. “I thought it would be this way. I thought you would- want me to have the kid.”

“Well, obviously your consent to go through with the pregnancy is paramount, but that provided, I would be thrilled to fulfil my dreams with this child,” Melone clarifies. You look up at him, blinking away tears.

“My consent?”

“Of course. Believe me, I am well-versed in the strains of pregnancy and childbirth, so while I would naturally help you through them all I’d never force you to do it.” Melone locks eyes with you. He sees the indecision in your face, and his smile falls. “Darling,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. “If you want me to call up the clinic, I’ll do it. No hard feelings. We can get rid of this if you want to.”

“I-” you look down at the ground. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to be trapped, you know?”

“I can understand that. I won’t make you be trapped. I promised when we started love-making that in spite of my aspirations, I would never force you to have children you weren’t ready for. I told you I would never break a promise.”

“Okay,” you mutter. You let yourself fall against his chest. “That means a lot to me.”

“Just… if you need anything from me to help make your mind up, tell me. I know all about it, believe me.”

“Yeah, I know,” you look up with a smile. “You almost became an obstetrician, so you say all the time.”

“I’m very proud of it, Miele,” Melone smirks.

“As you should be for being able to stomach all that stuff. I guess… it’s not really the biology of it all I’m hung up on. At the end of the day a pregnancy is a pregnancy, and my thoughts on that don’t change just because I’m with you. It’s more about… the specifics of our situation in particular,” you admit.

“I’m earning plenty now the new Don is in place. And I wouldn’t disclose the specifics of my work to our child, rest assured.”

“I know you would never. That’s not what’s bothering me. It’s more… well I didn’t exactly choose to be here did I? You still don’t let me leave the house without you with me and if I want anything more expensive than corner shop sweets I have to ask you. Is that how our kid is going to live? For their whole lives?”

“God no! I’ll have you know I’m very permitting with my ideal of parenthood, and to keep a child isolated from the world would be detrimental to their development! Look, I’ll even have a word with my contacts to see if we can bribe the right people into registering the birth in spite of our… well, situation. That way our child can still go to school, pursue a career, and do everything else a member of society normally would. How does that sound to you?”

“That sounds great, really reassuring actually. It’s a huge weight off my shoulders.” you affirm. “There’s just one question I have now. If our kid can do all that, then what about me?” you ask nervously.

Melone slaps you playfully on the shoulder.

“Darling, at the rate you’re going, you’ll have earned the freedoms to go and do as you please long before the baby comes out. I always said I would let you do that eventually.”

Smiling, Melone crawls into your lap, taking your face into his hands. “And you’ve just been so good for me.”

[dickgrcyscns]

Falling For You

Falling For You, Edward Cullen. Written from a females perspective. 

Summary: In which you let something very important come up under your breath, completely forgetting that your best friend is a vampire with super hearing. 

Set During: Twilight

Word Count: 1580 words

Gif used not mine!

Being around him felt like dancing on top of the stars. He was magical, something out of this world. In truth, he was just dead. But he still made your human heart beat twice as fast when the two of you spent time together. He still managed to make your thoughts go crazy (which were especially unhelpful when he could read thoughts, though you typically just repeated song lyrics around him so he couldn’t hear your true feelings). A part of you wished you could never come off of that high. To be with him forever. In every sense of the word. Because you would stop at nothing to be with him, truly.

No matter how he felt about it, you wanted a forever with him. Even if you were bound to stay just friends, you never wanted to leave his side. The two of you worked well together and in some odd way, it was like the universe pushed for the two of you to be together. You liked to believe that was what happened. That somewhere within the cosmos, you and Edward were created from the same star. Two halves meant to find each other. And it was silly to think of something like that, a bit naive if anything. But you would never believe in anything less when it came to Edward.

He was everything you ever wanted. The only problem, he was your best friend. And best friends don’t normally feel that way about each other. 

You rolled your eyes, holding onto the strap of your backpack with a smile as Edward met you in the hallway. The two of you began to walk towards the parking lot. This was normal for you guys, Edward driving you to your home and finding a way to stay over there for at least an hour. You knew he enjoyed it at your house, your family was always kind to him and they never interrupted you two when you were together. They trusted the two of you. A little too much from what Edward had said. But it was your normal and you loved it. Getting to spend time with him, listen to him rant about some of the idiotic thoughts some of your childhood friends have during classes, you loved it. When he would throw his head back and a chuckle tore past his lips, he was exactly like an angel.

“Y/n?” Edward waved a hand in front of your face, a confused expression resting on his own. “You stopped listening to what I said a while back.”

“I,” you muttered, knowing he could hear you no matter what, “I don’t even think I heard you start talking.”

“You’ve got a storm of thoughts going on around your mind, I can’t even make out something cohesive. Is everything okay? We don’t have to hang out today, I can always drop you off at your house and get you up to bed. A nap might do you well.”

“I’m not tired,” you muttered. “Just a lot going on, nothing to worry over.”

“You’re saying that you’re fine, but I don’t think you are. Seriously, Y/n, you’re not acting like yourself. Maybe Alice has an idea,” Edward shook his head at you, walking off to meet his “sister” with a smile. You couldn’t hear him, though if you were a vampire like him you would be able to, but you knew they were talking about you. Alice glanced over to you from time to time, a worry-stricken face that she tried her best to hide. You felt fine. There wasn’t anything to worry about, at least not for you. It was just — you couldn’t keep him off of your mind. And you had to do something to keep him from hearing your true feelings. So, you kept everything scrambled and across the place. That normally kept him from pressing for answers from you (and it also convinced him to stay out of your mind).

“Edward, I promise you, I’m fine.” You waved him off as you sat down in the car. “Now, are we going to go or?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Edward muttered, sparing a glance at you.

You knew that he wasn’t going to drop it, he never did. That was something you admired most about him. When it came to the people he cared about, the people he considered his family (to which, he would never admit, included you), he never stopped until the truth came out. For the most part, he never needed to scrape for it because he could hear exactly what it was from your mind. But at days like these, when your brain was scattered and even you had a hard time focusing on just one thing, he wasn’t able to get a clear answer. You knew exactly what was happening to you, it was something you had been trying so hard at keeping locked away. But feelings are fatal and you can’t always hide them. No matter how hard you try. 

“Y/n,” Edward paused for a moment as you two stalled at a red light. “You would tell me anything right?”

“Even if I didn’t, you would know,” you pointed out. “There’s no point in keeping secrets if you can read thoughts Eddie.”

“So you’re not causing your own mind to be scrambled to keep something from me?” Edward glanced over at you, just as you sucked in a light breath before letting it out as a giggle. 

“Edward, why would I do that?”

“I’m not sure,” his brows furrowed, “but it’s the only reasonable explanation I have for what’s going on with you. And if it’s something you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. I can back off for a while so you don’t have to tire yourself out doing that, okay? Whatever it is, I can tell you I’m not one to judge. Not at all.”

“That’s a lie,” you narrowed your eyes. “You judge people all the time.”

“Not you,” Edward smiled. “You’re different.”

“That’s also a lie, you judge me all the time.”

“I promise you that I wouldn’t this time,” you looked over to him, scanning his face as he spoke. His brow was quirked down, it only happened when he was worried about something, and his lips were pursed ever so slightly. A sigh tumbled from your lips as your head fell into your hands. “I’m giving you my word, Y/n, this is a judgement free zone. Now, will you please tell me whatever it is that is going through that mind of yours because I’m getting worried.”

“Edward,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “this could ruin our friendship, I don’t want to lose you because of something silly.”

“It’s not silly if you’re going to great lengths to hide it.”

You knew he was right, something in you wanted to scream it from the rooftops. Let the entire world know you are completely and utterly in love with Edward Anthony Mason Cullen, another part of you wanted to keep it hidden. Allow no one but yourself (and let’s be honest probably Jasper, you can hide your thoughts but feelings? no way) to know that secret. Sitting there, with your hands folded in your lap and chest filling with air, you were reminded of everything that made you fall in love with him in the first place. It was the small things; his smile when the sun started to set or the way he would go out of his way to make sure you were comfortable. The way he would protect you, softly wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he guided you through the town. Or maybe it was the way he allowed you to rest your head on his chest while watching a movie at his house, placing a blanket around your body and pulling you closer to him. Every little moment that was placed so soundly in your mind, a memory you liked to recall on often when you needed a smile. 

You didn’t want to lose him. You didn't want to lose your light.

“I don’t want to lose you, Edward.”

“I’m right here and not planning on going anywhere.”

“You haven’t heard what I’ve been keeping from you.”

“I stand by what I said before.”

“Even if I told you,” a quick pause as you built up the courage. “If I told you that I was falling in love with you.”

A beat. “Then I’d tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Pause. That was not the response you had expected. You blinked a few times, processing what he had just said to you. “What?”

“I’m in love with you Y/n,” Edward smiled. “You have my entire soul in your hands.”

“That was,” you sputtered. 

“Not what you expected?” You shook your head. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting for you to say it either. But it’s the truth, I’m in love with you Y/n. I have been for a while. And I’d love to be able to take you out on a date, a proper one. You could have a nice dinner and I could just watch.”

“Or we could put on a movie up in my room and do something we both enjoy?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Great.”

“Amazing,” Edward sent you a dazzling smile. 

“I regret keeping that a secret for so long.” You muttered, because maybe you had kept it a secret for a little too long. 

[teawaffles]

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 4

Note: Some language. Also, this is a long chapter!

Aside: The chapter numbering has been altered slightly — the previous chapter is now just Chapter 3, rather than Chapter 3 Part 1.

Lestrade seemed mortified that they hadn’t even managed to preserve the scene of the crime, for his shoulders quietly slumped.

“Have you managed to deduce anything so far?” he asked Sherlock.

The detective spoke languidly.

“First off, about the man in the room…… Let’s assume he was not only dead, but also murdered. Then if we take the straightforward explanation that it’d been blood on his back, he would’ve most likely been killed using a physical weapon; I’m thinking it could be either a stab or shot wound. As for potential suspects…… An obvious one would be the other fugitive. For motive, they could’ve had a simple falling-out, or maybe he wanted to silence his accomplice for fear of his own arrest.”

The inspector brooded over his analysis.

“A stab or shot wound, hmm. If it’s the former, the attacker would’ve needed to break into the room.”

“Yep, so the most promising candidate right now’s that ‘In the middle of the chaos from the fire, the man had been sniped through the window’.”

“If that’s the case, then does it mean the fire had been an act of arson?”

“It’s highly likely. Do we have a detailed description of the room’s furnishings?”

“For that, let’s ask the officer who witnessed the scene himself.”

Lestrade made a strangely grim expression, then looked in the distance, beckoning someone to come over. But when Sherlock saw him, his jaw dropped.

“……So it’s you.”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

It was Assistant Inspector Gregson. Sherlock was lost for words; before him, Gregson scowled and crossed his arms. He had been the officer who’d stood watch outside the room when the incident occurred, and the sole witness of the murder scene.

Now that he knew that, Sherlock finally understood why the man had been acting strange earlier.

“Ohh, I see. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to face us — the criminal you arrested had been killed before your very eyes.”

Sherlock smirked, and Gregson replied in frustration.

“I-I’m keenly aware of my responsibility in this. But at any rate, as a police officer, I have no reason to feel indebted to you.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. But from what you said, that means you were the one who’d been in charge of the scene back then. Was there some reason why you chose to remain behind and stand watch?”

Gregson seemed to find it difficult to say aloud.

“……During the interrogation, a crowd had formed around the building; in order to calm them down, I’d wanted to mobilise all the officers at the scene with me. But we absolutely needed someone to keep watch over the fugitive, and I thought my personality wouldn’t be suited to placating the residents here, so I remained behind…… Though, now that I think about it, that had been a rather short-sighted judgement.”

Gregson narrowed his eyes, seemingly vexed at his own mistake, but Lestrade cut in.

“No, I think that was quite a logical decision. Moreover, to begin with, all of you were sent to such a difficult scene on my orders. So part of the blame rests with me as well.”

“N-No, you’re not at fault here, Inspector; it was all due to my carelessness.”

As Lestrade and his subordinate argued back and forth, Sherlock raised a hand to stop them.

“Sorry, but let’s talk about who’s to blame later. For now, our priority’s to share information, isn’t it?”

Annoyed at being spoken to like that by the detective he so detested, Gregson turned to face Lestrade.

“……Well then, what would you like to know, Inspector?”

“The furnishings in the room, please.”

Gregson’s gaze trailed upward as he recalled what he saw back then.

“About the interior, there wasn’t anything particularly unusual. The room was rectangular, with a small bed, a table and two chairs. As for entry points, there was a window on its north side, and the needlessly sturdy door opposite it. There wasn’t even a mirror nor a bathroom.”

Hearing that, Sherlock’s expression turned serious.

“So it was really just a place to sleep. Then, about the man who collapsed while handcuffed to the chair or something — what part of the room was he in?”

Gregson glared hatefully at him, and responded in a thorny tone.

“When I looked through the keyhole, he was on the floor right before my eyes. It was around one step away from the door. And his back — or more precisely, the area stretching from his back to somewhere around his waist — was stained the colour of blood.”

At this point, Sherlock asked a question.

“The victim’s hands were each cuffed to the chair’s armrests, right? If he’d still been in that state, I thought the chair would’ve been resting on his back.”

Furrowing his brows, Gregson crossed his arms.

“There was only so much I could see through the keyhole, so I didn’t manage to get a look at his entire body; but the chair was nowhere near his back. This is just my speculation, but I think he might’ve forcefully broken the armrests and escaped his bonds.”

“Was the chair really that shoddy?”

“……He didn’t put up much of a fight when we arrested him, so I got careless and used something close by to restrain him. On second thought, it was remiss of me to do so.”

Hearing Gregson’s reflection, Sherlock contemplated the fugitive’s exact movements.

“So that means he managed to get free of the chair, and move around the room with his hands still cuffed. In that case, wouldn’t he have made some noise? Though, the commotion from the residents back then might have drowned it out.”

“I don’t think so; even if there had been the sound of the chair breaking, I’m sure I would’ve noticed it. The problem is what happened after the fire began. Back then, I was in a panic, and both the inside and outside of the building were in such an uproar that I didn’t have the attention to notice any noises coming from the room.”

Mortified, Gregson lowered his gaze once again, but Sherlock continued in a calm voice.

“So the arrested fugitive didn’t make his move until the fire broke out. Was there anything in the room that could’ve been used as a weapon?”

“Of course, we thoroughly inspected the room before the interrogation began. From the start, that was the room the man himself had stayed in, so we searched it down to the very corners in case he had hidden anything inside. But we didn’t find anything that could’ve been used as a weapon.”

Gregson said so with certainty, but Sherlock was still not convinced.

“Obviously there were things that could’ve been used to kill or wound, now weren’t there? If he’d broken the wooden armrests, the pieces could have been fashioned into a stake. Even if he didn’t do that, he could’ve broken off wood from the floor or the wall, and created a weapon in the same way.”

“……It sounds like you’re saying he could’ve taken advantage of the commotion from the fire to commit suicide. But even if, as you suggested, he tried to kill himself with a sharp object, normally one would try to cut their neck — it’s hard to believe he would’ve stabbed himself with enough force for the weapon to pierce through his back.”

Gregson had made a reasonable argument; but even as he concurred, Sherlock put forward a different perspective.

“However, let’s say he did break off some wood from the floor or wall, and pared it into a sharp point: what if, when he was moving around, he accidentally fell onto it? It’s not clear whether it was deliberate or unintentional, but I’m thinking it was a fatal wound.”

Sherlock was still pursuing the idea that the criminal had died by his own hand. Hearing that, for a moment, Gregson forgot his animosity and pondered. Then, he shook his head in a gentle denial.

“I don’t think that’s the case either. If it were, there would’ve been some sharp object and bloodstains left in the room. But from what I saw through the keyhole, the walls and floor were clean, and there’d been nothing resembling bloodstains. There were some tiny splatters of something like blood around the body, as well as little puddles of the same substance; but in terms of noticeable bloodstains, that was all I saw.”

“——Only that? If he’d bled out enough for his back to be dyed red, there should’ve been an equivalent amount of blood splattered all around him.”

Sherlock tilted his head. Gregson also thought it strange, and knitted his brows.

“It gets stranger and stranger the more I think about it. It doesn’t seem to be the case that the weapon staunched the wound when he was stabbed…… Maybe he’s anaemic?”

“…………”

It wasn’t clear whether Gregson had been joking, or if that had been unintentional. With a thoughtful look, Sherlock kept his mouth shut.

Then Lestrade, who’d been listening attentively thus far, offered his own theory.

“From what I’ve heard, it seems this is neither a suicide nor an accident. Then what if he was just pretending to be dead? Perhaps the other fugitive had started the fire at some prearranged time. Then the man who’d been caught pretended to be dead, and waited for the officer outside to leave before escaping. Maybe he purposely collapsed in front of the door, in order to have Gregson witness it. As for the blood, he could’ve used some red paint to fake it.”

But Sherlock disputed that view.

“It’s not a bad theory, but then the question remains as to how he managed to splatter the paint in that way. Moreover, he probably wanted to escape the inn; but the other officers had secured the area around the building, right?”

Hearing that, Gregson scowled.

“I don’t like agreeing with you…… But certainly, I didn’t receive any reports that he’d left the room.”

Sherlock looked at the charred ruins of the inn.

“Then he hadn’t managed to escape, so it’s highly likely that he’s been burnt to a crisp in there. Just wondering, were there any secret passages in the room?”

Astonished, Gregson chuckled.

“No way; it’s not like this is a secret base. Besides, we checked the room thoroughly: even if there had been an escape route, we would’ve found it.”

“If we’re talking about escape routes, he could have also broken through the walls or the floor, couldn’t he?”

Gregson pondered over Lestrade’s question for a second, then shook his head gently.

“Certainly, the inn was old, and also not maintained very well: various parts of the walls and floor were decaying, and I even saw some tiny holes where they had rotted through. If we’d taken the time and effort, I think it would’ve been possible to break through them. Still, just like the chair, I’m sure I would’ve caught the sound of the walls or floorboards being stripped off — I was standing right in front of the room. Moreover, if he only started his work after I left, then he would’ve been caught in the blaze before he managed to complete his escape.”

“……I see. The fire seems to have spread pretty fast, and it would’ve been impossible for him to finish the passage right away, now wouldn’t it?” Lestrade agreed.

Then, Sherlock clapped his hands together.

“With that, we’ve eliminated the theory that he faked his death and escaped. We can’t be fully certain until the debris has been searched; but at present, by the process of elimination, there are no longer any obstacles to the theory that this is a locked-room murder, yes?”

Sherlock weaved together the various sources of information as he made that assertion, and Lestrade concurred.

“In that case, just as I’d thought, we’ll need to search for the other fugitive. But a long time has passed since the fire broke out: wouldn’t he have already escaped?”

“About that, Inspector: I have one piece of good news.”

With a proud expression, Gregson continued.

“We know that the other fugitive has burns on his face. Among the guests who evacuated the inn during the fire, there were three men with such injuries.”

“Really? ……But, couldn’t they just be regular people who got caught in the fire?”

Lestrade was doubtful. Immediately, Sherlock responded.

“Not necessarily; no one had entered or left the inn both before and after the fire, so naturally, the arsonist must’ve been inside the building……. Is that what you wanted to say, Mr Assistant Inspector?”

“……Yeah.”

Having had the role of explaining the situation stolen from him, Gregson responded blandly.

An assistant inspector who detested detectives, and the detective himself who enjoyed that antipathy. Hearing their usual exchange, Lestrade broke into a wry smile.

“In that case, we should meet the three and talk to them.”

“Of course; they’ve been gathered at a different location, so…… Hmm?”

Just as Gregson was about to show him the way, he suddenly frowned. Once again, the crowd that had amassed near the scene was starting to make a commotion.

“Oi, you shitty bobbies! There’s soot all over the place, and it’s a pain in the ass!”

“This must be all your doing, oi!”

“Don’t think you can just go home scot-free after all you’ve done here!”

Now that the fire had been put out, it seemed the locals’ anger towards the Yard had gradually been rekindled; all at once, the residents of the slums began to kick up a fuss. As foul-mouthed insults were launched from one group, a torrent of frustration exploded from another in a chain reaction — in a flash, Lestrade and the others were stranded in a storm of fury.

Their enmity had surged out of the blue, and Lestrade was clearly on edge.

“This isn’t good. We’ll have to calm them down and try to explain that we’ve been only pursuing the criminals.”

“That won't work: they were already annoyed when the Yard arrived, and then that fire broke out — it’s more than enough to make them furious.”

Sherlock calmly analysed the situation, but Gregson’s reply was steeped in frustration.

“Then what should we do? At this rate, we’ll have a real fight on our hands.”

Still, Sherlock was unruffled.

“The answer’s clear and simple: get on with it and find the real culprit. Once we reveal the actual cause of the fire, they should calm down. Our job hasn’t changed — it’s just that the time limit has morphed into something we can see.”

“……So we have until their anger reaches a boiling point?”

At once, Lestrade understood what needed to be done. He heaved one big sigh, and put on his game face once again.

“Gregson: show Holmes to the suspects. I’ll work with the others to appease the crowd. While we’re keeping a lid on the situation, I want you two to solve the case together.”

“‘Eh?’”

Both Gregson and Sherlock exclaimed in perfect harmony. Then they looked at one another; The detective lowered his gaze slightly as he thought it through, then let out a thin exhale.

“So it’s come to this.”

“Oi, I could see you giving up after thinking about a lot of things, you know.”

Gregson glared at him in disapproval. Meanwhile, Lestrade placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Alright: I’m counting on you both.”

Leaving just those reassuring words behind, he left gallantly towards the crowd. Eloquently, the inspector had entrusted the entire investigation to them, and Sherlock’s eyes were filled with resignation as he watched the man depart.

“Now this has gotten troublesome,” he mumbled.

“Hmm? Are you talking about the case? Or about the fact that we’re working together?”

“No, no, I’m talking about how this has become a rather odd ‘riddle’.”

Gregson’s ears had been sharp, but Sherlock parried his retort with diplomacy.

——“Hang in there, Sherlock!”

Having been paired up with a troublesome man, in a glum Sherlock’s mind, it felt as though John’s encouraging cheers were ringing out.

Translator’s notes

Mysteries and ‘riddles’

You might have noticed that Sherlock and Lestrade sometimes talk about ‘riddles’. The original text differentiates between 謎 and〝謎〟(notice the quotes) — the word itself means mystery/riddle, but the quoted version is used to refer to the mysteries that are (possibly) linked to the Lord of Crime. For instance, at the end of Forbidden Games (Book 2 Story 1), William also talks about the ‘riddles’ he sets for Sherlock.

I chose to translate the quoted version as ‘riddles’, since I think the word ‘mystery’ implies that the case might not have a solution; in contrast, I feel the word ’riddle’ suggests that the mystery has a solution, since it was intentionally created by William in the first place.

[teacup-set]

time will wash every tower to the sea

"Sakura." he says, with the sacredness of a prayer. 'That's not my name', she thinks, but there is such an aching familiarity in his voice that she swears it could have been.

FFN.

-x-

Time will wash every tower to the sea, but never you and me.

-x-

Fated

When Sakiko wakes up that morning, she feels electricity in the air. Static at her fingertips, the taste of metal in her mouth, the weight of lead in her stomach. 

Life at the hospital is too fast paced though, and there is no free moment to consider the anticipation that has been building in her chest till the end of her sixteen-hour shift. Standing over the metal sink, clawing to get out the blood that has dried in the crevices around her fingernails, she finally pauses long enough to feel the zing in the atmosphere. ‘What is it?’, she wonders, ‘Am I forgetting something?’ 

Staring in the mirror over the sink, she regards her tired green eyes and limp pink hair falling out of her ponytail. She frowns as she tries to remember if something was supposed to happen today. It feels like a half forgotten memory trying to reach the tip of her tongue but getting lost somewhere in her throat. She goes over every patient she is assigned one by one, trying to remember if there is something she has forgotten, but comes up empty. 

Frustrated, she gathers her things and leaves the locker room. Walking down the hospital hallway, she ticks off things in her mind. ‘Groceries? I don’t need to shop for another week, I think. Electricity bill? Wait no, I paid that already. What could it be?’ She feels the tingling on her skin grow stronger as she nears the hospital doors. Waving a cheery goodbye to the people at the reception, she turns the handle of the staff exit door and steps out into the dying sunlight. Breathing in the cool evening air, she immediately feels relief in her muscles and wonders if the rumbling apprehension was just a consequence of being cooped up inside all day.

She has barely finished the thought when her gaze meets mismatched onyx and purple eyes that mirror the alarm and surprise in her own, and suddenly every muscle in her body is more coiled than ever before. She feels her throat closing, her body running out of air, and the sudden clarity of her mind.

She has never seen this man before, she knows, but a voice inside her head whispers ‘This is it.’

-x-

Salvation

In every lifetime, Sasuke wonders what it will be like when he finds her again (because he will, this much he knows), but he never imagined it would be quite like this. 

Stumbling upon her in a small satellite town, where he only stopped by to post a letter. 

He was on his way out of the town when he was suddenly trapped by gravity, rooted in place by a feeling he couldn’t name growing in his chest. 

And just like that, she walked out through the most unremarkable doors, extraordinary forest green eyes finding his. 

He thinks this is what it must be like to find the face of God at the end of a pilgrimage.

-x-

Pinnacle

Sakiko isn’t religious, not particularly spiritual either, but staring at his dark hair against alabaster skin with eyes she could never forget but somehow can’t remember, she thinks she has found enlightenment. 

She feels like an eternity has passed her by as they stare at each other across the street. Suddenly he is moving, unmindful of the traffic passing by, looking every bit as bewildered as her. 

In a blink he is in front of her, eyes drinking her in like she is the pinnacle of some journey, an artist’s magnum opus, a scientist’s greatest discovery, a ghost. 

“Sakura.” he says, with the sacredness of a prayer. 

‘That’s not my name’, she thinks, but there is such an aching familiarity in his voice that she swears it could have been.

-x-

Remembrances 

It doesn’t take long for him to realize she doesn’t know who he is, not in the way he knows her, but there is still a shard of remembrance buried within her mortal soul that has transcended the same lifetimes he has. 

Why else would she bring a man she never met into her home without either of them uttering a word of explanation. 

He sits on her deep navy couch and takes in the small apartment. It feels like an out-of-body experience to see her new life reflected all over the space. Pictures with people he has never known, shelves lined with books he has never heard of, little trinkets with histories that are foreign to him. He feels a pang in his chest. 

But his eyes find her again, leaning against the kitchen counter twiddling her thumb like she did when she was nervous, dressed in blue hospital scrubs (of course she would be a healer, of course), the same vision of pink and green he has yearned for across ages, and he knows with utmost clarity that the entirety of time couldn’t chip away at their familiarity.

“My name is Sakiko.” she says, frowning.

Sakiko, he mulls. He supposes he should have expected her name would be different, but he rejoices that even now her name is the personification of spring. Even after all this time spent searching for her, he has no idea where to start telling her about him and their history.

“I’m Sasuke.” he says, deciding that’s as good a place to start as any. 

Her doe eyes widen as she swallows a small gasp, like the name had been inside her all along, asleep beneath her consciousness, and he wonders perhaps there isn’t as much to explain as he had thought.

-x-

Transcendental 

‘We were lovers,’ he had told her, choking slightly on the were.

Sakiko wonders when all her scientific aptitude her teachers gushed about went down the drain because she believes him with the utmost confidence.

He told her that many lifetimes ago they had been shinobi from the village hidden in the Leaves, that they had been on the same team, had fought in a war together, had fallen in love, gotten married, and had a child together. 

Her mind is reeling as she struggles to catch up. She knew about shinobi, but she never imagined she could be one. She had no idea where the Hidden Leaf was. She certainly hadn’t ever fought in a war. 

But staring into his clashing eyes, feeling the reverb of his voice in her bones, ‘I could have loved him’ she thinks.

-x-

Dread 

He cradles the mug of hot tea she had made for him, watching the steam rise and dissipate into the air. Sakur-Sakiko is sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table, quietly listening as he recounted their past lives. 

Through his journey recounting his first birth as Indra, to the incarnation of the Sasuke she had known, and the many lifetimes that had passed by since then till now, she hung onto every word in rapture. Frowning in confusion, smiling in amusement, even crying some tears at the many tragedies that had punctuated his and her life, but she never once looked surprised or disbelieving. 

Many quiet moments pass as he drinks his tea and she lets the information sink in. 

“How do you remember everything?” she asks him, looking helpless at her own lack of memory. 

He sets his cup down. “In every life since the one I knew you, when I turn seventeen, my rinnegan awakens and I remember every past life. Naruto awakens the Six Paths Sage Mode and he remembers too. In most lifetimes we both find each other. Sometimes we don’t.”

“Did you find him this time?” 

“Aa.” 

“Where is he now?”

“He is looking for Hinata, his partner.” 

“Oh. Has he found her before?” 

“Yeah, he mostly does. She is a descendant of the Otsusuki too, and most of the time she remembers and they find each other. Even if she doesn’t, she always remembers when he finds her.” 

Something in her expression shifts. 

“I loved you, didn’t I? Why don’t I remember?” she says, her voice sounding small. 

He feels a tectonic shift in his chest, like his entire heart has been displaced by the fears he had been trying to run from all these years. He doesn’t know how to tell her how absolutely terrified he had been that he would never find her, that her mortal ancestry meant that she was never reborn. How he and Naruto, and even Hinata, had searched for her like savages to the ends of the earth, starting over from scratch every new cycle. How on every deathbed he had longed for her, and prayed for his life to end once and for all if she was no longer on the earth. He wants to tell her what a miracle it is that she is here and he has found her, that her memory is a small price to pay because he will tell her a thousand times if he has to, but he knows the words will crush him on their way out. 

He doesn’t even realize she has moved till he feels the dip in the couch where she rests her knee, and then the embrace of her arms around him. Neither of them has said anything but he knows she understands.

-x-

Kindered

One look at him and she knows what he is thinking. She can read the terror in his eyes as clear as day: I thought I'd never find you. 

She feels the landslide in her own chest, tumbling down to her stomach and weighing her down. 

"Why did you keep looking?" She asks, burrowing her head in his shoulders, crying for a man she has loved without ever knowing. 

He is quiet for a long time and she thinks he isn't going to answer. Then he says- 

"You told me once that you knew we were soulmates when you and Naruto were looking for me after I left, and when you were combing through Kaguya's worlds to find me. You said you could find me through every age, solar system, and dimension. That there was a current that pulled you to where I was-” 

He feels her still. 

“-When I was reborn that first time without you, I understood what you had meant.”

-x-

Luminsecent

She can’t breathe. 

It's all too much. The buzz in the air all morning, the weight of ancient history, the indescribable pull towards the man sitting on her couch. He looked so completely wrecked at the hands of time, like a man who had no choice but to endure in his quest, only to pause at the finish line long enough to take in just how tired he is. He had suffered the ruthlessnesss of so many lives, looking for her. 

‘I’ve been looking for you, too’ something inside her whispers, ‘I just never knew till I found you.’

She knows she is crying, and though she can’t see his face from her position in their embrace, she thinks he is too. 

She looks over behind her shoulder to watch the spring sunrise pour in through her window and slowly inch towards them across the living room floor. She never realized when the entire night passed them by. 

Detangling her arms from around him, she settles on the couch, angling herself towards him. He lifts his head from his arms and looks at her. 

She breathes in deeply...and then begins-

“I was born in a smaller village on the outskirts of this town. I went to the Land of Earth to study medicine, and then returned here to work at the hospital. I never knew my parents, I was raised by my aunt. I like reading philosophy and history, and...I guess I still like sweets.”

He stares at her with wide eyes as he slowly realizes what she is trying to do. She carries on telling him about the life she has lived, the one he missed, and watches as he clings on to every word, like every little insignificant fact she told him gave him a second chance, another rebirth. 

By the time she is finished they are drenched in sunlight, from the same sun they sat under together in their past lives, and she feels like her skin is on fire. 

It’s a new morning, another beginning, another chance. 

“Do you want to grab some lunch?” she asks, struck by the mundaneness of the question in the aftermath of such a transcendental disclosure. 

He clears his throats and nods. 

She flashes him a smile and wonders how it pairs with her tear streaked cheeks, and parts with him briefly to wash her face and grab her keys. 

She pauses at the apartment door and waits for him to join her, only to find him staring at her with an intensity that takes her breath away. 

“I…” he begins, “Thank you, Sakiko”

Something in his words ignites something within her, and she feels like a trapeze sailing through the air but falling just short of waiting hands. 

“Sakura.” she says abruptly, “You.. can call me Sakura.” she announces. 

For a moment he looks surprised, and then smiles like he has been set free. 

“Thank you, Sakura.” 

There is magic in those words that she can feel in her soul, a certainty that surpasses the transience of life, the finality of physics.

‘In the next life, I will look for you.’ she vows, ‘but first, this one.’

They step out into the daylight.

Fin.

-x-

A very indulgent piece I wrote inspired from Samsara by @kuriquinn and Queitus by SeraphinaScribes, both of which I recommend you read. Hope you enjoy!

[asthmark]

❝ stuck ❞ l.dh

request → “Hi~ I'm absolutely in love with your work. It makes me so soft uwu. I was wondering if you could write a Haechan one similar to the roommate Jeno one you wrote. About what it's like to just live with him” —@demiwizardstay​

pairing → demon!haechan, reader, guardianangel!mark

word count → 4.5k

a/n → whoops i made this into a demon!haechan au hahaha sorry i hope this is domestic enough for u tho :D

your eyes must be playing tricks on you.

there’s no other reasonable explanation. 

on the other hand, the shadow splayed out ever so comfortably on your couch seems to be very real. it must be just as aware of your presence as you are of its but to your surprise, it isn’t telling you to put your hands where it can see them or demanding to know where all your most valuable items are. it sits there, peacefully as if it owns the place. for a split second you consider the possibility that you walked into the wrong apartment but the key in your hand reminds you that the situation you are in is not your fault in any way. 

“so... are you gonna scream or just stand there?”

the figure’s voice is unmistakably masculine and drips with sass. you know you should feel scared. your heart should be pounding as your shaky fingers dial 911 and you hysterically report an intruder to the authorities and beg them to come fast. however, it seems that this stranger’s calm aura has rubbed off on you as you respond with an equally as unbothered tone.

“well, i would appreciate it if you invited me in.” you pause. “oh wait, it’s my apartment.”

with that, you step inside and go about your regular routine with a calmness you didn’t know you possessed; especially when there was an… unwelcome visitor lounging on your sofa. despite that, you kick off your shoes and toss your jacket somewhere on the floor like you normally would. you twirl your keys around your fingers as you go to turn to flick on the light switch. it rids you of the darkness that had settled upon your apartment and the stranger is completely revealed to you.

the first thing you notice about them is their sun kissed skin that’s littered in the freckles you would compare to the most captivating constellation. although, the stranger’s flawless complexion is the least of your worries considering the two horns that peek out from underneath their tufts of brunette hair. 

you physically restrain yourself from asking for his skin routine and instead opt for yet another sarcastic comment. “all ready for halloween, i see.” your eyes lock onto the appendages, choosing to ignore how realistic they were. “was party city having a sale?”

your comment seems to get your uninvited guest out of his daze as he scoffs. “are you kidding?”

“hey, this is my place, i ask the questions,” you scold.

he ignores you, instead going to tug on his horns. “these are all real, baby.”

you force yourself to maintain eye contact with him, waiting for him burst into laughter and tell you it was all a prank. instead, his unfaltering smug gaze pierces into you. you swear you stop breathing when his eyes flash bright red for a second.

“alright, you can tell the camera crew to come on out.” you glance around hoping this really was just some sort of hidden camera–practical joke type of thing. you half expect ashton kutcher jump out and tell you that you had gotten punk'd but you’re never granted that privilege. your eyes end up back on the boy lounging on your sofa and he returns the stare, eyes narrowed and mouth curved into a smirk.

it was almost… devilish. 

“oh my god.”

“not quite.” he finally stands, stretching his limbs out without a care in the world. “wanna try again?”

you stay silent, mouth slightly agape. there was only one other explanation. 

he’s satan. and he’s also in your living room. and the worst part was how undeniably hot he is.

you regret giving him the satisfaction of your stunned silence as it seems like that was the exact reaction he wanted. he laughs at your expression and it just sounds evil. 

“alright, alright. i’ll tell you what i am. but only because you mortals are always so cute when you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared, you idiot,” you interject without a second thought. “i just didn’t know i’d be selling my soul today. it’s a total bummer. i’m so young, i still have so much to do. i never even got around to trying yoga with ryujin!”

the boy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “your soul? did i say i wanted your soul?”

“well, you’re like, satan right? isn’t that what you do?”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m obviously a demon. satan is a loser who never leaves his fiery throne. which, by the way, isn’t as cool as it sounds. we’re not on the best terms at the moment.”

“so... you don’t want my soul?”

he shakes his head vigorously, looking disgusted at the mere idea of it. “what would i even do with it?”

“i don’t know. honestly i’m just going off of what i see in the movies.”

“that was your first mistake, baby.” he makes his way closer to you. “this isn’t the movies.”

“okay, back it up,” you say, attempting to put some distance between you and him.

he raises his hands in defeat as he obeys, retreating back to your couch. 

“why are you here of all places? shouldn’t you be sipping on a piña colada with satan right now?”

he crosses his legs nonchalantly. “like i said, we aren’t on speaking terms. in fact, i’m kind of… banned.”

“banned?” you echo. “from where?”

“hell? duh.” 

you scowl at his attitude. “it’s not my fault you’re on timeout.”

he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “don’t call it that. it’s just a punishment.”

“same thing,” you say, making your way into the kitchen. you weren’t sure if leaving a demon unattended in your living room was the best idea but the initial shock had already worn off. besides, it seemed like he had been in your apartment for a while already. “what did you do anyway?”

“it’s not even that bad,” he grumbles.

“must have been if you got kicked out of hell.” you chuckle to yourself as you open up your pantry, looking for something to stuff your face with. “do you understand how bad you must be if even the devil himself can’t stand you?” 

“i’m not bad, per se,” he says, picking at his nails. “just a little annoying.”

“no kidding,” you grumble to yourself, rummaging through your pantry, in pursuit of your favorite snack. you were sure everything would make more sense once you got some food in your system. when all you find is an empty, crumpled bag where your chips had once been, you whine loudly. “did you eat all my hot cheetos?”

“they reminded me of home!”

“i can see why they kicked you out,” you retort. 

“listen, i get that this is an inconvenience—”

“that’s kind of an understatement.”

“but, this is the only place i can stay. turns out people freak out when you appear in their living rooms. you were the only one that didn’t.”

“yeah, people usually don’t take too kindly to that—hold on, did you say stay?”

he crosses his arms over his chest. “where else am i supposed to go?”

“anywhere but here.”

he gives you an unamused stare, his eyes glinting red once again. 

“i mean, don’t you have any demon friends you can stay with?”

“not here. we avoid earth at all costs. it’s trashy. that’s why this is a punishment.” 

not even you can argue with that. “understandable. well, how long are you gonna be here?” 

“don’t know.” 

you blink at him. “so… you’re planning to crash with me until satan decides to be your friend again?” 

he groans. “first of all, he’s never been my friend. second of all, yes, that was the plan i had in mind when i broke into your house.” 

“broke in?” 

“well, actually i used teleportation powered by the dark arts to get in but i don’t think your tiny human brain is ready for that conversation.” 

“and i don’t think it’d be in your best interest to insult the person you’re currently trying to move in with.” 

that seems to shut him up, as he purses his lips together and stares at you blankly. 

“listen, if we’re going to do this, there’s gotta be some ground rules, okay?” 

he stays silent so you decide to continue. 

“you have to pull your own weight around here. you might be some powerful being of the underworld but that doesn’t mean you get out of laundry day and doing dishes, got it?” 

he seems displeased, if the frustrated huff of air he lets out is anything to go by. 

“and you have to promise me that by staying here you aren’t putting me in any kind of danger.” 

“well, i can’t guarantee i won’t cause problems,” he says, raking his fingers through the hair in between his sharpened horns. “but i can protect you from whatever crap comes our way.” 

you contemplate it. you weren’t entirely sure what a demon like him was capable of but it seemed like it would be a list that was equally lengthy as it was impressive. yet, you still can’t bring yourself to agree to anything. 

as if he senses your apprehensive nature, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his hazelnut eyes. you only get to admire the warm tint for a split second before his eyes flash red yet again. they stay glowing longer than any of the previous times; long enough for you to notice how shiny and bright they are, reminding you of ripe cherries. 

“i promise.” 

the tone of his voice is surprisingly firm and definitely the most serious you’ve heard him the entire night. he retreats his hand from you and you find yourself leaning forward, almost craving his touch. his eyes go back to their original hue and you feel yourself regain your senses. 

“what did you just do?” you ask, leaning back from him. “what kind of dark magic was that?”

he tries to conceal his smile but ultimately fails, his pearly whites coming onto display. “that wasn’t magic, baby. i believe you just got lost in my eyes but don’t worry. i would too.” 

you let out a bitter laugh. “oh my god, you’re vain.” 

“do you mortals have to mention him every five seconds?” he chides, grimacing. 

it takes you a moment to realize who he’s referring to but when you do, you erupt in laughter. “really? that gets to you? you’re pretty sensitive for a big and bad demon.” 

“i have a name, baby.” 

“so do i.” 

his lips curve into a coy smile. “donghyuck.” 

you give him your name in response, not even bothering to think about it twice, much to your surprise. most would probably be more hesitant to introduce themself to a demon, much less invite them into their home. 

yet here you were, doing both. 

he offers you nothing more than a grin—it seemed more genuine than the last—before turning on his heel to make his way farther into your apartment. “so, where will i be sleeping? i was thinking your bed would be ideal.”

“well, i was thinking you could start with a thank you,” you suggest, trailing after him. 

he saunters down the hallway, twisting the knob of the door second to the left and peeking in. you can only imagine how much snooping around he had done before you had arrived, judging by the fact that he maneuvered your home so expertly. 

he hums as he scans the room as if it’s the first time (which you’re sure it’s not). “it looks comfortable enough for the two of us.” 

you can tell there’s no arguing with him, especially as he steps inside and sits himself on the edge of your bed, hands running over the soft fabric of your comforter. he bounces up and down a couple times, seeming satisfied enough with the mattress. 

in the blink of an eye, he’s underneath the heaps of blankets, tucked in snuggly. 

you exhale, trying to maintain patience. “i can tell this whole dark magic thing is going to be a problem for me.”

even though only his eyes peek out from beneath the polyester sheets, you’re positive he’s wearing an obnoxious smirk. his voice comes out slightly muffled when he answers, “think of it as a blessing, not a curse.”

“we’ll see.” you try to suppress a yawn but it manages to escape you, eyes squinting and your hand clamping over your mouth. “right now, i gotta sleep. hopefully i’ll wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a dream.”

“so, what you’re implying is that i’m a dream?”

“i meant to say nightmare.”

“that’s more accurate.”

as if the dazed tone of his voice didn’t give his sleepiness away, donghyuck’s drowsy eyes and horns sinking into the soft plush of your pillow certainly did. he looked the least threatening right then and there and you decide that this is the donghyuck you like best. you can’t help the sudden urge you feel to curl up in bed right next to him and doze off into blissful unconsciousness. 

“what are you waiting for? get in here.”

could demons read minds too? you can’t be bothered to think about it for another second before you take donghyuck’s very tempting offer and crawl into your bed. you don’t care that you’re not in your pajamas or that you smell like coffee beans, courtesy of the cafe you worked at.

all you can seem to focus on is the feeling of donghyuck’s soft breath against your neck and his oddly cute snores. it was ironic; a demon all cuddled up beside you, sleeping like a baby. you almost giggle at the striking comparison. 

needless to say, you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

+

“you know, it really pisses me off to come home and see you sitting in the exact same position you were in when i left.”

donghyuck rolls his eyes, an expression he’s mastered over time. “what else am i supposed to do? you made it pretty clear that you hate my demonic rituals and that’s kind of my speciality.”

you shrug as you kick your shoes off upon entering your shared apartment. “i don’t know. but binging the entire marvel movie saga can’t possibly be healthy.”

“we don’t have this in hell!” donghyuck exclaims, gesturing to the television his eyes remained glued on. 

“well, you should get used to life on earth considering you don’t know how long you’re gonna be stuck here.”

“i’m already on it. pop culture is actually really informative.”

“not what i meant. i was thinking more along the lines of a job.”

donghyuck finally tears his eyes away from the television to give you an unamused stare. “that’s really funny, y/n.”

“i’m serious! would it kill you to get off the sofa?”

“no. nothing would. i’m immortal, remember?”

you narrow your eyes. “oh yeah, almost forgot. you’re gonna be a bother to me forever and ever.”

“this isn’t the ideal situation for me either. but no need to torture me with low life mortal tasks.”

“bills gotta be paid, it’s a part of life,” you respond, taking a seat beside him. “or else we’ll both be breaking into people’s houses and begging them to move in.”

“i didn’t beg, alright? and i didn’t break in either! i simply...  appeared.”

“that’s even worse.”

“you didn’t seem to mind when you were all snuggled into me this morning.”

donghyuck’s words paired with his taunting tone cause you to feel slightly warm but you ignore it for the sake of a comeback. “you seemed comfortable yourself because when my alarm for work went off your arm was pretty tight around me.”

you swear you see him pout for a moment. “that’s not my fault! there aren’t many people open to cuddling in hell! i was just… seizing the opportunity.”

“since you’re all about opportunities, you should really look into that job. remember what we agreed on? no slacking off.”

“i’m not! just look in the kitchen!”

you know whatever it is, you’re not prepared for it. nevertheless, you tiptoe to said area, hoping your roommate had simply followed instructions and done the dishes and swept. but, of course, that itself is too much to ask as you watch the sink overflow with suds, plates and silverware scrubbing themselves clean and floating into their respective cupboards. a broom dances across the tiled floor, dust flying everywhere. you find that the mess in your kitchen resembles a train wreck; you want to look away but you just can’t. 

you call out to donghyuck, eyes still trained on the chaos before you, asking, “what did we say about rituals?”

“it’s a little more complicated than a ritual, baby!”

once you finally gather enough willpower to walk away from the kitchen and whatever is happening in it, you return to the living room, placing yourself in front of the television that donghyuck is so entranced in. 

“you’re coming with me to work tomorrow, got it?”

donghyuck groans for a second before rolling his eyes dramatically hard. “fine. now, can you move? the avengers are about to fight thanos.”

you comply, retreating to your bedroom but not before shouting back, “iron man dies!”

you shut your door, donghyuck’s frustrated screeching still coming through loud and clear.

+

your phone alerts you that it’s 6 am by playing an alarm so loud donghyuck falls out of bed. comically enough, it’s the loud thump! that comes when donghyuck makes contact with the floor that really gets your eyes to flutter open. you peek over the edge of the bed, every bit of grogginess leaving your body the second you see your roommate tangled in your sheets, limbs sprawled on the ground. 

“are you okay?” you ask, laughter lacing your words.

“doing just fine,” he mumbles in response. soon thereafter, his eyes shut once again.

“hey! no way are you going back to sleep, we have work!” 

you drag yourself out of bed over to where donghyuck lays, attempting to resume his peaceful slumber. you grab his arms, attempting to hoist him up. you’re almost positive he’s making it more difficult than it should be as he lets his body go completely limp in your grasp. when you finally get him standing upright, he smiles lazily at you, obviously still half asleep. 

“c’mon dork, you need to get ready. you’re gonna make some cash today!”

+

donghyuck makes it clear he understands nothing as the morning progresses.

he doesn’t get the importance of being on time or even working in the first place. he offers to just take out your landlord, which according to him will “solve all your problems”, more times than you count and you’re sure that if he mentions it one more time you’d actually consider it. he also claims he doesn’t understand the concept of a shower, asking you to help him out, yet the knowing smile on his face lets you know he’s more than well aware of what it entails. unfortunately, you realize this after spending more time than you’d care to admit explaining the concept of getting naked to him in a tight, confined space to him only for him to request a demonstration. 

upon leaving your apartment, more new things are revealed to donghyuck. you can’t help but admire the wonder and awe in his eyes. the adoration quickly wears off when he throws a temper tantrum at the subway station, refusing to board it and you have to physically force him on and promise that no, he won’t get trapped inside.

despite the slight bumps in the road, you arrive at your shift with time to spare. the clock tells you that you won’t have to be behind the counter for another five minutes so you grab your apron and provide donghyuck with one too. you give him quite possibly the quickest tour of the cafe ever and explain to him over five times what you were there to do (“so, we just take people’s orders? we serve them?” “and they pay for it.” “just when i thought it couldn’t possibly get dumber”). you end putting him on cleaning duty since you were well aware of his lack of social skills. he frowns when you tell him he has to do it himself, no magic allowed. the last thing you needed was someone getting nearly knocked over by a levitating broom and bringing it to your manager’s attention. speaking of—

“good morning, y/n,” greets doyoung. his hair is slicked back and his eyes shine, as always. “always a pleasure to see you on your shift.”

donghyuck watches you cautiously, observing the way you smile nervously and avoid meeting doyoung’s eyes. he assumes he has some kind of authority over you. 

“and hello there. who might you be?”

doyoung is now very aware of donghyuck’s presence, giving him a wide smile but a menacing stare. you don’t get a word out before donghyuck’s giving him a polite smile and nod of his head.

“i was just hired, y/n is showing me the ins and outs. i honestly could not be happier working under leaders like you, sir.”

doyoung hums, obviously enjoying donghyuck’s praise enough to let it blind him from the fact that you hadn’t even been hiring in the first place. “sir, huh? haven’t heard that one before.” 

donghyuck holds his breath, wondering if he had overdone it.

“i like it. you seem like a hard working fellow. glad to have you on the team.” your boss gives him a firm pat on the back before walking away, probably to go scare some other employees. 

donghyuck sticks his tongue out at him once his back is turned and you simply laugh, smile still present on your face when your first customer arrives.

+

“i’m here!”

you glance up from the cash register to catch your coworker rushing in, looking frazzled… as always.

“hey mark,” you greet, giving him a welcoming smile. “i’m so glad you’re here. there’s been this crazy demand for frappuccinos all day and you know i suck at those.”

mark chuckles as he ties on his apron. “no offense, but the only order you should be taking are the puppuccinos.”

you shoot him the most non-threatening glare possible which ends up with you bursting into a fit of laughter. “i’m not even gonna argue with that.”

“hypothetically, if i made doyoung’s coffee explode on him but made sure he didn’t know, would you be mad?”

you roll your eyes at donghyuck’s bold entrance yet you still giggle. “at this point, i say go for it. ooh, maybe we could even sneak out while he’s cleaning it up. what do you say, mark?”

where there would usually be a giddy laugh, there’s nothing but silence on your coworkers behalf. you put a pause on counting the money in the register to steal a glance at mark who’s eyes are dead set on donghyuck who also seems to be intensely focused on the blonde. 

“demon,” mark mutters.

you feel yourself freeze up; how could he possibly know? despite the panic that settles upon you, you’re sure donghyuck will find a way to handle the situation. you expect a lie, maybe even some magic if the situation called for it. when you see his lips curve upwards sinisterly, you know you’re in for an entirely different outcome.

“angel.” there’s a teasing lilt in donghyuck’s voice; it sends chills up your spine.

mark’s jaw is clenched and you know he’s equally as tense as you are. “we should go, y/n.”

“mark, he’s just—”

“now.”

the sudden desperation yet dominance in mark’s tone is even more alarming than donghyuck’s. 

“you know,” donghyuck begins, rounding the counter, dramatically. “i’ve never been a fan of the way guardian angels think they own their person.”

you swear your brain shuts down. there was no way you had come into contact with a demon and now an angel—your guardian angel. and there was definitely no way it was your closest coworker, right?

“it’s our responsibility—she is my responsibility.”

donghyuck folds his arms as he gives mark a once over. “you won’t mind if i take over, right?”

mark chuckles, begrudgingly. “you know i can’t let that happen.”

“i’m not hurting her, i’d never hurt her.” donghyuck takes his place next to you, wrapping an arm around you. he peers down at you, eyes glowing red for the first time since your first encounter. “my angel.”

you know the nickname is to piss mark off and you assume it works as you observe his hands clench into fists. although, you’re more focused on how the pet name effortlessly rolled off donghyuck’s tongue, like temptation itself. 

“don’t make this difficult for yourself,” donghyuck continues. “you know feelings are dangerous. that’s what they tell you when you first sign up. just don’t let that get you into trouble, got it?”

the tension is suffocating and you almost wish a customer would enter the currently empty cafe to save you from it. although, donghyuck makes sure that you don’t have to endure it any longer as a second later, you’re both gone, only a cloud of red smoke left behind. 

mark stands alone in the cafe.

he had gotten this job for you; to look after you. 

perhaps he had caught feelings, as well.

he assumes that was his first mistake. 

+

when donghyuck takes you back to your apartment, it seems the awkward atmosphere from the cafe has followed you home.  

“uh, can i ask what that was all about?”

“that guy, mark was it? yeah, he’s your guardian angel. i can’t stand it when those guys act like they’re in charge of the person they’re sent to look after,” he seethes. 

you watch donghyuck’s fit of frustration carefully, eyes wide. when he sees how confused you are he can’t help but sigh. 

“i’m sorry, i just… didn’t appreciate him acting like you were his. guess i don’t really like the thought of that.”

you would have to be oblivious beyond compare to not realize donghyuck was completely and utterly jealous. you prod him further, asking, “well, then who would you rather i belong to?”

he glances up at you. “whoever you want, baby.”

“you know what? i think i have somebody in mind.”

not even a second later, donghyuck takes you back in the security of your bed, under your piles of fluffy blankets. what feels most comfortable (and strangely familiar) is the feeling of donghyuck’s arm clinging to you, making you sure you’re pressed right into his chest like a puzzle piece. 

“the person you had in mind was me, right? ’cause if not, this might be awkward.”

your eyes roll back despite knowing he can’t see it. “no, it was mark.”

“not funny.”

your shoulders shake with laughter. “it’s a little funny.”

“whatever, keep laughing. just let me hold you, alright?”

“that would be heaven.” silence settles upon the both of you as you go into nearly hysterical laughter. “get it? because you’re a demon… from hell… and that’s like, the opposite—”

“yeah, i get it, baby.” he pauses. “how many more lame jokes surrounding me being a demon will i have to endure?”

“i definitely have more where that came from so my guess is...  more than you can count.”

he moans in displeasure. “you’re lucky you’re cute… for a mortal.”

[mickey-millagher]

At long last she’d found aunt Ginger’s body, just the latest of Frank’s many mistakes that she’d had to take care of over the years. Least with the body located she could finally have a moment of peace before the next disaster hit, Fiona thought as she made her way up to steps to the kitchen.

She opened the door.

Mickey Milkovich was bleeding out of his ass onto her countertop.

So much for a moment of peace.

“Ian what the fuck?” She yelled over the yelps coming from the teenage thug being operated on by... Jimmy’s dad.

“I can explain this.” Came Ian’s earnest reply.

Yeah he better have a fucking good explanation to boot, Fiona thought before noticing the woman standing in her living room.

After that in the chaos of having the kids yet again taken away from her, their home and each other. Finding out why Mickey Milkovich was bleeding out in her kitchen didn’t seem very important.

The house was quiet at last, Debbie, Carl and Liam finally being convinced to get some sleep after hours of celebrating their win at count. Jimmy had turned in hours before hand but Fiona couldn’t make herself stick to the kids bedtimes tonight. She knew it probably wasn’t the best start to her guardianship but she’d missed her kids so much and it wasn’t a school night, one late night wouldn’t hurt.

|

She smiled over at Ian as he crashed back down onto the sofa, handing her one of the beers he’d gone to get from the kitchen, leaving the second on the coffee table for Lip once he returned from the toilet, and opening the third himself.

“Good to be home?”

“Yeah, definitely beats the group home.”

That wasn’t a surprise, she’d spent time in group homes herself, back when she was still considered a kid. They’d been horrible enough but had nothing on what she’d heard about Gunderson House.

“So you still owe me an explanation.”

Ian blinked at her, clearly confused.

“Huh?”

“Why the hell was Mickey Milkovich of all people basically being operated on in my kitchen?”

In the weeks since her kids had been taken, there had been a lot more pressing issues on Fiona’s mind than the shot up Milkovich kid. But now that things were settled she wanted answers. Answers it seemed her little brother was reluctant to give if the look on his face was anything to go by.

Ian looked away from her, shrugging.

“It’s kinda a long story.”

“You said you could explain.” Fiona said, reaching over to nudge him slightly. “Well I want that explanation.”

Ian looked up at her then, thats when she realised he’d looked away to hide the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m kinda tired, can we talk about this another time?” It was a question but his voice cracked slightly at the end and he was moving to get up before he’d even finished the sentence.

Fiona wasn’t an idiot, she knew her brothers hid things from her. Honestly there was a whole lot of things she was glad they didn’t talk to her about. Teenage boy stuff she really didn’t need to know. Ian especially, for a kid who’d always worn his heart on his sleeve, had always been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. Fiona had hoped that after he’d felt comfortable to come out to her, that he’d start to let her in, just a little bit more, talk to her about the important things he’d kept hidden away. That hadn’t happened, if anything he was pulling further away. She worried that soon he’d be lost to her completely.

“Hey.” She reached out grabbing his arm. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, just tired, it’s been a long day.” He attempted to smile but it seemed off, fake instead of his usual big dopey grin. Thinking about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen it.

“Ian I changed your shitty diapers, you honestly think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”

Ian let out a breath and dropped back down onto the sofa. She could see Lip, standing in the shadows of the kitchen, concerned, ready to jump in to help their brother, same as always. If even Lip didn’t know what was going on with Ian, it had to be bad. She shook her head slightly at Lip, telling him to stay put, the more people the less likely it was that Ian would open up, and she was really starting to get a bad feeling.

“Come on Sweetface, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m handling it okay?”

“Can’t be nothing if there’s something to handle. You know you can talk to me.”

Ian looked at her for a second. “Yeah I know.” He paused for a second, maybe debating finally opening up to his sister. “I’m gonna turn in, night.”

“Ian wait a second.”

Ian didn’t reply, his back already disappearing up the stairs.

Fiona turned towards Lip who’d slowly made his way into the room while Ian had ran upstairs.

“You know what’s going on with him?”

“No, he seemed fine, well about a week ago he came back with bruises and seemed a little shaken up, wouldn’t talk about it but he seemed okay the next day so.”

Fiona frowned, turning to look once again to the stairs, up which where her little brother had just gone. Something was definitely going on with him, it was only a question of if he’d ever let her know what.

|

It was the sixth day in a row that she’s visited Ian at the Milkovich house. Six days since she got an early release, only to get home to find her brother practically comatose in Mickey’s bed. She still didn’t quite understand what was going on between the two teenagers, just that when Ian came home, Mickey came with him. And now that Ian was sick, the Milkovich was saying Ian was his family and refusing to let him leave. Not that there was much of a chance of moving Ian, getting him to the bathroom was hard enough, let along the few blocks to the Gallagher house. Still she didn’t trust Mickey to be able to take care of him, family or not. So everyday she came over, brought him food, spent hours sitting with him, trying to get him to talk. All the things she’d long since given up doing for Monica. All the things she couldn’t imagine giving up on for Ian.

She eased the door open, no one without a death wish would dare steal from the Milkoviches so the front door was almost always unlocked. She could see a few Milkovich siblings or cousins, she was never sure which, while on her way to Mickey’s bedroom but didn’t pay them much mind, they weren’t who she was here for.

The door to Mickey’s room was slightly ajar, letting Fiona see into the room without making her presence known.

“Come on man you gotta eat something.” Mickey was crouched down on the far side of the bed, a bowl and spoon clutched in his hands.

“Not hungry.”

It was crazy how those two words made Fiona’s heart soar. They weren’t positive but Ian had made such few acknowledgments of them over the past week that it still felt like improvement.

“Couple of spoonfuls and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Ayy Mickey get out here, need your opinion on something.” Came a yell from the living room.

Mickey looked up from the redhead, locking eyes with his boyfriend’s sister from across the room, but seemingly unsurprised to find her there.

“Can I try?” She asked tentatively, not wanting to cause Mickey to have another outburst, not with Ian so vulnerable in the room

Mickey shrugged. “Sure.” He replied, leaving the bowl and spoon on the side table before leaving to settle whatever his family had going on.

“Hey Ian, how’re you feeling today?” She asked taking Mickeys spot on the floor.

Ian just blinked back at her before slowly closing his eyes completely

“Things seem kinda crazy around here, guess crazy just goes with the Milkoviches. Follows them around or something. You know crazy, like that time Mickey was bleeding out in the kitchen. Seems almost like it could be a normal occurrence here, that why I never got an explanation?” Fiona forced a little laugh at the end, she was trying to keep all her interactions with Ian upbeat in the hope in might help him. It hadn’t so far.

“M tired Fi.”

“That’s what you said last time I ask you know.”

Ian made no move to acknowledge she’d spoken that time, a reaction she was slowly getting used to.

“Okay you don’t wanna talk. Can you eat something for me?”

She didn’t get a response that time either.

|

It was hard to believe this was going to be the last time she sat around this table, in this kitchen, having dinner with her family like she had so many times before. She may have moved out two years ago but the time she’d spent here, growing up and raising her siblings alongside her, was never something she would fully leave behind. Even if now they were selling the house, all of them moving on with their lives like she’d chosen herself when she’d left.

“The amount of shit this kitchen has seen, hope the new owners have bleach.” Lip said with a laugh.

“I feel like I’ve got to ask, but do you mean actual shit?”

“What no, well probably not.”

“Cousin Patrick did leave that toilet in the middle of the living room.” Debbie pointed out.

“Okay maybe actual shit.”

Mickey wrinkled his nose. “You said my house was bad.”

“Like you haven’t left you’re mark on the kitchen, I came home to you bleeding out on the countertops once.”

“Oh fuck yeah, still got the scars from that shit. If I’d been allowed to take my guns.” He paused to glare at his husband. “Then none of that would have happened.”

“How was I suppose to know the drunk old lady had a shotgun?”

“It was your fucking heist, you’re meant to find this shit out!”

“Wait so that’s what happened, you were breaking in somewhere and he got shot?”

Ian shrugged. “Ned asked me to steal some stuff from his wife’s house. Didn’t think anyone would get hurt.”

“Well you thought wrong.” Mickey huffed.

“Aww poor baby.” Ian cooed, putting a hand around Mickey to pull him over and kiss the side of his head. Mickey seemed to be trying to keep glaring throughout but a slight smile broke through. The stability the two of them seemed to have these days was a welcome surprise for Fiona when she’d arrived the day before, she hadn’t been fully sure what to expect from the renewed relationship between the two of them but it looked like this time for the most part the two of them had their act together.

“Wait who’s Ned?” Liam asked.

Ian opened his mouth to speak but Lip beat him to it.

“Ned was this old dude that Ian was banging back in the day to make Mickey jealous. He was also the dad of Fiona’s boyfriend at the time.”

“Thanks for that Lip.”

“I wasn’t fucking jealous.”

“I regret asking.”

The three replies came at the same time, sparking more voices to keep talking over each other and several conversations spiralling at once.

Fiona leaned back, not quite wanting to participate right now, just wanting to bask in the warmth of the chaos of her family home one last time. And processing that finally she got that long ago promised explanation, maybe not quite worth the wait, it was still nice to finally know.

[dzamie-oc]

05 - Space

Space prompt, eh? A good a time as ever for some hammer-space dragon! Featuring Sylvia, the loveliest little gold dragoness in the Dragonslayer Guild Hall.

Length: 2200 words Rating: M (noncon vore. Not sexual, but it’s still noncon and vore) Summary: Victoria, a dragonslayer in training, learns an unforgettable lesson about how hammerspace dragons work, and perhaps about assuming mundane explanations around fantastical creatures.

Minors DNI with this particular story. I am hella uncomfortable with the idea of y’all openly interacting with vore.

-----

“Hey, Sylvia, any chance I could borrow a gold coin? Need to test the magical affinity of this thing to some elements, and gold’ll do just fine,” the cheetah asked the little golden dragon perched on his shoulder. “Y’know, before I permanently affix the actual part.”

“Yeah, gimme a second. Hand, please.”

Behind them, Victoria watched the pair work - or, well, she watched Dzamie work, while Sylvia mostly just watched him from closer. She had initially stopped by to ask the katul about one of his swordwork lessons, but he seemed busy, so she was fine waiting... for ten minutes longer, maybe. A bit more if she thought she’d get to cuddle the adorable little dragoness. Yes, time and time again, Dzamie himself had repeated that every dragon can kill an incautious slayer, and it was almost always in reference to Sylvia, but the woman found it hard to take it seriously. Not that she’d ever say it aloud. Even if it turned out not to be true, Sylvia seemed to take pride in her rumored “danger,” and Victoria liked the little lady too much to rain on her parade.

A loud hiss filled the air, then Dzamie waved a gold coin in his hand back and forth, steam rising up from his paw and the coin. “What’s he doing that does that?” the human asked herself, aloud.

Dzamie, however, was the one to respond, without looking up. “Oh, fire spells come easy to me, so I use ‘em to quickly dry off stuff Sylvia gives me. Gives the workshop a certain smell, but it’s not really enough drool to bother humans.” His voice dropped to a mutter as he looked over his work, then nodded and spoke up again. “Yeah, that’ll work. But, yeah, if you ever catch me after a swim, I do the same thing to myself - just, with a silencing spell when there’s people around.”

Having been unofficially invited into the conversation, Victoria walked closer. The katul was working on what looked an awful lot like a gun from a video game. “Huh, forgot you did cosplay,” she remarked, “and, wait, why would what she gave you be wet?”

Two pairs of eyes swung to look at her, one tiny and yellow, one more her size and, well, also yellow, but with a purple aura around them that soon cleared. “I trust him to return items from my hoard,” Sylvia said, “and, naturally, anything I don’t bag up for protection gets wet.”

Victoria looked around, trying to find where the little dragoness might have put a hoard that she could somehow reach from Dzamie’s shoulder, to no avail. Luckily for her, Sylvia easily read the human’s face, smiled, swished her tail, and said, “Hmm, tell you what. You’re nice enough to me, good enough pets and all that.”

“Oh, is she the other one who’s been giving you strawberries?” Dzamie asked. He was looking back at the prop again, where a finger wreathed in green fire poked at a floating spell circle of the same color.

Sylvia huffed. “Anyway! Would you like to see my hoard, Victoria?” The golden dragoness sat up as tall as she could to deliver her next line, “just be aware that if you try to steal from me, your life is forfeit.”

Any tiny, intimidating effect she might have had was immediately discarded as her furry, feline perch moved his arm and sent her tumbling onto the table. In spite of herself, Victoria laughed. “Sorry, sorry!” she said, “it’s just, the timing. I would love to see your hoard, Sylvia. Assuming it’s not just that coin. Uh, no offense, you’re just, well, you-sized.”

Dzamie interrupted again, muttering “alright, let’s see if this doesn’t explode this time” as he picked up his project in one hand. “And Victoria, pop quiz! Zero percent of your grade. What species of dragon is this adorable golden derg?”

“Don’t call me a derg.”

“Adorable golden dragon,” the cheetah amended. The device in his hand whirred and glowed with his green magic, and successfully failed to explode, at which he gave a satisfied “heh.”

Victoria leaned against one of the other tables, trying to recall. “She’s a... hammer-something. Not hammerhead, hammer... hammerspace!” she said with a confident smile.

Dzamie nodded. “Fantacular. Just making sure you might know what you’re in for.” He turned to Sylvia. “I’m gonna go test this out proper. Back in a few.”

The dragoness on the table walked over to the edge and sat down, facing Victoria. “Okay, then, just set your sword... somewhere and give me your hands.” As she did so, unsheathing the weapon and laying it flat, Sylvia continued, “I never figured out whether it’s easier for you if I go slow or fast, but I like slow, so I’m gonna go slow.”

“Oh, and you’ll want to ditch the rest of your armor,” Dzamie added, gesturing to her with the toy gun, “trust me on this, it’s uncomfortable and then you just have to clean it unnecessarily.”

Victoria glared at him. “Sure, Teach, let me just strip down right in front of a male katul all alone in this room.”

Dzamie passed his prop to his other hand, then held up his fingers as he counted off, “okay, one, Sylvia’s here with us; two, just because I fit the stereotype doesn’t mean you should use it; and three-” he lifted his project, “- the only reason I’m coming back here in the next half hour is if this thing explodes on teleport. ...which you better not,” he muttered at the prop. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

For a solid minute, Victoria stared at the spot he’d vanished, almost daring him to teleport back in. Sylvia coughed to get her attention. “He’s not wrong, though. I don’t know about armor maintenance, but usually people prefer to be in comfortable clothes.” The little dragoness turned her head away and flicked her tail back and forth. “If, uh, if they wear any, but people like that are few and far between. Look, it is pretty cramped on the way to my hoard, but I’d be an awful friend if I insisted you get rid of things that aren’t weapons.”

“Things that aren’t weapons?”

The golden dragon gave her a flat look. “Can you really blame me, a dragon, for not trusting dragonslayers with weapons?”

“Fair point.” Victoria sighed. After a moment more of internal debate, she started to remove her armor. She asked Sylvia for some help, and before long, she stood before the hammerspace dragon in a sports bra and athletic shorts, glad that her friend was a dragon and not a katul, or a human.

Sylvia looked her up and down; Victoria jokingly asked if she thought she was hiding knives or something. “I... already checked, actually. Just thought dragonslayers wore something more underneath. Laundry day?”

The human grimaced. “It’s done, just... I wasn’t thinking earlier. Er, so, hands?”

“Hands!”

Victoria tentatively held her hands out in front of Sylvia, who pressed them together with her little paws. She brought her muzzle right next to the woman’s fingers, then looked up and said, “just so you know, I’m not letting you back down from this.” Before Victoria could ask what she meant by that, the dragoness opened her jaws and lunged forward.

She could hardly believe her eyes. Her arms looked just fine all the way down to her wrists, but there... they simply weren’t. Sylvia’s snout started, and her arms stopped. Her hands were surrounded by something warm, squishy, and wet, and when she tried to move them or pull them apart, they were pressed back in on each other. Then, a wave of pressure rolled down the hidden hands, and Victoria watched as more of her forearms also shared her hands’ plight. She wiggled her hands more, but there was no change. It took a few seconds for her mind to finally piece it all together: Sylvia was eating her. Somehow.

Another swallow pulled her elbows in, locking her arms out straight. In the back of her head, Victoria knew that she really ought to be panicking, that being eaten by a dragon was something she should not be going calmly into. But still, even as she bent over to the table, leaning down towards the dragon’s tiny body, it was hard to really take it seriously. After all, if she turned her head, she could see that not one of Sylvia’s scales were out of place, so CLEARLY the tiny dragon couldn’t be swallowing her.

A moment later, and she no longer had that problem. Her head was buried deep in somewhere dark pink, surrounded by hot, wet flesh, and any time she moved her arms or twisted her head, all she heard was wet “shlrk”s and squishes as she was guided back into position. The dragoness’s next swallow came more quickly, as though anticipating the human’s reaction:

Now that her eyes were no longer trying to tell her she wasn’t being eaten, Victoria came to the obvious conclusion: her friend had betrayed her trust for a meal. However, she found that she wasn’t scared, or terrified. Be it her own natural inclinations, or her, admittedly incomplete, training as a dragonslayer, Victoria instead found rage. With a primal yell, she twisted and turned, thrashing her arms to try to choke or even gag Sylvia, and she kicked one knee up, trying to feel her way into slamming into the tiny trickster. Unfortunately, the next thing she felt was her knee pinned against her belly, joining the rest of her upper body in the tight, slimy tunnel. Dragon drool got in her mouth, so she spat and sputtered as her hips, shorts, and other thigh were engulfed by the irrationally long throat. Between the heat, the steady, almost soothing noises of wet throatflesh squishing against her skin, the humid, heavy air, and simple exertion, Victoria soon found the fight slip away from her. Ankle-deep in what she thought was a very small dragon, the human sighed and let Sylvia close her jaws after her foot without a struggle.

When her head pressed against the ring of muscle, Victoria had resigned herself to her fate as dragon food. After all, the only person who knew where she was was Dzamie, and that katul would probably demand something-

Her head ran into something solid, and a clattering sound entered her ears, rather than just the constant squelching of wet flesh. Victoria opened her eyes, then sat up and- well, sat up, brushed her hair and Sylvia’s drool from her eyes, and then really opened them to see...

A pile of assorted coins, gold, silver, bronze, and more, bars of precious metals, gems of many colors, piled up nearly as tall as Victoria, herself! A trio of abstract sculptures - possibly part of a set, Victoria reasoned, though one could never really tell with that much abstraction. And, for some reason-

“So, how is it? I’m glad you calmed down eventually,” came Sylvia’s voice from all around.

“There’s... a train engine...” was all Victoria could say.

The little dragoness laughed. “Haha, yeah! One of my earlier additions, actually. I bet every hammerspace dragon does one of those, ‘okay, but CAN I eat that?’ things; I just decided to keep mine for a while, as a trophy, and over time, well, it’s a bit sentimental now.”

“You ATE and KEPT an ENTIRE TRAIN OUT OF THE-?!” the human shouted, dumbfounded, then faltered. “Uh, what’s it called, train house?”

Another laugh. “No, no, I ate a MOVING train - well, just pulling out, not that fast - and kept the engine car. The passenger car and all the delicious treats within are years gone.” There was a pause, and then. “Don’t worry, though. I’m much nicer these days, keep myself in the green zone.”

Victoria sighed, crawled over to the vehicle, and climbed into a seat. “Well, as far as places to die go, this place at least looks nicer than I expected.”

“Die? Who said anything about that? I’m not letting you stay in my stomach, you’ve got stuff to learn and I’ve got strawberries to eat, given only to dragons who DON’T have anyone stewing away in their bellies. ...willing meals notwithstanding.”

Another sigh, though this time of exasperation. “Sylvia... stomachs digest organic material. I am an organic material. I just hope I pass out before the pain gets to me too much.”

This time, there was raucous laughter, followed by a shriek and a swear. “Uh, sorry, fell off the table. You should attend more dragon biology lessons. And/or ask Dzamie for some notes, though if you do, prepare to have an entire encyclopedia dumped on you. Unabridged.”

“I’m safe?”

“You’re the biggest danger to yourself in there. Don’t smash yourself in the head with a sculpture and you’ll be fine.”

Victoria’s mind was still reeling. Nearly half a dozen earthshaking revelations in only a few minutes was not an easy thing to deal with. “And... you’ll let me out when I ask?”

“Or in half an hour. I want strawberries and that’s when there are strawberries. Oh, but make sure you aren’t holding anything when you come back up, or you WILL be eaten again, and it WON’T be to see all my shinies.”

This time, Victoria decided to take her threat seriously. And she had more reason to not “rain on her parade” about being a deadly maneater.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

- Chapter 10 -

Nie Mingjue was starting to become accustomed to the routine of the cell.

Wen Ruohan would generally visit the Fire Palace twice weekly, sometimes more if he had had a very bad day and wanted to let off some steam. Nie Mingjue would get visited on at least one of those instances, whether for a short time and a bit of emotional devastation or for a longer and much more physically uncomfortable visit, and sometimes more often if Wen Ruohan was not doing well in war.

Wen Ruohan still enjoyed asking him questions, but Nie Mingjue didn’t think he had to answer them anymore. This was a subject that came up sometimes during some of those longer visits.

The rest of the time, he was left to recover and be bored. He was not given access to his saber – Baxia had been hidden away somewhere, he thought, he could feel that she was safe if unhappy – but his spiritual energy was not restrained, the way some other prisoners were.

He spent a great deal of time meditating. Sometimes, if his physical condition allowed for it, he would practice old techniques, trying to focus on a different muscle each time to try to avoid letting them atrophy. His empty hands bothered him, but he deemed it unlikely that anyone would give him equivalent to a saber something to wield, not even if he asked.

Food was twice a day, usually just a bowl of rice and vegetables that the kitchen would otherwise have thrown away, and it was brought by the same prison guard each time.

Nie Mingjue liked the prison guard.

Possibly it was because he was the only person Nie Mingjue saw on a regular basis, other than Wen Ruohan – Nie Mingjue’s cell was a little ways away from the other prisoners, lest they infect him with something and he die too quickly, although he was still within earshot of all the screams – or possibly it was the prison guard’s pleasant demeanor, friendly and calm like a lake of still water.

They were playing a long-running game of sorts.

Nie Mingjue had guessed that Meng Yao – that was the prison guard’s name – was an outsider, recently joined, and that he had previously spent time in both the Lan and Jin sects.  This perspicacity had surprised Meng Yao, drawing his interest, and he had asked, very politely, for Nie Mingjue’s name.

Nie Mingjue had, just as politely, refused to give it.

Meng Yao, surprised yet again, had asked for his reasons.

Nie Mingjue had explained that he wasn’t sure if Wen Ruohan would react badly to other people knowing about him, and it would be a shame for Meng Yao to be murdered while he had yet to achieve whatever it was that he was seeking so strenuously to accomplish.

For some reason, Meng Yao saw this as a challenge.

“Gongzi, I have your dinner,” Meng Yao said. “Would you like me to ask the cook to give you some meat, next time? Just let me know. I would be more than happy to tell her to send more food to…?”

“Certainly,” Nie Mingjue said. “You can tell her that it’s on behalf of the last cell on the right.”

Meng Yao wrinkled his nose at him, and Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes back.

Their normal initial exchange of wits over, Meng Yao gave him the food and supervised him as he ate – a babysitter upon whose head the consequences would fall if Nie Mingjue misbehaved was the condition of giving him chopsticks. Wen Ruohan had a great deal of experience in keeping prisoners alive, and he knew Nie Mingjue’s character quite well.

“I heard that you were giving Sect Leader Wen advice on the war,” Meng Yao said casually as Nie Mingjue tried to guess what pickled vegetable he was eating, since neither taste nor appearance was definitive. “Gongzi must be very well-respected.”

“Did you hear about the part where I told him the best counterstrike would be to shove his troops up his own ass?”

“…and very brave.”

Nie Mingjue chuckled. “And you must be very competent to have made your way up to prominence in two separate sects, especially at such a young age.”

Meng Yao did not want to like him, Nie Mingjue could tell. He did anyway.

It wouldn’t help him if something more important to Meng Yao was at stake, of course – Nie Mingjue had lived too long with Qishan Wen cruelty, selfishness, and ruthlessness to miss seeing it reflected in others – but it was still nice to be liked.

“…how do you know?”

“Was that a direct question?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Be still my heart.”

“This humble servant has observed that gongzi does not answer anything else.”

“Humble,” Nie Mingjue drawled. “Yes, that’s the first thing I think of when I think of you.”

Meng Yao’s eyes were narrowing, though, so he stopped teasing.

“It’s your hair.”

“My – hair?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “The way you set it. It’s clear that Xichen must have taught you how to arrange the braids personally, which means that you must have gotten fairly high up in the Lan sect – but Sect Leader Wen referred to you as being poached from the Jin sect.”

Meng Yao reached up touch his hair. “…I never made it that high in the Jin sect,” he finally said. “Not even lieutenant.”

“In the middle of a war, with how competent you are? Does Sect Leader Jin have something against you?” A small furrowing of Meng Yao’s brow. “Did you complain that he raped your sister or something?”

A long, slow blink. “Is that a problem he has?”

“Not liking people who try to make him responsible for his actions?” Nie Mingjue snorted. “Yes.”

Meng Yao looked contemplative.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked, finally giving up on the pickled vegetable and handing back the bowl.

“Only that you know a great deal of gossip –”

“Involuntarily, I assure you.”

“– and that you feel comfortable calling Lan-da-gongzi by name, and are familiar enough to know how he personally styles his hair.” Meng Yao smiled. “I’ll figure out who you are yet, gongzi.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “They’ve probably already forgotten me.”

-

“This is your fault,” Wen Ruohan murmured in his ear, and Nie Mingjue was too weak to refuse to listen. “You did this – to yourself, to them. Why couldn’t you have just been obedient?”

He didn’t know anymore.

-

“I’m Sect Leader Jin’s son,” Meng Yao said.

“Your mother must be a genius,” Nie Mingjue replied.

There was a moment of silence – probably Meng Yao staring at him.

It was probably not the response he had been expecting.

“I’ve met Sect Leader Jin,” Nie Mingjue said in explanation. He was lying face-down on the floor of the cell while Meng Yao tended to his wounds; the conversation, he knew, was only to distract him from the sting of the stitches. “He’s cunning, not smart, horribly self-absorbed, and ‘competent’ isn’t the word I’d use for him; he makes do mostly by paying enough to hire good help. Given the contrast with you, it follows that you must have gotten all the good traits from the other side…I hope he didn’t rape her. Sorry about making that joke, earlier. I didn’t realize.”

“You said sister, not mother.”

“Right,” Nie Mingjue said. “I forgot.”

“Anyway, he didn’t have to rape her. He bought her,” Meng Yao said. He was tightening the bandages now and his hands were perfectly steady. Too steady, the way Wen Qing’s were when she was having to control himself. “She was a whore.”

Nie Mingjue got the feeling that Meng Yao was expecting some sort of reaction. He wasn’t sure what, though.

“Okay,” he said. Out of lack of anything better to say, he added, “Was she nice?”

“What type of question is that?” Meng Yao demanded.

He’d picked the wrong reaction again, Nie Mingjue presumed.

“I don’t know,” he said. His eyes were closed and his forehead was pressed against the cool stone. “I don’t really remember my mother. All I know is that she was a rogue cultivator, and tall –”

“I would never have guessed the latter, gongzi.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like I’ve never heard that one before. My father raised me on his own – we don’t believe in using nursemaids to do it.” He exhaled. “I’m forgetting him, too.”

“He died?”

“Sect Leader Wen killed him.” He heard Meng Yao exhale. “I know. I’m not very filial, am I?”

“I don’t think that’s a consideration,” Meng Yao murmured. “Under the circumstances.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t want to talk about it. “So, your mother,” he said. “Was she nice?”

“…does it matter?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter? She’s your mother, isn’t she?”

Meng Yao chuckled. It was not a nice sound. “Most people don’t really care to listen past the part where they find out she’s a whore.”

“I’ve never actually met a whore,” Nie Mingjue confessed. He was starting to drift off again – it was hard to stay awake. “The closest I ever got to even talking about one was when we had to put the fear of brothels into A-Chao. Sect Leader Wen was trying to ruin him.”

“A-Chao?”

“Mm. Like – a little brother, almost. I’ve got a bunch.”

Meng Yao snickered. “Yes, gongzi does seem the type.”

Nie Mingjue smiled into the floor. He knew that tone – it was just the same as A-Chao’s, in fact. “You’re welcome to join in, if you like.”

Meng Yao’s hands stopped moving abruptly.

“Assuming I’m not dead, of course.”

After a moment, Meng Yao’s hands started moving again. They were gentler.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “After a promise like that, I’ll be sure not to let him kill you.”

“Need to get your money’s worth out of me?”

“Of course.” A pause. “Naturally, it would be easier if gongzi would tell me his name…”

Nie Mingjue huffed – like Meng Yao was going to get him that easily.

“No need for such formality, A-Yao,” he said. “Just call me da-ge.”

-

“You must have some hobbies.”

“Must I?”

“Everyone has hobbies.”

“I collect younger siblings. Does that count?”

“It does not.”

-

“It’s your fault,” Wen Ruohan crooned as Nie Mingjue’s shrieks split the air. “Your fault. You turned them against me. It’s because of you that I’m going to need to kill them…”

-

“I don’t think I would have liked you, in the normal course of things,” Meng Yao said conversationally. “I usually find righteous people boring. Most of the time, they’re arrogant hypocrites, as rigid like the stiff pole that must have gotten shoved up their asses at some point. No one looks down on you like the righteous, and usually for stupid reasons, too. For something as petty and as simple as just not being them. Not having their advantages from the moment you were born.”

He paused. Cleared his throat.

“Lan Xichen was the first one I met who wasn’t like that. He really – he’s nice, I think you would put it. Kind. Everything they say about what gentlemen ought to be, he is.”

A brief silence.

“Naïve, though. Almost painfully so. I twisted him around my little finger without even trying…even when I was trying not to.”

Nie Mingjue believed him. Manipulation seemed to come as second nature to Meng Yao, even when he was being sincere. Sometimes, even especially when he was being sincere.

It was a bit like Wen Xu, actually. It was hard to throw off the way you’d been raised.

“At first I thought the problem was with me, that I didn’t appreciate him enough, that I didn’t understand how to have a friendship with a person like that. A good one. Sometimes I thought, well, no, maybe the problem’s with him – he pities me too much to see what I’m really like, and that means he’s deceiving himself, it’s got nothing to do with me. In the end…I don’t know. I don’t think I ever resolved it.”

He sighed. It was a long, low sound, almost whistling in the dead air of the Fire Palace.

“You’re not like Lan Xichen at all. You really are unbending, rigid, inexorable…I ought to despise you. You ought to despise me. I torture people most of the day, you know. I even enjoy it.”

For all his poise, Meng Yao was younger even than Lan Xichen. He shouldn’t be anyone’s prison guard. Shouldn’t be torturing anyone. How could you blame children for doing something that would win them praise?

“It’s this place that makes me like you, I think. It’s just – it’s filthy, here. Disgusting. The more I’m in this prison the worse it gets. The more bad things I do, the more bad things I think. I barely dare recall my better memories, my mother, Lan Xichen. I’m too afraid that the filth and grime of this place will stain their purity even in my thoughts.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand, not really - maybe he’d been here so long that the stain had sunk in already, blackening everything it touched. But he tried as much as he could to sympathize.

“And then there’s you. You, all shining steel and stiff unbending morality, the sort of person I hate the most. But when I’m here knee-deep in the muck, trapped in the dark without any hope of surfacing, I look at you and I feel – it’s almost like I can see light again, reflected in you. As if I’m breathing clean air. For the first time in my life, I think I understand why people have ethics. That they’re not some stupid thing made up by someone to fool someone else into voluntarily crippling the hand they’ve been dealt to play.”

That was definitely not what ethics were.

“I don’t know if we’d get along outside this place. Where I’m still me, with all my flaws that make me all the worse, and you’re still you, with all your imperfections that only make you better, but without this place to make us get along. I really don’t know. For once in my life, I don’t have a goal, a target, a scheme. As far as I know, you’re nobody I can use, and keeping you close to me will only tie an anchor to my legs, weigh me down. But even with all that, even if nothing I do works out and it all blows up in my face…I’d still like to find out. Find out if we would get along, if you really would treat me like your little brother even though you know what I’m really like under the smile. Find out if someone like me really can get along with someone like you.”

Nie Mingjue felt Meng Yao squeeze his hand, and wished he could respond in kind.

“So you have to wake up, da-ge. You hear me? You have to wake up.”

-

“It’s done. They’re gone. And it’s all your fault.”

He lies, Nie Mingjue told himself. He lies, he lies, he lies –

[leahseclipse]

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter Two: So, What Did We Miss?

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions., terrorist attack brief mention (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Now that Sherlock is back, explanations are due.

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: Here's chapter two! As always- if you prefer AO3, click here :)

++

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

++

“I’m not quite into this, usually- but in movies, the scene usually goes like; they stare, probably cry a bit, and run down in each other’s arms. But...the ‘stare part’ is a bit long, is it normal?” Sherlock asked.

“I would like to remind you that you were dead for two years. Hell, you’re still supposed to be dead, I just talked to a grave for the past hour, doing as if you could hear me from wherever!”

“I don’t think it works like tha- oh, imagination.” Sherlock acknowledged, raising his index. “Forgot, sorry.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing if ‘imagining’ doesn’t exist?”

“Being crazy?” He asked. “Sorry, first thought. Doesn’t mean you...actually are, you’re not crazy. Quite the clever kind actually, a tad smarter than-”

“I didn’t ask to be...praised. We’re kind of in the middle of an argument, and also in a cemetery. Which I realize now, and I doubt the dead people here would like to hear us yelling.”

“Probably.” He agreed, as he frowned.

He’s thinking.

“Can I just ask a small favor? I know that’s quite rare for me to do that, but I’m doing that because it’s you.”

“If that’s asking to keep the secret about you not-being-dead-anymore, I don’t know.”

“This could be this too, but it’s not.” He tilted his head, briefly looking down. “Promise not to kill me in the car? It’s just that, dying in a car, and ‘dying’ again would be quite an unfortunate way to decease, if you…”

“...fine. But I can’t promise I will keep that...promise, once we’re somewhere not outside.”

“That’s...fair, I guess. Thank you for...half respecting-” He stopped in his sentence as I gave him the start of a death stare. “...respecting my favor. Sorry, stutter.”

“That’s better...I guess.” I repeated, hearing a small hum from him as we started to walk out the sinister place.

I didn’t even get myself at this moment. Even though he was there, as I wished, it still hurt. He was here, right in front of me, so wasn’t it fine?

“Why do you have dried blood and bruises on your face though?”

“...John hit me.”

“John did?”

“He...did.”

Well that’s new.

“Guess you said something bad to upset him, I never thought he’d ever punch you, you guys are like kindergarten buddies’.”

Sherlock chuckled. “He had a good reason, though. I faked being dead, let him mourn, miss me. I’m even surprised you haven't done that...yet.” He said, looking at me.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Right. Got it, no...tempting.” He nodded, turning his head back in front of him.

Sherlock’s lucky I have an ounce of good in me. I would have given him more than a punch considering what he did. If he wasn’t the famous, amazing detective, and my...friend-crush, he’d be dead and put in the grave he was supposed to be in all that time.

Speaking of that, I wonder if they just left it empty, or if someone was actually there all the time. I hope it’s empty, though. It would creep me out to find out I’ve been threatening an innocent person- considering they didn’t put some random criminal in there.

At least, the positive point of all this is that he won’t have to pay for another grave, which is...a good deal, for a guy like him.

I hope he has a good explanation for this, it’d be a shame to bury him again.

++

As I opened the front door of the apartment- Sherlock stepping behind me, I walked towards the blinds, pulling them open to let light in. I turned towards him, looking around the room.

“Yeah, by the way, I cleaned the place.” I pointed out. “Everyday. I know you never wanted anyone to touch it, do anything at all, but I did. I guess that was me hoping you’d come back, and I realize that I...kinda hurt myself by coming back here, hoping you’d be in there, or come through the door any second, but you didn’t, for two years. And even if two years seemed enough to realize that you were really dead- I, and probably others, hoped for a miracle. We didn’t stop at all.”

“I do realize I will never be sorry enough, because no amount of apologies would ever make up for two years, or even a month, or a week.” He listed. “I left you, I acknowledge it. But, even if my next words might anger you more...I did it so you wouldn’t be the ones that’d end up dead. Even if I didn’t die, I did make the person after me believe that, I think. And, don’t hit me for that either- but I’d do it again if a great risk was to put you all in danger. Even you. I know that I haven’t been the nicest, which made you believe you were just a girl working with me, but you’re like everyone I’m always with- a friend, that I also consider family, and you still are, you’ll ever be, if building back our relationship happens to take time.” He admitted.

“I don’t even know what I feel about you...about your death, and you...being here, after a whole lot of time. I mean- we all felt your death deep inside us, it wasn’t just ‘wow, we’ve been real sad , but now we can move on and be better, just as no important person if our life didn’t just die!’, you really couldn’t have...let us know without letting anyone know that we knew?”

“You know I would have if I could have!” Sherlock yelled. “I tried to think this through, and this seemed like the only way to solve this without damage. For you guys, mostly.”

“Oh, so, letting John witness his best friend committing suicide, letting him see his body on the bloodied pavement, his head kinda blown out, literally his friend being dead- was ‘without damage’ to you?”

“It seemed like, at the moment.”

“Well guess what, it wasn’t!” I exclaimed loudly.

“Gosh, try to understand, I don’t know, do as if you were a stranger, I don’t know! If a psychopath threatened to kill you, and your friends, or kill your friends to throw the blame on you, what would you do? Because someone would have known if I ever told it. And they would have killed you, all.”

“I could have done it. You know it wouldn’t have been as bad as it was with you, if it had been me.”

“Please don’t say that.” He plastered a saddened look on his face. “You couldn’t have done it instead. No one else could.”

“I could have, if you had let me. You didn’t deserve this.”

“Neither did you.” Sherlock quietly said.

The both of us glanced at the other, not one word coming out of someone’s mouth. Neither of us knew what to do.

He let out a breath, walking to the window, next to me. “...you’re making it feel like you’re not important.”

“That’s because no one is as important as you.”

“That’s not true. You are.”

“You know it wouldn’t have caused this much chaos with me. We needed you more, you weren’t some stupid detective, you were the most qualified, hell, everyone needed you. Lestrade didn’t need us as much as he needed you.”

“He did need you. you know that. You two were qualified enough to function without me. Don’t act as if you’re not smart, please.” He pleaded. “It was mine to deal with, this was between Moriarty...other people...and me, so not even some kind of FBI agent training for 40 years could have done it, or you, or John.” He explained. “I even had to plan how I’d die, how I’d set it up, how I’d hide, not let my presence slip out- I’m not saying you’re imcompetent, but all of this was mine to handle. I wouldn’t have been able to let anyone carry that. And if I had really died, that would have been fine either, because I would have died protecting the ones that mattered.”

“We would have still felt guilty. There’s always heavy consequences in that kind of event. We all searched what went wrong, if we missed anything leading to that, if we let an important detail slip that caused you to do that, or anything else that could have been blamed upon us. We all thought that was our fault.”

“I know. I thought of that. I do regret it, but I had to...jump off that building. If they wouldn’t have seen me die, they would have killed you all. And the same goes for the actual situation now. If they had seen me dead earlier, they would have killed you too.” Sherlock said. “Look, I wish I could have given up being dead and contacted you in some way, but I had to stay hidden until I could come back without risk, without you getting killed.” He specified. “I would have been the one filled with guilt if I risked your lives.”

“You wouldn’t have deserved to die. You still don’t” I quietly said, resting against the wall. “Do you even know how important you are to us? You’re more than a guy we work with.”

“...and I’m grateful for that. But all I’m asking you is to let me explain what happened; see it as a way to show how much you matter to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Moriarty wanted me to die. He summoned me to the rooftop, and...after I found an ‘arrangement’, he killed himself first, leaving me to be the only choice to save my friends . So, I had to jump as I was being watched, and if I hadn’t jumped, they would have killed Lestrade, John, Mrs.Hudson...and you.” He insisted on the last word, looking at me. “So this was better, what was supposed to happen, and the two years weren’t planned. I came back because there probably was...a literal terrorist attack.”

My eyes widened. “What? Aren’t you supposed to…”

“It’s being handled, forget it. It was probably a false alarm”

“We were on the road, Sherlock.”

“It’s far from here.”

“Why aren’t we there, though?”

“Day-off. I’m technically still dead.”

“Not really if people saw you. Plus, I doubt it’s a false alarm if it’s bad enough for you to come back.”

“Other people are handling it. Look, are you worried about them? I’ll send a text right in front of you.” He took his phone out, typing a few characters before hitting the ‘send’ button. “Just wait.” He looked to his right, as his phone emited a sound. “There…”we’re still alive.”

“Better, yeah.” I nodded. “...two years was really long, though. I started to believe you had really died, so I guess it worked.” I exclaimed with a shaky voice.

“Glad to know my plan turned out to be successful. Thanks for giving your review.”

“Quite rare of you to be polite. I do suppose you say ‘please’, and ‘thanks’, but I think you forget to say them out loud.”

“Sometimes, yeah. But I do think of them.” He confessed.

“Hm. But...what led Moriarty to do all of this? I’m not quite sure I have all the details.”

“Oh, that. It began a while ago, before you fully worked with me. The criminal network he was headed for was vast, he was practically everywhere, like a ‘cancer’, so we came up with a plan. Mycroft had...fed him information about me, and in turn he gave us hints, as to the extent of his web.” He explained. “And as you know, we let him go, so he’d acknowledge having the upper hand, which led him to destroy my reputation. But...I had to let him believe he had ‘won’, so he could reveal himself, in a way.” He informed, as he moved around the room. “Once we were on that roof, there were at least 13 likely scenarios, which were rigorously worked out and given code names. But, even if I said that he destroyed my reputation, it wasn’t what he truly needed. What he needed...was for me to die.”

“And then, what?”

“He...basically told me that whatever I’d do with him, nothing would prevent the assassins he had hired to kill you, unless…”

“You’d die.”

“And complete his story.” He added. “But the thing I wasn’t able to know was how far Moriarty was prepared to go. I guess that was my fault, on this one. Our first meeting at the swimming pool should have been enough.”

“What did he tell you, back then?”

“He told me about his death wish. And, realized it. He killed himself in front of me when we were on the roof as I told you, and I didn’t have long until the assassins would arrive, most likely. I contacted my brother, and the whole scene started. Each person around was part of the plan, even the pedestrians.”

“You hired...pedestrians?”

“I needed the scene to look real.”

“This street is always empty, this couldn’t have worked?”

“Um...not really. This had to look real, plus they kinda contributed.” He detailed. “Oh and if, them getting killed is part of your concerns, they didn’t. The three of you, and me, were the real targets, they would have only killed anyone trying to fail their mission. And also, if that’s also a concern, the whole street was closed off, like a scene from a play. No accidental arrivals.”

“I didn’t even know all of this was staged. Even the paramedics were?”

“Even them. They’re the ones who faked checking on me so John wouldn’t reach me once I hit the ground.”

“How did he not see, though?” I questionned.

“Before I jumped?” He asked, as I nodded. “I made sure he stayed behind the building situated in front of the hospital. That way, he couldn’t see that I hadn’t actually fallen on the ground, but on an airbag. From that moment, the airbag needed to be cleared out of the way as John came, and as he needed to see a body, a fake one was thrown out of the window.”

“And...what refrained him from running to the body?”

“A well-timed cyclist. He ran into him, giving me the time I needed to exchange places with the corpse, and the rest was only ‘makeup’, I couldn’t be white as a sheet, there had to be blood because of how hard I fell. And, before you ask, what refrained him from feeling my pulse once he had reached me was simply a squash ball under the armpit.”

“You made it sound so…”

“Emotionless? Easy? You could say that.”

“I’d say it’s that. But the moment must have been...I don’t know, between you hearing John, and him feeling helpless upon seeing you.” I said. “Be glad I wasn’t there, because you know I wouldn’t have stayed, the plan would have failed because of me.”

“I know you would have listened, anyway. Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re smarter than you think you are, actually.”

“Compared to you, not really close.”

“If Sherlock Holmes himself tells you that you are smart, it’s not a joke, especially if I say it more than once.”

“Promise you’re not lying?”

“Always.” He promised.

“If you’re always going to be this nice, I might even give up on killing you.”

“Oh, please. Killing me. That’s so two years ago.” He stated, looking right at me as a small grin drew across his face.

“Careful, that can always stay an option. I said that I might, not that I will.”

“I’ll sleep with one eye from now on, then.”

“Then be it, I guess.” I defied, letting my eyes fall on the ground after a few seconds. “I missed having you around.” I admitted with a small voice.

“I’m sorry I made you sad, that wasn’t my intention. I swore that it’d never hurt anyone else other than me, and yet- look at us now.”

“We’re kind of broken, isn’t it?”

“You could say that.”

“Do you think we’ll ever fix it?” I asked, with teary eyes.

“Most likely. Even if that takes years.” He walked towards me, taking a breath before fixing his gaze on me. “I hope that’s the case, I don’t want to keep hurting you.” He confessed, gently taking my hand.

“And I hate not having you around.” I responded, getting up from my spot as I enlaced my arms around his waist, holding tight.

“I’ll do my best to not disappear again.” He spoke out, putting one arm across my back, while the other went on the back of my head, slowly, as if he wasn’t totally at ease with it. “This shows how much you count, I’d never do that usually.”

“I appreciate it, but don’t ruin the moment.”

“You’re even taking your behavior from mine, what’s next? My job?”

“Who knows? I’ve been doing a lot these last two years.”

“I’m sure you’re capable of becoming better than me in less time, and before you throw back the compliment, don’t. This is me...trying to be nice.” He explained, lightly tapping my head before we broke off.

“Thank you for...explaining. I’m glad you’re back.”

“Thank you for…not killing me?” He thanked me, slightly unsure.

“You’re welcome, Holmes.”

“Have you been doing well...lately? I figured we haven’t talked much about your feelings.”

“Oh, that.”

I wish he could be more precise, but he doesn't even know of the ‘other’ feelings, which are more of the love kind.

“...I don’t even know if there’s much, to be honest.” I admitted, looking at him. “I mainly wished it could have been me. A world without you seemed impossible, a great loss, almost unfixable. There was no one else like you, and I...even thought about dying, myself. I was in a really bad place. I even started to do as you weren’t dead, I’d go to your apartment and unconsciously wait for you to return, everyday.”

It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

“And if you hadn’t come back for another two or three years, I would have believed it, fully- even if a part of me would think it wasn’t possible. Nothing can kill you, you’ve basically survived everything, and I do know you have moments of weakness like everyone, but you’ve always done your best to stay strong, no matter how difficult it was. And me...I’m not like that. I always have a hard time with some cases, and I always stand behind John and you so by the time you look at me, I’m good as new, as if I didn’t start to cry.” I detailed, fidgeting with my hands. “But...when you died, I didn’t cry, I kept all my feelings in a bottle, most of the time. I attempted to keep my head straight, for you, which was after a bit of time. I mostly wish it had been me...instead of you, and I’m aware of what I could have done, to make the pain go away.”

“I really caused a lot of damage, which seems pretty difficult to chug down for now, I lied about a big thing, and I can’t be sorry enough. I know that we can’t make life go back to normal, because nothing will erase this, or make it get forgotten- considered it’s all over the internet now.”

“You’re trending on Twitter?”

“Pretty much...seems like it- the press must have seen me. This will make things quite unpleasant, they’ll probably harass you guys as well, gosh.” He complained, running his hands through his hair.

“What’s ten more journalists? I’m used to it anyway. Besides, we’ve already got a lot of stuff in our hands, and will probably have more. Lestrade is gonna blow your phone again.”

“We do have a lot, including having a talk with him. There’s no way he’s getting away with that, you two are the best I have ever worked with.”

“I was going to say it’s quite rare from you but, I’ll just take the compliment.”

“I mean it, so it’s a good one.” He quietly chuckled. “Is our fight over...or?”

“I’d say so? I mean, there’s gonna be some ‘getting-used-to-you-again’ moments, of course, and some explainings, but I’d say we’re cool, yeah.”

“Then um...is it a good moment to announce that John and Mary are getting engaged? I didn’t want to announce it in the middle of a...death, well- fake death topic.”

“They are? When did they even-”

“Oh, at the visit I paid them. He was most likely about to do it, but then we talked, I said a ‘joke-y’ thing…”

“And he punched you.”

“Right.” He confirmed.

“Let me guess, you don’t have anyone to go to the wedding with?”

“Exactly.”

“And I guess that the person that’d fill the vacant spot to go with you...is me? “

“Correct? I mean, if you’d be okay with it.”

“Well I’ve never been to a wedding so...that’d be a great experience.” I admitted.

“As we say, ‘there’s a first for everything’. Plus, I can call Mary now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You see, she had to stay with John, to talk him out of killing me, and other stuff that bores me, and she asked me to talk to you, and ask if you wanted to be her wedding attendant...and you said yes.”

“Did you ask me just because Mary asked you to? I feel like there’s another reason for that.”

“Is this really necessary?” He complained.

“I’m asking so...yeah. I guess.” I assumed.

“Fine, I wanted to have you with me. The thought of being with a friend of hers for a whole day annoys me, and I don’t want to have to pretend to have a good time, only to disappoint her at the end of the day.” He sighed. “And yes, I do have a small amount of compassion for people, even if they are all infuriating to the root.”

“Work on it, because people tend to think you’re embarrassed, or have no interest in having a conversation with them.” I advised. “But...I’m glad you thought of me. I’ll be attending this event with you with immeasurable pleasure, Holmes.”

“You just saved the day, I appreciate it. Call me by my name, though. I know you use Holmes as a nickname, but you have the ‘close associate privilege’, use it.”

“Did you just invent this?”

“Probably. Probably not, who knows. Invent your own words, it’s not forbidden by the law, plus who is going to stop us? The queen? Pff, let her try to catch me.”

“Hm, fair enough.” I agreed. “Although, I don’t get why you dislike ‘Holmes’, I’ll attempt to use it less to please you then, Sherlock.”

“It's very kind of you, Detective.”

“Pff, you’re a child.”

“A grown child then, I’d even say I’m superior, whether I’m speaking of now or when I used to be like them.”

“They’re children, chill.”

“That is quite a complicated task to ask, I do not accept being inferior to a toddler.”

“Come on, it’s a child, don’t be so harsh.”

“Quite complicated, once again.”

“Is there anything that’s not complicated? Something?”

“You.”

“What do you mean...by ‘you’?”

“You know it, you’re nice to be with, easy to talk to, understand, I’ve never had issues when it comes to being with you.”

“Woah, that’s...surprising?”

“I do agree that I’m not that open with everyone, you’re simply part of the few people that I can talk more deeply with. The others just get their whole behavior analysed along with harsh critics, you guys are lucky...even if I used to do that when I met you.”

“I still remember it. You don’t take criticism from a renowned detective in a good way, usually.”

“It’s not really to be taken in a mean way, mainly to be honest so I don’t hurt any feelings later on.”

“People actually tend to see it in a mean way.” I confessed.

“Do they?” He questioned.

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t aware of it.”

“And you’re most likely going to erase that from your memory because you don’t like it.”

“Correct, again. I prefer to be honest, always.”

“I know you do. But you weren’t harsh enough to push us away, we’re still supporting you, years after. You’re gonna have to try harder than this.”

“Is this a challenge?”

“If you’d like to see it that way, it can be.” I offered.

“Then I accept it, dear Detective.”

Even if I would like to ask him to call him by my name as I don’t get to do that with ‘Holmes’, I do like when he calls me detective.

It does give me a special feeling, and I miss smiling at that.

“You do know it’s nearly impossible?”

“Oh, please. Did I ever step down because it was ‘impossible’? I’m not anyone.”

“I do know. It’s just that it’s not going to be easy, you tried doing it when we met, and I’m still here.”

“It was just a small joke, this one is more real.”

“Is it? You’ve been failing for years, are you going to make it now?”

“One-hundred percent sure.” He informed me.

“Well then, I wish you good luck on this task, Sherlock.” I wished.

“I appreciate the kind gesture, Detective.”

“So do I.” I answered. “Anyway...what now?”

“We can either go see John again, hoping he won’t punch me- or we can stay here and talk about anything, even come back on my fake death, you can play the role of a journalist- whatever, I guess.” He said, seeming either embarrassed, or out of ideas.

“I say we let him lose his temper, we’ll see tomorrow.”

“I’d hope you’d not choose to see him, thank god. That’s why I like working with you, you always make the right choices.”

“I told you I was special.”

“And years later, you’re still right.” He agreed. “Can you take some water though? I talked a lot, you see.”

“I knew it. It was so weird that you didn’t ask for something for me to do.” I complained, walking to the kitchen.

“Don’t be mad, you have to drink too.”

I quickly came out of the kitchen, letting my bust stick out. “Yeah but who’s getting the glasses? Not you.” I pointed out, getting back inside.

“Strangely I do not have anything to say. You beat me this time.”

“Told you I’m the best!” I yelled, grabbing the glasses as I exited the room. “Man, I get to tell everyone I beat you, isn’t that great?”

“It’s a pretty good thing to brag about. You can be proud.” He offered a smile, settling into a seat. “Come on, we still have a lot to catch up on.” He said, as I set down the glasses on the low table, sitting down. “So, what did I miss?”

I don’t even know if I ever said it today, but; it’s good to have you back home, Sherlock.

++

|Chapter Three|

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne

So now we get to what is, in my opinion, the best episode in season three. However, it’s still season three, so that’s damning with faint praise. 

Summary: Rapunzel tasks the kingdom with refurbishing the throne room. While breaking down a wall, they find a map to the Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne and Rapunzel decides to set up a race to the location. The teams, which consist of twos, are only allowed to look at the map briefly before the start of the race. However, Rapunzel's partner, Feldspar, brings a copy of the map with him and he warns her that the treasure is cursed. 

Why Are You Just Getting to This Now? 

It’s literally been months since you defeated the Saporians. Edmund had to have time to travel all this way to Corona and you’ve rebuilt an entire village since then. We’re talking at bare minimum three months or more. 

Who just leaves a gapping hole inside their home for three months? Where did you conduct the government’s important business during that time? Is there any other structural damage to the castle or the town outside from previous battles that you’ve just left unattended? I understand that rebuilding Old Corona is important but those villagers have been evacuated and living elsewhere for a year and a half now since Queen for a Day. It wasn’t a priority, but this is. 

Also this episode has to come after The Return of the King and Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf because Red, Angry, and Hamuel exist. It can’t just be slotted in somewhere else in order for it to make more sense. The writers genuinely planned for Rapunzel to be this disorganized and didn’t think to give a logical reason as to why. 

Also Why Are You Conscripting Regular Citizens Instead of Hiring Professional Contractors?

Unlike Old Corona, which is a full on community that would require multiple building projects going on simultaneously and therefore could use volunteers, this is a single government building. It’s Rapunzel’s job as leader to make sure that that building is kept maintained and up to code. It’s her responsibility not the regular average citizen’s who has their own jobs to do and zero experience with construction.  

Rapunzel is literally forcing these people to be slave labor for her under the pretense of ‘community’. She’s taking their time away from their own busy lives, forcing them to work a dangerous job, and not compensating them for that time, effort, and risk. And no, they’re not just volunteers at this point; because as acting queen, no one can safely say no to her nor can they just leave even when they’re clearly annoyed and fed up at having to do the work.  

Lastly they’re untrained. They lack the skills and tools to this job. You need an architect, you need a safety inspector, you need actual carpenters and masonries ... maybe even an interior decorator... The point is you need trained professionals and part of being an administrator is using government funding to hire these people in order to make sure the work gets done safely and efficiently and create jobs and keep money circulating through the economy.       

Rapunzel may not mean any harm. She might just be oblivious and untrained herself. But this is terrible leadership and the show never points that out. It never has her learn how to be a better a ruler so by the end of the series you don't feel she’s earned that title of Queen and you fear for the kingdom’s continued existence.   

So Why Is This Here?

Why would there be a Saporian map to a king of Corona’s tomb hidden in the wall? What’s the story behind this? 

Yes we know his wife was Saporian, but that doesn’t explain anything. Why would she need a map on the wall to her own husband’s resting place; assuming he didn’t out live her himself. Why would said map be carved into the wall of Corona’s castle and not written on a scroll? Why is it in Saporian when they don't speak that language in Corona? 

Like I could come up with explanations and create this whole backstory for Herz Der Sonne and the first Saporian/Coronian War, but at this point I’d just be doing the work of the writers for them. They’re the ones who introduced this lore and had it inform plot points and character motivation; and then failed to explain any of it to the audience and adequately have it all connect back together in a way that makes sense. 

The Moment When You Realize This Whole Episode Exists Because Zachary Levi Enjoys Doing an Ed Wynn Impersonation 

Ok time to explain some behind the scenes Info.

This is Ed Wynn. 

As you can tell from the gif above, he’s famous for voicing the Mad Hatter in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland. He’s also done a whole bunch of other stuff and was well known even before working with Disney, but the Mad Hatter is his most well remembered role today. 

Many actors, particularly voice actors, like to do impressions of him because he has such a distinctive voice. Including Eugene’s VA, Zachery Levi.  

Now I don’t know if the character of Feldspar was created specifically because the creators were inspired by Zachery Levi’s impression, or if they had this character already planned out and just casted him in the role since he could do it and it’d save them money. Either scenario is plausible and not unheard of in animation. But the long and short of it is, as a shoemaker, Feldspar is intended to be a parody of the Mad Hatter. That is why the character exists. 

Now as I said, this isn’t unusual for animated tv shows. Quite often you get main cast members to voice secondary and/or one off characters because it’s convenient, efficient, and doable when working with audio recordings. Also quite often voice actors will do impressions of other famous people to flesh out these background characters. It’s also not out of left field for these secondary characters to get an episode of focus if they’ve been around for awhile and keep popping up in the story. 

What is unusual, however, is to focus on said character in the final season when there are a bunch of other more important characters with unresolved arcs that need the screen time more. It’s an incredibly odd decision to highlight Feldspar here when we still got Varian readjusting back into society, Red and Angry settling into their new home, and Edmund running around off screen. And while some of these character feature in the episode, they’re just there for the jokes not for any development. 

What’s a “Sap Pond” and How Does That Even Work?

Ok its a fantasy world, I get it. But the franchise does try to have a distinction between the magical and the mundane. Or at least pretends to try and have a distinction. There’s to my knowledge no such thing as a ‘sap pond’, and if such a thing does exist I doubt it’s an actual deep pit full of tree sap as shown here. 

If you want characters to still be surprised by out of the ordinary occurrences and have the supernatural world be separate from the regular world; then you need to have the mundane world grounded in our known reality. Nature needs to function as real world nature would. If something exists in your world that doesn't in ours, then you need to either explain it or have the characters responded appropriately to it. 

But You’re a Prince Now?

Look, I’ll buy that season one Eugene didn’t have unlimited access to the royal treasury as he and Rapunzel were still new to their roles and their relationship. But it’s been over two years since the movie ended. 

Since then Eugene and Rapunzel have lived together, shared finances together, and currently are co-acting rulers of the kingdom. He’s also a bonified prince in of itself on top of being practically married to princess/queen. 

Yeah I said it. Part of what makes season three so frustrating is that Rapunzel and Eugene are functionally married at this point, they just haven’t gone through the ceremony yet, and there’s no stated reason for why they keep dragging things out.  

This is why we get out of place jokes like this that no longer reflect who Eugene is now as a person and feel like they belong back in season one or the even the movie itself. 

I can understand if he wanted to join in the competition because it’s fun, but he’s not poor. Neither he nor Rapunzel needs the treasure. I’m not sure even Lance needs it because as Eugene’s best friend/adopted brother he’s piratically nobility at this point as well. 

Royalty and the rich are not and never will be underdogs show. Stop trying to make them such. 

So Why Feldspar Again? 

This is such a half assed plot point. 

Remember Rapunzel literally pulled out a book earlier to translate the map.  Xavier not only knows the legends about the Saporians, but also keeps a book of magic lying around, and the Saporians are the only human people who have functioning magic in the show as part of their culture.    Varian spent a year living and working with the Saporian leader, and knows how to decipher ancient scrolls written in dead languages.  And said Saporians, are being currently held in the dungeons of the castle.  

But you’re telling me that only a random cobbler can read the warning clearly written on the map? 

They give some bullshit reason as to why Feldspar knows Sapoprian but it doesn’t matter. It’s a forced and contrived excuse to get the character involved in a plot he has no business being in. The story fails to justify the use him over the other more prominent characters who have closer ties to this particular subplot. 

And We’re Suppose to Believe That Herz Der Sonne Was a Good Guy?

Why would a benevolent king who supposedly brought peace to a warring land have a doomsday curse involving zombies? Why would said king be enshrined a tomb that’s not native to his culture? What even is the treasure and why be buried with it? 

There’s clearly more going on here regarding Corona’s past and the treatment of the Saporians as a people in their own right, but the show never does anything with it. Why introduce these complexities and world building if you’re not going to tell a story with them? Why have the Saporian subplot at all in a series already over stuffed with villains if you aren’t going to have them challenge your protagonist and have her grow into a more mature person? 

I’m not dunking on the series for being ambitious nor for having flavor text to help flesh out the world, but it so aggravating that there’s no follow through on the show’s set ups and narrative promises. If you’re not going to give the needed focus to something then just don’t put it in. Cause once it’s aired you’re committed to it and the audience is going to hold you to account. 

I haven’t seen plot mismanagement this bad since the 80s; back when cartoons had to battle network syndication, episode commissions instead of contracted seasons, and could be canceled at any time without prior notice. Now there’s still plenty of bad practices going on in the industry, especially as the move to streaming messes with things, but Tangled does not have the same excuses as say Johnny Quest, Dungeons and Dragons, or even Gargoyles did. 

How Do You Even Know That Would Work, Rapunzel?

No seriously, how does Rapunzel know that putting the treasure chest back on the pedestal will stop the cruse? That hasn’t been established yet by any known source of information. Heck no one knew what the curse actually entailed until it was activated. Except for Xavier who oh so conveniently didn’t say anything until the last moment. If anyone should have the knowledge to on how to end the curse it’s him. But nope we gotta make the Rapunzel the infallible hero who is always right for no logical reason.  

I don’t know how to explain this to you show, but perfect is boring. No one wants a flawless protagonist who can do it all 24/7 without any help whatsoever. And it becomes down right annoying to watch a hero who is clearly flawed still put upon a narrative pedestal as if they weren’t. 

So Why is Varian Suddenly Useless In This Fight?

This entire climax is about showcasing the ‘power of teamwork’ by having the characters use their various skills sets and work together to defeat the enemy. 

Except for Varian. 

He’s treated at best as a spectator to the unfolding events and at worst as a damsel in distress. 

Varian. You know the guy who is the series most competent and threating antagonist. Who brought an entire kingdom to it’s knees, twice. The only other character besides Rapunzel herself who could and does hold his own against other major antagonists, including super powered ones.  

If this was just a one off incident, I’d just shrug it away as him being a glass cannon; insanely overpowered when well prepared but easily out of his depth when not. But that’s not what’s happening here. 

Season three constantly nerfs Varian’s abilities, same as they did back in The Alchemist Returns, and there’s three reasons for this. 

The first is to try and stop him from overshadowing Rapunzel and Cassandra. The writers don’t want to give him any more story focus for fear of him being more popular the the two girls. Which is a ridiculous and petty reason to write a character OOC but there you go. 

The second is the on going issue of making Rapunzel needlessly the center of any and all solutions to every problem regardless of her level of involvement in the initial conflict. Yes, it’s her show, but she’s still not the whole world. Other people exist outside of her and it’s not fair to anybody when the writers ignore that simple fact.   

Last is the writers sacrificing established character for a joke. And as already pointed out, even in this very review, Varian’s not the only character to fall victim to this. It’s just bad writing. Yeah the joke might be funny in the moment but you run the risk of jarring you’re audience’s immersion. In a series like Tangled where you’re constantly asking the audience to suspend their disbelief, humor needs to be firmly rooted in the characters natural behaviors and must evolve to match any character development.   

Why not just have Varian throw a chimball or two, run out cause he wasn’t planning on fighting anybody that day, and then have the other characters rescue him? It’s not that hard to work in a joke while still being respectful of the characters.  

So What Does Anybody Learn From This Episode?

Yeah the other characters learn some vague lesson on teamwork and getting along or something, but they’re not the focus of the episode. What do Rapunzel and Feldspar learn? 

Unlike some people I don’t mind Feldspar’s existence. When’s he’s kept as a background character he works. In fact he’s one of the few townspeople who do work as intended, because he’s representative of the everyday citizen who’s often on the outside looking in on these fantastical events and therefore gives insight into what’s going on and the populous’ opinions on things without being a major player in anything. 

That's fine, needed even, and I don’t mind him getting a single focus episode to gain a greater insight into how this world works or even flesh out his character more, but that’s not what we got. Feldspar doesn’t grow as a character because of this episode. I, as the viewer watching, learn nothing about him nor his life that I didn’t already know. This resolution with him resolves nothing cause it’s a ending for a conflict that was never established beforehand.  

In fact what even was the main conflict of the story? Rapunzel being annoyed by Feldspar? Ok and..? Did she need to learn not to be annoyed by him? Was that a thing that needed to be addressed? Hasn’t Rapunzel already put up with annoying people before now? Was was this deficiency of character actually solved by this one interaction? Has she learned to be more appreciative, attentive, or open minded of others? 

If you tell me it’s Rapunzel’s show then I expect Rapunzel to actually learn shit! 

I expect the external conflicts to tie back into her interpersonal conflicts. If the external conflict does not do that than there better well be a another character who gets that focus instead without her hogging the limelight. 

This Dynamic Adds Nothing

They set up this friendship with Varian and Xavier and it doesn't go anywhere. It never comes back into play and we never see them interacting on screen together again. It also undermines a future plot point that’s coming up later. 

More over it doesn’t further either of their characters. 

Xavier is still an extraneous exposition fairy. Turning his flat characterization into a one note joke does not erase that fact. Giving him a kid to tell stories to doesn’t explain his place in the narrative or give him purpose to the story. We still don’t know why he has these connections to magic nor how he knows all the this lore, and he doesn’t push the plot forward. 

Meanwhile Varian maybe lonely but that doesn’t mean he needs yet another mentor figure in his life. We already have his father, who we barely see him interact with since coming back, and all his other ‘friends’ are way older then him already as well. Rapunzel’s the closest in age to him and she is constantly condescending to, well everybody, as she pretends to be more mature than she actually is. There’s no one in the story who Varian is on equal footing with, and no Angry and Red don't count as they’re far younger than him. 

I don’t know what this series has against teenagers but it showcases some very unhealthy depictions of them; ether by constantly infantilizing them, traumatizing them while subjecting them to parentification, or just flat out ignoring their existence all together. 

Teenagers exist and they need to be treated as teenagers. I don’t know how to put it more simply than that. Teens aren’t children. Teens aren’t adults. They’re teens. And when writing for them you need to understand that difference and acknowledge that they have a completely different phycological development and placement within society to anybody else. That’s why the category of adolescence exists separately from childhood and adulthood in the first place.   

So to tie things back to the first point. The concept of Xavier and Varian having a friendship is not a problem. But as with so many things on this show, it’s the surrounding context and lack of follow through where the issues arises. 

Varian needs a friend his age, who is his equal, more so than a mentor; if indeed Xavier is even intended to serve that function as he doesn’t do any real mentoring. This should have been an opportunity to bring Faith in and establish her better. In fact it’s reasons like this why she should have been a bigger character all along but we’ll get more into that as we get to her only ‘focus’ episode. 

Conclusion 

It’s fun seeing all the various character interactions and unique team ups. Also the humor does work. The jokes do land even if they do bulldoze through established canon. Plus seeing Rapunzel actually annoyed by shit going on around her is always entertaining as it humanizes her. If watched in isolation from the rest of season three, this is an enjoyable episode. But that’s it’s core problem. I shouldn’t have to find filler to keep me going in the last leg of the show. 

This was pretty short comparatively speaking with the rest of the ones I have to write for S3, but longer ones are going to come out more slowly just due to real life and time. As always though you’re support is helpful in keeping going, and if you feel like you can donate to my Ko-fi and leave a tip there. 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 7, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Protection.

Notes: idk when i started writing smut so willy nilly but here it is, another fuckening. Pretty big warning though: dubious consent. It’s clearly consensual later on but at first there is no given consent. WC: 6.8k

+

He had yet to leave your side, taking you with him in every which direction as he, in his own words, marketed himself. It was a process that consisted of being charming and making witty jokes; simple things that had people trusting him. You stood mostly silent beside him, wringing your hands, stuck in distant thoughts. If anyone referred to you, you didn't notice.

They did, though––but if anyone asked about you, Ahk would make up a quick explanation, one he knew you wouldn't mind.

Your silence was originally your constant state, traipsing about the palace with a chain keeping you at Ahk's side. Over the short course of time between Amun first awakening and coming to stay with the Persian nomads, he had already grown used to your laughing, the snide comments always on your razor-sharp tongue, and that lively spark that filled your eyes whenever your heart thumped in your chest.

"You're quiet," he murmured as the two of you walked. You gripped reins in your hand, keeping your camel with all your bags beside you.

"I don't... like travelling with people," you said through gritted teeth, side-eyeing a group of whispering friends to your left.

"It's safer, isn't it?"

"For you," you mumbled bitterly.

"Oh, you're above joining in a caravan?" He said with a teasing lilt.

"I am simply experienced in this," you said, sure to speak under your breath, "and I know how to take care of myself."

Due to the size and needs of a caravan such as Mahud's, you would need to stop thrice a day, each time setting up a little bit of a home at the riverside. Inbetween those breaks, your legs ached with a familiar burn. Long walks had been your staple for a long while. Though your long break from the lifestyle had left you a little out of shape, your previous experience allowed you to navigate your way back in without too much trouble.

Ahk was taking the physical exertion overall well, despite his aching hunger. The stops would allow him to eat, a fact he was very happy to learn, going by the massive grin on his face when you pointed it out. At a few points he was partial to complaining, but always ceased if you glared at him.

The next stop for the slow-moving caravan was by an outcropping stream flowing from the Nile and out into the desert, allowing a small oasis to grow further from the river itself. Although there appeared to be no fruits growing on the tall trees, a few men and women took up nets and spears, wading out into the water to look for fish.

Numbness filled up your legs as you collapsed on the ground, leant against your camel who had also drawn to its' knees. Heat had already pooled in your face and in your feet, burning from the long day, and ready for anything to drink.

"Here," Ahk said as he rounded a bush, kneeling beside you in your shady, isolated spot.

He handed a cup to you, filled with hot tea. Not the most satisfying drink, but it was safest, and you dutifully sipped away. As you watched the other travellers Ahk shifted his position, scooting nearer to you and pressing himself to your side. Instantly his heat began to overcrowd your senses.

"Ahk, it's too hot for me to be touching anyone," you said, shifting away with your back to him.

You probably should've expected him to pull you into him and keep you there, which made you feel all the more foolish when he did it anyway and you didn't expect it at all.

"Ahk..." you whined, half suffocated by his arms wrapping tight round your chest, his face buried in the back of your neck.

"Mmm," he hummed as he took all of you in, nuzzling you with his nose. "I am... tired."

"I'd be astounded if you weren't, but you can't sleep. It's still day and we won't stay here long," you said matter-of-factly, pushing his face away from you.

"I'll just keep you here," he decided, his voice muffled through the fabric of your shirt. "Sleep forever."

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes.

You wormed out the moment he loosened his grip, much to his disappointment.

By nightfall the distant murmurs of a city sounded from ahead, blurred with singing crickets and the steady flow of the Nile beside you. Ahk had spent the rest of the day trying to cheer you up, mostly with bad jokes, but the sentiment was nonetheless there. Still, being surrounded by people for the past fourty-six hours had already taken its' toll. You hardly spoke, your chest felt caved in on itself, and your eyes were trained on the ground below you.

The city ahead, while heralding certainly crowded streets and filled taverns, would suffice as a hospice away from people who had come to learn your name. Whispering in your ear, Ahk informed you this was the city Piye had wanted the two of you to stay at for a little while. If things got worse, you'd move further south, and if they got better, you would return north down the nile.

While at first you tried to sneak away without Mahud noticing, Ahk insisted on giving the man a proper good-bye, and backed this up with the fact that you had been lent a camel. You wouldn't be able to take it with, but it was still a nice consideration for the trip to Aswan.

"We'll be stopping here," Ahk said once Mahud's attention was on the two of you. "We're to meet a friend soon."

"Ah, then I wish you safe travels," said Mahud, patting Ahk on the shoulder with a firm hand.

"Thank you. To you and your family as well. Will you be staying here tonight?" Ahk asked as he gestured to the outer markets of the city, filled with traders who came from far away to make their living, and couldn't afford a roof over their heads.

"I believe so. Tomorrow we make our money and head off again."

"Good luck to you then," Ahk said, silently urging you to say your own farewell.

"Good-bye," you said quietly, bowing your head respectfully.

As you entered the outer rim of the city, the first thing you noticed was the quiet. It wasn't all that late––the sun had set only a little while ago, and it always did that much earlier in the day during the colder months. So you kept your footsteps quiet, instructing Ahk to do the same when he didn't pick up on the eerie silence.

With no one around to direct you every which way, you had to rely off what memory you had of Aswan, as little as it was. You had visited several times, but never for very long. Most of the city was still unexplored to you.

The long light of burning torches cast itself upon the street in front of you, approaching from around the house to your right. Instantly you were darting for cover, hiding the whole of your body behind a large barrel, while you watched Ahk look around the corner.

"Ahk, you fucking idiot, get over here," you hissed, the pounding in your heart begging him to listen to you.

He looked over his shoulder, finding you mostly-hidden, and quickly made to do the same. His spot was on the opposite side of the street, guarded by a practical wall of broken-down stalls. Once Ahk was fully secured you slipped back behind the barrel, calming your quickened breath as footsteps passed you by, numbering somewhere in the tens.

Only when you were fully assured that whoever passed you was not coming back, you joined Ahk in the middle of the road and continued onwards.

"Did you get a look at them?" You asked immediately.

"Yes, but... I'm not sure if I actually saw what I saw," he said, his brow furrowed intensely.

"What does that mean?"

"They had these.. heads on them, feathered and beaked, with massive eyes. Fucking jacked, too," he muttered, pausing to check both ways before crossing the next street.

"Like your Gods?" You asked.

"Like Horus," he said with a nod. "What on Earth are they here for?"

"Just guessing right now, but they might have something to do with you."

He took your hand, and after a long while of searching the streets, you found yourself at the step of a tavern whose lights had long gone out. Again, strange; neither of you remarked upon it, but you did turn to each other with dubious eyes. The smell of mead still came from it, not yet soured or rotten.

Ahk took a cautious step forward, reaching for the door and easily pushing it open. Inside there was the expected darkness, surrounding the knocked-down chairs, broken tables, and spilt beer. Both of you stopped, your shadows stretching before you on the wooden floor as you scanned the whole of the abandoned room. The bar, where you were sure there was once an attendant, was left unmanned and covered in shattered cups, sticky with sweetened alcohol.

The door behind you swung shut, making you whip around. Fortunately it was only Ahk letting go of the door, leaving it to join you nearer to the center of the room, where you could try and peer over the counter.

"Um..." you said.

"Good evening," said a voice, accompanied soon by a man popping out from behind the bar. "How may I help you?"

"Uhhh.. what... what, uh, happened here?" Ahk asked, his expression contorted as he glanced around the room.

"Nasty Egyptian soldiers. They've wrecked up the place, and every time I fix it they come back in and ruin it, so I stopped fixing it. The party's upstairs, if that's what you're after," he said with a too-bright grin on his face.

"Really? And they don't notice that you're up there?"

"Well, they are bird brains," the man said as he leant in, though spoke in a much quieter voice.

"Wait, are they the soldiers with the bird heads on them?" Ahk asked as a revelation came to him.

"Yes, sir. Where've you been?"

"Travelling for the last couple days. How long have they been here?"

"About a week or so now," said the man, looking away as he recalled. "Heard they're crawling all over the other cities, too. So you folks want a room?"

"... sure," you said in a quiet, low voice when Ahk failed to answer.

He handed you a wooden coin with a symbol engraved with fire, informing you that the door with the same symbol was yours. There were no locks and he made sure to tell you that, as well. After offering to carry your bags and earning a 'no,' from you, he pointed you up the stairs, and returned to his spot hidden beneath the bar.

"Odd man," Ahk whispered to you as you climbed the steps.

"Ahk!" You scolded, hitting his shoulder. "We're still in earshot."

How the Horus soldiers hadn't managed to find this place was beyond either of you, as the moment you entered the upper floor you were bombarded with the tunes of dancing music, twirling and playing with the veins of each listener. The thick scent of searing meat filled the whole of the room, rivalled only by the scent of sloshed beer. Most of the food and drink came from a single corner, where a large cask of beer had been set up alongside a furnace, where the one manning the food also managed the distribution of drink.

All around you, people sat and stood, dancing in the middle or resting on the sidelines. Every crate and usable chair was taken up, most people taking seats on the floor instead in great groups of public conversation. You instinctively grew closer to Ahk, trying to keep as far away from others as you could, even as he began to wade through the crowd.

"Hey, don't you think it's a little loud in here? Won't the soldiers find us?" Ahk asked a random stranger, who had happened to stand as the two of you passed her by.

"Egyptian soldiers are hardly valued for their intelligence, young man," she said with a knowing chuckle, before continuing on to the bar.

"Told you," you murmured in his ear as you watched her disappear in the crowd.

"Oh, shut up."

After setting away your bags and manually jamming the door, you rejoined the party on the second floor, partaking in what food and drink you could afford. Piye had given you a good deal of money, but you had no way of knowing how many days or months you would have to stretch that amount across. It was better to keep a good eye on your finances, something Ahk didn't know much about, and left in your capable hands. Though, that hardly stopped him from complaining.

"We got more food when we were staying with Mahud," he whined, his cheek squished against your shoulder.

"That's because it didn't cost any money," you said.

"You are a cruel lover."

"I am, but this has nothing to do with that since we are not lovers."

"We're not?"

"No," you stated, leaning your head back against the wall with closed eyes. "We are, at best, accomplices."

There was no ignoring the sudden change in his energy. He grew quiet, as he so rarely did, and hardly moved to breathe.

As he sulked, you took care to remind yourself of what he was capable of––the strange things he'd said to you, even if they weren't entirely harmful, that had set you in a month-long mood of unease.

"You will stay here. Any attempt on your behalf to leave and I will have to punish you. Understand?"

"Then I am a prisoner," you said, your voice hoarse and broken.

"You are what you make yourself," he said in a much more stern tone, looking down at you with knowing, wary eyes. "If it is a prisoner, then so be it. But you will be, throughout all actions and situations, mine."

"I..."

"You belong to me."

He had not relented in his usage of that claim. In times of peace, in political unrest, he had kept you with him. In times of great bounty, of danger and uncertainty, you had not left him once, and you wondered how sick you would've gotten if you were to go back in time and tell your freshly-met self that you would spend the longer half of a year with him.

You supposed that, in the end, you had joined his collection. The only catch was that it cost him everything else in his ownership, including his kingdom. And yet he seemed perfectly content to lean on your side, even if harsh words came before the silence, and to wait till you returned his affections.

As he touched your shoulder, his muscles went lax, letting him fall limp against you. The moment he intook your scent he was gone, hypnotized by his own adoration for you.

Though your mind fell into a quiet stupor, dancers still circled the room in beat with music. For a moment you wondered how they'd react if they found out the Pharaoh was in their midst.

Aswan was a very Egyptian-type city considering it was still within the borders of Nubia. That meant less worker camps, less fear of Egyptian soldiers, and less knowledge on the impact the Pharaoh stressed upon higher up Nubian cities. Keeping that in mind, you assumed they would try to cozy up to him––spend some of his riches, flirt a little––however it was also possible they worshipped Amun and had already heard of Ahk's treason.

Music began to fade from your mind as the faint sound of footsteps sounded from below you, seeping through the cracks in the mud and wood. They appeared more succinctly the closer you listened, and soon you could identify the number, all marching in unison.

"Ahk," you shook him awake, eyes trained intensely on the floor, "we need to get out of here."

"What?" His sleepy face gave way for concern. "What? What's happening?"

"There's soldiers coming," you said, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Well – the man at the front said they come by every now and then. They haven't found the upstairs yet, they probably won't now," he said.

Muffled voices muttered from below the floor. Ahk opened his mouth to speak again, but you quickly silenced him with your hand, carefully tuning back into the conversation beneath you. A loud crash was followed by silence, and that combination had you jumping to your feet.

"What is it?" Ahk asked, much more panicked now that he noticed your own fear.

"They're coming upstairs," you said as you backed up through the crowd, disturbing those you bumped into.

"They're – oh fuck." Ahk's expression dropped. "The soldiers are coming!"

Ahk yelled his warning over the music, certainly loud enough to assure the soldiers that there were, in fact, people up here. Lutes and harps stuttered to a halt, the pounding of footsteps now clear through the walls.

Panic seized the partygoers. People trampled over one another reaching for their belongings casted aside, hurriedly adjusting them back onto their bodies and making for the windows. Like rats they climbed out, writhing over each other into a mass of fabric and limbs, followed eagerly by you and Ahk. Massive backpacks made it so you were the last out and the only two to see the soldiers yourselves.

The pounding door had you stuck in a trance, only able to back up towards the window. As it slammed open, you finally caught sight of the falcon-headed soldiers, their sharpened spears and sharper eyes, staring empty-minded at you as Ahk pulled you out the window.

"This way!" Came a voice from above you.

You and Ahk quickly looked up, finding a young woman offering you a hand from the rooftop. Ahk took no hesitation in grabbing it, allowing her to hoist him upwards. When he reached down to find your hand, he felt nothing, and panic struck his heart like a searing knife. He ducked his head down, watching the room upside down.

Muscled arms wrapped around your chest and face, blocking your mouth from making practically any sounds at all. The only sound you could make was from kicking your legs frantically.

He jumped back to his feet on the roof, spinning round to the woman who had helped him.

"I need a sword," he said in a rush, desperate eyes already begging.

"Um – ask Imar, I believe he has one," she said, pointing to the man who worked at the bar downstairs. Ahk thanked her in a rush and left.

"Imar!" He called as he jumped from one building's roof to another, approaching where most of the party-goers had gathered. "I need a sword, or a weapon of any sort. Crossbow even."

"I've got a sword, but I need it. There's a stock of axes over there. Don't know who they belong to, though, so take at your own discretion," he said. Ahk once more gave his thanks before running off.

The kink in your neck had only gotten worse the more you struggled, spiking pain down your spine and into your skull each time the soldier's golden bands pressed into the side of your neck. Your already travel-worn shoes were now nearly in shreds, pulling and pushing on the rough gravel roads, occasionally cutting the soles of your feet open. Thus far you had not been allowed to speak, one massive arm nearly cutting off your oxygen supply.

Although you couldn't tell for sure where they were dragging you, you assumed it was towards a temple, as the buildings around you slowly grew more complex and well-kept. A temple seemed a proper place where you could be thrown into whatever underworld Amun lived in.

Being a commodity fought over should've scared you more. There was a panic seizing your nerves, but you were numb to the surprise, instead saving your energy till you could outsmart the soldiers.

Squawking interrupted your harsh breathing, crying out from behind the falcon soldier. You opened your eyes to the dark of night, spying through the shadow-filled alleyway a running figure, followed by the heads of soldiers falling from the city's silhouette. It was then you recalled a very important fact––Amun and his soldiers might've been strong, but Ahk held within him a hunger unlike that of the starved. The hunger of the rich––of pigs and cannibals. A hunger that terrified you to your core.

The first soldier in your sight that emerged from the shadow of buildings soon stopped in its' tracks, tumbling down past its' own knees as the falcon head slipped off human shoulders. Your shocked eyes watched intently, darting upwards to see Ahk with a broad axe.

His blade came down on the last remaining soldier walking behind your captor, blood splurting from the veins and splattering on his face. Much of it landed on your foot, leaving a trail of red as you were dragged, legs still shakily kicking.

He held a finger up to his lips, hushing any muffled screams that might've come from you. Whatever he had planned, you let him do what he deemed necessary, and kept quiet to avoid the suspicion of the soldier restraining you. He raised his axe high above his head, as though he were to strike you down. Terror filled your eyes when the blade came screaming down, splitting the soldier's head in two before it could ever reach you, leaving no mark on you but the pouring blood of the falcon head. The grip on you loosened, and as you pushed yourself away the corpse fell to the ground.

Blood and nerves squelched as Ahk tore the weapon out of the skull, a horrible crack resonating in the empty street when the base of the skull finally split. He panted, droplets of blood falling into his open mouth as he turned to you, eyes frozen and wide.

"You alright?" He asked softly, in a tone so out of character from his current state.

"... yeah," you breathed out.

The axe clattered onto the ground, followed shortly by Ahk falling to his knees. From there he crawled the short distance to you, gently wrapping his arms around your middle, and pulling you into his lap. He buried himself in your neck, hid away in your warmth. The blood covering his midsection soaked through your shirt.

"Ahk, we need to leave, you know there's more of them," you said, though you did not cease in stroking his hair.

"I know," he mumbled, pressing himself tighter to you for a moment before releasing. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Nothing but bruises," you huffed. "Let's go."

You kept near the entrance to the tavern as Ahk wandered back inside, checking behind the counters and in the attic for any trace of the fleeing people. From the roof you could hear muttering, though you couldn't see anyone, and you could vaguely make out the words they were saying.

"Are you the one they're looking for?" A woman asked.

"I did anger an Egyptian god, yes," Ahk said with a curt nod.

"Imar!"

The man from the downstairs bar appeared from over the horizon of another tall rooftop. He was drenched in sweat, practically glowing in the dim moonlight.

"Yes?"

"These are the ones they want," she said, gesturing to Ahk.

"Really?" He said as he dusted his hands off. "The hell did you do?"

"I, um, attacked a God in order to save my.. um... Amoke," he answered rather sheepishly.

"You cannot stay here," Imar said firmly.

"I'm sorry, but we have many other people looking for protection. We will not risk them for two people who have private business with whatever kind of God you worship," the woman said.

"I understand. Keep safe. Do you have any ideas on where we could go for the night?"

"Try the old graves up on the hill. They hate desecrating the dead," she said before sending Ahk back off down the stairs.

Footsteps drummed for a moment before the door swung open, revealing the Pharaoh still covered in blood. By now it had dried, leaving much of it to flake off his clothes and skin, now a muddy brown instead of the vibrant red of before.

"Have you ever slept in a grave before?"

"What?"

You had expected him to ask, considering what you heard of the conversation, but you weren't wholly convinced he would actually allow himself to sleep in a tomb.

"A long while ago, I died for a little while. Well, I guess not that long ago. Two or three years. My brother killed me," he began as he started off down the steps, taking you with him as he directed you through the streets, "and I was buried. Piye returned from their banishment shortly after and dug me out of my grave... used their gift to give me life once more."

"... you're really expecting me to believe that?" You asked, almost ready to burst out laughing.

"You saw Amun come to life. There are flowers growing out of your arms. What part of my story is unbelievable to you?"

"Right," you mumbled. "Good point. So... did you sleep in that grave or something?"

"It's complicated, but I was conscious for some time, locked underground. Not Piye's magic. Khonsu's, I believe. Either way, it's not horrid if you have someone with you," he said, patting you on the back with a smile.

"Did you have someone with you?"

His expression fell, the hand on your shoulder going with it.

"I did," he said softly, offering no more than a bittersweet twitch of his smile.

Ahk caught it before you did––the trampling of numbered footsteps, growing steadily louder the closer you came to the upcoming street. You remained within your own thoughts, plagued by questions, and mostly ignorant to the slowing of his pace. Eventually he had to grab your hand, forcing you to hide behind the shadow of a tall building. You opened your mouth to say something, but he set his hand over your mouth, staring at you with an intensity that had terrified you only a little while earlier.

"They're coming," he mouthed in your ear, breath barely passing his lips as he spoke.

Steps grew louder and he pressed himself against you, squishing you to the wall with his chin on your shoulder. Pressure tightened around your chest, constricted your breathing, hastened the beat of your heart as you relied solely on your hearing.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The clattering of armor, weapons, and shields rang through the marching steps, sending the imagery of shining, sharpened stone and arrows glinting in the moonlight.

"We need to go," he said beneath his breath.

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand encircled your wrist once more, pulling and forcing you down the other side of the alley. Chirps and squawks came from behind, making your pulse rush and swell beneath your skin. They would find you––bird brains though they were, they were still soldiers of a God, with eyes adapted for darkness. They would pull you into their hell and murder your... your Ahk.

Your Ahk.

You arrived back in your body when Ahk turned into an open, empty street, running uphill as he trained his sights on the tomb-filled mountains.

"We're not actually going to stay in a grave, are we?!" You asked as you ran, trying desperately to keep up with the long strides of the former Pharaoh.

"It is our safest bet," he said, tightening his grip on you. You still attempted to squirm out, however fruitless your struggle, and the proceeding panic had you soaked entirely in fear.

He kept you running till your legs burned, till he was fumbling over his own steps, too full of adrenaline to fully control his feet. Pebbles, rocks, and dust filled your sandals, scratching at your skin as it clung to your sweat. Your throat was still too tight to take in enough breath, leaving you part-way wheezing. Soon your own legs began to give way, scraping your knees and palms across rough dirt.

"Come, up," Ahk muttered as he helped you back to your feet, casting wary glances towards the city still ringing with the cries of falcons.

A few more minutes of scrambling up unused paths and you came to the foot of the hill, where the first graves had been set up. The long tunnels led into darkness, to a place you had never been before, where death would paint every wall. Few things in life truly terrified you––death was not among them, but the cruel afterlife of the Egyptians did. The tales you'd heard of the spells necessary to memorize, the weapons, the escorts, the protective magic one needed to have to brave what they called Duat had done that to you.

He didn't take to the first grave you saw, whose door was sealed shut from the outside with rope and wood. In fact he took you past halfway up the hills till he finally found a hole in which to hide, shoving you into the overwhelming darkness, and shutting the door partway.

All that you could hear was the trembling of your own breath, echoing in the empty, dank chamber. Despite the chilling cold the ground beneath you seemed wet, as though it had rained within the earth.

Clicking came from somewhere in front of you. Instinctively you pressed yourself against the wall, surprised to find not a cave wall but a carved granite wall. A flame burst before you as you realized this, revealing the whole of the cave, each wall covered in paintings of life and magic. Hieroglyphs lined every scene, rivalled only by the collection of yellow and white stars painted onto the lapis ceiling.

Your eyes scanned the walls around you and the ceiling, wandering down the pillars and towards the dirt floor. Across from you, Ahk leant his back against the wall, a flicker of light dancing on cloth ripped from his skirt. Now the material covered only the upper half of his thighs, leaving little to your imagination as he drew nearer to you.

"I'm afraid Nubian graves don't quite compare to the luxury of Egyptian graves," he said, setting his hand on your knee and running it up your thigh.

"When will we leave?"

"When our hunger becomes too great."

Ahk might've had good impulse control and lots of self control, but you did not.

"That'll be in days!"

"You're not very patient, are you?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a fucking tomb!"

"Screaming won't do you any favors, Amoke," he reminded you with a quirk of his brow.

Though you hardly had the consciousness of mind to recognize what he was doing, his hands had set to separating your legs, wedging himself inbetween them instead.

"I don't think the volume of my voice has anything to do with our predicament," you said scathingly, crossing your arms and turning away.

"Well, no, but you will hurt your voice. And my ears. This is a small room."

He had a point, but you were adamant in your decision to avoid his gaze. So instead you looked to the floor, your arms still crossed, and a small pout on your lip. Your eyes widened as you felt warmth on your neck, soft and somewhat wet. Ahk was kissing at your neck, one hand dangerously high on the inside of your thigh and the other squeezing your waist, in the middle of a tomb.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked, beginning to worm in his grasp. The curt movements soon turned to struggle, your heart racing as he simply held you tighter, biting harsher at your neck.

"I could've lost you so easily today," he said softly between the ministrations of his lips.

"Amun almost kidnapped me, too, and you didn't act l –" he bit down and you gasped, "like this."

He simply chuckled and continued.

"I wanted to," he admitted after a moment. "He had no right to do anything to you. I've already lay claim."

"What?"

"You're mine. I found you first." Motions began to grow rougher, hands tightening on you as kisses became hurried and desperate. "My beautiful little toy... I won't let you go, never."

"Ahk, we're in a grave," you said, attempting to pull his hands off you.

In one swoop his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head. The weight of his body still rested between your legs, keeping them apart, and allowing him access to push and grinded himself against you. His strained breathing kept your shuffling feet company, a distraction from the heat welling in your stomach.

"Ahk..."

"You are a most beautiful sight," he murmured against your flushed skin. "Truly fit to be a god yourself."

The fear rushing through your blood was one unfortunately familiar––that same fear when you first met him. When he tied you to his bed for hours. When he stood above you with angered eyes, scanning the whole of your over-exposed body.

"This isn –"

"You told me you didn't love me... do you remember that?"

"... yes," you said, still unable to meet his eyes even as he pulled away to look you in the face.

"Then I suppose I have nothing to lose," he murmured, leaning into gift the softest of kisses, barely gracing the bow of your lip, "as all I want in this realm is your love."

"And what of your kingdom?"

"My kingdom is my duty. I do not enjoy ruling, but it is something I must do for the safety of families who now rely on a government to protect them. You, however..." he trailed off for a moment, biting into his bottom lip with a grin, "... you I enjoy very much."

A quick kiss to your lips and he resumed what he started, letting your entwined hands fall in favor of feeling you. His touch slipped up your shirt, feeling the heat of your skin until it grew too much to bear, and he began untying the knots of your clothes. Once he pulled the fabric off your shoulders, he leant back to pull his own coat off. The space gave you ample time to wriggle out of his weakened grasp, though you barely raised to your feet before he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back down and scuffing you in the process.

You turned onto your back, watching with heavy, quickened breaths as he pulled you to him till your hips met, hands and piercing eyes pinning you into place. For a split second an image flashed before your eyes––rope in his hand, silk beneath you, and a servant watching it happen. You shook your head to clear it away, opening your eyes in time to see him lay you flat on the earth.

"I love you," he murmured with a reverence so deep you could swear there were tears welling in his eyes. The hands on your hips slowly ran up your waist and over your chest, squeezing and teasing your senses. "Beautiful..."

He dipped down, like a hand of God descending from heaven to grasp the unholy that sits beneath. Kisses landed on your sternum, trailing up towards your neck, where his nipping teeth had already left dark marks. Unsure what to do with yourself, you let your hands sit above your head and allowed him to do as he pleased.

"I have waited forever to indulge in you," he said, the heat of his words beneath your jaw.

Your eyes flew open.

Haji warned you about this––or maybe it was Naguib, but he didn't seem to like you all that much. Either way, you recalled a spare bit of information given to you concerning the Pharaoh; he might've originally locked you in the castle to have his heirs. Was this what he was doing? Giving into what he'd first taken you for?

"Will you give me this?" He asked, inches away from your face, your leg kinked up upon his hip.

"What?"

"The easiest form of love," he said through a crack in his voice. From here you could clearly see what you'd spied earlier––tears. "I cannot seem to win your personal love. But I will take anything you give me, and I want this."

"... what?"

He ground his hips into yours, till you could clearly and distinctly feel something hard pressing against you. A soft groan fell from him. Part of you already knew what he meant, but another part was still stunned into stupidity, your wide eyes nothing but empty.

"I need you," he murmured.

Even with all the thoughts in your head, you couldn't manage a single word. Your mouth hung open, gasping when stimulated, but mostly silent with your own confusion. There was an appeal to Ahkmenrah––his beauty, his intelligence, his humor. Quite the array of good traits even without the fact that he held massive amounts of power, or did at one point. Yet you still couldn't let go of what you'd seen him do. It loomed over you like an eclipse, blocking your thoughts and stilling your mind in its' presence.

He didn't have the strength within him to stop himself. He would need your ardent refusal, even though he knew silence was a quiet no, to regain his control. It was a funny thing, seeing him so desperate––a man as composed as him, as aware of himself as him would be remiss to be such a shameful sight.

And it was you.

You driving a Pharaoh to his knees. You taking a man whose very essence was his control over his identity and tearing his image apart. Making him a devil in his people's eyes. You weren't even asking him to ruin himself, to take himself apart just to appeal to you even in the slightest––he was doing that himself. Willingly.

Your chest felt concave upon itself as he continued, numb to the realizations in your head. He pulled off your skirt, the ties in your clothes, till both of you were nude, him still locking your body to the ground. From this angle he could thrust against you, almost fucking your thighs as your wetness grew. Gasps and moans built in your mouth despite your efforts to keep an even expression. He delighted in your own embarrassment, laughing when you squirmed with your eyes shut tight and a hot blush on your face.

"Gods, you are... perfect," he said, devolving into a long, soft moan as the head of his cock began to prod at your entrance.

A rush of excitement––or perhaps just the simpler anticipation––ran through you, and you couldn't stop the sounds that left you as he pushed in. He stretched you, filled you perfectly, and for a moment you wondered if you had been denying yourself a taste of bliss. 

As he kissed you, bitter iron filled your mouth and painted your tongue. At first you wondered if he had bitten too hard (or if you had), but in a short time you realized it was the dried blood, still caked onto his face and body.

Blood passing between your lips. Mingling with your breaths and moans. It became hard to distract yourself with the forceful thrusts of the Pharaoh above you, your mind instead set fierce upon your sense of taste, and the watchful, hooded eyes Ahk looked down on you with.

He soon noticed your sudden daze, and his thrusts slowed down, going deep instead of fast.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, though he didn't stop his movements entirely.

Your wetness squelched slightly, making you shut your eyes tight with embarrassment, your arms coming to hide your face from sight. Of course, Ahk was having none of that––he took your arms, carefully pinning them to either side of your head.

"A little shy, are you?"

"... this is my first time," you finally mumbled, turning away so you wouldn't have to see his reaction.

"Oh."

He stopped grinding into you. But you couldn't help yourself––you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him back into you and moaning when he was fully sheathed.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes rolling up into his head. "Perfect little pet."

He pinned you to the floor as he finished, keeping you from scrambling away. There he kept you, warm on his cock, filling you with his seed as you whined helplessly.

Although he made an effort to take care of you, gently stroking your skin and kissing away what marks he made, the whole of the day left you both exhausted, and the bout of 'exercise' certainly hadn't helped. In the end you asked him to stop worrying and simply sleep at your side; he acquiesced, using his arm as a pillow as he faced you.

"Still hate me?" He asked, and though they would've been teasing words out of anyone else's mouth, you found sincerity in his expectant eyes.

"No."

[jazzistolkienfanfics]

Darling, I’m right here - Eomer x reader

Hi!! I LOVE your Éomer fic. I was wondering if I could request another Éomer fic with the prompts 18 and 37? Thank you so much in advance! ❤

Thanks @elessandre​ ! 

One Eomer imagine, coming right up!

18. “Please, tell me this is a joke. This is a trick, right?” 37. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” “Please don’t.”

Type: Imagine Pairing: Eomer x reader Summary: when Y/N catches a drunk Eomer doing something he shouldn’t, her heart is broken  Warnings: sadness, kinda angsty, vomiting, ‘shit’, ‘dick’. Also, I’ve never drunk and subsequently never had a hangover before, so … sorry for my probably bad descriptions. Word Count: 

A/N - the title is from a song called ‘Butterfly’s Repose’.

It was a joyous night in Rohan, with dancing Hobbits on the tables, an Elf and a Dwarf somewhere having a drinking game (Y/N watching from Eomer’s side with amusement) and the return of Aragorn. 

Y/N had, indeed, stayed by the Captain of the Rohirrim all night, letting him give her drink after drink as they both danced, laughing loudly.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised suddenly, disappearing off to who knows where. Y/N shrugged, picking up a conversation with Eowyn, who seemed to be quite enamoured with Aragorn.

After fifteen minutes passed, and Y/N still didn’t know where Eomer had gone, so she excused herself, looking for the attractive man.

Of course, that was how Y/N felt about Eomer. Attracted to him. He was kind and funny, strong and stern, one of the best warriors she knew, and a total softie, all at once. 

There’d been several inexplicable moments where Y/N and Eomer had stared at each other with no sound but each other’s beating hearts, the space between them at once agonisingly far and strangely close. Y/N had always been the first to break eye contact with a deep flush spreading across her s/c cheeks, looking at the floor with a wide grin.

And tonight, with the help of a lot of alcohol, Y/N planned to confess how her racing heart had made her feel, how much she admired, and, truth to be told, loved Eomer. She was going to tell him.

It was difficult for the (height) girl to push her way through the masses of drunkenly staggering people and look for Eomer at the same time, but eventually she could see the long blond hair with a strands of brown, and she made her way towards him. 

His back was turned to her, and as Y/N edged around to try and approach him from the front, she saw something that she hadn’t seen from behind, and couldn’t stop a pained whimper slipping from her lips.

Eomer’s arms were wrapped around the waist of a h/c girl, and he was kissing her as though she gave him life.

I was such a fool, Y/N stared, shocked. Such an idiot to believe any of those ‘moments’ really mattered.

She couldn’t bring herself to just stare at the two anymore - it made her sick to her stomach, and a raging fire of jealousy and pain swelled within her.

“Please, tell me this is a joke. This is a trick, right?” Y/N had meant for the words to come out more powerfully, stronger, angrier, but instead her voice cracked and pain seeped through every broken word. 

The girl ripped herself away from Eomer, blinking rapidly and glancing at Y/N with a guilty side-look. When the mystery kisser took in the other h/c girl, she looked back to Eomer, shaking her head and slipping back into the drunken crowd. 

Eomer himself swallowed, staring at Y/N with a confused kind of drunkenness, guilt and happiness and love and impartiality all in one gaze. “Y/N, I-”

“No, go and be with … that was Leowena, wasn’t it?” Y/N swiped her eyes furiously, resolving not to waste any more of her shattered heart on him. “Go and be happy. I was stupid to think anything we ‘shared’ really mattered.”

 It looked like Eomer was about to protest again, but Y/N held up one of her hands, barely composing herself.

“No. You’re drunk right now. Go home, go sleep it off, and then you can be with her. I-I don’t care.” Y/N’s voice cracked on the last lie. 

He swayed slightly, and before he could reach out again, Y/N turned and disappeared, running to anywhere where she didn’t have to face him, didn’t have to show him how hurt she was.

Because even as she ran, she left a trail of salty droplets on the stone floor, and her soft cries echoed off the walls.

—

Y/N vomited again, retching until some liquidy mess that was mostly ale came up into the bucket before her. She wiped her mouth with a rag, a disgusted look on her face as she shoved the sick out of her sight.

Blinding pain made the pale morning sun’s rays on the floor seem like staring straight into the sun itself. Y/N squinted, falling backwards onto her bed with a groan.

Her memories of the celebration itself were fuzzy, but as she sat up and held her head in her hands, it began to swim back to her, along with a pain very different from her hangover headache.

“What a mess.”

Y/N looked up, wincing at the loud voice (that probably wasn’t at all so but it sounded like screaming to her), and felt a pang when she saw long blonde hair. Then, she cursed herself for being so obsessed, realising that it was, in fact, Eowyn.

“You think?” Y/N moaned. “I drank way too much last night. I feel like shit.”

“Did it go well, at least?” Eowyn asked, her  perpetual cheerfulness now toned down as she recognised the hell of a hangover Y/N was suffering through.

“Did what go well?” Y/N asked, her words muffled as she resolved to lie back down with a wet cloth over her face.

“You know what I mean.” The hungover girl could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes. “You and my brother. He’s literally smitten with you - I assume that’s why you ditched me.”

 “Oh.” Y/N’s voice was suddenly very small. In her mind, she saw Eomer and the other h/c girl, kissing, hands everywhere, and she squeezed her eyes closed. “No, it didn’t.”

“Oh, Bema (basically God for the Rohirrim),” Eowyn growled. “He is such a dick.”

“No, Eowyn, he- he wants to be happy. I want him to be happy too. If that h/c girl gives him what he wants … then we are both satisfied.”

“That’s a load of shit, Y/N,” Eowyn retorted. “You and I both know that you and Eomer are head over heels in love with each other. You need to stop being so selfless and spouting this crap and tell him that he hurt you! And what’s this about a h/c girl?” 

Y/N told Eowyn the full story, and was shocked when she began to laugh, slowly and kinda sadly, but still her usual clear laugh nonetheless.

“Y/N … Lowena looks pretty similar to you. Eomer probably thought you weren’t reciprocating his feelings because I know that when you have a crush you can get cold because you’re confused.” Y/N winced at Eowyn’s accurate analysis, but motioned for her to continue. “He was kissing her because she reminded him of you. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss you.”

Y/N remembered how Leowena, a normally kind girl, had pulled away from Eomer, shaking her head. “Oh. But that doesn’t make any of this-”

“Right, I know,” Eowyn sat next to Y/N pulling her up into a cross-legged position. “Which is exactly why you should go and tell him that.” 

Y/N squinted at Eowyn. “You’re too damn psychologically talented for your own good.”

Eowyn shooed her out of bed, telling her Eomer was likely to be ‘sulking’ outside. 

She was right - as the wind pulled at Y/N’s dress and h/l hair, she found the large silhouette standing, silhouetted against the far-too-bright sun. He was sitting on some rock, curled in on himself in an unusual display of frailty. 

As she crept closer, she heard a single soft sniffle, instantly muffled as he rocked slowly back and forth. 

Y/N sat next to him without a word, following his gaze to the rolling green grasses of the Rohirrim lands.

“I was drunk,” he began quietly, without any greeting. But somehow, it was as good a start as any. “I was drunk, and I was the saddest I’d ever been.”

“When you left me to go-” Y/N cut herself off. “To- to go get drinks, you seemed happy.”

“Drunk me isn’t like drunk you,” Eomer said. “Drunk me thinks about every truth I’ve hidden from myself. And I was looking at this absolutely beautiful girl I was dancing with, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling when you did - and I thought to myself…” at this, he smiled sadly. “I thought: ‘I just had to fall for the one who wouldn’t like me back’.”

“And Lowena?” Y/N was determined to get the whole truth out of him.

Eomer confirmed what his sister had been saying. “She looks like you, Y/N. I saw her … and then I saw you instead of her. And I don’t know what happened, but I kissed her.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, looking to the side at Eomer, who, sometime during his explanation had let a tear fall down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his voice cracked on her name. “You don’t deserve to be treated this way.”

Y/N stared at him for a couple seconds, taking in everything that he was, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. “I think I can forgive you.”

“You can?”

“I can’t imagine my life without you.” Y/N smiled, and it was finally a happy one instead of sadness seeping through it. 

“Please don’t.” The words were barely a whisper.

Y/N leaned into him, resting her head on Eomer’s shoulder. He pulled her closer and let his arm around her shoulders, turning his head to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I could never replace you,” he admitted. 

“Good thing you don’t have to.” 

Slowly, hesitantly, but surely, she pressed her lips to his, in a soft, sweet kiss.

A promise.

Darling, I’m right here.